Eberts watched the beaker before him. His usual crisply pressed suit was rumpled, his neat tie lay in a heap on one of the counters, and if he'd had more hair it would have been disarrayed.
The past few days had been difficult, assisting Claire with two separate batches of counteragent at different stages, trying to master the required steps on the fly. Especially knowing how much was at stake.
Claire herself looked even worse, since only the more basic procedures could be passed on to Eberts. She'd given up her usual neat attire in favor of a T-shirt and sweatpants, which he was certain were the same clothing she'd been wearing for at least the past two days.
He tapped powder from a vial onto a gram scale, carefully measuring out precisely the amount Claire needed for the next step, all the while keeping one eye on the beaker to make sure it didn't overheat and boil away.
The phone rang, and Claire, still holding an oddly-shaped glass container in one hand and shaking it vigorously, scooped up the receiver with the other hand and tucked it between her chin and shoulder.
"Bobby? What, again?" She seemed to shake the container with renewed urgency, as if the process could be sped up, while listening and frowning. "You'd better give him another dose, then." Eberts inferred from her tone that this was not a good thing. "God, just ten more minutes...."
She walked towards a bench and stopped short as the spiral cord almost pulled the phone out of her tenuous hold. She moved back, hit the button for speakerphone, and dropped the receiver, letting it swing, as she hurried back to the bench. Claire fitted the glass thing back into one of her chemistry contraptions. In glances snuck in between his own tasks, Eberts could see the contents settling out into two layers.
One layer had a distinctive, familiar blue tint. Faint, but there. The end was literally within sight.
"Okay, Keep....I'm gonna put the phone down to give him his shot....I'll be right back."
"Fine, Bobby. If you can describe his reactions, that would be a big help."
Claire came back into Ebert's line of sight so close that he jumped, almost spilling the white tablets he was grinding into a fine powder. She picked up the chemical he'd measured earlier and moved away again, too intent on her own tasks to notice his mishap.
He sighed at the near miss. Then a loud noise from right behind him startled him again. He caught himself just in time, and carefully set the mortar and pestal down.
It was his cell phone. He answered it warily.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Eberts. Has Fawkes gone silver yet?"
"Arnaud. No, he hasn't, and he's not going to!"
Claire's eyes came up swiftly. He glanced at the speakerphone, but he could hear only faintly the sound of Hobbes talking soothingly to his partner.
"We'll see, we'll see. I don't suppose I could speak to our dear Claire?"
"She's busy," he said roughly, his usual calm, patience and manners all frayed. But Claire, one eye on the speakerphone, held out a hand in a 'gimme' gesture. The other hand turned a knob at the base of the glass container, and the greasy yellow bottom layer began to drain away. The pale blue layer floated pristinely on top.
Eberts rose long enough to pass his cell phone to Claire, and went back to his grinding with a vengeance.
"What do you want, Arnaud?"
"The usual....power, money, women....you?"
"I have what I want, or I will in a few minutes."
"Oh, really? Now let's see, you can't have made your own from scratch, not that soon, wherever could you have gotten a supply from?"
Claire turned the stopcock at the bottom of the vial closed and added the akylizing agent Eberts had measured out. She gestured him over and passed it to him, motioning to shake vigorously.
"Does it matter? We're on the final step. Darien will get his counteragent, *before* he hits stage five, so *you* are not needed."
She wished she were as certain as she sounded. It would still be mostly luck if the small first batch was enough to tide them over until the full batch was ready.
"Don't be too sure...."
"What do you mean?"
Eberts' wrists were getting sore. Claire took the container back and fitted it back into place. He returned to his interrupted task, a step in preparing the next, full batch of counteragent, keeping one eye on the vial.
It was cloudy now, but was again gradually settling out into layers.
He watched as Claire's face slowly drained of color. She slammed the cell phone closed. "Bloody hell."
She gestured Eberts over. "When this has separated out completely, that bottom layer will be pure counteragent. I need you to drain it off, but don't let any of the top layer get into the flask. Got it?"
She was already dialing on the cell phone. Eberts wondered fleetingly whether he had any minutes left, and whether he'd be able to bill the Agency if he didn't.
"How's it going, Bobby?" She called to the speakerphone as she dialed.
"Not so good. It's in, but he's still looking like crap. Where's that blue stuff?"
"Almost got it. Hang on."
Someone must have answered on the other line, because Claire moved to the side, covering one ear. "Hello, Mark?"
Eberts watched the vial. Slowly, the grey suspension was separating out into layers. The top was a bright red color, the bottom layer.....
"Oh, crap!" he exclaimed. "Claire!"
"Well, could you get him? It's extremely urgent."
"Claire!" he repeated, a note of panic in his voice now catching her attention.
The bottom layer was not the familiar clear blue. It was a cloudy purple, very much unlike the counteragent it was supposed to be.
"Bloody hell...." she murmured.
The speakerphone, forgotten but still active, carried their words down to Bobby Hobbes in the padded room. He started to ask what was going on, but was drawn away by a strangled sound from his partner. Darien was trembling and retching, in the midst of another attack.
"Damn!" Hobbes exclaimed. "This is too soon, partner, way too soon." He grabbed another syringe and quickly injected Darien again.
The spasm eased. His partner lay still for a moment. Hobbes reached over to touch his neck, looking for a pulse
His hand met freezing cold. He heard a low chuckle.
"Fooled you...."
Quicksilver crawled across his partner, turning him silver. Darien rolled onto his feet with more energy than Hobbes would have credited. His face came into view for an instant, grinning that maniacal grin, before fading away into nothingness.
"Oh, crap...."
The past few days had been difficult, assisting Claire with two separate batches of counteragent at different stages, trying to master the required steps on the fly. Especially knowing how much was at stake.
Claire herself looked even worse, since only the more basic procedures could be passed on to Eberts. She'd given up her usual neat attire in favor of a T-shirt and sweatpants, which he was certain were the same clothing she'd been wearing for at least the past two days.
He tapped powder from a vial onto a gram scale, carefully measuring out precisely the amount Claire needed for the next step, all the while keeping one eye on the beaker to make sure it didn't overheat and boil away.
The phone rang, and Claire, still holding an oddly-shaped glass container in one hand and shaking it vigorously, scooped up the receiver with the other hand and tucked it between her chin and shoulder.
"Bobby? What, again?" She seemed to shake the container with renewed urgency, as if the process could be sped up, while listening and frowning. "You'd better give him another dose, then." Eberts inferred from her tone that this was not a good thing. "God, just ten more minutes...."
She walked towards a bench and stopped short as the spiral cord almost pulled the phone out of her tenuous hold. She moved back, hit the button for speakerphone, and dropped the receiver, letting it swing, as she hurried back to the bench. Claire fitted the glass thing back into one of her chemistry contraptions. In glances snuck in between his own tasks, Eberts could see the contents settling out into two layers.
One layer had a distinctive, familiar blue tint. Faint, but there. The end was literally within sight.
"Okay, Keep....I'm gonna put the phone down to give him his shot....I'll be right back."
"Fine, Bobby. If you can describe his reactions, that would be a big help."
Claire came back into Ebert's line of sight so close that he jumped, almost spilling the white tablets he was grinding into a fine powder. She picked up the chemical he'd measured earlier and moved away again, too intent on her own tasks to notice his mishap.
He sighed at the near miss. Then a loud noise from right behind him startled him again. He caught himself just in time, and carefully set the mortar and pestal down.
It was his cell phone. He answered it warily.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Eberts. Has Fawkes gone silver yet?"
"Arnaud. No, he hasn't, and he's not going to!"
Claire's eyes came up swiftly. He glanced at the speakerphone, but he could hear only faintly the sound of Hobbes talking soothingly to his partner.
"We'll see, we'll see. I don't suppose I could speak to our dear Claire?"
"She's busy," he said roughly, his usual calm, patience and manners all frayed. But Claire, one eye on the speakerphone, held out a hand in a 'gimme' gesture. The other hand turned a knob at the base of the glass container, and the greasy yellow bottom layer began to drain away. The pale blue layer floated pristinely on top.
Eberts rose long enough to pass his cell phone to Claire, and went back to his grinding with a vengeance.
"What do you want, Arnaud?"
"The usual....power, money, women....you?"
"I have what I want, or I will in a few minutes."
"Oh, really? Now let's see, you can't have made your own from scratch, not that soon, wherever could you have gotten a supply from?"
Claire turned the stopcock at the bottom of the vial closed and added the akylizing agent Eberts had measured out. She gestured him over and passed it to him, motioning to shake vigorously.
"Does it matter? We're on the final step. Darien will get his counteragent, *before* he hits stage five, so *you* are not needed."
She wished she were as certain as she sounded. It would still be mostly luck if the small first batch was enough to tide them over until the full batch was ready.
"Don't be too sure...."
"What do you mean?"
Eberts' wrists were getting sore. Claire took the container back and fitted it back into place. He returned to his interrupted task, a step in preparing the next, full batch of counteragent, keeping one eye on the vial.
It was cloudy now, but was again gradually settling out into layers.
He watched as Claire's face slowly drained of color. She slammed the cell phone closed. "Bloody hell."
She gestured Eberts over. "When this has separated out completely, that bottom layer will be pure counteragent. I need you to drain it off, but don't let any of the top layer get into the flask. Got it?"
She was already dialing on the cell phone. Eberts wondered fleetingly whether he had any minutes left, and whether he'd be able to bill the Agency if he didn't.
"How's it going, Bobby?" She called to the speakerphone as she dialed.
"Not so good. It's in, but he's still looking like crap. Where's that blue stuff?"
"Almost got it. Hang on."
Someone must have answered on the other line, because Claire moved to the side, covering one ear. "Hello, Mark?"
Eberts watched the vial. Slowly, the grey suspension was separating out into layers. The top was a bright red color, the bottom layer.....
"Oh, crap!" he exclaimed. "Claire!"
"Well, could you get him? It's extremely urgent."
"Claire!" he repeated, a note of panic in his voice now catching her attention.
The bottom layer was not the familiar clear blue. It was a cloudy purple, very much unlike the counteragent it was supposed to be.
"Bloody hell...." she murmured.
The speakerphone, forgotten but still active, carried their words down to Bobby Hobbes in the padded room. He started to ask what was going on, but was drawn away by a strangled sound from his partner. Darien was trembling and retching, in the midst of another attack.
"Damn!" Hobbes exclaimed. "This is too soon, partner, way too soon." He grabbed another syringe and quickly injected Darien again.
The spasm eased. His partner lay still for a moment. Hobbes reached over to touch his neck, looking for a pulse
His hand met freezing cold. He heard a low chuckle.
"Fooled you...."
Quicksilver crawled across his partner, turning him silver. Darien rolled onto his feet with more energy than Hobbes would have credited. His face came into view for an instant, grinning that maniacal grin, before fading away into nothingness.
"Oh, crap...."