Chapter Text
Namor hated waking up in the mornings with a passion. Adjusting to a strict schedule was not something he planned to do, but neither was escaping Talokan and living as a surface dweller. Namor stared at the ceiling for a bit more. Surely he didn't have to go into work. This was not real. Every time he would close his eyes the panic clouded his brain. He acted brashly, he thought he had the upper hand, and then he didn't. Worst of all, his people depended on him and he let them down. So many warriors lost, children without parents, and of course their beautiful home. He had everything and then it was taken away in a heartbeat.
He vowed to make them all pay. He was tracking people down one by one. Slowly connecting them to other crimes, getting involved, and then pulling the trigger. No one would expect Namor to use a surface dweller weapon. They all thought he was dead anyway. He had to make sure no one would get suspicious. His methods had to parallel ones of surface dwellers. Assassins that were sent in from other governments, or people who just wanted to watch the world burn. He did relish that many of those morons had beachside homes. It made it oh so easy to escape the crime scene. Soldiers would look for boats or cars as a means of escape, not wings or super speed swimming.
Namor turned in his bed, wincing at the rays of the sun. He had to buy black out curtains with his debit card. Trading items for wads of paper seemed absurd but that's how the world worked. He had to adjust and be patient. Karma really outdid herself. Sadly, Namor was boxed into the system he shoved himself in.
The job was tolerable enough, the pay was decent, he liked working in the water, but he still felt out of place.
Namor slid out of bed and stared at himself in the mirror. He was almost unrecognizable. The nose ring had to be replaced with a prosthetic. His earrings were now small black studs. Sometimes, if he felt particularly crazy, he would replace them with small green studs. No chest piece or headwear. He looked bare. He refused to wear green. His job did require for him to swim every so often and he was terrified of people seeing a resemblance. So black suit it was. It hid the wings well. He threw on a gray shirt and sat down to bandage his wings. One of them was broken and healing poorly due to him constantly concealing them. Namor hoped it would eventually be okay. He did not fly anymore. Paranoia would consume him if he did.
Next up was a pair of black pants and a single gold chain. It looked lonely. Shuri would definitely roast him for his lack of style but he did not care. Just had to get through the day, and then he could research more of his next target. Maybe he did care just a little bit. Shuri was an unlikely friend and helped Namor feel less lonely. He was scared to make new friends, because he could only imagine the destruction they would be swept into if his true identity was revealed.
Breakfast included fruit and coffee. Coffee did not particularly taste well but it did give him energy. He splashed his face with water before grabbing his work bag and heading out. He did not trust himself to drive a car and so he walked to the research station. The island was small enough to make that possible. He walked past the coffeeshop, and the large but local bookstore, the florist, the butcher, the diner, the realtor office, the other office that had cars, but did not have a name, and finally through the park. The forest was nice to walk through. He preferred to take smaller, secluded paths so he could splash himself with water every once in a while. He had to keep his guard up when he was alone. You never know what was hiding in the shadows. Maybe he missed a camera or this was all one sick trick that the CIA was putting him through. They wanted him to feel safe for once and then sweep it from under him.
The forest started to clear and the coast showed. There were a couple seafood restaurants and of course his place of work. People liked to come here from the mainland to watch the sunset and feast. Despite all of the setbacks of being on land, Namor liked the sunset very much. The pinks, oranges, and blues would melt some of his worries at least for a little bit.
He could see some of his colleagues walking in as well. Namor was extremely glad that he did not inherit the bright blue color of everyone in Talokan. Concealing that would take forever, and he would probably have to opt for a different job.
He threw down his bag on his desk and sighed as he saw Shuri walk over. She was way too excited for something.
"You ready to meet a new work colleague?"
"Absolutely not."
"I heard through the grapevine that she is very pretty."
"She is all yours then"
Namor hated this match making Shuri would try to pull on him. After learning how to read English and the basics of technology, Shuri figured he needed some other excitement in his life like a partner. She felt appalled that in all his years underwater he did not have a partner so she was on a mission to find him one. Technology was hard but finding someone and having a genuine connection with them was harder. Namor knew deep down it was because he was scared of committment but he wrote it off as no one being good enough for him or just right. Besides, sex was so much easier and inconsequential. At least in his older days. Now, undressing was a big no-no and you certainly had to do that when having sex. He supposed he did miss that.
Turning on the computer and putting in some data from yesterday was done on autopilot. He got decent with typing on the keyboard and not looking. If the data inputting went too fast, he would pretend like he was doing something else and then zone out. Planning his meals, his revenge, what come back he would have for Shuri, and so on. What a sad life. He did not notice that his finger was pressing on a single key or that there was someone approaching him.