(Mal)
Weak. Useless. Hopeless. Forgotten. Unloved.
For every poorly constructed insult that had ever been thrown directly at her Mal struck the bag in front of her, heavy breaths slipping through the crack in her lips as traveling sweat lightly tickled the skin of her jaw. At the same time as she told herself nothing the others said about her held any trace of the truth, she felt as though there weren't any words that described her better. Despite knowing that she wasn't physically or mentally weak she knew there had to be an underlying reason she remained stuck in the same place; despite knowing she could successfully complete any of the missions her peers were sent on she felt the heavy weight of her unavailing state. She felt hopeless when trying to convince the Head she was ready for a mission of her own.
But those were only temporary feelings. The other words meant to be used against her were facts.
She had only been twelve-years of age when the Head had found her and decided to take her in – though she knew it definitely hadn't been because he felt bad for her – and that was only after she had spent five years of her life on the streets. Her mother had left her when she was only seven and she had never even had the slightest clue who her father was. And after ten years she wasn't sure if she had blocked every memory of her mother due to psychological pain, or if she just simply couldn't remember her; but whichever it was it didn't matter. She no longer remembered who her mother was, and as far as she was concerned she had never had parents. No one had been there for her, and the only one who had been left and forgot her as if she had never been born.
Weak. Useless. Hopeless. Forgotten. Unloved.
To her, it was much better that way. She didn't need anyone to care, nor did she need anyone to love her.
It's better this way. It was how she preferred it.
Weak. Useless. Hopeless. Forgotten. Unloved. To everyone else she was all of them; to her she was none of them. You can't be forgotten if no one was ever there to remember you. You can only be weak, or useless, or hopeless, if you let yourself be. You can only be unloved if you wanted their love in the first place. And that was the one thing she didn't want from those in her life.
The minute she had walked into this facility she had known she wouldn't like it here, let alone fit in, and she had never tried for either. She didn't like it, but it was her home. She didn't fit in, but she didn't need to. She wasn't one to create faux personalities in order to get people to like her, and that's all everyone around her did; they were one person around the Head and the complete opposite with their squad, whereas she was the same person around everyone. She would say she despised those around her but she didn't care for them enough – and hatred was a form of caring what someone does and what they think. And though they all thought she was effected by the words constantly thrown at her they couldn't be any further from the truth. She knew who she was, and their thoughts on who that person was wouldn't change that even in the simplest of ways.
As Mal continued striking the bag slung from the metal bar above her knuckles started to crack, letting the blood lurking beneath stain the worn, pale skin. Still, she didn't stop. She had no idea what time it was, only that it was well into the night, a time where the majority of the facility's residents were long asleep. However, unfortunately for Mal, that didn't seem to be the case that night.
"Look who's still up, guys. The useless loner girl."
Mal continued working through the laughs, not giving them the satisfaction of her attention. They just had to choose one of the nights I practice late to wander pointlessly. Though she knew they had only shown up because they knew she would be there. The fact that they believed their words would actually affect her emotionally honestly wore her out.
"What's the matter? Couldn't go a couple hours without causing self-harm? Can't you stand how useless you are?"
"You already used that one," Mal pointed out, continuing her self-training, knowing that he was referring to the blood covering her knuckles.
The boy hesitated, and she could tell he was looking at his group to make sure they hadn't noticed as well. It was pathetic.
"Well, it's not my fault it describes you so perfectly," was his response.
Mal couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head in amusement at how unintelligent some people could be; especially this guy. She prided herself on the fact that she had no idea what his name was, figuring being properly acquainted with the boy would only lessen her own intelligence.
"You wanna know what describes me perfectly?" Mal questioned with no intention of letting him respond. "Do you understand the words 'better than you'? Because that's the perfect biography for me."
That was the moment she finally decided to stop her movements and turn to face the small group accumulated behind her. The boy in front looked as though he was completely lost, and she could tell it was because he couldn't wrap his mind around the meaning of her words. His friends did understand though, and they all looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to put her in her place; which never happened despite how often they thought it did. Mal arched her eyebrow, chewing on the inside of her lip as she crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her eyes locked on him in a silent challenge, urging him to respond with something better.
"Any day, now," Mal moved her hand in small circles, gesturing for him to say something. "You know, I have so many better things to be doing right now."
Almost like she had cursed herself, the buzzer attached to her belt shot electricity through her hipbone as a red light flashed through the mostly darkened room, indicating that the Head wanted to see her. She internally groaned, reaching to the bench to retrieve her leather jacket – one of the many she owned.
"Sorry, buds," Mal said sarcastically as she slid her arms through the sleeves, offering them an unfriendly smile. "I have to go be useless elsewhere."
Mal brushed passed the group, purposefully shoving her shoulder into the front boys' and smirking as his face scrunched in pain forced silent. She heard the others finally find their voices as she retreated, clearly not courageous enough to speak to her directly.
"Why do you think Head's buzzing her so late?"
"He's probably realized how hopeless she is."
"He better be tossing her out."
"Relax, he's definitely tossing her. He never calls us this late, so it's obviously something that'll never happen to us."
Mal navigated her way through the various hallways in the overly spacious training facility with ease despite her lack of experience journeying to the Head's quarters. Every time the Head had buzzed her had been for him to tell her to make friends with someone, and she honestly couldn't stand the way he acted as though he were her father. She didn't need a father, and she definitely didn't need anyone pretending to parent her either. He was more her boss than anything else; one she rarely listened to.
He hadn't simply taken her in to take care of her; he had brought her to his facility to play trainee for him. Ever since he had found her scurrying the streets for survival she had been provided with a roof to sleep under, an efficient way to stay clean, and more food than she could ever hope to eat. But all of that was only guaranteed if she trained alongside the other kids her age to become another special agent for his Artifact Protection Agency. And despite her young age when she had first stepped into this place it hadn't taken her long to figure out why he had been so irritatingly insistent on her becoming one of those agents; she was different than everyone else in an extremely dangerous way. He wanted to use that to his advantage, which is why it puzzled her that he refused to give her a single mission.
Sometimes she wished she hadn't been all but forced to live in the facility. She had been doing perfectly fine on her own, and it would have spared her many years of the frustrations of this place. She also wished that she hadn't learned to control herself before being found because she knew that her tendency to get agitated with ease would have rewarded her with a beautiful excuse to injure the other trainees. However, the Head knew she had perfected her control, which meant that if she were to use that excuse to inflict damage on anyone he would be capable of seeing directly through the lie. There were strict rules chained around her that kept her from freeing that part of herself, and the only time she had defied those rules left her near death, so she grit her teeth and added it to the short list of orders she actually obeyed.
When she reached the doors to the Head's quarters she quickly unclipped the buzzer from her belt and pressed the screen of it into the marble plate embed in the wall, waiting for the doors to slide open before replacing it where it spent the majority of its time. It was a constant reminder that there was little freedom in this place.
"Earlier today, something extremely alarming happened."
Right to business, as usual.
"Am I supposed to ask what it was?" Mal questioned, not surprised when the Head turned from the screen he previously stared at to give her a stern look.
Very fatherly of you, Mal thought with a suppressed roll of her eyes.
"There's a single artifact that we've been searching for our entire lives, an artifact that dates back longer than can be recorded," the Head went on, choosing to ignore her behavior, as he often did. "Though we've been able to use our advanced technology to locate every other artifact for our agents, such as yourself…"
Mal snorted at that recognition.
"… to retrieve for us, this particular artifact had never been located."
"Before today," Mal finished, already losing interest; she didn't understand why he would buzz her so late just to discuss the discovery of a long-lost artifact.
"There's just one problem," the Head spoke delicately, as if his voice was the trigger to a bomb capable of destroying the entire facility.
"Isn't there always?" Mal questioned disinterestedly.
It earned her another fatherly warning, exactly the look she had been aiming to receive.
"The problem is that this artifact happens to be one of the most powerful artifacts known to man, and that means hundreds of agencies will go through any lengths necessary to take it as their own," the Head continued, and Mal wondered if he realized he led one of those agencies; she waited. "And we need to get to it first."
And there it is. "I'm shocked."
"It has come to my attention that the reason it had been lost for so long was that it wasn't in the right hands," he started pacing around the room in a patient manner, seeming to sense her next words and answering her question without her needing to vocalize it. "Her name is Evie. I've been doing some extensive research since the artifact first revealed itself, and I've managed to find that the girl lives in Auradon, close to King Ben's castle."
King? She hadn't known having a king or queen was still a custom in some areas. Alright, some places are still ruled by a King, but that still doesn't explain why I'm here.
"Yeah, why exactly are you telling me all of this?" Mal asked as she picked mindlessly at the blood that had crusted over her knuckles.
"Because I'm assigning you to travel to Auradon for the artifact."
At first, Mal thought she had misheard him, but after a moment of attempting to piece together what he could have actually said she realized there was no plausible answer; she had heard him correctly. She raised both her eyebrows questioningly, forcing herself to act unaffected and unamused by his sudden announcement.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm briefing you on the information necessary to complete this mission because I have chosen you for it, given the fact that you're extremely lethal and damn near unpredictable unless the topic in discussion is whether or not you'll behave," the Head explained, saying the next part with disappointment laced through his words. "You never do behave."
Mal crossed her arms over her chest defiantly as if to prove his point. "So, what? You want me to go in and destroy everything and everyone in my path to bring you the artifact."
She was taken by surprise when he shook his head, refuting her statement. "No, I want you to travel to Auradon and do whatever it takes to protect the girl from any harm that comes her way until it stops coming. And you must do it alone, or word will get out that she has outside protection."
If she hadn't believed she could become anymore bewildered in that moment than she would have been proved massively incorrect. She couldn't believe a single word she was hearing. Not only was she being given her first assignment, but it was also undoubtedly the most challenging mission she had heard about since arriving at the facility, especially considering she would have to do it by herself. Go to Auradon. Find the girl named Evie. Protect her at all costs. Put simply, it sounded easy enough; but as the Head made his way back over to the screen and started showing her the agencies that would make an attempt for the artifact the difficulty increased until she knew it would be nearly impossible.
Great, she thought, blowing out a heavy breath; my first mission will be my only mission.
(Evie) – Earlier that Day
Most people who rarely got to see their parents were generally ecstatic whenever they got to visit them; however, Evie often found herself dreading her family visits as soon as the limo entered the magical barrier that led from Auradon to the Isle of the Lost. Along with the memories flooding her mind whenever she returned to the Isle she often felt shivers built with an unpleasant mixture of fear and disgust traveling the length of her spine at being back in her first home.
"Evie!" Her mother called for her, drawling her name the way she always did when she wanted to discuss something she believed to be immensely important; Evie once believed so, too.
Evie moved over to where her mother sat, sitting down in the slightly broken chair presented to her by the woman beckoning her. "Yes, mommy?"
"You've turned eighteen since the last time I saw you," Grimhilde stated, and Evie merely nodded in response. "Meaning it's time for you to be given the family treasure."
Her breath hitched in her throat when her mother reached around to the back of her neck to remove the chain that had hung around her neck for as long as Evie could remember. She had never witnessed her mother without that necklace, and the woman almost looked incomplete to her without the crowned red heart contrasting with the blue of her dress. Holding her breath, Evie watched closely as her mother raised the chain once again, this time to bring it down around Evie's neck.
"It's been in our family for many centuries, passed down to the oldest daughter when she turned eighteen," Grimhilde explained, the proud glint in her eyes making up for the lack of a smile. "The day she finally becomes a woman."
Evie held back a comment about being the only daughter as her mother adjusted the chain so that it tucked under the collar of her shirt.
The moment the crowned heart dropped to rest over her own heart a gasp was torn from Evie's lips and she flinched as if an electric bolt had just sparked inside her heart. Her hand shot up for her fingers to clasp around the heavy jewel as the electricity made its way through every inch of her veins, leaving behind a sharp tingling sensation. The jewel heated in the palm of her hand to a point that she felt should have burned her; but no pain came from the scorching heart.
"What's happening?" Evie asked her mother in panic, eyes widened in fear.
"I am so proud of everything you've accomplished, despite our more recent differences," her mother said in reply, as close to a smile she had ever gotten present on her face.
Evie let the jewel fall from her grasp, but the new sensation had seemed to find a refuge in her body. "Mommy, I can feel something inside it. Is this supposed to happen?"
She was unsure what to think.
"Nonsense," Grimhilde waved her hand dismissively. "It's nothing more than a cherished necklace."
Having expected reassurance from her mother her heart only began to race erratically as the fear building in her chest increased in intensity. Evie had worn many necklaces during her life, but none of them had created the feeling settling deep inside her like her mother's did; though technically it belonged to her, now. A sudden urge to tear the necklace from around her neck passed through her body, but as soon as the feeling came it was replaced with an unexplainable relaxation, and she soon found the new feeling embedding itself into her bones pleasurable.