Colourless

Chapter Twenty-One

This chapter is dedicated to hipstermuffin, Not_Just_Fiction,

@RaeLin_Fergenand and Lila_Wayne for giving me the names Regie, Jonty, Rosa and Sydney to use in this story.

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Sitting alongside my team, Malik and Laria's largest 'henchmen', I anxiously swung my legs back and forth. With the plan to slip into the city now firmly in motion, the strongest and smartest in the institution were banding together; unifying to create a skilled, small group that could lead us into the civil war ahead.

Several faces filtered through the meal hall — now constructed into something similar to an audition room — and they each boasted rather incredible resumes, and yet none had been picked. It made my heart lurch into my throat. If these people were to be turned away, I was surprised that my friends and myself were entrusted with speaking to the president. At least I had taken English as my major; perhaps all of those persuasive writing essays would come in handy.

Then, a leather-cladded woman fell into the plastic chair on the opposite side of the table. Her physique was evidently muscled and athletic, even visible through her multiple layers of clothes. "I'm Regie Hills." Just like several before her, she listed off several achievements — many that I could barely fathom — and I shot Malik a hopeful smile. He nodded, his hand resting comfortably on my knee, before speaking quietly to the man and woman beside him.

"We'll be happy to have you," he nods politely, flashing a tight-lipped smile. Despite his strong bravado, I could tell he was nervous about this mission. Which, in turn, made me nervous for him, though that was stacked on top of my own nerves.

"I'm Jonty Bridgman," the next man smiled, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth as he sat before us.

"Yes, yes you are," one of Laria's bulkiest henchmen hummed rather dreamily, drawing the wide-eyed gaze of everyone on our side of the table.

Jonty simply chuckled, before beginning to list off his skills. The son of a military man, he explained, thusly giving him an entire upbringing of practice and discipline. He was quickly accepted, receiving a seductive wave from the dazed henchman, and slid away with a slew of thanks.

After him, was an exceedingly beautiful woman. She wore minimal clothes that accentuated her curvy body and beautiful, long cornrows fell over her shoulders. So, essentially, she was the kind of woman that made me question my sexuality.

"Hi," she beams brightly, extending a hand, "I'm Sydney Creed; expert in the art of subterfuge and pickpocketing." Malik rolled his eyes as I gasped and slipped my hand into hers, shaking gently.

"That's so cool... you're so cool," I breathe, chuckling as Sydney smirks and throws me a playful wink. "I like her."

Malik hummed in agreement, nodding for me to accept her and I beamed. "Welcome?" I introduce, my slight insularity becoming numbed by Sydney's squeal of excitement. She squeezed my hand and ushered herself away after the queue of lingering people began to grow impatient.

After Sydney, many more people came in and out; their dejected faces lingering sadly in my mind to a point where I almost pouted, until Malik squeezed my thigh reassuringly; his face remaining cool, despite the small smirk that broke through after I audibly inhaled sharply.

One more woman sat before us — Rosa Bergman, I believe her name was. She, too, had an impressive history and the henchmen seemed to be familiar with the redhead. "I think we have our team," Malik spoke softly, finally rocking back in his seat as the few lingering people were escorted out.