Sequel: Renegade ›
Status: Rewritten and Complete
Traitors
Silence
I always had a hard time keeping my mouth shut. This got me into trouble all the time, especially today. I don't regret my outburst, but the looks of upset and disappointment are starting to annoy, almost like they want me to be ashamed of what I did. No amount of apologies can erase the words I said, so why regret it? Gabe's smiles are fake when he tells me everything is forgotten and okay between us. He claims he understands where my fury came from, but I know he's lying. I've learned recently to never trust a word coming from his mouth.
I fold my old black jeans into a perfect square, slipping them into the brown leather briefcase Gabe has me using as a prop. Infiltration, not the method I expected him to chose for me. I fold my black tee shirt in half and fold it down setting it next to my jeans. I always keep an extra set here just in case I don't have time to go home and grab the set I keep stashed in my closet. I sigh staring at the briefcase. There is no way I can fit shoes into it so I have to do the job barefoot. I swallow hard as I think of the outcome. I utter a quick apology to my feet as I click the briefcase shut and grab hold of the flimsy handle.
I exhale softly, but it still echoes through the hall. Only a few people are still here. Most have gone home, went out for the night, or are in the sleeping chambers down the hall. I make my way into the plant where Gabe is waiting. I turn the corner and see him hunched over a station searching through a document. He pops up when he hears my footsteps. I run my finger through my hair, placing the briefcase onto the station next to me.
Silence.
He nods toward the locker room. I glance over my shoulder and see Quela leaning against the door frame with her blindfold tied around her wrist instead of her eyes. She motions me over to her without a word. I glance back at Gabe who is scrolling through something else on the monitor. I hurry my feet toward Quela who grins at me as she takes my hand and pulls me into the locker room.
"Now," she skips over to a locker, "I know what you're thinking. 'The blind girl picked out my disguise? This is crazy!' Well not only do I agree, but just wait til you see it!" She flings open the locker door and pulls out a navy pencil skirt with a white button up. "I know you're not jazzed about this, but who says you can't look cute?" She reaches down and tosses me a pair of navy heels which match the skirt. I give her a slight grin. "Phoe," her hand reaches my shoulder, "don't shut down. Everything will be okay." I nod in accordance. Her smile fades into a frown before exiting the room.
Silence.
I crumble onto a bench as I let the heels slip from my hands and crash to the floor. I'm not ready or prepared, although can anyone really prepare to die? My hand shakes as I reach for the shoes. I feel a pair of eyes staring at me from the door. I quickly snatch my hand attempting the hide the nerves from the person watching me. I tilt my head slightly and see his tattooed arm resting on the door. I quickly sit up causing my vision to disappear behind stars.
"You alright?" Fierce asks quietly. I nod slightly avoiding his eyes. "You've been," he adjusts his stance slightly, "quiet." My eyes are suddenly magnetized to find his. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.
"Logan!" Quela's voice lingers in the background. "Let the girl get ready." He chuckles shaking his head at the ground before taking off down the hall.
The shirt is a little big for me, but other than that I can deal with this disguise. Although, I can already feel my feet start to blister and on top of that I have on an itchy wig. My red hair would be a dead giveaway if anyone catches me. Quela thought she could make this better by tossing me a pair of black framed glasses. I don't intend on wearing them, but she figured it would complete the look.
Silence.
The car is hushed but has the faint sound of the radio playing in the background. My fingers fiddle with the hem of my skirt, but slowly find their way to my knees and gently rub the skin raw. I never get nervous for an arson so this is new territory for me. Something in my gut is telling me it's not right. Fierce's hand appears in front of me with an earpiece resting in his palm. I force my hand not to shake as my fingers latch onto the piece and wedge it into my right ear. It's nearly five in the evening meaning I have about four hours to kill being stuck in an enemy building before I can take it down.
"Detope!" Gabe yells snapping his fingers in front of me. "God, I've been talking to you for the past few minutes and you haven't be answering." I look at him and then at Fierce. "Seriously, what has gotten into you?" He shakes his head in disapproval. "You know what you need to do? Simmons is already inside and has the gasoline stashed for you." I force a smile, but it quickly disappears. "If anything goes wrong, tell us. Fierce and I will be there in a second." Fierce stares directly into my eyes.
"You sense any danger, get out. I'd rather this be a bust than --" Gabe glares at him as if it's a warning for him to stop talking. "Just be careful." I nod and force myself out of the vehicle.
Silence.
I don't fit in and I'm making it obvious. The autumn air passes through me as if I'm cellophane. I need to put everything I'm feeling aside and focus. If I'm worried on the negative, I'll slip up. I reach into my skirt pocket and grip onto my lighter. I'm Phoenix Detope. I'm a rebel, an arsonist, strong, and brave. I'm fine and I will get out of this alive.
My heels ache with each step I pound into the floor. I know this isn't the only pain my feet will feel today. I whisper another apology to them. I grip the briefcase tighter as I slip past a few security officers. I own this place. There is no need to be afraid. A few people make eye contact with me and I utter a friendly hello. They smile and return to their business. I climb onto the elevator and press the number three. I'm lucky this time. Only four floors. Probably the smallest building out of the six.
Elevators freak me out, but I try not to let it phase me. A few others join me and the doors stutter close. My stomach drops as the death box rises upward stopping on the third floor with a ding. The door skids open and I quickly exit as fast as I can. A couple people follow out after me, but walk in the opposite direction. I hastily head toward the women's restroom and secure myself inside. I check all the stalls discovering this restroom is unoccupied. I slip into a stall and press the button on my earpiece.
"I'm in." I mumble opening the briefcase with a click.
"Good work, Phoe." Fierce praises into my ear. "Simmons has the gasoline stashed away in the janitors closet in the basement. He'll deliver it to you once the coast is clear." His voice trails off.
I slip off the skirt and kick off the heels. My feet thank me as they embrace the cold linoleum floor. I pull on my old jeans and finally feel relaxed. I'm starting to feel like myself again. I rip off the itchy wig and shake my hair out. I reach my hands up and quickly tye my hair into a low ponytail. I unbutton the white blouse tearing it off of me with ease. I tug on my black tee and finally feel comfortable. I release a sigh of relief as I plop down onto the floor.
Silence.
I fold my old black jeans into a perfect square, slipping them into the brown leather briefcase Gabe has me using as a prop. Infiltration, not the method I expected him to chose for me. I fold my black tee shirt in half and fold it down setting it next to my jeans. I always keep an extra set here just in case I don't have time to go home and grab the set I keep stashed in my closet. I sigh staring at the briefcase. There is no way I can fit shoes into it so I have to do the job barefoot. I swallow hard as I think of the outcome. I utter a quick apology to my feet as I click the briefcase shut and grab hold of the flimsy handle.
I exhale softly, but it still echoes through the hall. Only a few people are still here. Most have gone home, went out for the night, or are in the sleeping chambers down the hall. I make my way into the plant where Gabe is waiting. I turn the corner and see him hunched over a station searching through a document. He pops up when he hears my footsteps. I run my finger through my hair, placing the briefcase onto the station next to me.
Silence.
He nods toward the locker room. I glance over my shoulder and see Quela leaning against the door frame with her blindfold tied around her wrist instead of her eyes. She motions me over to her without a word. I glance back at Gabe who is scrolling through something else on the monitor. I hurry my feet toward Quela who grins at me as she takes my hand and pulls me into the locker room.
"Now," she skips over to a locker, "I know what you're thinking. 'The blind girl picked out my disguise? This is crazy!' Well not only do I agree, but just wait til you see it!" She flings open the locker door and pulls out a navy pencil skirt with a white button up. "I know you're not jazzed about this, but who says you can't look cute?" She reaches down and tosses me a pair of navy heels which match the skirt. I give her a slight grin. "Phoe," her hand reaches my shoulder, "don't shut down. Everything will be okay." I nod in accordance. Her smile fades into a frown before exiting the room.
Silence.
I crumble onto a bench as I let the heels slip from my hands and crash to the floor. I'm not ready or prepared, although can anyone really prepare to die? My hand shakes as I reach for the shoes. I feel a pair of eyes staring at me from the door. I quickly snatch my hand attempting the hide the nerves from the person watching me. I tilt my head slightly and see his tattooed arm resting on the door. I quickly sit up causing my vision to disappear behind stars.
"You alright?" Fierce asks quietly. I nod slightly avoiding his eyes. "You've been," he adjusts his stance slightly, "quiet." My eyes are suddenly magnetized to find his. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.
"Logan!" Quela's voice lingers in the background. "Let the girl get ready." He chuckles shaking his head at the ground before taking off down the hall.
The shirt is a little big for me, but other than that I can deal with this disguise. Although, I can already feel my feet start to blister and on top of that I have on an itchy wig. My red hair would be a dead giveaway if anyone catches me. Quela thought she could make this better by tossing me a pair of black framed glasses. I don't intend on wearing them, but she figured it would complete the look.
Silence.
The car is hushed but has the faint sound of the radio playing in the background. My fingers fiddle with the hem of my skirt, but slowly find their way to my knees and gently rub the skin raw. I never get nervous for an arson so this is new territory for me. Something in my gut is telling me it's not right. Fierce's hand appears in front of me with an earpiece resting in his palm. I force my hand not to shake as my fingers latch onto the piece and wedge it into my right ear. It's nearly five in the evening meaning I have about four hours to kill being stuck in an enemy building before I can take it down.
"Detope!" Gabe yells snapping his fingers in front of me. "God, I've been talking to you for the past few minutes and you haven't be answering." I look at him and then at Fierce. "Seriously, what has gotten into you?" He shakes his head in disapproval. "You know what you need to do? Simmons is already inside and has the gasoline stashed for you." I force a smile, but it quickly disappears. "If anything goes wrong, tell us. Fierce and I will be there in a second." Fierce stares directly into my eyes.
"You sense any danger, get out. I'd rather this be a bust than --" Gabe glares at him as if it's a warning for him to stop talking. "Just be careful." I nod and force myself out of the vehicle.
Silence.
I don't fit in and I'm making it obvious. The autumn air passes through me as if I'm cellophane. I need to put everything I'm feeling aside and focus. If I'm worried on the negative, I'll slip up. I reach into my skirt pocket and grip onto my lighter. I'm Phoenix Detope. I'm a rebel, an arsonist, strong, and brave. I'm fine and I will get out of this alive.
My heels ache with each step I pound into the floor. I know this isn't the only pain my feet will feel today. I whisper another apology to them. I grip the briefcase tighter as I slip past a few security officers. I own this place. There is no need to be afraid. A few people make eye contact with me and I utter a friendly hello. They smile and return to their business. I climb onto the elevator and press the number three. I'm lucky this time. Only four floors. Probably the smallest building out of the six.
Elevators freak me out, but I try not to let it phase me. A few others join me and the doors stutter close. My stomach drops as the death box rises upward stopping on the third floor with a ding. The door skids open and I quickly exit as fast as I can. A couple people follow out after me, but walk in the opposite direction. I hastily head toward the women's restroom and secure myself inside. I check all the stalls discovering this restroom is unoccupied. I slip into a stall and press the button on my earpiece.
"I'm in." I mumble opening the briefcase with a click.
"Good work, Phoe." Fierce praises into my ear. "Simmons has the gasoline stashed away in the janitors closet in the basement. He'll deliver it to you once the coast is clear." His voice trails off.
I slip off the skirt and kick off the heels. My feet thank me as they embrace the cold linoleum floor. I pull on my old jeans and finally feel relaxed. I'm starting to feel like myself again. I rip off the itchy wig and shake my hair out. I reach my hands up and quickly tye my hair into a low ponytail. I unbutton the white blouse tearing it off of me with ease. I tug on my black tee and finally feel comfortable. I release a sigh of relief as I plop down onto the floor.
Silence.