Summary: It was a minuscule injury with the potential to disrupt the entire dynamic.
Disclaimer: I'm just a fanfiction writer. All hail the rightful owners.
Content Disclaimer: This story is not written from or for a child's perspective. Though both dark and light moments are present, if you don't wish to see cannon characters distressed, this is probably not for you.
"Ok…." Zack managed, huffing and puffing. "So Carmen's trying to become the ultimate jewel thief. She's stolen seven of the most illustrious raw gems in the world, and now she's going to make her own gold settings for them. By hand…"
"Looks like it little bro…" Ivy said, not breathing hard in the slightest as she rushed up the stairs. "And she needs this gold etchant to do it." This had severely not been her case. Behind on every turn, the detective had been feeling unusually foiled by the elusive woman in red.
"Still can't figure out how you decided she was going to this particular chemical plant." Zack muttered, wondering from his sister's body language if her temper might be a little shorter than usual tonight.
"Because my friend works here…" Ivy growled. "And it would be just like Carmen to want to annoy me."
"Oh…" Zack drew a deep breath, and rushed faster up the service stairs. "Good logic." And it was, sort of, except that it also wasn't. He would have liked something a little more concrete to justify the ten-story sprint up a flight of stairs.
However, in this instance, Ivy's somewhat vindictive logic turned out to be correct, as they burst through the door and witnessed Carmen standing with her hands on her hips, pleasantly waiting for them.
"Right on time, detectives." Carmen taunted with a jaunty smile, though in reality they were somewhat late. "Now watch, as I create the most fantastic pieces of jewelry ever worn. All for me, of course."
"Not today, Carmen." Ivy retorted, running across the floor and managing for once not to obsess about why Carmen would deem their witness so important.
"Be careful, Ives." Zack warned. "Gold's an inert metal. Anything that can etch it has got to be seriously strong."
"Thanks for the warning little bro," Ivy said, distracted and not really listening, as she maneuvered to get closer to Carmen.
"Yeah… safety first. Watch out for the loot gumshoe." Chief piped up helpfully, but Ivy didn't pay any attention to that missive either.
The detective and thief danced around each other, as Carmen somehow kept the various chemical setups between her and her pursuer.
Carmen was laughing, head tossing, gaze sparkling, the adrenaline overriding most of her ever-missing calm instincts. This was the fun part, the personal aspect of the chase, where you could hear your opponent breath and see the whites of their eyes.
A particularly special treat was to be gained by all the obstacles on the floor. By maneuvering around these, Carmen could keep a practical distance, where the physical distance was inordinately short. It made a pleasant change from a conventional chase, that mandated turning one's back. Ivy could practically reach out and touch her over the open glassware, but no one was going to try and jump over a basin of unknown chemical to do it.
The gestures and mannerism more resembled a game of tag than a multimillion-dollar organized crime. Except, of course, that Carmen was playing around and Ivy was not.
Enjoying the teasing, the deceptive banter of false starts and locked eyes, too much to actually attempt an escape, Carmen flirted with fate and her own timing, trice disregarding easy exits and doubling back into the center of the maze of lab benches.
Lightheartedness has its own risks.
Ivy growled, getting frustrated.
"Can't catch me detective!" Carmen taunted.
"Can too!" Ivy shouted.
Gleefully, Carmen laughed, and that snigger set something off in Ivy.
Feeling a rush of irrational anger, Ivy searched around for a distraction, found the nearest object, and threw it forcefully in the thief's direction.
It wasn't all that wrong, she would tell herself later. After all, the detective had not really been trying to hit the master thief. Just to hit near her would be enough. How many times had Carmen distracted them with smoke bombs, pigeons, or whatever else she had on her belt pouch? Turnabout was fair play.
However, this wasn't a pigeon. It was a glass beaker, and not a particularly well-covered one.
With an audible gasp, Carmen threw her hand up, trying to protect herself from the splashing liquid. Her gesture was to no avail. The tiniest spray of the corrosive chemical splashed between her gloved fingers across her face, into her slightly open eyes.
Both the detectives craned their necks forward, unable to see what had happened.
Carmen took off running, trying not to shriek from the painful sensation burning through her stare. Somehow she managed to keep her eyes open and maintain a bit of black and white sight long enough to vault through the window to get into the helicopter. But even as she hit the last step, the deterioration completed, and her vision faded to black like an old school Hollywood movie.
"What was that?" Zack asked nervously.
"I don't know little bro…" Ivy responded. "But I think she's OK." The detective didn't care to admit any other possibility, even to herself.
Zack nodded. It was possible, he reasoned that the disruption had simply spooked Carmen, jolted her out of her self-affected enjoyment. "Alright then… Back to headquarters?"