Bruce smoothed the collar of his shirt and straightened his tie,
He brushed his hair and looked at himself in the mirror again. His hair was meticulously short,
It was a flat and well-fitting suit, even though it was not high-end goods,
He looked like an elite in the industry in the mirror.
He felt a little unfamiliar, although he did not have any impression of it,
But, was he like this in the past? Bruce was a little absent-minded. The face of the person in the mirror seemed to be blurred, as if a thin layer of fog had covered his face, making him unable to see it clearly.
Bruce was suddenly shocked, but when he looked at it again, it was clearly the same face as what he saw in his own data.
Was it an illusion? He looked at it carefully again,
After confirming that there was no problem with his image, he put on his coat, picked up his briefcase, and went out.
But not long after, he felt uncomfortable. The neatly buttoned top button made him feel restrained, and the top of his shirt almost touched his Adam's apple,
Bruce tugged at his collar and resisted the desire to tear open the top two buttons. He had to pay attention to his image, right.
When he walked into the building,
He even looked at the signboard next to the front desk casually,
After confirming the floor, he walked to the elevator.
"Hey, Bruce." There was a surprised voice.
Bruce turned around to look,
A thin and tall young man,
Although he was wearing a shirt and a tie,
But the casual coat, the slanted bag, the young face, and the scholarly air did not give people the feeling that he was an FBI agent. Bruce quickly found the corresponding person from the pile of information in his mind. "Good morning, Reid."
"It's so good to see you again. I heard that you were transferred to complete a special mission. Are you back now?" The two of them walked into the elevator one after the other. Reid pressed the floor and turned to face Bruce with a smile.
"Yes, I'm back." Bruce glanced at the gun hanging on Reid's waist and secretly sized up Reid's entire body. With this body shape and the way he carried the gun, he estimated that he could knock him down in a second. He was a little disappointed. Where was the elite department?
Elite field department = can fight
Bruce didn't think there was anything wrong with this logic. If they weren't good at fighting, would they have been able to catch so many serial killers?
"At first, we thought that something had happened to you. There was no news at all and everyone was very worried. But then Hotch told us that you were fine."
Hotch？ This is a reference to their team leader, Aaron.
Hotcher？ It was different from what he had imagined. Well, it seemed like he had to avoid the obvious problem of how to address them before he understood everything. Speaking of which, he didn't think he had a good relationship with these people to the point that he would call them by their nicknames. This kind of thing wouldn't appear in the information, and he didn't have any channels to find out.
"How is everyone?" Bruce asked vaguely. He had made up his mind to avoid dealing with these people for the time being. Based on the fact that they had to work together, this meant talking less.
"Same old, but JJ has been transferred to the Department of Defense, and a trainee agent has joined us, Ashley."
Seaver, you'll be able to see her very soon. "Reid sounded downcast as he spoke.
Alright, JJ, another unexpected name. It seemed like he really had to speak less.
Walking out of the elevator, Bruce was half a step behind, following Reid to cover up his unfamiliarity with the place. But it didn't seem to be necessary. Not far from the glass door was where they worked, and there were two rows of desks.
Seeing Reid walk to one of the desks and put down his satchel, Bruce paused and quickly looked at the items on the desks that weren't occupied. He eliminated two desks that had nothing on the shelves, and one of them was occupied by a young blonde woman. Which of the remaining two desks was his, and they happened to be in the same row …
There weren't many items, just some stationery and paper. Of course, there were also computer monitors of the same model on each desk. There wasn't anything feminine, but rather unique — one of the desks had a picture of a black cat, and the other desk had a handmade pen holder with bright colors of red, green, and blue.
From the information, he didn't seem to have a pet. But could it be that the childish pen holder with drawings of little people and unflattering colors was his original aesthetic?
Bruce decisively stepped to the left, which was the desk with the picture of the black cat. As there was no passage between the two rows of desks, there was only a partition, so he couldn't go closer to judge, but it was even more inappropriate to stand still.
"Oh, who do I see? Bruce, you're back! "Just as he took a step, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor quickly approached him.
Bruce let out a sigh of relief and turned around with a smile. A figure rushed over to give him a hug. Bruce stiffly bent down slightly. Due to the height difference between them, if he didn't do that, the figure, uh, busty lady would have almost fallen on his neck. Of course, this kind of strength wasn't strenuous for his body, but he wasn't used to physical contact with others.
He patted the person's back with the hand without the bag, and then quietly moved away a little. "Good morning." He avoided calling her that. This lady was so friendly, and seemed to have a good relationship with him. In theory, it was fine to call her Penelope, but who knew if there was any nickname?
At this time, the blonde woman who was sitting stood up and walked over. Garcia smiled. "You haven't met her yet, right? This is Ashley.
Seaver, Ashley, this is the Bruce I told you about. "
The two of them greeted each other, and Bruce asked about Seaver. Although he already knew a lot from the information, he was more willing to deal with this newcomer than the original members he was familiar with. If he didn't know him before, it meant that he wouldn't be different from the original members. After a few words, another member of the team, Emily, stepped out of the elevator.
Prentiss walked out of the elevator and gave him a hug when she saw him.
Oh, did she have to be so friendly? He hated physical contact. To be more precise, if someone was close to him, he would be very alert. This was a state of defense, and he would enter a state of battle on the verge of breaking out. He also needed to suppress his desire to attack. It was like … he didn't trust anyone, and he needed to be on guard against anyone.
He had broken the necks of the researchers in the organization, especially when he had just woken up and his memory was blank. This was also an instinctive reaction left behind by the original him.
Bruce sat at his desk and held the childish pen holder in his hand. He thanked Garcia and Prentiss in his heart for saving him from being exposed so early in the morning. The pen holder had a picture of the sun, grass, and a few matchstick men playing football. He turned the pen holder around and found a signature, "Jack."
Searching through the information in his mind, Bruce quickly guessed who gave him the pen holder. He looked up at the office not far away. His excellent eyesight swept across the signs beside the office doors, and he saw the name clearly: David.
Rossi, Derek.
Morgan, Aaron.
Hotcher …
Through the open blinds, he met the gaze of a person. And that person was still looking at him when he turned his head in that direction. He could clearly see the person's face. There was no expression, but it was serious. The focused gaze made Bruce a little uncomfortable, even though he knew that the person couldn't see his subtle expression at such a distance.
Uh … Is it because I haven't reported to the boss yet? Bruce inexplicably felt a little guilty, but as the team leader, Hotch must be the first to know about his news. Whether it was the news that the organization had transferred him to help a team of S.H.E.L.D. complete a special mission two months ago, or the news of his return.
Of course, he didn't participate in any missions at all in the organization's base for the past two months. This experience was faked to cover up his amnesia. He didn't know why he had to do this, he just had to follow orders.
The report had been uploaded via email, and the boss had already replied. So, there was no need to personally go … right? Bruce looked away strangely and logged into their internal website to start working.
But for the entire day, he often felt like someone was watching him …
Finally, when it was time to get off work, Bruce stayed for a while. During the day, he had "searched" his desk. Other than a childish pen holder and a brown coffee cup, there was also a ring-shaped object of unknown use in the drawer. There were not many personal items, and his mind did not recall anything that happened before he lost his memory.
He also found a large sports backpack under the desk. It was full, and now he finally had the chance to take it out to see what was inside. Bruce opened the zipper and was a little disappointed to find that it was just some clothes and not casual wear. He put the backpack back and looked at the dark sky outside. He tidied up his desk and turned off the computer. He picked up his briefcase and planned to go home.
"Bruce."
Bruce turned around and saw Hotch standing at the door of his office, calling out to him.
"You're going home? Together? "
Does this mean … he's sending me back? Bruce realized that he didn't have a car, and felt that it was very inconvenient. He even searched for public transportation when he went to work in the morning.
Although the boss looked like a serious person, he still cared about his subordinates … probably. But in his current situation, it was better for him to have less contact with familiar people. "No, thank you."
He didn't know that Hotch, who was standing at the door of the office, was frowning as he looked at his back. His expression was serious and dignified, and his gaze followed him until the elevator door closed.
In the elevator, Bruce thought about Garcia and Prentiss's enthusiasm in the morning, and then he thought about the pen holder on his desk, which was probably a gift from Hotch's son, Jack. It seemed that they were quite close, which meant that it would be difficult to not be discovered.
They might not be suspicious now, but if this continued … the organization emphasized that he couldn't expose his amnesia. It seemed that he had to find a way to transfer to S.H.E.L.D. as soon as possible.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
