Risk and Rebel

41: DESTINATION LONDON

[ Third Person POV ]

Sergeant and Legion had already known they had their work cut out for them when it came to Desmond (he was a kid whose skill sets revolved around technology, not espionage or even socializing) but once they hit the streets of Dubai, they realized they may have underestimated the extent of the damage. The redhead stuck out like a sore thumb as it was, but with his wide eyes and shell-shocked expression ... both of the men were consistently resisting the urge to scrub their hands over their faces.

The worst part of it all was that Imitate was probably going to start laughing at them as soon as they came upon the meeting place. What with Team Bravo looking like frustrated and overwhelmed parents toting a completely conspicuous child who was a neon sign for pickpockets.

At more than one point in their trek through the streets, other civilians would witness Sergeant randomly stiff-arm individuals who got too close to Desmond. It got to a point where Sarge was making himself more conspicuous for the sake of keeping Desmond from losing anything and everything on his person.

Legion stuck to the opposite side of Desmond and surveyed their surroundings for Imitate. He had full faith that his partner would keep Desmond intact, so he was in faec-scanning mode.

Imitate was incredibly good at what she did, after all; blending in in any number of situations. Dubai would be easy for her.

"I don't speak Arabic," Sergeant suddenly recalled, right after he had tripped a bloke who got just a little too close to Desmond.

"Neither do I," Legion said. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. It isn't as though anyone's going to try and approach us." He shot his partner an amused smile. "Especially not with how you're taking out everyone who does."

"The bright side," a clear British accent said from behind them, "is that I do."

All three spun around (some faster than others) to face a petite young woman. Her sleek, raven black framed smooth cheekbones perfectly, her eyes shining a light and inhuman silver color as she assessed the young men critically. She was slim, and dressed in what Team Bravo could only guess was a highly expensive (and likely designer) dress that showed off her curves. Her tan skin helped her to blend in; for all intents and purposes, she looked like a femme fatale.

Imitate flashed a pearly white smile at the clearly awe-struck redhead, before looking between Team Bravo. "Boys," she said with a charming smile. "It's about time you showed up. Who is our American friend?"

"Imitate," Legion was the first to smile at the young woman. Though she was only seventeen, she looked older; something that she often used to her advantage. "This is Desmond," he said, elbowing the redhead.

Desmond's mouth had fallen open as he gaped at Imitate. Now he understood why Rebel had warned against drooling over Imitate. It was like the sight of her had shut off every higher brain function he had.

Sergeant was the one who pushed Desmond's mouth shut. He turned back to Imitate and picked up where his partner had left off; "But you can also call him Freckles, or Dezzy. He's our new tech-whiz."

"A pleasure to meet you, Desmond," Imitate said with an amused smile. She turned her attention back to Sergeant and Legion without further delay. "I'm afraid we must get going. I've just had the pleasure of dispatching a trio of men in combat wear, and I'm fairly certain they aren't the only ones around."

"Fine by us," Sergeant said immediately, not at all hesitant to follow her when she began to navigate the crowds. "We need to get outta here, anyway. We've only got so long 'fore we're supposed to meet others in London."

Neither Sergeant nor Legion was surprised that Desmond was now moving at a much more determined pace. Nor were they surprised that his wandering gaze had stopped, well, wandering; his eyes were still fixated (and wide-eyed) on Imitate, and surprisingly enough, he kept up with her.