(( The reason behind the ??? in the title is the character is beginning to move away from the temporary name she's been given into a whole new identity, but to be clear, this is Meissa's civilian self ))

For a moment the figure in the bed refused to move. The morning light of the sun was peeking through the barest slit in the curtains that up until that moment had been denied entry into the room. Groaning softly the blue-haired young woman turned over and buried herself under the sheets once more before something stopped her. There was a familiarity in the motions that spooked Em greatly enough that with a sudden motion, the covers on her bed went flying. There was an innate sense building inside of the woman that spoke of a clamouring need to actually get out of the bed and investigate why it seemed like this room held nothing that was near and dear to her heart. She had been too worn out the night before to even examine any object for the barest length of time before collapsing on the bed. Sometime, during the night she supposed, she must have woken just long enough to at least crawl under the covers in order to get a proper rest. Bits and pieces of the conversation that she had had with Morgan the night prior came flooding back and it was, as she found out, really hard not to just go tearing into Morgan's room to demand answers that were beyond the scope of "oh, you are just like a spy now."

Was that even a valid explanation? Super spies, forgotten memories etc, etc. Slowly, her gaze lit upon various items in the room before realizing that while nothing seemed to be the same as some hazy recollection that was slowly fading away there were signs that showed the amount of effort that Morgan had taken to get her settled in comfortably. There were basic amenities stocked at the foot of the bed, resting on, well a simple chair, but it was this sort of gesture that touched Em deep inside. A dresser stood by, with empty drawers all pulled out but it soon would be filled with clothes. The book that she had dug out from the box of what seemed like some discarded castaways drew Em's attention once more to the cover. It had been the small synopsis on the back that had intrigued Em enough that she had taken it with her to be placed on the bedside table. With fingers that trembled Em once more brought the book from its resting place before she opened the front cover to examine the first few pages. A minute later the book almost joined the sheets that now lay crumpled on the floor before Em paused. Had she ever been this irrational before?

Moments passed as Em fought to control her breathing. Her heartbeat stuttered erratically before settling into a more sedate pace and it was with a blank look in her face that Em reached down once more to pluck her cover from the floor in order to have some semblance of normalcy in the room. The novel was reopened, and for at least twenty minutes of silence, did the young woman engage with the words that appeared on the pages, allowing the story to ensnare her imagination: if only for a short period of time. It took until the end of the third chapter that Em slowly closed the book before testing out the surname of the character whose point of view the story was written in. There was a sense of power when she slowly tested the name out and it was then that Em realized she had already found a portion of whom it was she would soon become.

Perhaps it makes sense that this name speaks to me for I am going to make great strides within the Negaverse. Maybe it is fitting that I will take Stryder as my last name.

(( 633 words ))