I quickly sit up, fast, uneven breaths leaving my chapped lips as I look around the room hastily. When it crosses my mind that it was a dream, and only that, I sigh to myself, rubbing my forehead with my hand. "My God." I say quietly, standing up from my cell, stretching slightly, my arms above my head. I crack my knuckles, a bad habit, I know, you know what they say about habits though, once you get into 'em, it ain't easy to get out of 'em.
Though, the dream, had gotten me worked up, as I remembered it, the more I did, the angrier I got. I did not understand why, or how for that matter, my mind could come up with these damn dreams. I narrow my eyes, at the wall, where I had punched repeatedly before, unconsciously rubbing my knuckles in remembrance. And was going to do again, except with exercise.
How was I supposed to exercise in a cell, you might ask? By doing push ups, sit-ups, chin ups from the little half an inch or so ledge above the door. I shrug off the orange coat thing, tossing it aside, onto the bed mattress. I began with sit-ups.
After a while of exercising, and am in the middle of my last couple chin ups, when I hear two people stop at the door. One wore heels, I could logically assume that they were a female and the other carried them self with pride, weighed approximately 180-200 pounds, wore Military grade boots, heavily armed, I could assume they were a male, and a military officer.
I drop from the doorway, standing with my arms crossed, my skin coated with a thin layer of sweat. The woman wore a grey and black tight dress, had chocolate skin, red lipstick, brown eyes, a small brown afro, stood at about the same height as me, about five foot seven, if I wasn't a professional killer, I may be a little intimidated by her. My eyes shift to the man, he had a hard look on his face, he had brown eyes, relatively short brown hair, military issue uniform, taller than me, at about six foot two, maybe taller.
I don't start the conversation, I wait for them to, after all, they came to see me, not I them. "If you don't know me already, my name is Amanda Waller, and this is Rick Flag." She introduces herself, pausing, as if to catch my expression. When it remains emotionless, she continues. "You're probably wondering why I'm here." She says, and I roll my eyes, well no shit.
"I'm here, to offer you a deal." She continued, and my eyes narrow. "And if I don't accept?" She doesn't answer me, continuing. "I'm here to ask you, to join a team, of very bad people, to do a little good."
"What's the deal?" I question, knowing that there was no way I was to get out of this. "You get time off your sentence." The guy, Rick Flag says, and I narrow my eyes once again. They'll probably say, when its all over, like, five years or something bullshit like that. So typical of people like them to do. Then again, I am a murderer, I do not blame them.
"Do I get much of a choice?" I wonder, and she shook her head. "Well alright then. Sign me up." I say turning from them with a smirk on my lips. Well, today just got a lot more interesting.
I think to myself, starting to do push ups again as I hear their footsteps retreat away.
"She's more intimidating in person." I hear my guard murmur to them, and I smirk. Maldita mente recta. (Damn straight)
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Warned (El Diablo)
FanfictionThe brother grows closer, everyone begins to grow worried as it came a little too close . He goes to defend her, beginning to stand, when he is pulled back down, he turns to glare at Floyd. "She's got this." Floyd says to him, and his eyes drift bac...
