Project Icarus

Testing: Part One

I was about to answer, but the Instructor quickly interrupted.
"She's the Angel. We need you to fit the straps to her." He glared at her.

Did something happen between them? Or IS something happening between them?

"Fine. You go somewhere I don't have to look at you and I'll work," he said after a long pause.

That ship sailed a long time ago. They definitely had something at some point, but no longer. He's still mad at her for some reason. Boys.

I let him place me in the center of the room, facing the mirrored wall, and did the various positions as he got every detail about the shape of my body and the size the straps need to be.

During this time, I got a good look at myself and the two of them. I looked the cleanest out of the three of us, even though I was formerly homeless. I guess it had something to do with the color of our clothes, with mine being the brightest color out of gray and beige. For the first time, I really studied myself. The pointed chin, slightly too small nose, and big brown eyes all together. Along with my straight and bright red hair, I'm about as genetically diverse as they get.

I don't look too bad, I realized. Even if I'm as pale as humanly possible.

I glanced over at the Instructor in the mirror, who was leaning in the back corner, away from the door. She absentmindedly twirled some of her wavy blonde hair around her finger as I waited. Smallish gray eyes sat aside a very ordinary nose. She could've been a model, I thought as I looked away.

Maybe she was before they took her.

And the Tailor- well, he was just measuring me. Bicep diameter, around my waist and chest, there were a lot of necessary measurements, all of which he marked in a journal of his own.

I gave the Instructor an inquisitory look and pointed to the Tailor, and her eyes widened slightly. After a slight pause, she smiled slightly and motioned outside.

A few more agonizing moments passed before the Tailor stepped back.

"About time you finished," the Instructor said quickly. "Alright. Things to do. Get those wings fitted! They need to be perfect!" With that final remark, she turned and purposefully walked out of the room. I jogged to catch up.

"I have so many questions," I said, finally catching up to her. "First off, why didn't you call me Nicole in there? What's this 'she's the Angel' crap?" I asked in a slightly mocking tone.

"Well, to ensure that one knows their ranking, their title becomes their name. As you didn't know this rule, I answered correctly for you." the Instructor said, sounding as if she hated saying every word of it.

"What the heck happened between you and the Tailor? There was clearly some tension there."

She sighed. "I kissed him."

"Wha-"

"A few months ago, we were about as close as friends could get. Except-" she trailed off.

"Romantically."

"Yes. One day we were causally eating dinner and I just leaned over and kissed him. And he kissed me back!" She said this with the same emphasis one would say 'I hit gold!' An unwelcome spring of jealousy began to trickle. "It happened fairly quickly, but the entire room was staring at us as if we were aliens. It got extremely awkward after that, so we just stopped. I no longer talked to him, he never talked to me, and that worked out fine." What little jealousy I had was gone.

"Any more questions?"

I thought for a moment. "What did you do before you were brought here?"

"I was a college professor." I stopped in my tracks, and turned slowly towards her.