Pulling Pete away from the breakfast table just when Leena was about to bring in the first batch of waffles was about as difficult editing Cerebra's programming in binary. Each was a total beast of a project, but one that Claudia had somehow managed.
Jogging into the Blackbird's nest, the pair was surprised to find it already occupied. Todd stood beneath a wing, fiddling with an open panel. He must've heard the sound of their footsteps, as he glanced over at their approach.
"Hey, Claudia," the young pilot greeted with a grin, pulling a rag from his back pocket and off his hands on it.
The red-head couldn't help but return a smile of her own. "Hey, Funk. Whatcha doing with my baby this at this ungodly hour?" She tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach as he met her gaze.
"Remember that quirk we had in the aft thrusters? Well, I thought about it last night, and the solution hit me this morning." He waved at the open circuitry with the screwdriver in his hand, gesturing for her to step up and take a look. "The chipsets in the front ports were having power-draw issues because the TSL couplings on the core were bridged to the wing relays, which were running on neutrin-"
"Hey, hey, hey, hold on, partner." Pete glanced between the two of them. "Number one: We've gotta go. And more importantly, number two: What am I? Chopped liver?"
Todd tore his gaze away from her, blushing a little. "'Morning, Pete."
"Good morning," the older man responded. "Now, can you stitch the bird up so we can fly? We gotta run."
"Yeah, it'll just take a sec, I just need to close this and then-" he fumbled with the tool in his hand and the handle slipped from his fingers.
Without thinking, Claudia bent over to pick it up. Todd apparently had the same idea, because a second later their foreheads crashed together. Both shot straight immediately, faces quickly reddening as a wave of apologies passed between them.
"My bad. I'm so sorry."
"No, it was totes my fault…"
"I didn't expect you to-"
The trade came to an end when the forgotten screwdriver suddenly appeared between their faces. Following tracing the length of the arm that held it suspended, Claudia winced as she met Pete's knowing look.
"What?" she asked defensively. Her hand snatched the offending tool from his. "Go get into your spandex."
Pete snagged the screwdriver back from her grasp and set it into Todd's. "You have spandex, too." He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up the boarding ramp, leaving the blushing pilot rubbing the growing bump on his head and suddenly wishing, for the first time in his life, that he had a uniform too.
It wasn't spandex. Sure, the team wore spandex; when on high alert, it was custom to wear the stuff beneath your every-day digs, 24/7, just to be ready. But that was just the undergarment to the thick, stiff polymer bodysuits that, in a few places, looked an awful lot like pleather.
Yeah, it was definitely a lot of awful.
But, as Claudia finished pulling up her side-zipper, she had to admit the blue material stitched with silver and emblazoned with yellow accents and "x"s on the shoulders did make her look like a bit of a bad-ass, especially when standing amongst the rest of her team members. Every one of them wore the same color scheme, but the cut itself was a touch different depending on the person.
Unity in disparity – or maybe it was the other way around.
"Hey guys!" Myka hastily greeted as she dashed into the jet, already stripping off her button up and jeans to reveal black Under Armor beneath. She was the last aboard.
"Here." The redhead threw the brunette her uniform from the gear locker.
The older woman caught it, immediately beginning to pull it on. "Thanks," she panted. "Is Artie here?"
"He's in back, eating a muffin," Pete informed. The man plopped down into his seat, jealous running thick in his words and expression.
"It's just breakfast, man," Steve replied as he followed suit, strapping himself in.
"Just breakfast?! Leena was making waffles!" Pete whined.
"They'll still be there when you get back," Myka answered exasperatedly. "Wait a second." Her face lit up. She grabbed her phone from her shirt pocket before stashing her civilian clothing in the locker. Carrying her boots in one hand, she dropped them on the floor before settling down beside Pete. Her thumbs worked the smartphone's screen like there was no tomorrow.
"Um, what am I waiting for?"
"Hm? Oh, nothing. It's just Helena was in the conservatory, looking for someone to have breakfast with. I'm letting Leena know so she can find her."
"Mykes, if HG eats my waffles…" Pete warned.
When they arrived at the suburban address no more than five minutes later, they were too late. Not for the waffles. For the poor soul they'd been sent to find.
As Myka threw open the house door, the scent of something a lot like three-week old garbage, or maybe Pete's room, accosted Claudia's nose.
"Holy-" The young woman swallowed, trying not to gag. "What is that?" she asked, pinching her nose as she followed the rest of the team inside through a short hallway.
"That," Steve spoke up from ahead, "is the smell of failure." He stepped aside, making room for her as they reached the kitchen.
"Nobody touch anything," Myka warned.
"Yeah, like I was really planning on playing in that," Pete countered sarcastically.
Claudia made her way to join them but immediately regretted it. There, on the tiles, was a scene much like the one in Dr. Calder's photos, except this time, instead of bad plaid and worn blue jeans, whoever had been turned to goop had had a bit more fashion sense. A pair of black heels were sat full of the pale greenish gunk, a little black dress ruffled up in a messy puddle beside it. Various bits of gold jewelry glinted in the dim light where not coated in the nasty stuff.
"Oh God." The teen immediately spun away, begging her suddenly upset stomach to chill out. "I'll, uh, I'll go Farnsworth Artie."
Less than five minutes later, far too soon for Claudia's liking to be honest, the older man met her at the open doorway. "Where is it?"
Gulping down one last breath of fresh air, the redhead bucked up and led him inside where the other agents were still looking around. Myka noticed them enter first.
"We can rule out freak accident," the older woman said. "That makes two of them in the same week."
Artie grimaced, staring down at the puddle. "Have any of you touched it, and have you taken a look around?"
"Don't worry. We kept our digits out of the people-sludge," Pete assured.
Steve stepped up and held out his hand. As his fingers opened uncurled, they revealed what was one of the biggest diamonds Claudia had ever seen, a rock big enough to make the Crown Jewels feel a little self-conscious. "We looked around, and the only thing out of place was this," he answered. "All the rest of her jewelry was cheap – gold plated or fake. This, however, was on the kitchen table."
Slowly, the team-lead reached out and took it from the younger man. He stared at it in silence, his face unreadable, until Myka finally spoke.
"Artie? What is it?"
The grizzled man gazed at the stone, rolling it between his weathered fingers.
"Bad news."
When Helena's escort ushered her into the jet's hangar and left her there, it was readily apparent that what was a heated meeting had begun without her. The worry on the faces of those seated at the long table made no effort to disguise itself, and their bodies, all covered in odd, skin-tight clothing save Arthur (thankfully), emanated tension. The Brit silently shuffled forward at a leisurely rate, in no great hurry to be noticed for knowledge that her presence might curb their tongues.
"So, they were real?" Peter questioned. "Not just the monsters under the bed that the dorm leaders would tell us wee little mutants about so that we wouldn't get up for midnight snacks? And, these guys are turning people into puddles?"
Ms. Bering's fingers thrummed against the tabletop. "They are a historically documented group, Pete. We don't have much - nothing after the turn of the 20th century, but they existed."
"Even so, aren't we being a little over enthusiastic here? The lady has one diamond and that makes us pointing fingers at the evil cult of the Illuminati? C'mon Artie, that's a little off-the-rocker, even for us," Claudia pointed out.
Helena could only see half the older man's face as he winced, but the guilt coloring his slightly wrinkled features was clear. "We didn't find just one diamond," he answered grudgingly.
"What?"
"There was another at the first victim's house," he admitted.
"So you suspected this and didn't mention it?" Myka asked instantly, her tone both incredulous and accusing. "You let us go in blind!?"
That the brunette would question her superior in such a tone stirred a wave of mild surprise in Helena; in their few encounters, the Brit had quickly placed Ms. Bering as the sort to put complete stock in the structured rules, in chains of command.
"Like Claudia just pointed out, it could've been coincidence," Arthur explained, voice rough and defensive as he held his ground. "We didn't think it wise to jump to conclusions and get the team worried over nothing. You were told what you needed to know."
His explanation wasn't enough for the woman, who had since risen from her seat. She leaned over the table, jabbing the surface with a long index finger to accent her words. "We're responsible for each other's back down there, and you couldn't mention the fact that the infamous cult behind a century's worth of mutant genocide was possibly down there, because it might have been 'nothing?'"
Something twisted in Helena's stomach as she tried to bite down a sudden wave of anxiety.
Myka continued. "Secrets are what get people killed in the field, Artie! I should know. You think this was nothing? Tell that to the two victims we've found. It's pretty clear that the return of the Brotherhood of the Black Diamond isn't 'nothing.'"
The Brit's blood ran cold. Her throat went tight. She heard herself stumble, the sound of her shoes scuffing the pavement rhythmlessly, rather than felt it. They were there, ghosts of sensations flashing before her eyes – men with long knives, the bodies, the ache of several years' spent in endless, lonely toil. Christina playing in th-
"HG? Are you okay?"
Young Ms. Donovan's voice cut through the onslaught of memory. Helena's eyes snapped to the red-head's questioning expression for a silent moment before realizing the group was awaiting her answer.
"Yes. Yes, of course," the Victorian spoke hastily, ignoring the odd expression that sprouted on Mr. Jinx's face as the words left her. "I was told my presence was requested."
A twinge of relief bubbled inside her chest as the many pairs of questioning eyes moved to Arthur.
"Mrs. Fredric," he began, "believes Ms. Wells could provide valuable insight into this case and into dealings with." The man rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the invitation he was extending. "She requested Ms. Wells join us as a field agent, at least until the issue is resolved. That is," he amended, turning to face Helena, "if you're willing."
She didn't need to think twice… or at all, though it did strike her as momentarily curious that the headmistress could know so much about her past. "Yes. If this is a matter of the Diamond, you needn't ask."
"Hold your horses for one second." Pete's gaze darted between her and Arthur. "No offence HG, but Artie, are you sure this is a good idea? She has no field preparation - no combat training. She could get hurt. Are you sure she can't stay here, where it's safe? I mean, HG, what have you got that we need to take you along and put you in danger?"
She knew that he meant well. Some women would've loved him for his concern, would've thanked him for what they'd call chivalrous protection. More than some in her own original time period, but she was certain that even in this futuristic age, some women would've agreed with his worries and been all the more grateful to sit on the bench.
Helena looked at him blankly.
"I hunted them to extinction."
AN: Short one this week, my apologies. Though, curiosity begs I ask, is it preferable that I do two 2000-word length updates a week, or one twice that size? There are no real promises coming of this, just inquiry :P
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