How do you return to normal everyday life knowing that the world you're surrounded by is a lie? You simply don't. So perhaps it was a good thing that Scarlett's life wasn't normal, at least it hadn't been since a terrorist entered her life and destroyed everything that she'd worked so hard to build. Only now it wasn't just the terrorist's fault but this elusive organization known as Rittenhouse.
Scarlett planned to storm straight into her father's office and demand answers, but when she arrived just outside the door she could hear the ongoing argument within. Rather than join, she bided her time, listening to see if she'd glean any new information.
"Because I don't have a car," Rufus exclaimed, answering a question Scarlett assumed her father had asked prior. She could hear Rufus shuffling behind the door as he continued his rant. "Ask my why I don't have a car. Because I am too scared to get in mine because your Rittenhouse guys hacked me while I was going fifty miles an hour!"
"Are you all right?" Mason asked.
"Do I look all right?" Rufus snapped.
"Right, well, I'm sorry," Mason apologized, but it didn't sound very genuine. "They, um, shouldn't be contacting you directly."
There was a tense pause before Rufus's incredulous voice scoffed with disbelief. "Is that all you have to say? You sold me out. You had them send some goon to threaten me and my family."
"Wait a minute. I'd never do that," Mason quickly interjected. "You're like a son to me. Scarlett looks at you like a brother. Now, for you to think that I would..."
Rufus's voice softened—both with disgust and like he was trying to leave the conversation. "I don't know what to think of you... What would Scarlett think of you?"
"You leave her out of this," Mason's voice lowered—almost like a threat—then switched to a less-sympathetic warning. "Well, now you know what they're capable of. You have to cooperate. We both do."
Scarlett left before she could listen to anymore. Sprinting down several halls until she'd found herself well lost throughout the maze of the industry interior. She pressed her back against a wall, breathing heavily as she tried to process the information she'd unknowingly been handed.
Rittenhouse was real. They weren't just the delusions of a paranoid terrorist anymore, but from the fear that quivered in her father's voice, she understood they were a threat to be reckoned.
Just when she was beginning to accept the truth, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Slowly, she pulled it out into the open, then almost chucked it across the room when she saw her father's name. She allowed it to ring four times before finally picking up in the midst of the fifth. However, she remained silent, her tongue suddenly dry with disdain.
"Scarlett?"
"Mmhm."
Her father paused. She could hear him take a breath on the other side as if trying to keep the fear out of his voice, the concern in his question was evident though. "Are you alright? It took you awhile to answer. You're not hungover again, are you? Because I notice more than I let on—"
"I'm fine," Scarlett snapped, her voice cold. "My stomach's churning, but that's just a side effect of rolling over and remembering that my fiancé is dead. Y'know because of your stupid time machine. Not to mention I've received no moral support from the man who's claimed to be my father—"
"Now wait just a moment," Mason interrupted. "We may not be biologically related, but that doesn't make me any less your father."
"Really?" Scarlett asked. "Because a father doesn't put their kid in life threatening situations. A father shouldn't keep secrets. A father should encourage their child to follow their dreams."
"I thought you wanted space," Mason countered. "You said you didn't want anything to do with Mason Industries."
"Yet you called me in anyway," Scarlett snapped. "So now I'm involved, and the least you could do is either show some sympathy or at least stop hiding things from me. Don't think I haven't noticed you pulling Rufus aside for those private little conversations."
"He's worried about your well-being. That's all we discuss," Mason contradicted. Another half-truth in the making. "And you were the only other trained pilot qualified to fly the Lifeboat. What would you have had me do?"
She seethed, tears watering in the corners of her eyes. "Learn to fly the damn thing yourself."
Then she hung up before he could formulate a response. Because she knew if she let him continue, he'd find something to say that would make everything seem like it wasn't so bad. He at least knew how to do that as a father. Not comfort, no, but manipulate the situation so it didn't reflect poorly on him.
She took a deep breath, then shoved off from the wall and began to make her way back toward the control center, using the signs along the walls for guidance. She could only really pretend to get lost in the maze of circuitry and pipes since her father had the signs installed quite early. She was twelve as she recalled, struggling to cope with her new family dynamic. Mason brought her everywhere, refused to hire a nanny or a babysitter because back then he saw something in her—a claimed spark destined for greatness. It was all too overwhelming really, so she'd run as fast as her little legs could go and wound up lost. She could remember the look of relief on Mason's face when she was finally found, then how he immediately ordered the sign installation.
She wiped her eyes, cleared her throat, and reclaimed her lost confidence before entering the control room. She raised a hand into the air and called for Jiya's attention. "So where are we headed this time?"
——— • — 𖥸 — • ———
"So, Alamo, huh?" Rufus rhetorically questioned as he input the coordinates.
"A word synonymous with gory and inescapable death," Scarlett agreed, reflecting on her conversation with Mason. "And I thought Nazi Germany was bad."
"Wyatt, you wanna say something strong and reassuring?" Rufus asked.
"Hey, don't look at me." Wyatt shook his head. "I just got fired."
Lucy immediately looked up from her safety belt—she still continued to struggle with it every time they took a trip. "What?"
"Yeah. This is gonna be my last mission," Wyatt said, but didn't offer any additional information.
"How'd you get fired?" Rufus asked, facing the console as he quietly added. "How do I get fired?"
"I mean, you...You seem pretty okay with this," Lucy noted as Wyatt continued to fidget with the bag at his feet.
"Yeah, well, I know the guy they're bringing in," Wyatt replied. "He's good. You'll like him better than me."
"The bar was pretty low to begin with," Scarlett joked with a sly grin, to which Wyatt rolled his eyes while placing a handful of grenades in his pack. Scarlett raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Are those explosives?"
Rufus whipped his head around with concern while Lucy nodded her head in agreement. "What if those go off in here?"
"They won't," Wyatt contradicted. "I know what I'm doing."
"Okay, but still." Lucy frowned. "You're bringing grenades to the Alamo?"
"Well... I get one last shot at Flynn... you better believe I'm gonna take it. What are they gonna do? Fire me?" Wyatt asked. Scarlett snorted, agreeing with the sarcastic quip.