MF1.0 - 35 - Shoes

Stef stared at herself in the mirror – the changing room was large and well lit, and bizarrely normal in comparison to everything that had happened so far. It was just a change room, like they had at…well, she assumed they had at most stores.

Her method of buying clothes was to choose something in the approximately right size and shape and take it to the counter. They were a necessity, nothing more. Her logic was that the less she spent on them, the more she could spent on accessories for her computers.

Frankie was like a spoilt child – and likely the only kind of child she’d ever have. Pets had tended to be a bad idea, and an actual child was out of the question.

The suit fit her well, and that was surprising, considering he’d – at least apparently – just grabbed it off the rack. It was comfortable, and surprisingly cool – in terms of temperature anyway. It would take her a little while to get over the oh crap, narcs! part of her personality before she fell in love with the uniform.

She predicted this would take six more hours.

There was a cough, and then she felt something against her foot. She looked down to see that he had pushed a pair of anonymous black shoes under the door. She looked down at the sneakers on her feet and decided to keep those instead.

She slipped the tie around her neck, and for the only time ever, she was glad of her stay in hell. Five straight years of knotting a tie to go with the ugly uniform was finally coming in handy.

The door was still locked, and Ryan couldn’t see through it. She hoped he couldn’t see through it. He could probably see through it. Crap. ‘Are you peeking?’

‘Recruit…’ was the tired answer.

‘I’ll take that as a “no”,’ she muttered, and lifted her gun.

She struck a pose, then giggled. She struck another and made an attempt to look tough – she was fairly certain it failed miserably. The “bitch with a gun” pose worked well though.

‘I think I’m going to like this way too much,’ she said as she holstered the gun.

She left her old clothes, and the black leather shoes, in a messy pile on the floor. She assumed some sort of laundry gnome would deal with it. Or not.

Ryan looked her up and down, and his gaze stuck on her shoes. ‘Re-’ he began, but she cut him off.

‘You pulled a hacker off the street and brought her to the heart of narc-dom and the only resistance she has shown is her choice in footwear, is this going to be a problem?’

‘I was simply going to ask – I required those shoes less than an two hours ago, how did they get dirty?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She shrugged. ‘My shoes do that. I think it’s my superpower.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘No Recruit, I believe that…’ He coughed. ‘You have to see Jones now.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘I thought I was your new pet?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘All recruits are given the ability to require, we find it comes in handy.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She smiled and followed him from the room.