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Irina still had no idea how she convinced herself this was okay. As she stepped over a sign on the floor with the words: DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE - THE PENTAGON, the panic started to settle in.
"We are going to get arrested," she whispered to herself. With Charles by her side, she, Logan, and Hank walked around with a touring group led by a guide.
"Oh, stop being so dramatic," Charles hissed.
Irina rolled her eyes for the thousandth time. "You're one to talk."
She knew the bickering came off as childish. But, it truly felt like piece by piece, she shed a layer of the ruining hatred roping her soul. It was poisonous, Irina just wanted to be healthy. To breathe in the forest air, dip her feet in the pool, feel the sunlight dance on her skin like night needn't arrive.
They approached a set of stairs right when a child asked where the restroom was. Giving Hank a meaningful glance, she, Logan, and Charles stirred away from the group and onto the flight of steps.
While they took twists and turns into random, alone hallways, Irina's heart dropped to her toes and her breath became water in her lungs. Gaia currently pretended to be a chef in the kitchen. She played backup for Erik and Peter once they escaped the cell. The thought of Gaia being in any horrible situation swirled Irina's intestines.
A thought flashed of Erik's life being imprisoned. She hoped he suffered. She hoped the smell of rotten corpses filled with love haunted his every sense.
Hearing water spatter on the floor due to the sprinklers (which turned on thanks to Gaia), Irina knew it was time to get into the act of a superior. A small smirk played on her lips. In a few seconds, the painful and mourning swelling would die with a slice of a hot, burning red knife.
People shuffled past her wearing white tall hats and chef coats. As they stepped into the kitchen, Irina's anxiety wore down as she saw Gaia with a spread hand under the table. She continued to let the water pour.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is a code red situation," asserted Charles with faux superiority. "We are evacuating the entire floor so that we- my associate's and I- uh can secure the prison."
Chefs left, all but one wolf playing sheep stayed. The guards in which protected the elevator stepped towards them in a sorry attempt to intimidate the mutants.
"Who are you," one asked with a silly mustache.
"We are special operations," said Irina, confident. She'd learn the term behind her ugly steel cell. She remembered when security guards stood in front of her confinement, some would laugh and humiliate her.
One woman, the only woman, took pity. You're too beautiful to be in here.
The guards gave her a spectacle look. "What type?"
