"Things will never be the same again."
Gneiss Underwood never thought that he could have a shot of a normal life.
Growing up in an environment where everything defied sanity, guns and loneliness were his normal companions, if not danger and Death h...
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"I promised to love you even if it hurts. I love you more when it hurts."
Number Five
Faye was in no real hurry as she sauntered out of the room wearing a green shirt tucked in dark blue jeans.
She was tired of wearing those black overalls for days – this change made her feel slightly better. Even if the ordinary shirt didn't fit her taste, it was more appealing than the gray training clothes that Bases wore. This homogeneity thing had been grating on her nerves ever since she first discovered with horror that in Creed, especially in their HQ, agents could only have clothes that are either gray or black, depending on their status. That means black shirts, black sweaters, black jackets, black pants, black shorts, black boots, even her underwear!
Ick!
For a girl like her whose fashion ran along the lines of silver pumps and purple heels, ripped denim skirts, satiny white dresses, yellow cardigans and pink boat necks, this was sacrilege.
With that in mind, she did some secret shopping on her prior missions and kept her stash of clothes in nooks and crannies no one would likely discover, both here and in her facility in New York. Creed might control her actions, but it couldn't control her fashion! She demanded at least that much freedom.
Since she would be leaving the island early in the morning, she had the excuse to change into something more comfortable. The green shirt had the words Me and My flippant tongue in bold letters, with a picture of a tongue sticking out like that of a five-year old's.
Well, it's pretty darn cute.
She dumped her black leather uniform in the laundry hole, along with the bag where she hid her change of clothes. With deft hands, she fixed her long hair in a neat French braid while she walked. She was headed to her quarters, but when she caught the scent of something fried, she decided that she had to grab a bite first. It must be dinner time.
Which reminded her. Surely, 04 came to her room again with a bag of rolls or doughnuts. As if she was a prisoner who has her food delivered by an officer. Or a patient whose food was handed to her by the hospital staff.
Well, I have legs and can fall in line by myself, thank you very much.
Walking in a normal pace, she travelled the halls side by side with a few Bases who mostly ignored her. She was dressed like an UnGifted after all, and these agents wouldn't pay attention to the likes of her who might be the daughter or sister of a Gifted comrade. Despite their training to become cold-hearted, skillful assassins, each of them knew that they had to respect the things their co-agents protect. Because for someone to join Creed, one has to have a reason or is in dire need.
