Zeta observed herself in the mirror as she slipped off her orange and black prison jumpsuit. She noticed the physique of her body and noted the changes that occurred in only a few months. She flexed her arms, then her legs. Her muscles were more defined and toned out. The growth she had accrued would not have been possible in her physical education class, even if the class was strenuous at times.

She also noticed some bruises that lingered from the guard, but she quickly dismissed those thoughts.

She grabbed a set of clothes untidily cramped into a garbage bag. Its top was tied and she fiddled around with the loop in an attempt to open it. Once she realized she could not open the bag, she used her fingers and ripped through it. She shook out the clothing and a plethora of styles poured out.

The pile of clothing was like gold in her eyes, and she shifted around looking for what to wear. Roren had said they would all wear civilian clothing during the mission. He suggested they all wear something not too flashy, but also not too discrete. Apparently the place they were headed would have too much foot traffic and wearing dark, covert clothing would only make them stand all the more out. She thought the suggestion was dumb though. Unless they were blatantly wearing some movie spy attire, not wearing dark attire did not make sense.

Despite Roren’s suggestions, she looked around for darker toned clothing. The colors she wanted verged on the edge of navy blue and black, but the lighting would have made anything she wore into a dark color. She hoped it would hide her if a possible escape situation arose. If she found an opportunity, she would escape, find some help. Despite the niceties so far, which were largely outnumbered by the turmoil she went through, she was still a prisoner.

Based on the abilities they all shared, none of them could possibly stop her from escaping. If Roren petrified her legs, then she could easily dampen his abilities and break free of his hold. Jonas and Chloe’s abilities were hypothetically obsolete as well. With the information she had, she went over the many scenarios that could happen, but she still expressed some doubt. There were things still unknown about the others abilities. Just like how Zeta left out certain nuances about her ability, they all did as well.

Zeta mentioned how her powers were only temporary, but there were other vulnerabilities her ability expressed that could be exploited.

Roren was also rather smart. No way would he leave her out of his site, especially out in the field. She also had to acknowledge the possibility of a third party watching over her. Regardless, a close eye would be on Zeta.

A cold shiver rushed over Zeta and she instinctively grabbed a shirt from the dark clothing pile she amassed. She slipped it on quickly, found a matching pair of leggings and put that on as well.

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She tested the dexterity of the clothing. She swung her arms around to get a full range of motion, then kicked around her legs. With the limited space she had, she ran and jumped around the room. Not much was in the room except for a table, bed, nightstand, and a chair, but she decided it was good enough to be a parkour course. She positioned the chair in the middle of the room, stepped onto it, then jumped onto the table. The table shuddered and she clung onto it waiting for it to settle. Perhaps, the one-legged table was not as stable as she thought. Despite the risk, she jumped onto the bed, which she had full faith in.

She breathed in heavily as her body plopped onto the bed. The sudden, drastic movements caused her heart rate to elevate much higher than she expected it to. The materials were bending and shaping to her movements. No uncomfortable transitions were apparent and she assumed it was good enough. She did one final stretch before deciding this would be her outfit.

She rolled over the bed, stared at the pile of clothes on the ground and spotted a thin, black hoodie. Next to it was a light-blue tank-top and an orange-brown beanie. An idea sparked into her head.

She took off her shirt, tossed it aside, and tried on the tank-top, hoodie, and beanie combo. She followed the same routine, testing out the material, but instead of jumping off the table, she vaulted over the bed multiple times.

When she was done, she took off her clothes, neatly folded them, and stashed them aside. Her mission attire was decided.

From the remaining clothes in the stack she chose something to wear. Her choices were less methodical this time since she was choosing comfort. After putting on the clothes she smiled at herself in the mirror. Wearing a loose sweatshirt and shorts had never felt better. Anything was better than a prison jumpsuit, but this was especially bliss.

She hopped back onto the bed. Her mind formulated possible scenarios in her head. Ideas about how to escape traveled in her mind. The task turned more daunting every second that passed. There was so much information she did not yet know, so much that Roren withheld from her. He mentioned the roles they would all play, but it did not help much with what was ahead. So much for team cohesion.

She turned to lay on her side and looked at the attire she chosen. The civilian clothing was key to more information. If they needed street clothes, then they were going to be around people unrelated to the organization that imprisoned Zeta. Roren already confirmed the fact that there would be many people around, but what was the occurrence? Would it even matter if she knew what was going on?

Night had fallen, her only indication being a digital clock on a nightstand. The red display transitioned to the next minute. Tomorrow would be the day they proceed with the mission.

Despite these thoughts of escape, her best solution appeared to be following through. Sprinkled in with the escape plans, were self-induced delusional thoughts, that working for this organization would not be so bad. She thought about Jonas, Chloe, and Roren and considered the possibility that it was not as bad as she thought. If no situation arose where she could escape, she would simply try her best, possibly just enough to have the others see something, enough to recommend her in some way. Conformity was just another means of escaping the prison.

The time was now a multiple of 5; 9:15 PM and she figured now was the best time, if any, to get some rest. She turned off the light and closed her eyes.