[PREQUEL] (W) ᴜɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ ♗

14| Take em' kid

A/N: SAME FLASHBACK GUYS
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A couple days later, and everything that Trusova had revealed about my own father had me seeing colors in places that didn't even shine light. It made no sense. Life as I knew it made no sense.

In the midst of all of this, I had the urge to adopt a white rabbit from the animal shelter. That in itself made no sense.

The mission was gaining quick. We returned from the house back to headquarters that next morning where something more was waiting for me.

Alderete had led us to a secluded area, somewhere between the dining room and kitchen. It had been an awkward placement for an open margin, but considering the younger range of WEIA had moved up north, it made for less unnecessary ears to hear what it was he was going to touch on.

We had perched up on opposite sides of the suburban table, freshly fruit–ready to take—had been the only decoration. I took a hold of a peach,  Damien squinting his eyes in my direction.

It was clear why he wanted to talk to me, the fact of the matter was why he had felt the need to.

004 had licked his lips, '' Back then, '' He began, '' In the room earlier; how did you feel at the mention of B.S.S?'' He had asked, already knowing what the answer that tipped on my tongue was.

At the sound of the acronyme, nothing had clicked—nothing had to have clicked, I didn't know the organization.

'' I didn't feel anything,''

'' Not even a little curious?'' He had muttered more to himself than to me. It was silent, and curt. But still audible from across the table we had sat. I shook my head no.

'' Why does it matter though?'' I began this time, the topic of the eastern man who's fumes had threatened to travel upwards towards the house resurfaces, '' Did the man have something to do with the death of my father?'' I urged, leaning into the table. The peach in my hand had already been a third devoured by now.

'' Is that what B.S.S was— is that the reason why you had all looked at me the way you did?'' Questions had threatened to bury Alderete's words back in his throat if he didn't interject sooner or later.

But I couldn't have helped it.

What had concerned Tenzin in the past had clearly drawn me in—unwillingly–now.

The Spanish agents kiwi-like eyes glisten playfully. He had seemed to find greater humor in being the one interrogated for the first time than him in all the years of his authoritarian career.

For a change, he found himself getting comfortable becoming the interrogated instead of the interrogator. His smile–similar to his younger brother–adorns gold tooth gems. They shine when the yellow-ish artificial light of the room reflects off it.