The visitors filed quietly into Cecilly's room. Uneasy, heads turning. One twitchier than the other. She started to speak, but only got as far as [color=fdc68a]"It's an honor-" [/color]before the other cut her off, a sharp gesture. His lips twitched, frown-smile-frown, hands in the pockets of nice slacks, belted around his nice shirt, tucked and unwrinkled. [color=7ea7d8]"We're not doctors. But you can...see that, can't you? I'm sorry, yes, your questions, your d-"[/color] This time the man cut himself off, gesturing again to his companion. She shifted a purse slung around her shoulder, retrieved something: a syringe. She approached the bed cautiously, almost reverently, laying it carefully on the sidetable where Cecilly could reach it without quite coming into reach herself.

Beneath the woman's clothing Lee can sense an unusually heavy necklace - a pendant or medallion of some kind, perhaps. And scars. The woman's skin bears notable scarring, straight and ordered lines at her stomach, other uglier marks elsewhere. C-section? But the rest seem more like injuries, the kind made by breaking glass, or knives, or other sharp things. There was a gun in her purse, heavier than a woman might choose to carry around for self-defense. 

[color=fdc68a]"You're under sedation,"[/color] murmured the woman. [color=fdc68a]"The needle will help counteract the effects, but you'll crash later, end up with a bad hangover."[/color]

[color=7ea7d8]"In reverse order: due to recent events beyond your control, you are being unjustly and unlawfully targeted by an organization we believe intends you harm. You're in the hospital because you're injured, and because it limits your movements. You...had an encounter, one that may seem impossible or unbelievable at present. If the details strain your memory, focus on this: whatever happened, there are people coming - now - who have questions about that encounter, who are not concerned with your safety, health, or rights as a citizen. And lastly, we're..."[/color]

He hesitated. [color=7ea7d8]"...private security. Hired by an employer who regrets your injury very much. We're not taking you to meet them; our orders are to get you home for now and remain in attendance. We can't do anything without your consent, but I'm sorry to say there isn't much time to decide. The people who want to take you away are in the building, and we have reason to believe they're armed. They'll be delayed-"[/color]

-

The lights flickered in the elevator, which slowed and then stopped, half a floor below Cecilly's. 

Maya cursed. [color=D87093]"You have to be fucking kidding me. Alright, Val. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to be and I am [i]not[/i] loaded in armament or temperament for any more surprises tonight."[/color] She was already stretching up towards the service hatch, motioning Val forward to help her up. [color=D87093]"Assume the situation just went pear-shaped. If this is just the mother of all coincidences and we scare some civilians they can dress me down in the next performance review."[/color] Technically, Blackthorne personnel were civilians. But technicalities like that had stopped making sense a long time ago. The world they walked in was an underworld, and the surface maps held little meaning down in the dark. She hadn't freed her weapon yet, but only because it would have made the climb awkward.

A quick summary and even faster orders saw the vehicle outside begin to boil with activity, S.C.A.R.E. collecting weapons and armor and mobilizing in efficient quiet, sped by the sudden current of fear that had passed through the squad. The routine was disrupted. None of the men and women were uncertain as to what that could mean.

Maya, too, focused on efficiency, heedless of the contrast she was presenting Val - the way she handled the younger woman like a sister,
 the way she prepared herself to face whatever was waiting in room 509. [i]'Like you,'[/i] she'd said. But once she was on the roof of the elevator, she checked and rechecked her gun.

-

[color=7ea7d8]"-but not for long."[/color] As he stepped closer, Lee could see - feel - [i]trace[/i] him. No necklace or pendant, but scarring, similar. The suit jacket he carried folded under one arm concealed a handgun much like the woman's. He was touching it nervously, his voice changing in apparent strength because he kept turning his head towards the hallway. Tense. They were both so tense.

[color=7ea7d8]"You'll have more questions. We can answer them later, but if we're to move, we have to move [i]now[/i]."[/color]