Skye comes home exhausted.
It is in the middle of September and she is living in a small apartment in New York city.
She closes the door behind her and let herself fall to the floor. She wishes she could lie there for many more hours, but she knows she has to get up before her roommate comes home. With her last energy she carries herself to the shower, putting her dirty clothes in the washing machine. As the water flows over her dirty skin images of todays happening swim through her brain.
„Deserved it" she mutters as she put conditioner in her hair.
She steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around her fit body. She looks at herself in the mirror. Her long brown hair falls in soft curls over her shoulder and her brown eyes are looking extremely tired.
„All in all I look fantastic besides the circumstances that I just..." she stopped as she hears the door snapping shut, she leaves the bathroom and sees her roommate removing her shoes and hanging up her jacket.
„Hey" she greets shortly, making her way to her bedroom
„Skye! Would you please put some clothes on, that's the fifth time this week!" she hears the british accent and smirks to herself, she couldn't take it serious when she hears this accent. It was just too cute.
„Relax Simmons, it's no like you don't enjoy it" she calls from her room as she puts on a bra and a grey t-shirt.
„I absolutley do not and it's not like I haven't seen women with precisely ripped bodies before" the young scientist replies, immediately cursing herself for what she just said
„You practically just admitted that you find me attractive" she said putting one leg through her shorts.
„I'm sure having such a big ego is unhealthy"
„That's just healthy confidence, Simmons" the hacker replies, joining her roommate in the kitchen, where she makes herself a bowl with corn flakes. She grabs the box next to Simmons and pours the yellowish flakes into a white bowl. Then she gets herself comfortable on the tiny, brown couch which they had bought from the people who lived in the apartment underneath them. As they moved they'd sold all their stuff. Skye wasn't happy with this purchase at first, because she was sure they were some sort of satanic people but Jemma had just shrugged, they had been in need of a couch and they hadn't had the money for some fancy furniture. So she settles on the satanic couch and turns on the TV.
„...another murder in Central Park. Walkers found the 42 year old man in the shrubs, as they noticed their dog barking and bringing a shoe with him, they immediately called the police and ..."
„Terrible" the british woman joins her, sitting next to her. „That's the fourth one killed in Central Park this month"
„Yeah, I wonder why people still go"
„...supposedly the same murderer. It also turned out the man, who was killed was searched by the police for being a member of one of New Yorks biggest pedophile rings. If anyone has any information please call the police immediately. They search for a man with shoe size 10 ½, he probably is muscular, and has a height of approximately 190 centimeters."
"Crazy people running everywhere through New York" Jemma finishes her flakes „I think I'm going to bed now, good night" she says and gets up, making her way into the kitchen to put her bowl into the sink and then she gets into her bedroom, closing the door behind her silently.
Skye smiles to herself, muscular? Yes sort of. 190 Centimeters? She laughed, as if you have to have Hulk size to beat a man up who's taller than you. Shoe size 10 ½? Interesting how easily the police can be tricked. She's like a 7.
As she lays in bed she thinks about all the things that happened this day. She'd finally discovered the location of this bastard. Skye works in a coffee shop, but she likes her laptop better. In her free time she creates codes and stuff and much more important, she finds ways to track down assholes like Crank Johnson. He was just another name on her list, but this death was important to her. She'd seen what he did, to „make money" and it freaked her out. She'd made sure that he suffered more than...the others. Child pornography for Christs sake. How sick do you have to be? This is going to be a satisfying night, Skye thinks. It's a start.
It is nearly 4am and Jemma starts to tie her shoelaces. She has a little bit of work to do until the sun was fully risen from its sleep. At this time she knew that Skye would be asleep.
She's a biochemist with two Phd's and she has many connections to the „higher people". She has often met politicians, so-called „heroes" or other people who were admired because of their power. Jemma knows that such people are most the one's with the darkest minds. She works for people who want to apply her work results for something useful. The deadly virus she has been working on to find a remedy for, wasn't to help people. At least not the ones who need it. The government wanted it for themselves, to save themselves when the virus expands someday. They also wanted it to use it against the humanity. Biological weapons. That's more horrible than real guns. Dying through a bullet? Fine. Dying because you bleed out of every hole on your body? That's something not so enjoyable. And Jemma needs to find the one who's behind all this. She knows something horrible is planned, but she doesn't know who the head behind the plan his.
She's walking through the streets of New York, crossing her arms over her chest to keep the body heat a little while longer, her thin jacket isn't helping when the wind is blowing in her face, with a power as if he just has to let his energy out.
As she reaches the bar, which was in one of New Yorks very doubtful corners, she takes a deep breath. She had done this before, but still it was always a new mix of feelings between thrill and uproar.
Inside the bar it is mostly dark, trashy music plays and men click their beer glasses together, laughing furiously. She quickly scans the people sitting there and sees who she was looking for. Men who still weren't home at four in the morning were mostly tipsy. And despite they had a family or not, if given opportunity they all wanted a quick fuck. Jemma laughs to herself at the pure foolishness of some men. She hopes that today the man sitting on the bar, sipping on his beer, would be one of the stupid sort. It would really help.
She sits next to him „A beer please" she orders, and the man looks over at her
„Oh hello" he winks „What does a young lady like you make at this time in a silly bar?"
She pretends to take a sip but really it just touches her lips before she lets the liquid fall back in the bottle. She needs a clear head for this.
„Well" she says as she puts a hand on his knee. „I could ask you the same, no one's waiting for you?"
He leans closer and Jemma can smell the mix of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol. Disgusting.
„No one too important anyway"
„Just what I was hoping to hear" whoever was waiting wouldn't be too sad about his loss anyway, at least not if they know what he really is, she thinks.
„So do you mind if we take this" he gestures with his finger between him and her „to another place?"
„I thought you'd never ask" she says in her most charming tone.
When they head out of the bar he said with a smirk „You look so innocent, didn't know you were into this"
„Believe me, I've heard this before" if only he knew that his hormones just lead him into his biggest nightmare. As she drags him into a dark corner, between trash cans and old boxes he doesn't even ask why she does it. Stupid, very stupid. He has to be very desperate.
„I love when woman are being domestic" he says huskily and slides his hand under her shirt
„Me too" Jemma says as she puts her left hand around his wrist and quickly grabs her scalpel she had in her right jacket pocket.
„What the fu.." he says, but before he could do any further moves she cuts a precise line on his throat and the blood spills from the wound and onto her.
Thank god I wear my rain coat. That would be a hell of a mess otherwise, she thinks.
His hands wander to his throat and he gasps. Jemma already took hold of him, wrestling him down with a few quick moves. Her right knee digging in his stomach while her left feet steadies herself on the ground. „You bitch! Why did you do that!" he croaks out.
„What do you know about Project E .XX07?" she asks holding the scalpel near his throat.
Jemma sits on their table, reading the newspapers. Wow they were really fast.
Near 7o'clock she came home, finished with her business. She got the name she wanted. Clark Miller. She couldn't let him live though, so she made it quick. After making sure she hadn't left any evidences she went to their little apartment. They have lived together for 15 months now. Skye was searching for someone to share the rent and Jemma needed an apartment and since Skye and her came along well she decided to just stay there. Sometimes it was hard to hide her „business" from Skye but she handled it well. With everyone thinking she is a bad liar it all got easier. She actually laughs when someone says „Simmons is just such a bad liar, she couldn't lie to save her life!"
„That's not true" she had once said
„It is!"
Well, the best disguise is the truth, nobody believes it anyway, wise words Max Frisch.
We are just normal friends sharing an apartment, well as normal as you can be when you have dark business at night, she thinks.
„Mornin'" Skye says, her voice thick with sleep.
„Good morning Skye" Jemma says swallowing the lump in her throat which just magically formed, as she sees Skye just standing there in her underwear. As Skye shots Jemma her magical smile, Jemma just wants to melt.
Right, just friends sharing an apartment.
If only everything weren't so complicated. But it isn't like she could just sop what she'd begun over a year ago. She got so far.
hiii this is like my first attempt writing in present tense, i hope it was ok and have a lovely day! =)