「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(324) Vibranium

Lynn's POV

I clutched the polished walls and strenuously hobbled towards the changing room. Parts of my legs were still jelly, others were butchered by ruthless waves of needles and pins, and at every step, my left thigh just screamed.

Clearly, the serum had not taken its full effect but I knew I had not a moment to spare.

With Raven acting basically as my walking stick, we eventually arrived at the old dressing area. It had been ages since our last mission and whilst my suit was not actively revamped over the years, its well-restored version was still maintained in prim condition in its original enclosure.

That tragic ambush obviously wasted Raven's but it was not like any clothing was necessitated given the versatilities of her powers. Contrastingly, superficial protection was the least I needed, granted my planned identity as a partially handicapped human armed with but a pair of daggers.

I half skipped towards the transparent closet, seemingly accustomed to the autonomous twinges. As I placed my thumb to the fingerprint reader, the seamless curved door of the cylindrical glass unit smoothly swished open, releasing a rush of cool air from the internal chamber meant to preserve the bespoke gear.

The chilly gas sank out as a whiff of white mist, creating a somewhat dramatic effect as Raven playfully cooed in a suspenseful tone, and I whipped off the sleek attire from its hanger, giggling. Laying it neatly on the opposite end of the bench from Raven, I returned her a grateful expression, fully appreciative of her efforts to cheer me up, as I began unbuttoning my jeans.

"Goddammit. The curtains are just there. Can you be more lazy?" Raven whined, forming an exaggerated shield around her eyes with both palms.

"C'mon, which part of me have you actually not seen?" I unabashedly taunted as I swiftly kicked off my chucks and quickly wiggled off the mid blue denims.

"That doesn't mean I want to," Raven rebutted in a theatrical tone, still holding up that absolutely ridiculous position as I tugged off my woven pullover.

"I'm not Charles," she argued agitatedly.

Instantly, my brain was jumbled by the sheer mention of his name and my fingers, supposedly unfastening my plastic brace, accidentally loosened their grip on the acrylic housing instead. Both of us gasped in sync, jumping where we were, startled by the piercing clang that echoed within the premises as my classical weapons were inadvertently tipped over in the mindless process.

"I'm sorry," I shakily mumbled, feeling my eyes sting, as I hastily bent down, scrambling to rectify the mess.

"No, I'm sorry," Raven insisted in a remorseful tone and despite my body only being cloaked in skimpy undergarments, she scurried to my side without hesitation, generously surrounding me in her arms to tame my unnatural tremor.

"I'm fine. It just slipped," I claimed nonchalantly, carefully slotting the pocket knives back into their casings, and clung onto her to get back onto my feet.

"You sure you're alright?" Raven probed with that concerned sisterly gaze as she tenderly cradled the back of my head.

"I have to be," I croaked, strongly wiping the tear that miserably dripped.

With a deep breath, I gently peeled off Raven's hands and expeditiously scooted my limbs through the pants and sleeves of my combat uniform, realizing only then that the springy material was not quite the perfect cutting it used to be. Evidently, the slightly baggy one-piece was not the most convenient or flattering of ensembles, but it was certainly my safest option.