47: THE LONDON GATHERING

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[ Yet Another Third Person POV ]

Imitate's billionaire contact came through like no one could have expected. Not only did he provide them a jet, he also agreed to their request of a pilot only, given they didn't need to be pampered by attendants, or anyone else.

Upon boarding, both members of Team Bravo anticipated that Desmond would hole up in a corner, pull out his laptop, and do some sort of nerdy-tech-stuff. Except that's not what happened. Instead, Desmond followed after Imitate into the row she sat in, leaving both members of Bravo with the realization of just how smitten the poor boy was.

Though in reality, the most surprising moment was when Imitate turned to Desmond and said, "So, how long have you worked with computers?"

The redhead spent exactly fourteen seconds staring at the Amazonian with blue eyes blown wide before he seemed to rediscover his voice. "Uh, as-- as long as I can remember, actually," he said, flushing crimson.

Before they could get any further, Sergeant spoke up. "As much as I encourage you two getting to know each other," he said, looking over to Desmond with a sharp gaze, "I need to know if any of our teammates have made contact with you."

Desmond nodded quickly at that, and pulled out his phone for a moment. His brow furrowed for a moment as he did something the others couldn't see, before he let out a heavy sigh. "No," he said quietly, "no contact yet." He looked up at Sergeant and Legion; "I could try putting a message out, though? I mean, it's been a few hours . . ."

"No doubt the hooligans have met up with Delta by now," Legion mused.

"The real question is whether or not Cat, Low, and Gunner have found Rage," Sergeant agreed.

"Didn't you say that group is in India?" Imitate asked.

"Yes," Sergeant and Legion said simultaneously, before Legion continued; "Finding Rage is the real issue. He's basically a savage with the skills of an Army Ranger."

Desmond's eyes boggled at that, yet he didn't say anything.

"So the question," Imitate said, "is whether reaching out to them would be ideal, or simply disruptive. Because we don't want to do anything like in the movies where the phone rings and causes the entire mission to be shot."

"I don't think it's worth it," Sergeant said.

"I agree," Legion nodded solemnly.

"Okay . . . so no message," Desmond nodded, giving his phone one last forlorn look before tucking it back into his pocket. He looked up at the cockpit for a moment before turning and asking, "How long is the flight to London?"

"Around seven hours," Imitate answered. "Shouldn't be too bad. Enough time for us to get some sleep."

Sergeant snorted. "Yeah, right."

Legion shot his partner a look before turning and giving Desmond and Imitate a paternal look. "You two should definitely sleep."

"Seven hours should fly by," Sergeant said, his words followed by a sigh that suggested he thought otherwise.

--

[ Third Person POV in India ]

They ran for so long that Catatonic didn't have the breath to make sarcastic comments. Yet in their running they reached a place of public transport -- a bus station.

With Rage's direction, the other three climbed into the appropriate bus. He followed closely behind, and with one gesture, all four of them split up. Gunner took an open seat in the back, Rage positioned himself in the front, and Cat and Low sat together in the middle, to one side.

No in-depth communication could ensue because of the positioning, but that wasn't anyone's main concern.

Though once the bus started moving, a Catatonic's expression soured. His gaze trailed over the other passengers carefully, seeming to assess each one of their faces before his jaw ticked and he looked over to Low.

She had her back leaned against the window, and was digging her pack of gum out of one of her various pockets. She cocked a brow at Cat when he looked over to her. "What?" she asked.

Cat shook his head slowly. His green-blue eyes turned stormy as he looked over the bus once more. Gunner was on alert in the very back, and Rage's posture from behind appeared relaxed. "They'll be at the airport."

"Yeah, which is to be expected," Low said, popping a piece of gun in her mouth and beginning to chew it purposefully. "It's good strategy. Probably Charlie remembered Rage was in India when they dismembered the organization -- they've likely had people on standby for a moment like this."

Cat nodded slowly. It never failed to amaze him at just how good Low was at strategy. It also relieved him on some level; it meant that if she was expecting this sort of thing, that she was mentally one step ahead of them.

That one step was all they needed to stay alive.

"How much do you want to bet that Alpha found Delta and they're all waiting for us to show up? Probably killing time in a casino, or something," Cat muttered.

Low rolled her eyes at her companions bemoaning of his situation. "Risk and Rebel don't do casinos. Remember what happened the last time?"

Cat hummed in clear amusement. "Touché. Okay, so they're doing something else fun-- the point still stands that they're in a better situation than we are."

Low merely shrugged. "They're Risk and Rebel," she pointed out, snapping her gum. "No way whatever they're doing is all butterflies and rainbows."

Cat snickered at that. "All right, so it was a little far-fetched. Sue me."

They remained silent for the rest of the bus ride. An eerie feeling had settled over the four former LASAR agents -- if Team Charlie were anticipating them in India, then they had a problem. A bigger one than any of them would be willing to admit. Though each of them were used to their own government fiascos, and international escapades, this was different. There was no one in the background waiting to clean up their mess.

They were it. There was no one else period.

It was time to start thinking out of the box. And so, in the silence of their individual seats, each of them began scheming. It was time to pull out the big guns.

It was time to take the horse by the reigns and claim the situation as theirs again.

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