If someone had told Myka a year ago that she'd end up stuck in a booby trapped Byzantine tomb in southern Lebanon with her very own Indiana Jones and Lara Croft, she'd probably have either accused them of being on drugs or laughed them out of her classroom. A Professor at University of Chicago specializing in Byzantine, Sassarian, and Abbasid history and texts, Myka had thought her life in the field was over. After losing her lover and colleague, Sam, when they were attacked at a dig in Syria, the opportunities and funding has simply vanished.
And as much as Myka enjoyed teaching, she missed the desert air; she missed getting her hands dirty; she missed that thrill of discovering a new artifact. So when a man appeared at her cramped office door boasting possession of a map to a lost Byzantine Emperor's tomb and the offer to share in its discovery –all expenses paid at that- she'd calculated how many days of leave she could take as well as well as who would watch over her ferret before he'd even finished his pitch.
Now, however, she cursed her blind earnestness, which had overpowered her customarily observant mind. For while her new partner clearly had an affinity to garb that Indiana Jones would wear if he shopped at Calvin Klein, she'd just chalked it up to the ostentatiousness of the wealthy, failing to note the more important signs: signs that may have kept her from landing in this situation.
The distinct lack of wear in his boots, his unsteady tread as he made his way across the moving sands, the odd gleam in his eye as he spoke of the wonders that awaited them, signs that should have alerted her to the fact that she had unwittingly undertaken this quest with a treasure hunter with no perception of either the rich history under their feet or-and more importantly- the myriad of dangers left dormant for centuries, waiting for someone to foolishly tumble into their clutches.
And a fool he was, jumping around the torch lit chamber like a child on Christmas morning-ignoring her warnings and touching everything, and what a fool she was to be standing beside him as the floor fell from beneath their feet. After tumbling at least 50 feet to land in an unceremonious heap on the sandstone floor of a brighter-and seemingly exitless- chamber, Myka hadn't bothered to feel bad for using the imbecile's body to break her fall.
She purposefully elbowed the man in the side as she got to her feet, her voice echoing off the walls as she yelled, "YOU IDIOT! Why would you bring me here if you aren't going to heed my words?! Did you not hear me yell 'DON'T TOUCH THE PANELING?'" She ran her hands through her disheveled curls her ire growing at the unapologetic shrug of the man's shoulders, "Did you bring me here for my ability to read Ancient Greek and my background as an archeologist or just to have a woman by your side to complete your ridiculous Indiana Jones fantasy?!" A low chuckle abruptly shut her up, she had not realized that the two of them were not alone.
A beautiful woman with high cheekbones and strong jawline fitted quite well with the painted Greek Goddesses Myka had been examining before her partner landed them here. Overcome by her beauty and her surprising appearance, it took Myka a moment to take in what she was wearing. She sighed and rubbed her brow in annoyance, yet another person who seemed to gleam their understanding of archeology from hollywood, just what she needed. If this woman proved to be equally daft she might as well toss herself to the flaming beacons that lit their stone prison rather than wait for their oxygen to run out or die of dehydration.
She she found herself rejecting the thought almost as quickly as it crossed her mind, for while she had failed in her perception of her associate, Myka found she couldn't notnotice everything about this woman. The sure set of her shoulders, the worn but well crafted leather utility belt hung low across narrow hips, the long toned expanse of leg indicative of a very active lifestyle, while her outfit was almost as conspicuous as Myka's clueless benefactor, she didn't wear it like a costume or armor. It was her partner that spoke first,
"Who are you? How did you get here?" The suspicion in his voice was palpable and though Myka felt herself inexplicably bristle in defense of the stranger, she couldn't begrudge him his wariness. They were after all in a -to their knowledge-previously undiscovered tomb that they'd only managed to find by the guide of an ancient map. Unless,
"You followed us here didn't you?" The woman smiled, an act that wholly transformed her face softening the hard line of her jaw and bringing a warmth to her gaze and Myka was unable to stop the rush of heat to her cheeks,
"Ah, I see this is the brains," her grin turned slightly wolfish, "and beauty of the operation." The soft lilting British accent stood out starkly against the harsh heat and looming shadows. Her flush intensified and Myka hoped it would be attributed to the heat of the flaming beacons that surrounded them. The woman stepped closer, not stopping until she was toeing over the line of Myka's personal space. She wiped her hand on her shorts before extending it, an act that oddly charmed her as she was certainly just as dusty from their trek to the site and more so the tumble into this crypt,
"Helena Wells, you'll have to forgive me for the awful line, I fear my head took one too many hits down that dreadful shaft. Believe me, I mean you no harm," her eyes darted over to the man at Myka's side, her glare to him saying otherwise, "but I cannot say the same of your associate. I only tracked you down because I became aware of a black market auction promising treasures I assume he meant to uncover here."
Myka turned to glare at the now expressionless man, perhaps she shouldn't have trusted the words of a stranger who'd just admitted to following them, but she'd already concluded he was a treasure hunter and somehow it felt better knowing that he was a criminal that had deceived her rather than a rich dolt she'd foolishly followed into the desert. Her eyes were drawn back to Helena moments later, it did not escape Myka's notice that she had been nearly incapable of looking anywhere else,
"And how did you know about a black market auction? And how did you know that I wasn't in on this auction?" The raven-haired woman's smile softened,
"I'm MI-6 Darling. And as for how I knew of your innocence, having followed within earshot for the past few hours I had the pleasure of hearing all about the different museums that would benefit from this find, and of your ardent desire to study every piece you saw," she reached forward and tucked a loose curl behind Myka's ear, "such passion is quite becoming in a woman." Her posture straightened as she stepped back giving the notably silent man a look of warning before pulling some sort of gun from her utility belt, "Now then, what do you say we see about getting out of here?" She extended her hand for the second time that day, and Myka found herelf once again clasping it without thought, "I think I see the way."