ᴍɪssɪɴɢ || ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

⚠︎︎ Warning: Blood, Burning ⚠︎︎

To those of you who have read the extra chapters of Bad Habits, this is just the one labeled Undercover so you can skip this if you have already seen it or feel free to reread it. But, I know a lot of people skipped them for some reason so make sure to read this chapter if you haven't!

- This takes place before she goes to UA when she was 14 years old! -

- • - • - • - • - • - • - • - • - • - • - • - • - • -

The hallways are cold and the air stale like old bread, the only sound the click of shoes against concrete flooring. Lights flicker by, one by one, the only way to tell you're moving and not stagnant in this rhythmic place. The whole place looks the same, turn after turn leading to a new hallway identical to the last, a way to throw people off balance and confuse them. Always three doors on the left and two on the right.

And, you are not to touch any of them.

"I don't know what they were thinking, sending a damn kid," The man in front of you mumbles, thinking he's quiet enough not to be heard.

"You'll find my skill set to be helpful to your cause," You respond, voice blank and respectful, just like you have practiced. Like you were taught.

These people will kill you without a second thought or a bit of remorse if you act against them. Your only chance at survival within these brick walls is to do exactly what you're told. Like a good little dog doing tricks for its master.

Finally, after four right turns and nine lefts, you stop in front of another identical metal door and wait patiently as the dark-haired man slides it open with a loud, deafening groan of rusted hinges. You don't reveal any thoughts or emotions as he shoves you in the room with a long wooden table taking up most of the space and proper lighting.

Seated around the smooth, wooden meeting table are six familiar figures, all having an air of authority around them as you dip your head a fraction of an inch in respect.

Your eyes don't leave theirs' though, a sign of respect but also your way of telling them they can't boss you around like a child while you're here. You'll do as they say, but you won't let them treat you less than you are. A child trained to fight for years and years. Their new little weapon to use as they please.

"Leave," The woman closest to you with wine-red hair demands, the man who had brought you here disappears a moment later behind the squeaking door. You don't flinch as everyone in the room's attention trains on you with hard stares that would make a lesser person pee themselves. The sheer amount of power in the room shows you just how important the people in front of you are.

These people are the reason you're here.

The woman with wine-red hair is pretty, locks curled and falls to her midback. Her eyes are dark with artificial kindness and compassion in the black irises, manicured nails clasped together tightly as she stares at you. Next to her is a large male with pointed ears and golden hair that is neatly combed against his head. He has a spray of freckles across his cheeks that bring out his black eyes that shine with insanity, the knife concealed in his sleeve says enough.

The next two people at the far end of the table from you are very similar, both with navy blue hair, dark skin, and eyes that match the dark hue of their hair. Almost identical, but the man on the left's jaw isn't as sharp, and gaze not as deadly.