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- Posted: Sat, 18 Aug 2012 08:27:16 +0000
- millennium ██████████████████████ .★. ██████████████████████
millennium i never wanted it to go this far , x never thought it would be so hard
millennium ▽x but now i'm left with nothing else
Expecting what?! Marc’s brow twitched angrily in response. Before the brunette could elaborate on his misassumption, he began to holler and wave at the window Marc already checked, leading the hipster to realize there was a girl hopping glass to glass.
Though almost any ordinary person would be surprised, Marc accepted the scene as was. He knew what she was: a superhuman, like him, and hey, they even had the same hair color— his thoughts began to meander as he pieced together what was happening. Sharp, observant eyes were one of the few things special about Marc, yet he couldn’t recognize Spica completely. She had pale blonde hair, braided in the front and long at the back, an uncommon hairstyle. Maybe, briefly, he’d passed her in his line of work.
She looked pretty angry. Cool, she must have hated this kid too.
"Whatever," Marc muttered at David’s introduction and ignored the hand the boy held out to him, instead folding his arms over his chest. “Did you expect me to shake that?”
David reached over, took one of his hands, and shook it anyway. Marc stared disbelievingly, lips pressed into a thin line. Was he serious? To spare them any more awkwardness, Marc kindly asked David to, “Get to the ******** point.”
"So I hear that you used to work for the government!"
"D'you want to come back and try it again?"
So that’s what they were: government agents. Although David couldn’t see Marc’s right eye because of his hipster peek-a-boo bang, the brunette was staring straight into a single-eyed, gray glare. “The keyword is used to,” the hipster scowled, “I’d rather continue this sham at casual conversation than sell myself to the government again. What is it you want? Don’t they have enough dogs running around on a leash?”
The government already rejected him after the Age of Aquarius took effect. Well, he rage quit—whatever. Why did they want him back? Despite working for them for a couple years as an assassin, he never once supported their actions, and if he weren’t paid, he certainly wouldn’t have complied. He didn’t approve of superhuman enslavement, withholding secrets from the public, or the misuse of propaganda, above other cruelties. Marc scanned every aspect of the unassuming boy in front of him, wondering how fresh off the boat he was and what his power could be. He had to be new because not even a year had passed since Marc quit. If he and David overlapped instatements, there was no way he would have missed him.
Just when Marc thought he couldn’t get any dumber, he watched in impassive amazement as David hit himself in the chest with his clarinet case. What a tool.
Finally, he swiped his hand away and watched the newbie agent run down the hall. What an abrupt was to end a conversation—did he have any training at all? Surveying the windows behind his shoulder, Marc found Spica was also missing. If this was supposed to be a recruit mission, they were failing miserably. He decided to get the ******** out of school before reinforcements showed up. He was close to the door anyway, so Marc diva-strutted out and into the parking lot, hoping to lose David and Spica by passing the rows of nonexistent cars by the entrance. However, somebody called out his name.
"Hey! Marc!” Hmmm, that voice sounded familiar.
“I mean, Marc, get your a** over here, you... asshat!"
A tall, wiry figure exited the building behind him, flamboyant red hair sticking up in the wind. Marc blinked at who looked like his ex-boss, but he was searching for the familiar hood he always wore. If that sweater vest was supposed to help him blend in with the crowd, he was sorely mistaken. There was no mistaking Lee.
"Listen here, Marc. I need your help, okay? There's work we need to do over in the Octagon and I've gotten really short - "
He heard footsteps on the concrete; they sounded heavy.
"What is this bullshit."
He heard a gruffer tone, but the same voice. Marc side-glanced between the two Lees that now made themselves apparent. One of them wore the signature hood, which he was sure was the real one.
"David, I ******** know that's you!”
He was a shapeshifter, Marc knew. If David planned to fool him, he probably shouldn’t have worn the same sweater vest while trying to impersonate someone else. Marc also wondered why somebody as significant as Lee would come to the school himself, especially when he’d already sent two agents after him. He was seated at the Octagon, America’s most famous superhuman compound, and he probably should have been doing more important things than recruiting an irritable ex-assassin, yet alone teenagers. Yet, here Lee came, defying the logical deduction he bothered to construct within his meticulous mind. He waited patiently for the two in front of him to stop bickering, but it only tumbled downhill.
Lee was as vulgar as always, while David whimpered under the mercy of his scalding tongue-lashing. Unfortunately, entering high school did not make someone old enough to stop crying in public. The hipster couldn’t help but judge how non-mainstream a crying face looked on Lee’s shoulders.
“s**t, you look like a kicked puppy. How do I look like a kicked puppy. I'm sorry, sorry, dammit, Marc, help me out, he's going to cry and it's going to look like I'm crying!"
“Are you serious—“
"M - marc, Lee is a gigantic idiot and he's so rude and...and... and make him stop he's really loud!"
Somehow, miraculously avoiding saying anything derogatory, though he was probably thinking it, Marc turned his attention back towards Lee. He sighed, “Why are you here? I’ve been meaning to go home hours ago.”
Although abrasive, he was not devoid of reason. In his own, caring gesture, he allowed David to compose himself from behind his shoulder and for Lee to continue, so maybe the topic would drift to where he wanted it to be in the first place. Marc still didn’t know what was happening, after all. How much more insulting was it for someone in the newspaper club to not be updated?
-insert heartwarming explanation/talk- WHY REAM -cry-
"... Fine, I accept."
Convincing Marc was a herculean task. Lee was able to recruit him, but if he asked the hipster specifically why he accepted the invitation into his division, he wouldn’t get anything but a snarky comment for his efforts. He was going unpaid, risking his life, and working under the very institution he abhorred most. His pride kept it a mystery.
At this point, Marc could still see Lee!David half-cowering behind him from the corner of his eye.
“David, get away from my shoulder,” Marc jerked his arm back, “Your mainstream tears are staining my scarf.”
“Oh, and smile.”
What? Did Marc say something nice? Before David could read the look on his face, there was a subtle click, and his teary-eyed boyo face was caught in a flash of light. After blinking a couple times to recover his eyesight, he saw Marc holding the camera at an arm’s distance, examining the photo on the screen. What was David blubbering like a baby looked like his reinstated boss blubbering like a baby. I could only imagine Lee would be thinking of punching him at this moment. Marc slipped the camera back into his side-saddled bag, waving nonchalantly to the identical duo he left behind.
“This is so going on my tumblr when I get home.”
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━━━★ ★ ★ x ❝ you're so damn difficult. 》_______________
━━━★ ★ ★ x ❝ you're so damn difficult. 》_______________