Status: Updated on random occasions
The Saint of All Sinners
Unintended
The rest of the day continued on in a similar manner. I forced up against every other team member, sometimes with my powers and sometime without. I managed to win every time. Tyler still didn't seem to approve of my presence even after I proved that I wasn't weak or unskilled. This was one of the reasons I avoided contact with military personnel. The majority of them had a steadfast belief that women were incompetent when it came to war and violence.
Night had just fallen when we finally made it back to the barracks. The guys went immediately to the kitchen in search of food. Instead of following them, I took a seat on the small couch. A few minutes later, I was greeted by a disgusting smell and Wade's voice. "Want some, Gabbie?" Wade practically yelled, even though he was just a few feet away from me, while shoving a greasy piece of bacon in my face.
I looked from the strip of fried pork to Wade. "I'm a vegetarian, Wade. I don't eat meat." I said kindly, wishing he would remove the meat of the martyred pig from my face before I puked.
The small one, Bradley, turned around to face me, with a large sandwich in his hand, and said, "You don't eat meat? Like....never?" Behind him, Zero rolled his eyes.
"I haven't had meat in over forty years." I said kindly while knocking Wade's hand and bacon out from under my nose. The guys settled into their various seats to eat their dinner. Wade returned with a banana which he quietly tossed in my direction. I didn't fulfill Wade's dream of watching me eat a banana the normal way because I just torn pieces off at a time with my fingers before tossing them into my mouth.
Agent Zero broke the silence that had embraced the room due to the presence of food. "How did you come to join the CIA, Richter?" I could tell from his tone that he was truly curious.
I found no reason to hide anything. "I was born in Germany in 1914. After my father's death my mother and I moved to America when I still a baby. When I was 17, my mom died and my mutations started to manifest. A few months later, the U.S. government approached me and here I am." I said, nonchalantly.
No one asked anymore questions as they finished their dinner. I knew there were loads more questions that they were dying for me to answer. But they were also the ones I would refuse to answer. They wanted to know the full extend of my mutation. Was it just the advanced healing and untouchable skin? Could I control the rate and intensity of the pain? Did I even have any control over it? In truth, I couldn't control it. In the past, I tried everything to reduce the effects of my mutation and to no avail. I now believed that God never meant for me to be in control.
When I was younger, my lack of control had a severe effect on my emotional and mental health. Coping with the inability to touch or be touched by another living being was miserable. I've lost track of how many times I've tried to kill myself. But once again my mutation stopped me from doing and being what I wanted. After about ten years of working for the CIA, I lost the desire for human interaction and the emotional problems my inability to touch caused took a backseat.
I was still lost in my thoughts when I was roughly pulled off the couch and back to reality. The first thing to hit me was the music, which was protruding from a small radio in the kitchen. I immediately recognized the song as Wade maneuvered me into position and started to dance. In response to his hand on my hip, I placed mine firmly on the back of his shoulder before returning the hold he had on my gloved hand.
One thing I learned from our time in Indonesia was that Wade was an avid dancer. He didn't just like to dance, he was good at it. "Really, Wade? Bing Crosby?" I joked, shocked by his choice of artist.
"Out of Nowhere is a classic." He said in defense while slowly turning us around.
"I should know. I was alive when it was released." We continued to ignore the rest of the team members, who, surely, were confused by the sudden change in events.
"I guess that makes you a classic, too." Wade said with a smile.
"You shouldn't make jokes about a woman's age, Wade." Crosby's baritone voice filled the air for a few more seconds before the song ended.
Awkwardly, Wade and I separated. After a quick look at the clock, I said, "I'm going to sleep. Goodnight. And, Wade, if you even think about coming in my room, I will kill you." Without another word, I walked quietly down the hallway and into my room.
I really didn’t go straight to bed. First, I examined the mess that was my hair. What was left of the length was jagged and uneven. Wade’s had managed to cut a section of hair down to less than an inch in length. So, without thinking about the possible outcome, I cut the rest of it off. When I was done, my blonde hair was now shaped into a pixie styled cut. It made me look thinner and more glamorous than I was. I hated it. With a new reason to hate Wade, I crawled into the meager bed and went to sleep.
Night had just fallen when we finally made it back to the barracks. The guys went immediately to the kitchen in search of food. Instead of following them, I took a seat on the small couch. A few minutes later, I was greeted by a disgusting smell and Wade's voice. "Want some, Gabbie?" Wade practically yelled, even though he was just a few feet away from me, while shoving a greasy piece of bacon in my face.
I looked from the strip of fried pork to Wade. "I'm a vegetarian, Wade. I don't eat meat." I said kindly, wishing he would remove the meat of the martyred pig from my face before I puked.
The small one, Bradley, turned around to face me, with a large sandwich in his hand, and said, "You don't eat meat? Like....never?" Behind him, Zero rolled his eyes.
"I haven't had meat in over forty years." I said kindly while knocking Wade's hand and bacon out from under my nose. The guys settled into their various seats to eat their dinner. Wade returned with a banana which he quietly tossed in my direction. I didn't fulfill Wade's dream of watching me eat a banana the normal way because I just torn pieces off at a time with my fingers before tossing them into my mouth.
Agent Zero broke the silence that had embraced the room due to the presence of food. "How did you come to join the CIA, Richter?" I could tell from his tone that he was truly curious.
I found no reason to hide anything. "I was born in Germany in 1914. After my father's death my mother and I moved to America when I still a baby. When I was 17, my mom died and my mutations started to manifest. A few months later, the U.S. government approached me and here I am." I said, nonchalantly.
No one asked anymore questions as they finished their dinner. I knew there were loads more questions that they were dying for me to answer. But they were also the ones I would refuse to answer. They wanted to know the full extend of my mutation. Was it just the advanced healing and untouchable skin? Could I control the rate and intensity of the pain? Did I even have any control over it? In truth, I couldn't control it. In the past, I tried everything to reduce the effects of my mutation and to no avail. I now believed that God never meant for me to be in control.
When I was younger, my lack of control had a severe effect on my emotional and mental health. Coping with the inability to touch or be touched by another living being was miserable. I've lost track of how many times I've tried to kill myself. But once again my mutation stopped me from doing and being what I wanted. After about ten years of working for the CIA, I lost the desire for human interaction and the emotional problems my inability to touch caused took a backseat.
I was still lost in my thoughts when I was roughly pulled off the couch and back to reality. The first thing to hit me was the music, which was protruding from a small radio in the kitchen. I immediately recognized the song as Wade maneuvered me into position and started to dance. In response to his hand on my hip, I placed mine firmly on the back of his shoulder before returning the hold he had on my gloved hand.
One thing I learned from our time in Indonesia was that Wade was an avid dancer. He didn't just like to dance, he was good at it. "Really, Wade? Bing Crosby?" I joked, shocked by his choice of artist.
"Out of Nowhere is a classic." He said in defense while slowly turning us around.
"I should know. I was alive when it was released." We continued to ignore the rest of the team members, who, surely, were confused by the sudden change in events.
"I guess that makes you a classic, too." Wade said with a smile.
"You shouldn't make jokes about a woman's age, Wade." Crosby's baritone voice filled the air for a few more seconds before the song ended.
Awkwardly, Wade and I separated. After a quick look at the clock, I said, "I'm going to sleep. Goodnight. And, Wade, if you even think about coming in my room, I will kill you." Without another word, I walked quietly down the hallway and into my room.
I really didn’t go straight to bed. First, I examined the mess that was my hair. What was left of the length was jagged and uneven. Wade’s had managed to cut a section of hair down to less than an inch in length. So, without thinking about the possible outcome, I cut the rest of it off. When I was done, my blonde hair was now shaped into a pixie styled cut. It made me look thinner and more glamorous than I was. I hated it. With a new reason to hate Wade, I crawled into the meager bed and went to sleep.