Chapter 11
"God dammit, Emmett," Bella shouts across the Pen. She rants with fury in her steps. "Your orders were rescue him. I don't care how unimportant you think this training is. I don't care if you don't like him. As a member of this team it's your job to listen to the team leader. I was in charge of this operation and you will listen to me, you sadistic son of a bitch."
Emmett drops the clip from his rifle and displays it. "I shot the last three."
"After I gave the order to abort the scenario," she answers. Her fists white-knuckle with rage. It wasn't Emmett's audacity in delaying to help Edward against the rabisu that infuriated her. Alice's position in Observation meant that Edward would ultimately be fine. Bella knew that, and knows that Emmett knew that as well. What angers her most is that Emmett willfully disobeyed her, and he did it in front of Edward.
Typical Emmett, she thinks as she approaches him. He's always a jerk to team leaders, a trait that has grown more insufferable over the past two decades. It's something that she has patiently dealt with, but not now. Now it's frustrating, cruel and, she hates to admit, embarrassing.
With each casual step Emmett takes, the angrier she gets.
"Don't fucking move," she orders before he walks past her, making him halt. The volume of her voice plummets as she bows up to him, her burning eyes staring straight into his bored face. "I know what you're doing, Emmett. I'm not going to let you mock this team."
"Come off it." Flippant distain fills Emmett's every word. He motions back to Edward, now speaking with Jacob. "We train them. They die. We get a new one."
"Not all of them die," Bella says.
"Right." Emmett's voice trails.
Bella recognizes the tactic; shoving out uncomfortable truths but ignoring the discussion. It gets under her skin and, deep down, she wishes he gave her more respect than that.
"Secure your gear," she hisses. "You're cleaning the Pen."
"Yes, Agent Eliz."
The code name is an insult. The visual of gutting Emmett right there fills her mind and, for a moment, she desperately wants to make it reality. To feel his blood cover her hand after the cold flash of her knife buries deep into his abdomen.
Jacob calls. He motions her to join him and Edward.
"I'll be right there," she shouts. She faces Emmett. "Grab your mop."
"Enjoy your date," Emmett says, without missing a beat. He heads to the armory, leaving Bella alone to seethe as she crosses the Pen to Jacob and the slime-covered Edward.
She focuses on the sound of her boots against the hard ground. The coursing rush of blood ebbs from inside her head the further away she moves from Emmett. She watches Jacob speak with Edward. They laugh at an unheard joke. Calm, she thinks. Don't take it out on them.
"I'm going to let him borrow some clothes," Jacob says as Bella nears.
She thanks Jacob, realizing just how covered in the blue gel Edward really is. She can't help but find amusement in his sheepish stance and filthy face, like a child caught playing in the mud. "You okay?" she asks Edward.
"Yeah," Edward says. "We need to talk." The smile on his face contradicts the hard, breathless tone.
Panic. Is Edward upset with her? The scenario replays in her mind, every decision and order she made from the moment it initialized. Edward's entry to the Pen. Her final command to cancel. She bites the inside of her lip. "Yes, sir."
"But first, I need a shower." With a bladed hand, Edward scoops a thick wad of the gunk from his forearm and flings it to the floor. It joins with the rest of the rabisu remains congealed at his feet.
Taking hope in Edward's playful gesture, Bella futilely works to calm herself. "We'll take you." She radios Emmett as she leads Edward and Jacob across the Pen to a side door. "Our weapons are by the locker room." He doesn't answer, but she knows he heard her. She also knows he'll take care of weapons regardless of his mood.
"Emmett cleaning the Pen?" Jacob asks.
Bella nods. The less she has to talk about Emmett, the better.
"What the hell is this stuff?" Edward asks, tossing another handful of gel to the ground.
"We call it polymyth gel," Bella explains, pleased that Edward seems more confused than frustrated. "It's a synthetic compound we use for training purposes. It can accept behavioral and physical coding so we can create a duplicate of any creature we want. We fill a mold with polymyth, activate it and we get an actual monster to fight."
At the door, Bella and Jacob disarm themselves, setting their rifles and two pistols each against the wall.
"And they explode when we will kill them," Jacob adds, pulling loaded magazines from the pouches on his chest. They clack into a messy pile on the ground.
"I gathered," Edward says. "So what we those things I fought programmed to be?" A loud pop as another wad of polymyth hits the floor.
"Rabisu," Bella says, stacking her clips on the ground as she withdrawals them. "It's a creature from the Arkadian region. Nocturnal, obviously. They ambush their victims in groups and are attracted to light and sound."
"Well, that makes sense," Edward says, following her into the locker room. He mentally kicks himself for drawing the rabisu's attention. "Vicious fuckers."
"They're worse in reality," she replies. "Those tusks deliver a nasty neurotoxin. We don't replicate that sort of stuff in the Pen, though."
"I'm impressed you got three of them with your bare hands," Jacob says. He pulls a towel from his locker and hands it to Edward. "We try not to let them get that close."
"Noted," he tells Jacob with a grin. He glances at Bella, sitting on the bench in front of her open locker. He instinctively looks away as she pulls off her black shirt.
"The team shares a locker room, sir," Jacob whispers. "It's fine."
Overhearing Jacob, a sly grin crosses Bella's face. "Would you like me to step out?" She wants to stay, but finds she respects Edward too much to intentionally make him uncomfortable.
"It's fine, thanks." Edward quickly pulls off his gel-covered uniform.
Watching him undress from her periphery, Bella's thrill overwhelms her shame. "Are you sure? It's not a problem."
Edward ignores the comment. "Where should I put these?" he asks, drawing her attention. He stands in nothing but blue boxer-briefs, holding the polymyth-soaked uniform in his hands.
Bella swallows hard to keep from smiling.
"I'll take them," the shirtless Jacob says. "We have washers."
"Thanks." Edward grabs his towel and disappears into the showers. The echoing rush of water fills the tiled room.
Alice's voice clicks over the radio. "Where are you guys?"
"The locker room," Jacob answers. "Captain Masen's in the shower."
"Gotcha," Alice answers. "Bella?"
"Go ahead."
"Do you want me to erase these videos from the training?"
It's a brilliant question, and one of the reasons Bella loves Alice. Her position as Colonel Cullen's de facto confidante gives her special insight into when the team has gone against his orders. Bella bites her thumb as she ponders.
"I wanna see the fight," Jacob says.
So do I, Bella thinks. "Send a copy to my barracks, then delete it from the official drives."
"Done."
A moment passes and Jacob's cell phone rings. He answers, his fun-loving voice replaced with a enthusiastic lilt. He tosses his tactical vest in his locker and moves to a corner.
Cute, Bella thinks, knowing Alice is on the other end. Envy and satisfaction fills her whenever she watches Jacob talk with Alice. He's a good guy with a good girl, something that Bella decided long ago would not happen for her. Not again.
The constant sound of water ceases and Bella quickly pulls on a loose-fitting shirt. She glances in her locker's mirror and lets down her hair. It covers her shoulders as it falls from its bun, crooked from her hair band.
Moist and with a towel around his waist, Edward reveals himself. He taps the distracted Jacob's shoulder, who quickly pulls a spare uniform from the top of his locker before going back to his corner conversation.
Bella swallows. She's seen many attractive men in her eighty-odd years of existence. Every team leader who walks into Lilim is physically fit and well-toned. And while Edward may not stand out as particularly impressive, Bella must force herself to keep from staring.
"You wanted to talk to me, sir?" she asks.
Edward pulls the pants on underneath his towel, preventing a full reveal. He drops the towel, allowing Bella to get a glimpse of his pronounced hipbone.
She steadies her focus on her reflection in the mirror hanging in her locker.
"Yeah," he says. The pants fit loosely around his waist and he cinches the drawstrings tight. "We can talk here."
"Okay, sir." Bella shuts her locker and straddles the bench, facing Edward.
"So," Edward puts on the uniform t-shirt and sits, "What happened in there?"
It's a simple question, but it catches Bella off-guard. Does he want to know for his personal knowledge, or is this a standard military review of what happened? "What do you mean?"
"Just explain everything to me," he says, patiently. "I walked into the middle of it, so I would love to know everything that was going on."
"Oh, no problem," Bella says with a laugh, surprising herself in her comfort. She explains the randomization of the Pen and the initial clearing mission of the scenario. "When you came in, we just made it a rescue mission."
"I'm flattered," Edward says, smiling. "So why didn't you rescue me?"
Bella scoffs, unsure if the hint of flirtation she senses is real or wishful thinking. "We tried. I would have preferred anyone other than Emmett getting there first."
Jacob finishes his phone call and, reaching over Edward, closes his locker. "Need anything else, Bella?"
"No. Tell Alice, 'Thank you.'"
"Yeah." Jacob addresses Edward. "Sir?"
"Call me, 'Edward.' Thanks for the clothes."
"No problem." Jacob holds out his hand out to the side, a movement Edward mimics. They slap and shake hands. "Deuces," Jacob says, throwing up a peace sign as he exits.
"Why wasn't he the first one to me?" Edward asks, motioning to the closing door.
"Jacob?" A shiver of nerves runs across Bella's chest. She hates explaining the nuances of Jacob's ability without him there.
"Why not have him turn into a bat or monkey or something? The top of the maze was open. He could've gotten to me much quicker than all of you running blindly." The obviousness in the solution is readily apparent in Edward's voice.
"It would have," Bella says, steeling herself, "Except for a couple of things. One, Jacob's transformation takes a bit of time. He can't just snap his fingers and become a rhino. Two, I try to avoid having him transform during training."
"Is that policy or personal preference?"
"Personal preference." A look of annoyance crosses Bella's face. "It shouldn't be, but it is. Emmett is an enabler and Carlisle doesn't care."
Hearing the Colonel's first name used so forcefully surprises Edward. "He doesn't care about what?"
"Jacob is addicted to pain-killers," Bella says, a sad resignation in her voice. "It's an open secret. It's almost needed because of his ability."
A mix of disappointment, surprise, and anger pounds in Edward's chest.
After a silent moment, Bella continues. "His transformations are horribly painful. Imagine every bone, ever muscle in your body being compacted or stretched all at once. It's excruciating for him."
"Geesh," Edward finally says. "I never would have thought." He can't take his eyes of her face, shrouded in empathy. "Is it like that for you?"
"For me? The first few times hurt," she says, struggling to remember that far back. "I've done it so much I'm numb to the process. But, that's why I don't let him transform in training." She looks down, catching a glimpse of the time. Damn it, she thinks. It's almost time for her own transformation, a fact that dries her well of empathy.
"I can appreciate that, then." Edward flashes a genuine smile that Bella forces herself to reciprocate.
"He's a really good kid," she says, standing. She needs to leave, now. "Sir, I-"
"Edward," he says, cutting her off.
Her heart skips. "Edward, I have to go."
"I was enjoying this."
Oh god. "So was I. I just have to some paperwork to take care of. And I need to make sure Emmett is cleaning the Pen."
"Is it anything I can help you with?"
Anxiousness prevents flattery. "I would love that. I just need to take care of this stuff alone."
"Okay," Edward says, making no effort to hide the disappointment that pierces Bella's heart.
"I'll stop by the library tomorrow. I promise." The familiar pang hits as she rushes out of the locker room. Her running footsteps reverberate through the hall until the door shuts solidly behind her, leaving Edward alone.
He lingers in the locker room, permeating with decades of moisture and sweat. It reminds him of his past. Of high school. Of military bases. Every locker room is the same and right now all Edward wants is consistency. After a while he pulls on his boots, traces of polymyth ringing the sole, and exits the facility without seeing another soul.