Black Equation - The Gifted Ones

Number Ten

She heard a curse directed her way a few feet to her left. The former Agent 04 bit a sarcastic remark from his mighty throne AKA her computer desk. He was peeling away her Hello Kitty stickers with the tip of a ball pen. "Baa-san, baka."

Even though she was a multilingual person, Hayden could have let it slide if she wasn't in a bad mood. The problem was, she is in a bad mood. In addition to that, she understood the underlying message of those words. She heatedly glared at the tall Japanese dude who just popped her bubble. "I heard that, stud."

"Go to the police and file your complaints there."

"What. Is. Wrong. With. You. People!" she shrieked. "You barge into my room like you own the place when I am, let me repeat, I am on vacation! Is this all the thanks I'm getting?"

"Shut up," quipped the Japanese dude, his halfhearted and monotonous comeback causing Hayden's neck to grow cherry red.

"That's the spirit," ex-02 cheered.

"Goodness gracious! I haven't had any vacation in years! Can't you give this woman a little peace of mind? And don't you dare call me baa-san again, ever! I'm a young woman on the peak of her life!"

The blond freak snickered at her, finding her source of irritation amusing. Gives. She heard that among all the Equations, the former 02 and former 04 were the closest pair to have a good working relationship. Trust them to bully her in her own place.

"But you sound old," he added, tossing some of the popcorns into his own delectable mouth. For a moment, Hayden gawked. The former 02 was a very fine man and she hadn't bed a man in like, three weeks. What oh what she would give to have those sun-chapped lips on her skin. His large hands would fit snugly on her generous breasts...

As soon as those thoughts came, they zapped to nonexistence. This is an ex-Equation she's talking about here, not a boy toy she could strut around in the metro with a tight leash. His menacing blue-red eyes reminded her of the real identity of this superficially friendly Russian.

He used to be her partner in a mission in Greece several years ago. She could never forget how he slaughtered a two year old girl in front of her with an unwavering grin. Just the image was enough to give her nightmares.

The third man in the room spoke, his deep voice solemn and firm. "I apologize for the trouble, Agent 01. We need your helipad. We'll be gone as soon as our ride arrives."

Hayden immediately stood up and tightened the belt of her bathrobe in a weak attempt to look decent. She bowed to the older man with cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "No, no, of course you are welcome here, Master. I didn't mean my words to sound like I'm driving you away."

"No need to lie, child," the Master said, his tone offhanded, his thoughts clearly faraway. "Also, stop addressing me as Master. I am no longer the Master. For years, it has been Vladimir filling that position."

True. Of course she knew. But how else should she address the man that had been her Master from the very start, from the bottom of her heart? "What shall I call you then?"

"Just Kreuz is fine," he replied. "For these two, it's Ivan and Arashi."

"Kreuz," she repeated. It sounded weird and awkward on her lips. She then huffed as she faced the two distasteful riot makers. "And for those two, blacky and blondie would suffice. If they are no longer part of Creed, then I don't need to waste any mental space for them."

Yes, Blondie and Blacky fit them like a glove. Especially Blacky – it's a name befitting a stray dog.

Three sharp knocks interrupted her moment. Their heads snapped to the door as they took defensive stances. It was an unspoken rule ingrained on every cell of a person trained by Creed.