ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕘𝕠 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤 & 𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤

ℙ𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝔸𝕚𝕣𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕤 //Mime Bomb//

First chapter Let's go! My grammar isn't the best, heads up. I just thought about this cute little idea and began writing. Takes place before Black Sheep became Carmen Sandiego. I'm also probably gonna rewrite this sooner or later. Tysm for reading!! 

**Slight Angst at the beginning!**

Requested? No

Reader pronouns: GN

(E/C) = Eye Color

***Contains some personal headcannons of Mime Bomb

~~~~~~~~~~~~

1:47 is what the clock on the wall read. You sighed and then glanced around the room. Noticing the sleeping bodies of your peers. There was Gray, Antonio, Jean-Paul, Sheena, who were sleeping more towards the door. There was also Black Sheep, who slept to the left of you since your bed was on the end and right side of the room. And Mime bomb who slept on the end of the end as well, but was on the left side. You didn't know his first name which felt unfair but you also didn't ask.

You felt a soft smile appear on your face. These equals of yours certainly had bright futures ahead of themselves in their illegal careers.

Gray always has a positive outlook no matter the situation, which in times of need can be very admired. Antonio is unfailingly there to help people in need with everything he can. Jean-Paul happily gives his two-cents of any situation, no matter how big or small. Sheena is constantly proving her determination to be the best. Black Sheep is very friendly and she has an intense fondness for learning. And finally, Mime Bomb has to be the most patient listener out there.

It was dark and quiet in your bunker. Cold too, since the blankets you had were very thin. On top of that, the lumpy pillows gave no support for your head whatsoever. You didn't complain, however. After being on the Isle of Vile for almost a year now, you had the chance to get used to your uncomfortable slumber.

Your upbringing as a criminal isn't all too lovely. Now and then your mind pondered to a more lively present. One where you are just a normal, day-to-day, average citizen. What would you even do being away from the violence that comes with thievery? Especially with white-collar thievery. What job would you have?

Occasionally you imagine yourself as an artist. Painting on canvases, shirts, mugs, and more while selling your products to Etsy. Sometimes being a great chef comes to mind. Seasoning a nice, juicy steak before sending it out in your restaurant. A movie director dawns as well. Seeing what stories you think about being displayed on the big screen. Or maybe being screens.

Though content with being a thief in training, you couldn't help but want more. You felt greedy every time you did, as ironic as that is. You couldn't stop yourself from wanting a happy family. One where you didn't even feel the need to steal, where you could go to a normal school that isn't on a private island, just to be loved and to love other people.

As much as you try to could your mind with other topics, you couldn't help but remember your background. The reason why you are such a good thief in the first place. You felt the heaviness in your eyes as your petty but powerful emotions overcame you. The dull weight begging to be let out as hot tears and loud sobs. The weight won, but you can't just start waking everyone up. You bit on your forefinger's knuckle. Deeply breathing in and out to keep the heavy sobs in your chest at bay. Tears rushed down your face rapidly but with a gentle warmth.

After a minute or two of your sadness, a paper plane crashed faintly against the wall and landed next to your body. You wiped the tears off of your face and sat up. Upon noticing the small contraption, you picked it up. You then peek around the room for where the airplane could've come from. Your (E/C) orbs met powder blue ones. The owner being perfect across the room from you.