Maverick (A G.I. Joe Fanfiction)

Chapter 9 : Mom?

Do you know how some people can never forget a face? Well, for me it's the grip of their hands. Every time I’ve ever met a person I always seem to come in contact with their hands, whether it is a professional handshake or a friendly hug. The way I remember is by the length and width of each hand, the diameter of each finger, the displacement of pressure, and the lines on their palms. With Snake, I already knew all of at before Storm handed me off to him. It was almost as if I was eight-years-old again and back in Japan. I didn’t know if he remembered me or hadn’t recognized me yet, I always had my hair in my face and I never took off my glasses back then, so I stayed as quiet as he did.

When the elevator stopped, Snake tensed slightly. What? Wrong stop? I pondered, gazing up at Snake then turning my head towards the opening doors. There was nothing immediately behind the doors but a few yards back a gray/black wolf with charcoal-black eyes sat at the fork in the hallway. When it rose its self from its haunches, Snake relaxed. Once it made its way to the elevator, it glanced over at Snake and me, sniffed my katana then locked its teeth on the end of the metal-edged scabbard. As the wolf began yanking me into the hall, I looked up at Snake while he tried to keep me stationary.

“Should we follow?” I asked.

Snake’s head turns towards me and inclined slight before letting the wolf move me. As the wolf pulled me through the halls a few limping steps at a time, Snake kept me on my feet. We ended up in a conference room of some sort but the people there were dressed in everything but suits and all of them had dog-tags.

“So,” the burly man standing at the other side of the table boomed. “Your Maverick?”

“Maybe I should be the one asking questions since you’re the ones who want me here in the first place?” I countered as the wolf released my katana.

I continued my annoyed staring contest with the man until a voice like wind chimes behind me said, “I’ll take her from here, Snake-eyes.”

“Mom?” I asked as Snake held me firmly.

My salt-n-pepper-haired, sapphire-eyed, fifty-seven-year-old adoptive mother entered the room through the same door Snake and I were pulled through and stated, “I request permission to take Mavey to her room and see a few friends. In doing this you will get your debriefing. Anyway, she won’t answer your question until you play her in a game of Honorable Questionnaire.”

“Fine,” the man thundered then leaned on the table and pointed over my shoulder at my mother. “I want your report.”

“There’s always the dartboard at Garret’s,” I offered as my mom and Snake helped me out of the room.