Chapter Text
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Drops of water falling from the roof, petrichor still fresh in the air. Perhaps you could even make out a last echo of thunder if it wasn't for the havoc of the streets.
He wanders around the corner, white-lavender hair soggy from the humid air, eyes trained on his surroundings. Their current objective was simple, following the movements of a target the likes of which might create trouble for the masterplan. With some luck, they could use their ability briefly to extract all the information the organization likely doesn't need from the person. Honestly, Fyodor probably already knows all the variables, there's no point in wasting his time here, but orders are orders. He suspects it is just to keep him on his toes.
They could've picked a better time for it though- it has been storming relentlessly the past week. As he comes back from his brief thinking stint, a temporary nervousness seizes his muscles before quick relief replaces it at the sight of his brunette target entering a store. Mindlessly he looks through the window, eyes scanning over the colorful merchandise of toys- a toy store? He makes quick work of a fake phone call and enters a thankfully average shop, seemingly looking for 'something'. The sunglass-clad individual chatters on about something with the cashier, moving between the aisles. As he absent-mindedly settles into his role here, fingers gliding over price tags, wooden blocks, plastic packaging, and plush fur, he barely notices a different worker wandering in his direction with a neutral expression. They sidle up with an arsenal consisting of polite 'No, thank you's'' and ''I'm alright, thank you's''.
''Hello sir, how may I help you today? I couldn't help but notice you looking for something quite intently, so if there's perhaps a gift I can help you find, I'm up for it.'' the russian from the woman apparently named Tanya (as stated on her nametag) is surprisingly polite, and he has to pause for a second before going to fire his word-ammunition. Nothing can, however, ever go smoothly of course, so a strike of returning lightning and thunder interrupts. Bright, hot lightning. And Sigma is back in the desert again- though he has no idea how he got here. The sun is burning. The sky is sickeningly blue- why is the sky blue? Why is it clear? How does he know what that is again? The crackle of lightning doesn't belong here either- it's hiss and crack throws him. There's no slow fade or light, one moment he is there, one he is not, and the next he is again. His feet feel like the sand itself. A second. More? A hand on his shoulder. Yes, the worker. The worker.
''Hey, are you okay? Do I need to call someone?''
Dazedly, he kicks his brain into action with adrenaline and shrugs her off. He nods and then shakes his head dumbly. He pauses. He should leave. He grabs the nearest thing to steady himself, which just so happens to dislodge itself from the shelf. A...sparrow security blanket?
''You want... that one? A little sibling of yours having a birthday?'' Tanya assumes. The lightning flashes lightly, threateningly again and he just by the skin of his teeth quickly says ''Yeah- yeah. For a sibling.'' His hands fiddle together with the soft thing. Let's end this quickly, he's already ruined today enough.
As he is about to sprint to the register yet another hand reaches for him, patting his shoulder. ''Cool choice, I'm sure they'll love it man, I was just about to look at it.''
He seems to have gathered a small audience.
The use of his ability was automatic, ingrained in him after countless uses, and discreet. Those sunglasses could only hide so much from him- he now knew the eyes behind them were unique to an ability. Their target pulls back and simply leaves back to their business, not sticking around a milisecond longer, cashier trailing after with a nod in their direction. The worker that had been helping him led their way to the cash desk, concluding the deceivingly simple exchange. l guess that's the information he wanted to have extracted then?
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He'll admit that even though it worked out, that was one of his... less smooth executions. (What does lightning even really have to do with a fucking desert?) As a result of this rather controversial execution, a security blanket now sits deep inside his sleeping bag. That is, of course, no fault of his own. Where else would he put it? It might be evidence, and his sleeping bag is least likely to get soaked through. He'll keep it there just in case. And if his hands find it at night then that stays between him and God. (and you)