Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
On a beach, Isis Wallace walks bare foot in sand, watching waves lap over one another as the sunset in the horizon. The sky dimming in a beautiful purplish-orange. The sound of the ocean causes her to close her eyes and smile. Isis was happy to be free from a life she worked herself away from, literally. In the elite agency, DarkOp, in order to lose the chains you were given, you had to complete fifty missions. Some lasted for days, months, years. Involving change of identity, surgeries, implants, all to play a part of a seemingly unusual suspect.
But, it is over, she tells herself, sitting, resting her long legs in the sand, feeling the salty wind blow her red hair. A hair color still present from her final mission, soon she'd be blonde again, a nice, normal, natural kind of blonde. She'd hadn't seen her true hair color in years.
Isis lays back in the sand, tapping her big toes together in gray short shorts and a blue loose tank. Braless. Free. A flock of birds cheep pass, in a V formation, curving sharp figures onto the sky. Reminding her of old trainings, of how tight of a lease she used to have....a strict pattern.
Seeing herself in all in black, slicked back hair, expressionless, a metal paddle waving before an identical squad. Hypnotizing everyone inside. It's over...relax. Oh boy, I may need to invite a therapist out here, shit. Her pulse quickens and sweat falls from her forehead. Isis strips and heads into the water, each of her limbs sinking into the cold water one by one. The iciness refreshing on her feverish skin. The chills shocked her enough to shoo away the frantic memory.
Her mind goes blank, mirroring the darkness she now saw. Isis holds her breath. Drifting away to a place of non existence. Hugging her body, curling up in a fetal position. Feeling water molecules attach to her skin rapidly as waves rush in. Rocking her back.
After a while she forgets to breathe but doesn't panic. Maybe...she ponders. I mean what else is there? I'm done tasting the air of earth, I've reached my paradise and gained happiness....but not freedom. No. Not at all...something can get me right back into the groove just as easy as I got out of it. So. What will it be?
But Isis knew her choice. Knew since she was five and inherited the profession of an spy to spare her parents lives. She gave herself away to settle a debt, as a payment. A sassy kid telling off a group of bad men. Flexing her skills her parents taught her....enough that she was recruited.
