Mark's admission sent the room into silence. Neither man seemed to breathe as the information slowly swirled around them to settle onto the photographs.
The Swan; the most dangerous member of the most deadly half of the species; missing…
… Taken by a low-life serial killer.
It was a long few moments before there was any sound, and that was produced by the loud opening of the door as Chief Anderson, flanked by the G-Force Condor, burst through.
"Commander," he demanded. "Say nothing more." He ignored the stunned looks from Mark and Grissom, and pressed his hands to the desk in front of Brass. "I am Security Chief Anderson, Project leader of G-Force and the Eagle's defence counsel. Any further questions will be directed through myself …"
"Chief," Mark breathed gently, hoping to get a moment to explain the current situation before Anderson got too huffy.
Anderson turned his body, but kept his hands firmly on the table-top. "Commander, I will handle this from herein." He frowned when he saw the ashen face of the Eagle.
It was Jason who made the first move toward Mark. He threaded in between Anderson and Mark and coaxed the Eagle to the back wall with his hand against his chest. "Skipper, what've they got on you?"
Mark shook his head and kept his voice low, somewhat relieved to have friendlies present. "Jason. It's Princess."
"What about her?"
Mark's hand shakily rose to his forehead. "She's missing."
"What?" He twisted his neck to look across at Anderson. "Chief, you know about this?"
The look on Anderson's face answered the question promptly enough, however he voiced what was in his mind. "I know we've had trouble tracking her down since we got the call, but I assumed she was at the mall or something – it is her day off …"
Mark actually rolled his eyes. "My team is under strict orders only to mute their communicators, never to switch them off, Chief. After Jason's endless bullshit with …"
"Hey hey," Jason interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Argue later, right now, we have a bigger problem."
Mark snorted and pointed a blue-gloved finger at his lieutenant commander. "Keep on Zark's ass, Jason. He needs to intensify his locators."
"I'll coordinate with Zark," Anderson suggested blandly. "The last thing I need is for Jason to upset him."
Mark's look fell into an agitated glare. "He's a fucking robot, Chief…"
"There is no need for Profanity, Commander."
Mark wasn't quite finished. "Change the chip, Chief. Take the humanity out of the damn thing and maybe we won't have to wait five hours every time we need information because he is too busy worrying about something or needing to take an oil break."
Anderson cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the table. He glared at the photographs spread across the surface. "You don't give me the orders, Mark. Remember that." He narrowed his eyes at the photographs, effectively blocking out the unimpressed grunt from both his wards. The reality of the situation dawned and he slowly drew one of the images off the desk. "Do we know who this is?"
Brass finally felt the courage to open his mouth and speak. "We were speculating as to whether or not your Swan is the victim of the serial killer."
Anderson's brow rose fast, but his mouth wasn't as quick as Jason's.
"What the hell?" He turned sharply to his Commander. "Mark, man. Tell me she wasn't taken by that lunatic … This is Spectra, it has to be."
Mark shrugged and opened his mouth only to give an airless cough in response.
"C'mon Skipper, give the order to go after the Joker again – the rest of the team's here, we're ready to go."
Mark raised his eyes to the Chief, who had his glasses off his face and held down on the photograph as if using it like a magnifying glass. "Chief?"
"No, Commander," he said absently as he shifted the lens to another part of the picture. "I've heard nothing from Zoltar proclaiming us defeated because he has any of you."
Mark looked down at his watch. "She was taken about …"
"80 minutes," Brass confirmed.
"80 minutes ago." He huffed and looked up at the ceiling. "If Zoltar had her, we'd have heard him say "nya nya nya" about 79 minutes ago."
"Fuck," Jason breathed low.
"I know," Mark agreed quietly. "I never thought I'd say it, but I actually wish Zoltar had her."
"Yeah. At least we'd know what to do."
Grissom watched the duo closely as they spoke, seemingly sharing one mind. Rumours of their volatile relationship seemed quite false when he saw them here now, and it made him wonder just how well they connected on the field of battle - or what made them clash so violently that the rumours persisted. They would be quite the study, had he the time and energy to want to do a psychiatric analysis of them. He flicked his eyes to their leader, Chief Anderson, who was on his third photograph study.
"Do you find anything interesting, Mr. Anderson?"
Anderson raised his eyes from the photo and squinted to focus on the man sitting only a few feet away from him. "I will need to get these, and any other information pertaining to this case sent to my lab at the Federation."
"Nuh-uh," Brass scoffed in response. "Those photographs and anything associated with your Swan's disappearance pertain to our serial investigation. They're staying right here."
Anderson smiled facetiously and set his glasses back on his nose. "With all due respect, Officer …"
"Detective," Brass corrected.
"Detective. With all due respect, this is now a Federation investigation." He made sure his voice was as facetiously accommodating as possible. "I do thank you and your teams for gathering, documenting and partially analysing this evidence, but now our teams will be taking over."
Brass wasn't having any of it. "If your Swan …"
"Princess," Mark softly interjected, irritated by her being spoken of in such a detached manner. "Her name is Princess."
Both men cast their gazes at the young Commander, who seemed to be losing more and more of his command-demeanor with each passing second. Anderson flicked his eyes to Jason and slightly jutted his chin to Mark in a silent command. The Condor answered by stepping half in front of Mark with his back to the three men. He pressed his hand into Mark's shoulder and lightly coaxed him backward.
"Maybe you and me need to get a brew, Skipper. Let the scientists do their thing and find her."
Mark slid his eyes down to Jason's hand, then back up to the Condor's eyes. "You're kidding me, right?"
"No."
He tightly gripped Jason's hand and then roughly pulled it off his shoulder. His lip curled into a snarl as he stepped forward, deliberately knocking shoulders against Jason's as he took up a flanking position beside Anderson. "If you think for one moment, Chief, that I am backing down from this investigation, you're sorely mistaken. I, and …" he paused as his eyes asked confirmation from his second, when he got the nod, he continued. "I, and my team, will play an integral part in this investigation. No lockdowns in the rec room, or sent on wild and pointless goose chases."
Grissom pursed his lips, lopsided to the right; Brass cleared his throat and leaned his cheek in a tired manner on his fist, while Anderson thrust a hand in his pocket and turned to Mark. "Commander, I know you are upset..."
"I also insist that Dr. Grissom, Mr. Brass and his team handle the investigation."
Anderson's eyes steeled at being interrupted; his authority effectively questioned in front of persons not connected to the Federation. "Commander, this is a conversation best held at a different time,"
"I don't want to waste time, Chief," Mark flatly retorted, obviously not caring about blatant insubordination. "My third is missing, thereby making this my decision and my responsibility."
"I am your superior on this, Commander," Anderson argued.
Mark's tongue swept along his lip as he quaffed a smirk. "I am field Commander, Chief. We are essentially in the field – which means my order supercedes yours. I am exercising that superiority by insisting that Dr. Grissom and his team continue to handle this investigation."
"Mark …" He warned low.
Mark continued. "The teams here have been investigating this case for two years; it is high profile and highly publicized. If we blindly pull the case out from under them, people are going to wonder why. I really shouldn't have to list the reasons that that would be very, very bad for Princess, not to mention the team itself if Zoltar was to find out we were a man down."
Grissom nodded, but Brass answered. "Mr. Anderson, I have to agree with Mark. People are going to ask why your people are involved; as will our investigative teams."
Anderson grunted and cracked his neck to one side, obviously irritated, but complimentary at the same time. "There's a reason I put you in command of this unit, Mark, and once again you've proven why." His eyes shifted to Grissom. "Dr. Grissom, I will have a forensics team from the Federation join your team on this investigation. You will have access to all of our resources and, if necessary, extra funding to cover any expenses that may be incurred due to their presence. I will outline what information is given to your team, they will be on a strict need to know basis on this."
Grissom raised his hand to interrupt. "I have no problem with extra resources for this investigation, however I won't keep information from my team."
"You will have to respect the fact that one of my team is the victim here, Mr. Grissom. It is for her safety that her identity is closely guarded. I don't wish to question anyone on your staff, but there are leaks, and this is one leak we don't need."
Grissom's lips pursed in dissatisfaction, but he gave a short nod. "What am I allowed to tell them, Mr. Anderson?"
Mark was quick to answer for his project leader. "The Swan is not going to be named the victim. Absolutely no reference to her involvement with G-Force will be made."
Brass scribbled notes onto his pad. "But Princess is an odd kind of name, isn't it? Everyone automatically associates the name "Princess" with the Swan."
He took a deep breath and cast a glance at Anderson before focusing again on the two officers. "Her name is Sarah."
"Last name?"
Mark frowned and tilted his head at Anderson – not even he knew her last name. "Chief?"
"Anderson," he answered flatly as he put a hand in his pocket and removed his glasses. "She is listed as my daughter for legal purposes."
Mark opened his mouth to airlessly breathe "Oh" then looked again at Brass. "She's 21 years old. Black shoulder-blade length hair, green eyes, five feet seven inches tall. Athletic build …" His voice began to choke as he realized what, exactly, he was doing. Describing his lover in such a detached manner, like she was dead and they were looking for a body, was mortifying. He took a deep sniff through his nose, cleared his throat, and continued. "She was wearing the civilian G-Force uniform of white and pink striped jeans, brown slip on shoes, a blue shirt with red sleeves and a pink vinyl number three on the front."
"I think we can get most of that from the images, Commander," Brass finished softly.
Mark sniffed and closed his eyes as he nodded his head. "In her off-duty hours she is a dancer and waitress at Jill's diner …"
"Where she was abducted," Grissom finished as his hand wiped across his mouth. "Is she a friend of the owner?"
Mark nodded. "Best friends, actually. They were supposed to meet up for shopping this after …" He paused, his eyes flashing open in discovery. "The email!"
Grissom's eyes widened expectantly. "What email, Commander?"
Mark spun to Jason. "She got an email from Jill this morning, right?"
Jason gave a firm nod, dropping his chin close to his folded arms. "Yeah. She told me she and Jill were going shopping for something special and girly for you for tonight." He snorted a smirk. "Made me sick thinking about it."
The temptation was to smirk and call Jason "jealous", but there were more serious issues at foot. He looked back at Grissom. "When I spoke to Jill on the phone at the Cemetery, she told me she didn't send her any emails."
Grissom's brow flicked. "Does Jill have a hackable account, such as Hotmail or Yahoo?"
Mark shook his head. "No. She's on the Federation network; all outside friends of the team are for security reasons." He tapped at his lip with his finger. "Chief …"
"I'll have Zark do a scan of the servers, see if there've been any breeches." Anderson responded quickly.
Brass tapped his pen on the table in thought. He raised his eyes to Mark and leaned back in his chair. "You know I'll need to send a team to your home to collect your computer and do a sweep of the premises."
He nodded and drew in a long breath. "Keyop will be responsible for the actual investigation, however. Most of the files on that system are highly confidential." He heard Anderson growl behind him and swatted his hand in the air. "Yes, Chief. All Report files are encrypted, but I am sure Dr. Grissom's staff are more than capable of breaking any encryption."
"Yes," Brass purred. "Archie is very good."
Jason let his eyes rise to the window of the viewing area as he saw the mirror turn to glass so that the room adjacent was visible. He listened only with his ears, his attention caught by the faces of the Owl and the Swallow, who were currently setting up to perform the human blow-fish act against the glass – obviously the two were none-the-wiser about the current events.
He let out a short laugh at the two mouths on the glass, effectively interrupting the serious conversation ahead of him.
Mark was the one who growled his displeasure. "Jason, what is it about all this you find so funny?"
He licked at his lip and jutted his chin toward the window, where Keyop was readying to perform the same trick again. "The kid. Any volunteers for explaining all this to him?"
Mark's eyes rose as he inhaled a long and horrified breath. "Damn. I forgot about him." He looked to the side at Anderson and slowly closed his eyes. "As team commander, it's my duty to do it."
He removed his helmet from the table and tilted his head back to pull it over his hair. He blew uncomfortably at the persistent lock from his bangs that fell on his forehead and bit on his lips in deep contemplation of how to most gently break it to the kid.
"The sooner we do this, the sooner we find her," he muttered as if to end the discussion and begin the investigation.
"I need her back, Gentlemen. I trust you'll do everything to make sure she comes home."
The Eagle's departure from the interrogation room left it in relative silence. Grissom could see the young man was torn over the fast revealing facts of the case, and in a way he could empathize. It wasn't so long ago that he had been faced with much the same scenario:
Another serial killer - a killer who made miniature models of the scene. A killer, who knew the ways to beat the best criminalists in the country. A killer, who in the name of revenge, took his beloved and left her to die underneath a destroyed vehicle in the Nevada desert.
He still couldn't quite remember how they brought Sara back to them. Most of that investigation was but a haze in his mind. He could vaguely recall finding the miniature of Sara on his desk. He could vividly recall trying over, and over, to phone her on her cell. He could easy envision the interrogation, where he'd finally lost what control he had and practically throttled the psychotic young woman as he demanded to know where Sara was.
But anything else?
He'd been reminded plenty of times since about his actions, his words, and the process, but honestly couldn't recall anything beyond the need for her to come back alive, and forgoing all but her when he finally found her .
…No doubt this one would end quite similarly for the Eagle.
He was quiet as he looked into the stern face of the Condor, who was staring into the viewing room window at the Eagle readying to break the news to the remaining team members. He could tell by a quick twitch in the eye that the Condor knew he was being watched, but the young man made no other outward move toward Grissom, nor did he comment on the fact he was being analyzed. It was obvious, however, that the Condor had him pinpointed in his peripheral vision and was keeping watch on him.
Typical of a Condor, he supposed. Suspicious and wary.
Jason moved suddenly, which gave the older man a jolt. Within a breath, the Condor was out of the door and in the adjacent room beside his Commander.
Grissom turned in time with Brass to see what was the urgency. They were both surprised to see the Eagle struggling to restrain not the Swallow, but the Owl. The fury in the big man's eyes, and the exertion of the Eagle trying to calm him sent the two men shuffling back toward the table.
Brass actually swore at the melee between Owl and Eagle. The swear not necessarily directed at the scuffle, but more at the Condor, who stood hunched at the doorway just watching.
"Damn it, Condor," he muttered. "Help out your Commander."
Anderson, who was calmly looking through the photographs again, merely snorted. "Wait," he said distractedly. "Just wait."
Brass raised a brow at Anderson, who wasn't even looking at the window. "Are you going to step in?"
Anderson shook his head without raising his eyes. "No."
Brass grunted and rose from his seat. "I'm calling in back up."
He gaped when he saw a sudden flash of brown and blue streak across the window. The streak ended with a rattle as the Condor firmly shoved the Owl up against the wall, his forearm across his throat and his gun raised in warning.
"Oh, shit. He's got a gun!"
"He won't use it," Anderson suggested; his voice still calm. "Mark will end it long before it gets to that point."
Brass raised a brow, wary that half of the precinct was probably baring witness to the events. "Is this a common occurrence, Mr. Anderson?"
Anderson raised his eyes, finally, as Mark silently stepped in between the Owl and Condor and firmly separated them with one hand dead center of each chest. "No. But I know my team well. Of course if something of this nature does happen, it's usually between Mark and Jason with Princess being the one to step in and end it."
Brass coughed a shocked breath. "And they listen to her?"
Anderson smiled and lowered his head as he took a step backward. "She's not exactly a woman you argue with, Detective."
They all looked back at the window to see the foursome acting as though there had been no disagreement. All leaned against the four walls of the room, their heads lowered, arms folded, silently discussing the known facts of the case.
Anderson turned to half on to the door and held up two of the several photographs of Princess. "I will arrange for our forensics and scientific teams to coordinate with your teams on this, Dr. Grissom. Mark and Princess' computers will be brought to the station within the next thirty minutes." He nodded toward the window. "Give them a few minutes to digest what they have, and I will guarantee you that you'll have four of the most brilliant minds in the galaxy working alongside you."
"I don't doubt it," Grissom muttered softly.
Anderson waved a hand over his shoulder as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Brass and Grissom alone in the interrogation room.
Brass was the first to speak, clearing the air with a slight huff of air. "Gil. What was that?"
"The more appropriate question is what have we gotten ourselves in to?" He tapped his pen on the table. "Something tells me this investigation is only going to get more and more insane."
"To hear you say that," he muttered in response, "it scares me."
"Me too."
Part of the two men left in the room wanted to be able to hear what was being said between the G-Force members. All four were deep in concentration and all taking their turns to speak, with the Eagle most definitely leading the discussion. To Grissom and Brass, the discussion looked a lot like the military heads formulating their mission parameters for a deadly assault.
Both men had their lips pursed in indecision, but Brass was the first to speak.
"So what do you think?"
"About what?"
Brass slid his eyes to his friend. "About this whole thing?"
Grissom gave the slightest hint of a shrug. "I'm looking forward to the extra resources. I've been losing sleep over this case for months."
Brass smirked. "And here I was thinking it was the younger woman."
Grissom rewarded him with a tired look. He finally looked back into the viewing area and let out a long sigh. "It's Sara all over again."
"With another Sarah," Brass finished dryly. He blinked his eyes slowly and looked at Grissom. "If I ever have another child, I will not call her Sarah – that name seems to be a magnet for people wanting to kill you."
"Don't fall in love with one, either, Jim."
"I've already made that mental note."
Grissom shuffled the papers he had and gathered them into a large manila folder. "What explanation do we use for the presence of the winged party?"
Brass shrugged. "Clearing the Eagle's name? I dunno."
"I suppose we'll make up the play as we go along."
Brass smirked. "You've read and memorized enough Shakespeare to become your own audio library, Gil. I'm sure you'll have no problems."
Grissom tilted his head in a smirk. "It's the actors I'm worried about."
Brass pulled out his cell phone and began to thumb through the contacts lists. "Time to call all stage hands to the set."
"Tell them they're late. The director called "action" almost two hours ago."
~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~
The Las Vegas evening air is about as cold as the day was hot, Princess mused to herself as she felt her body shiver inside a short gust of wind from the window.
Part of her was thankful that it was spring, and not winter that she'd been abducted. Lying cuffed to a bed, with no cover except a white pair of cotton panties that matched her bra, would have been far less pleasant had that window been open on a winter's eve.
Chris, or whoever he was – she'd just call him Chris to save the energy – had left her alone in the room to answer the ringing phone out in the front. So now she had a few moments to contemplate her escape.
She gave a tug at her wrists in an attempt to determine what kind of cuffs she had been shackled with. Of course, her captor being in law enforcement suggested that they were the type you couldn't playfully expect to slap on your lover's wrists and have him/her easily pull out of them when the going got good. A high pitched clank against the aluminium bed frame confirmed they were the real McCoy, and not something she could hope to either wriggle out of, or break her wrists trying to snap.
Curses.
She was somewhat thankful she'd muted her communicator after talking to Mark earlier in the day. She knew he was trying to reach her; she could feel the gentle electrical notification buzz on her inner wrist; but she had no way of responding.
Curses.
She rolled her head back to get a closer look at her ties. She rolled her wrist inside it, first to investigate the possibility that she might squeeze her way out, and second to see if it would be possible to manoeuvre it to somehow press against her communicator link to send out a scramble to her team.
No doubt by now they knew something was wrong.
Well, obviously. This idiot made sure to publicize the image of the Eagle during the attack, so someone had to have reported it by now. Mark was probably down at the precinct declaring his innocence; and, if the local law enforcement teams were as swift as was their reputation, they'd have confiscated and begun to analyse the tapes at Jill's.
So Mark would probably know.
She sighed deeply. She promised him she wouldn't be late tonight … Her first broken promise to him.
Curses.
She attempted to lift her head to move her mouth close enough to her communicator to attempt to send a voice alarm to the team. The action forced her to pull at the restraints against wrists already black and bruised. She had to let out a short cry of pain, it expelled from her mouth as a haunted call of her lover's name.
Her captor immediately burst into the room.
Wearing only a pair of tighty-whitey underwear that were greying with constant washing, he burst into the room and onto the bed; his knees striking the mattress between her spread and tied legs. "Shut up!" he yelled as the back of his hand met with her cheek.
The sudden strike caused her to yell out again and vainly attempt to bring her hand to cover the sting on her cheek.
He reacted again against the sound of the tugging metal on metal grind, and of her yelping and struck her again, this time ending the strike with his hands on her throat. "I. Said. Quiet!"
Her face reddened with his pressure against her carotid artery – she knew she'd have very little time before she passed out; seconds?
"Please," she choked as her vision whitened. I'm sorry."
His lip curled and he grunted giving her another tight squeeze on the throat before releasing her. "You won't betray me, Sarah."
She took a deep breath, whining as she felt the immediate and full rush of blood back into her head. She gasped deeply and pulled her back into the pillow as far away as she could. "Why are you doing this to me?"
He lowered his chest onto hers and set his hands either side of her face. He tsked in disappointment at her as he let his thumbs trace her cheeks. "Do I really need to explain it all to you again, Sarah?"
At any other time in her short life, Princess may have used this moment to gleefully envision what Mark was going to do to this man when he found him – What pain and suffering the Eagle would force upon the cretin who dared attack the one he loved – but right now, all she could think of was how she wasn't ready to die right now.
Under the confinement of Spectran forces, Princess was brave and unaffected. She knew at any moment the team would come and they'd all either die together, or leave together – as they had all arrived, so they would leave.
Here she was alone. Mark wasn't waiting in the Phoenix monitoring her via the chip in her helmet, or the vital scans on Keyop's monitors. He wasn't in the next room, preparing to terrify the enemy with his low, haunting whistle before swooping in to rescue his girl and help her defeat an army. He wasn't even in an unconscious heap on the floor after being beaten by Zoltar.
No. He wasn't here. He didn't even know where she was, or if she was even in danger.
She was completely, and utterly alone.
The through sent a miserable shudder through her body. She blinked back tears and lightly shook her head to answer the question.
"No. Please, just don't hurt me any more."
He hummed and smiled as he lowered his face to kiss her on the very corner of her mouth. "If you're a good girl, I won't have to."
She inhaled her sob and nodded; her eyes clenched shut in self-disgust. "I'll be good."
He chuckled and stroked her hair. "Promise?"
She nodded.
"Good girl," he said in possibly the most condescending manner Princess had ever heard. "Now. I've been called in to work, so I'll have to plan our special evening on a later date." He slid backward off the bed and reached to his side to pull a pair of jeans off the back of a chair. "Looks like we have some excitement down at the precinct tonight."
Princess could do little more than blink and nod at him.
He didn't mind. It was just as fun to taunt her when she didn't fight back. "Looks like your boyfriend in white wings has shown up with his team at the lab."
Princess held her breath. Did he know, now, who he held hostage?"
He didn't notice her sudden colour change from white to grey, and continued to natter on. "Yes. My plan worked to perfection. Brass and Dr. Grissom are questioning the Eagle as we speak. Maybe I'll tell him that my wife-to-be is a fan and he must sign an autograph for her." He looked at her as he buttoned up a grey shirt. "What do you think, Sarah? Would that make you happy?"
She couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved that he had yet to figure out that he held the Swan in his clutches. That small fact might keep her alive a little longer. There was no telling what her fate would be if he realized who she really was.
"Will you be home late?" she questioned softly, wondering how much time she may have to plan an escape.
He smiled as he did up his belt and grabbed his cell phone off the dresser. "I'll be home when I'm home." His eyes narrowed and looked accusingly at her. "I also have this place well monitored, Sarah, so I wouldn't go thinking that you can make an escape. I shouldn't have to remind you what will happen to your boyfriend should you make even a sliver of an attempt to escape."
She sucked in a mouthful of breath and nodded frantically. "May I at least have a blanket to keep me warm and give me a little dignity?"
He tilted his head in a frighteningly loving fashion and pulled a duvet from the foot of the bed up and over her chest. "Of course, darling." He kissed her on the forehead, and then the nose. "Sleep well."
She stiffened at his words and actions, and remained that was as she watched him leave the room. Her breath didn't leave her lungs until she heard the car outside start and drive away.
"Oh, God," she breathed as a tear escaped her lashes and rolled down her cheek toward her ear. "Mark, you have to help me. Please find me."
~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~
Grissom had to groan somewhat tiredly as he stepped out of the interrogation room and was met by five extremely curious night-shift criminalists. All were silent, vocally, but all were loudly shouting their questions at him through their eyes, their expressions, and their body language.
He didn't want to deal with all this just now. He had yet to discuss with Chief Anderson exactly what information was going to be shared and he certainly did not want to be rushing into a confused assignment meeting unprepared. His team were investigators, for Christ's sake, they would immediately know something wasn't quite kosher it he stammered together a bunch of useless and unpractised lines of bullshit.
With his pen held between his index and middle finger, he rubbed at his brows and adopted an absolute boyish wide-eyed look.
The eyes behind the hand position drew an immediate husky voice of concern from the brunette of the CSI team. "Migraine, Grissom?"
At Sara's voice, his expression relaxed behind his hand.
A migraine might be a great excuse to run and hide within the many jars of bugs and unmentionable specimens in his office and let someone else deal with the explanations.
No. No.
He took in a deep breath and put on his most typical Grissom face. "I'm okay, Sara. It's just been an … eventful day." Before leading them into the assignment room, he took a quick look at each of his team, searching to see if any of them would be unable to function due to celebrity-shock or intimidation. They seemed okay, so he pointed toward the room.
"I'll explain it all to you as best I can."
There was barely a murmur as each investigator took their seats and looked to their supervisor for answers. He winced somewhat at the shifting of chairs on polished tile floor, and groaned as he took a seat himself.
"Well, team," he said slowly as he attempted to quickly formulate something in his mind.
Catherine noticed the hesitation in Grissom and decided that he might operate somewhat more like himself if she probed him with questions.
"Were you able to clear the Eagle from the photographs?"
Grissom blinked fast a couple of times to metaphorically shake himself and nodded. "To see him, and then the security images, there's no doubting that young man's innocence."
She smiled and leaned back in her chair, flicking at her hair as she looked down her shoulder into the hallway, where she could see the quintet from the Federation. "But they're still here."
Grissom pursed his lips. "The Federation have chosen to avail themselves for the remainder of this investigation."
"The serial?" Nick's brow rose fast. "Any particular reason, Griss?"
"The extra resources are sorely needed right now, Nick. I say we focus on …"
Warrick snorted to interrupt. "You're skirting the question." He leaned his forearms on the table and narrowed his eyes questioningly at his supervisor. "G-Force aren't exactly the investigative types, Grissom. Those guys are military."
"Who seem to be missing a member," Sara observed quietly before taking her eyes off the team and looking back at her colleagues. "Is there a more personal reason we have the male members of G-Force wanting to join an investigation?"
Grissom was silent for a very long one-second with his eyes wide on his lover. He blinked, again opening to a wide stare. "The Swan is unavailable at this moment," he managed quietly. "I imagine she will be along at some point when they can communicate the information to her."
Catherine snorted. "That's a little too technically delivered, even for you." She leaned forward on her forearms and tilted her shoulder in a coy manner. "What's going on, Gil?"
Anderson's voice boomed from the doorway to answer the question.
"As you all well know, this particular case has become linked with my team Commander. This latest connection, although obviously false, has forced the Federation to take notice, and take steps to joining, if not, controlling the investigation." He stepped into the room far enough to let the G-Force members file in to stand in an almost perfect formation one-step behind him.
Nick was the one to raise his hand in protest. "Oh hang on a minute." His eyes fell to Grissom. "You can't seriously tell me that we're handing this case off to them. That's not fair!"
Sara agreed. "Griss, we've been on this one for two-years. We've worked our tails off analysing and reanalysing evidence. You can't …"
"I'm not," Grissom interrupted in a soft voice. "We will be working alongside the Federation forensics department."
Anderson nodded. "My Commander was quite adamant that your department continue to run with and lead this investigation, with the Federation offering background support. I assure you that you will all remain as involved in this investigation as you have always been, if not, moreso."
"Howso?" Catherine asked with a girlish pout that would have rivalled that of the missing woman as she let her eyes scan over the white uniform of the G-Force Commander.
He responded to her look by pulling his wings closed in front of his chest and turned his attention to Grissom. "How much information have you given your team, Mr. Grissom, of the latest development?"
Grissom let out a breath and leaned back in his chair. He swept his hand in the air in front of vacant seats in a gesture of camaraderie. "We had barely begun to discuss things, Commander. Please you and your team take a seat and we will begin briefing."
Mark nodded to his team to take seats. He wasn't surprised to hear his second grunt beside him.
"I'll stand."
"No you won't, Jason. You'll take a seat and join in the conversation." He watched as Jason's lip twitched and let out a breath. "Please."
Jason blinked slowly and did as asked, taking a seat beside Catherine, who immediately offered him her hand and a smile.
"Hi. I'm Catherine."
Jason, irritated because of current events, and de-toxing after celebrating his latest track victory, let his grey-blue eyes slide to hers and let the side of his mouth flick, once, in a quasi-smile. "Jason," he said matter of factly as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Can we make this quick?"
Mark's eyes narrowed as he took a seat across the table from his second. "Why, Jason? Are you in a hurry?"
"Yeah, to find this asshole and introduce him to a little Condor justice."
"Not if I get him first," Mark mumbled in a voice only loud enough for his three team members to decipher.
"Gentlemen," Anderson huffed, maintaining his stand at the head of the table beside where Grissom was seated. "We can discuss appropriate and legal forms of punishment at a later date. For now, can we please discuss what is known and what course of action we plan to take with this investigation?"
The CSI team raised brows and looked amongst each other, while the G-Force teams all remained seated with their heads down.
Sara cleared her throat, uneasy with the obvious tension from the birds seated around her. "So. Uh. I guess I'll ask the burning question in everyone's mind. Who is the victim, and why is she so special to have the G-Force team becoming involved in the case?"
Nick nodded. "Yeah. I'm with Sara. What's so special about her? Is it the Swan?"
His question was met with four angry glares, but only one verbalized answer, this one from Anderson. "What makes her so special, Mr. Stokes, is that her abduction was supposedly by my team Commander. Your killer obviously wants G-Force, or more specifically the Eagle, to hurt. We all want to know why."
Nick shrugged and looked to Grissom. "But I think we've got proof it wasn't the Eagle …"
"Mark," the Eagle gently interrupted. "My name is Mark."
Nick's eyes met with Mark's and he winked to accept the introduction. "Mark. I think we've proven it wasn't you, and we can give that information to the press easy enough, so why the sudden interest?"
Mark sighed. "Have you ever been accused of murder, Mr. Stokes?"
Nick clicked in air through his mouth and nodded. "Actually, yeah. And my name is Nick." He jutted his chin to Catherine. "Took Cat a good 48 to find evidence to prove I was innocent."
"So you were framed?"
Nick nodded. "Yeah."
"And how'd it make you feel?"
"I wanted in on the investigation,"
Mark smiled shortly. "Touché."
"Ahh," he breathed as he waved a finger in the air. "But I wasn't allowed on the case for that reason."
Mark's eyes darkened as his lips stretched into a dangerous smile. "I will challenge anyone to remove me from this investigation, Nick."
Sara watched with a tilted head from around Tiny's frame. She maintained her position, but let her eyes slide to Anderson. "What about the Swan? I can't help but note she's absent from this meeting. Is she the victim here?"
The four birds immediately hushed and flicked their eyes at Anderson. He cleared his throat and thrust his hand into his pant pocket. "The Swan will be arriving in time. She is on assignment outside the city at the moment and is unable to join us right now."
"Do we know anything about our victim?"
Anderson lowered his head, took a breath, and raised it again to address the full table, rather than just Sara. "Our victim's name is Sarah Anderson, she is an employee at the Federation, within our explosives division. She is 21 years old, attractive, athletic build …"
"Which we can see from the photos," Greg purred. "Meow, what a looker. She got a boyfriend?"
"Want to focus?" Mark snapped with a flash of blue eyes. "She's a victim, remember, not the Galaxy girl for the month."
Greg gave a shocked blink. "I guess that's a yes, then," he muttered as he flicked the photograph back onto the table.
Mark let out a short cough. "I hardly see how that's relevant."
"Completely, Mark." Greg replied in a matter-of-fact tone in his own defence. "He's the first guy we need to question on this."
"What?"
Warrick nodded. "He's right. The boyfriend/spouse/partner is always on the top of the suspect list. Statistics are always in favour of someone close to them being the killer. " He looked casually to Anderson. "Any chance we'll be able to speak to anyone from her circle of friends, starting with her boyfriend?"
Sara nodded. "For the killer's MO to switch up to actually being seen wearing a costume, it makes sense that it's more likely a copy-cat, crime of passion thing."
Catherine leaned in, effectively closing out the G-Force team to let the investigative team work though theories. "We need to check if she's had trouble with a boyfriend, you know, a fight, fooling around …"
"Yeah," Warrick joined in with an enthusiastic smirk. "A man can get pretty wild when he thinks his wife or girlfriend is bumping uglies with another man. Been there, done that …"
"Got the T-Shirt," Catherine finished with a smile. "A girl can go pretty insane too."
"Worse," Sara added thoughtfully. "If she is involved with a woman…"
"Nah," Warrick hummed as he pointed to the picture. "That is definitely a guy."
"A pissed off boyfriend," Sara breathed. "I hate dealing with pissed off …"
"That's enough!" Mark finally yelled, punching hard at the desk. He pressed his hands into the table and deliberately, slowly drew himself to a stand. "How about we quit speculating about her sex-life and start doing some actual investigation."
"Commander," Anderson warned low, aware that there were several sets of stunned, wide eyes on him.
"Speculating," Warrick ventured warily, "is how we plan which course of analysis we take."
"It's sick," he breathed angrily. "I don't see how it helps in any way, shape, or form who she is sleeping with."
"Commander," Grissom said smoothly, his voice calm and even. "Perhaps you might be better off coordinating with your forensics division for the time being. I'll make sure my team is fully briefed on the information we have on the current victim, and will have …"
"I'm not going anywhere," he hissed low.
"I really do think …"
Mark's lip curled and his mouth opened as if to spit a carefully phrased insult of sorts; so Anderson cut him off. "Commander." His voice was smooth, emotionless, and authoritative. "I agree with Dr. Grissom. You should step outside for a moment and prepare for the arrival of our teams. Perhaps you can continue trying to contact the Swan."
Mark's eyes flashed dangerously toward Anderson. "Chief …"
"Skipper," Jason huffed in tired frustration as he drew himself to a stand. "Let's get out of here and leave the brains to do their work. This science shit bores the heck out of me; anyway, I could do with a break from sterility."
Mark cracked his head, wanting to argue, but knowing full well he had to comply. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine."
Grissom calmly watched the Eagle and Condor leave the room and slid his eyes to Anderson. "For the record, Mr. Anderson, and on the behalf of my team, I really want to express my concern about your team's involvement in this case."
Anderson pursed his lips as if blowing a kiss. "It's noted, Dr. Grissom, but in order for this investigation to remain in the hands of your team, you must expect their involvement."
"This is too personal."
"They've seen worse, experienced worse."
Grissom huffed. "I doubt it."
Anderson tilted his head, irritated by the challenge. "This is not a pissing contest, Dr. Grissom. My team are more than capable of shutting off their emotions when the need arises. My Commander has been accused of abducting and murdering an employee of the Federation; this will upset him as I am sure it would any of your team." He took the seat that Jason had vacated earlier and opened a large manila folder of papers in front of him. "I've spoken with your Sheriff and have informed him that as of this moment, your team are solely assigned to this case until otherwise notified. There will be no further distractions or assignments, and current cases will be taken by swing shift criminalists."
Sara frowned. "Can I argue with that decision? I have three rape cases on the books and would really like …"
"And I have a shooting and double homicide," Catherine whined.
Anderson raised a brow. "Feel free to remove yourselves from this case entirely if you wish."
Sara inhaled strong. "Tempting, if we didn't have a live victim we might actually be able to save."
"If she's still alive."
Eight sets of eyes settled on Anderson. One set was young, red, and horrified. After an incoherent set of breeps and broops, the youngest G-Forcer wiped at his eyes with the back of a gloved fist. "She's alive."
Sara watched the young man with a creased brow. Without thinking, she set her hand gently on his shoulder. "Don't worry Swallow. I promise you we'll find her alive and well."
"Sara," Grissom warned softly, all too aware she was ready to fall into her empathetic hole.
She flashed him her own warning look and slouched back in her chair. "I won't sleep until we get this guy."
He shook his head and slowly stood. His mind didn't war at all as he closed the door to the briefing room and shut the blinds. "Time for the truth, team."
Anderson growled from his place at the table. "What are you doing, Dr. Grissom?"
"You have your stipulations, I have mine," Grissom answered as he took his seat and leaned back arrogantly in his chair. "I will not lie or hide information from my team. They need to know everything in order to properly perform their jobs." He blinked his eyes slowly. "My team aren't blind to the facts, Mr. Anderson. If they haven't already figured it out, they will soon enough.
Nick leaned in to Warrick. "Bets on we're looking for Swannie."
"Nick," Grissom growled. "This isn't the time."
Anderson rolled his eyes upward and taped his fingers on the file. He swallowed hard as he slowly lowered his head and nodded. "I half expected this." He used his fingertip to push a pink-coloured envelope into the center of the table. "This is the file on our victim. Her vital statistics, DNA profile, Orthodontic report, anything that can be used for identification are inside … Anything I, and the Federation, deem appropriate to the case are inside." He slapped his hand down hard on top of it as he saw four of the eight persons reach for it. "This information does not leave this room. It is highly and critically confidential. I cannot stress how important it is that word of her identity isn't leaked."
Catherine raised a brow and pouted her lips in a smile. "Mr. Anderson. Confidentiality is our forte. I promise you that noone outside this room on our side of the fence will find out that our victim is your Swan."
~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~
It wasn't as if the Condor really had to forcibly drag his commander into the corridor; Mark was perfectly willing to leave the room; But Jason still felt the need to painfully grip the shoulder of his wing and pull him a lot faster than he was actually able to walk.
Ordinarily Mark would assert his rank and correct Jason when he used this kind of methodry to make him do as he damn well pleased, but right now he simply couldn't draw out the energy to assert anything more than obedience. Distraction in its finest form, Princess' disappearance really had taken his mind off the task.
Yeah, Anderson was right after all – not that he would admit it any time soon.
Jason was hardly gentle when he flicked his wrist to release Mark against the wall beside a drinking fountain close to the entrance to the reception area.
"Skipper, you need to hold it together, man."
Mark slouched lazily against the wall and folded his arms against his chest. He lowered his head and sniffed hard enough to lift his top lip into a chaste curl. "I'm trying."
Jason leaned on his elbow against the wall and rested his helmeted head onto his fist. "Easier in theory than in practice, eh?"
Mark nodded and kept his gaze solidly to the wall across from them, rather than look at Jason. "I'm worried about her."
"We all are."
"If she's in the hands of a serial killer …" he sighed long. "God, I don't know what I'd do."
Jason whipped a feather from his wing and analysed the tip a moment before setting it between his teeth. "I think we can pretty much confirm she's with that creep."
Mark closed his eyes and rolled his head back on the wall, pushing his antenna up hard against the white fibreglass enough for it to make a sharp cracking noise. He ignored it. "No chance at all of you humouring me, is there?"
"Nope."
"Shit."
Jason's brow flicked. "Shit as in you want me to humour you, or just general shit?"
Mark's lips actually turned to a small smile. "A little from column A, a little from column B?"
"Ahh, an all reaching shit…"
"Yeah. Something like that."
They stood in silence, both somewhat focusing their aural attentions on the murmurs from the assignment room where the people they were trusting with Princess' life were discussing what they knew. Neither actually commented to the other if they could actually decipher the murmurs into words, but each knew what the other was doing.
Jason finally broke a five-minute silence with a cough. His eyes caught Mark's startled jump and he let out a long breath.
"So, Mark. Do you actually know anything about this serial killer?"
Mark rolled his head to the side to finally look at his second. "As in what, exactly?"
"Well being that you live with the super-sleuth herself, and we all know she's ass deep in studying the case, have you managed to actually digest anything she's talked to you about."
Mark smiled. "Honestly, and not that I want to be crass, but when I'm with Princess, I'm rarely thinking of anything … but … you know."
Jason's eyes slid slyly toward Mark. "It's always the quiet ones …"
"No. Seriously, Jase. When Princess and I are together, we don't talk shop."
"Somehow I find that really hard to believe."
Mark shrugged. "I'm serious. She knows that when I escape the Federation, I don't want to talk about it." He tapped his own chest with his finger without breaking his arms from their folded position. "When I'm Mark, I'm Mark. I don't want to bring the Eagle home with me." He sighed. "I don't even watch the news any more, Man. Too much pain and suffering and death and murder."
"Yeah," he agreed with a huff. "Makes you wonder why we bother, eh?"
Mark shook his head. "Her, Jase. I do this for her."
Jason seemed somewhat surprised by the admission. "That's the only reason?"
"What other reason is there?" He shrugged. "My parents are dead. I have no other family besides you guys. I don't exactly care about a billion people I don't even know. Princess, well, you know. She makes it worth it."
"Yeah. I hear that."
"I was going to propose tonight …"
Jason closed his eyes and nodded with a smile. "Figured you were going to do it sooner than later."
"I should have done it sooner, Jase. Now I might not get the chance."
Jason let his eyes shift to the door as a new crew of investigators walked through the front. "I really think there are more important things right now than whether or not you give her a ring, Skip."
"I guess."
There was an impressed holler from the door that made both birds adjust their stares to the noise.
"Holy … Wow. Now that's cosplay in it's finest."
Mark's brow rose in an identical manner to Jason's, and he stared at a quickly approaching Asian male. He lowered his voice an octave and gruffly whispered his fear of the upcoming introduction. "You have about 10 seconds to tell me what cosplay means, or I fear this is going to hurt."
"We've got stocks in Advil, right?"
"Damn."
Archie, the Las Vegas Crime Lab's resident computing/audio/visual genius, didn't waste time on formalities before he took a handful of the edge of Mark's wing and tugged at the fabric.
"That is one Hell of a costume, man. Where'd you get it done?"
Jason leaned around Mark and did what his Commander wouldn't: remove the offending hand from Federation property. "Federation issue. Careful, you touch it and it'll rip your hand off."
Archie smirked and let go a small chuckle. "Well. You're in character. Although I don't think the Condor is really that …" he paused as he saw the approach of another two colleagues. "Yo. Hodges, Chris. Check these costumes out. Why didn't either of you tell me there was a convention on?"
David Hodges slowly raised his eyes from the inside of a forensics magazine, where the Shift supervisor, Gil Grissom's article was. "Maybe because I'm not a ten year-old."
Chris, a relative newcomer to the night shift, although a seasoned regular of Shift, narrowed his eyes at the two birds, assessed the costumes, and then nodded in approval. "Neoprene. Can't say I'd necessarily go for that, but yeah …. Nice job." He then looked at, and shrugged, at Archie. "I didn't think it was for another few weeks. I guess it's a smaller one."
Hodges groaned as if completely disgusted by the topic, but it was obvious he wanted part of it. "Great. So here we'll have another bunch of superhero related fatalities and crime sprees."
Mark remained pretty silent, although he was rather wide-eyed at the exchange. Jason, however, opted to take part.
"What in the nine-circles of Hell are you talking about?"
Archie chuckled. "You're pretty hardcore, aren't you? You know I had a buddy of mine from the Star Trek Fansite who was exactly the same as you. He was beyond obsessed." He looked at Chris and smirked. "Damn guy spoke only in Klingon, and when his wife wanted kids …" he finished by laughing uncontrollably. "Let's just say that basic human biology escaped him."
Jason cleared his throat. "I'm only going to ask you one more time. What are you talking about?"
Archie gave a dismissive wave and wrapped the headphone cord of his iPod carefully around the small metal unit. "I can't wait to find out what the … "He put on a typically superhero announcer's voice " … G-Force Commander and his second got arrested for."
Jason let out a short cough. "Either you let me hit him, Mark. Or I'm going to set something of the kid's free in his lab."
Mark shook his head with a smile. He was familiar with the topic. Too many times Princess had moaned about Keyop wanting to go to a comic book convention dressed as something other than the Swallow of G-Force. "He thinks we're G-Force fans."
"Fans?"
Mark nodded. "Remember that girl you dated who liked to dress up as Sailor Moon for you?"
"Who's Sailor Moo …. Oh, yeah. The Japanese cartoon character chick. Yeah, what about her?"
Mark kind of shrugged. "Well. People do it for conventions and stuff. He thinks we're one of those."
Jason's brow flicked. "Oh now I want to hit him even more."
"Hey," he shrugged slowly with a sigh and resigned voice. "He could have suggested we were into Yaoi."
"Which means?"
Chris, who was still admiring the outfits, decided to answer the question. "If you don't know, you probably don't want to know."
Mark nodded in thanks. "That answer probably just saved your life." He extended his hand in greeting. "I'm Mark, this is Jason. Believe it or not, we're the real Eagle and Condor."
Chris' eyes flicked up quickly, initially doubtful, but quickly turned into belief when he caught sight of the rest of the team behind the glass. "Oh. Shit." He rubbed his hands on his lab coat and extended it in reciprocation. "I'm Chris. I'm, uh, assisting in Trace and Ballistics while I finish university. Really surprised to see you guys here."
Hodges shifted from one foot to the other and successfully managed to keep himself cool and collected in the presence of the birds. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Mark's nose twitched and he flicked his gaze at Jason, who was still staring in the direction of Archie. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the two criminalists. "We're assisting on an ongoing case."
"No shit?" Chris exclaimed. "Which one."
Hodges decided to answer. "I guess the serial, right?"
Jason shot his gaze to the intelligent (check: geek) looking man. "And just how would you know that?"
He shrugged. "What else would you be interested in other than the case of the century? You guys want money, solving the serial would get it for you."
"Yeah," Jason muttered slowly. "Because that's what G-Force do; go and battle for the love of money. World peace and safety to our citizens doesn't factor into it at all."
Mark let out a long breath. "Jason, please. This isn't the time."
Chris looked between Jason and Hodges with wide eyes. "Yeah well. Uh. You guys have the best toys. Graveyard could use some of that in this case. Shit. We really don't want to lose any more chicks to this low-life moron."
Hodges let out his trademark faux long-suffering breath and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I'd think hard before calling him moron, Chris. He's managed to outwit this entire department."
"You sound impressed by him."
"Try intrigued."
"You're sick."
"I'm getting into his head," Hodges tried as he tapped his finger to his temple. "Best way to get them is to become them."
Chris coughed and flicked his eyes up to the two G-Forcers, who seemed to be absolutely fascinated by the conversation. "Uh. Yeah, Hodges. Um. Since when were you part of the investigative unit? Last time I checked you were only a low-life Trance Analyst labrat."
He pursed his lips a'la Grissom and adopted a self-satisfied expression. "I was the one who broke the Miniature case, remember."
"No. Sara going missing and forcing us to move our asses broke the case."
"Bleach, remember?"
Chris groaned and flicked his hand in a dismissive manner. "Yeah, whatever. I'm pretty sure Grissom would have come up with it sooner or later."
Mark finally interjected with a softly asked: "So how much do either of you know about the case?"
Hodges smirked and shifted his head from side to side in a proud manner. "I know everything about it." He jutted his chin to the window, where Grissom was in the process of explaining something to the individuals in the room. "You see Grissom and I are very close-knit. We share all sorts of information."
"Oh, really? Then perhaps you might be a good liaise for Jason and myself during this investigation," Mark said with a smile. "I'd really hate to have to interrupt him while he's in his zone; or whatever you investigators call it."
Hodges smile flicked at the corners of his mouth, and his look appeared to darken slightly. "Are you asking me to work alongside G-Force for this investigation?"
Mark nodded with a smile. "If you have time, of course."
Chris groaned painfully, but Hodges nodded quickly. "Of course, Commander. It would be a pleasure."
"Great," Mark said softly. "Then if you wouldn't mind gathering me the intel that you already have, I'd appreciate it."
Hodges grunted an affirmative and strode purposefully past them. Jason watched with a scowl as he walked in to a lab and turned his attention to his Commander. "Mark. Was that really a good idea?"
Mark crossed his ankles and leaned back on the wall. His arms were still folded across his chest, but he lifted one hand to stroke at his chin. "Yeah."
"Yeah? A one-word answer. From you?"
Mark's eyes slid first to Chris, and then to Jason. "Sometimes one is enough." He tilted his head at Chris and let a flick of his eyes indicate something on the young man's neck. "Did you get in to a fight, Chris?"
The young man reddened and lightly rubbed his fingers against a set of scratches on his neck. "Um. Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"Hmm?"
Chris sighed in embarrassment. "Me and a few friends were recreating a scene from Star Trek Episode …"
Mark interrupted with a raise of his hand. "I'm not a Star Trek fan."
Chris smirked. "Gee. I thought if anyone would be into it, you would be, Commander. "
"Ahh, no. Got enough alien encounter war games in my real life thank you."
Chris sighed. "Must be a blast."
"It has its moments, I suppose."
"Working alongside the Swan; the daydream of every Sci-Fi fan on the planet; makes you the envy of mankind, you know that, right?"
Mark smiled and nodded. "She's quite the woman."
Chris nudged him with his elbow and gave a wink. "That uniform must be distracting at times, eh?"
Jason and Mark groaned simultaneously, but the Eagle answered the question. "I generally find the missiles coming at the Phoenix, or the giant mecha stomping mankind to be more of a distraction than a pair of white panties."
Chris' brow flicked doubtfully. "Yeah. Okay." He shrugged and Pulled his backpack strap higher onto his shoulder. "Well, nice to meet you both. I'm sure we'll bump in to each other again." He pointed in the direction of the locker room. "I should clock in and get some work done."
Mark and Jason nodded their goodbyes and followed the young man with their eyes.
Jason cleared his throat after Chris was out of sight and slouched in front of his Commander with his arms across his chest. "Of the two of them, explain to my why you picked the creepy one to help us out."
"Because he's creepy."
Jason raised a brow. "You know. There are times I really wonder if your head's on right. Why would you voluntarily choose a guy who could quite easily be the human version of Zoltar, to work with us to rescue Princess?" He pointed with his whole hand in the direction of the locker room. "I think the Star Trek aficionado might have been a more obvious choice, don't you?"
"You'd think so," Mark said softly as he kept a low gaze on Hodges at his computer.
Jason's head tilted. "Oh don't you dare go cryptic on me."
Mark's eyes slid to his second. "Chris will be a good go to if we need to infiltrate any Trek groups," he shuddered making the comment, but quickly returned pensive. His chin jutted toward Hodges. "Him … Well. There's just something about him that doesn't feel quite right."
Jason narrowed his eyes for sharp focus on the man. "Which prompted you to force us to work with him for what reason, exactly?"
"I just don't have a good feeling about him, okay? I want to keep him close."
Jason nodded slowly. "Princess always says to trust your instinct. You usually get it right." He slid his eyes back to Mark. "As long as you aren't saying he knows where she is."
One side of Mark's mouth stretched into a smile. "If I thought that, Jason, he'd be up against the wall with my boomerang in his gut."
"She's going to be okay, Mark."
"I know, Jase."