Mozart had made a habit of letting down reporters recently.This worried Mozart, who, as a general rule, didn't like to disappoint anyone. But, when those reporters from Porilth called him up, they just wanted a new way to smear the Great Rosalind Thames, the Techno-Traitor, the Records Renegade, the girl who's "such a xenophile even her name is un-American!"
Mozart didn't want to give those people anything bad to print about Rosalind, though, so he told them nothing at all.
But then again, when the reporters from New York contacted him, they described her as a hero and a patriot, and he still turned them away. So, maybe he just didn't like to talk about Rosalind in general.
The New Yorkers usually snubbed him after he said no. The Porilth reporters sometimes asked if they could do a home-town profile. Mozart always supposed that in a town of just over a thousand people, the one kid that went out and got a degree from MIT and a job working with superhuman defense operatives was newsworthy, but he disappointed them on that front, too. It wasn't really his fault; he worked as an IT guy whose tasks took place behind a computer-screen miles from the action. He knew they wanted stories of blood on his teeth and explosions that made his ears ring, but all he could offer was his opinion on the crunch factor in the orange chicken he liked to order in and the sound of clacking computer keys.
It was in the middle of navigating one of these frustrating conversations that he realized he had made it to the front of the coffee line, and the barista was waiting for him to order. In an effort to avoid being one of those people who rudely talks on the phone while ordering coffee, he mumbled a hasty "sorry, gotta go," to the reporter on the end of the line and instead became one of those people who rudely ends phone calls in the middle of someone else's sentence.
He exchanged niceties with the barista and then ordered five increasingly complex drinks, wishing for the millionth time that his team were less particular about something as basic as coffee. Flashing the barista a smile, he tipped well before they even began making the drinks, as both a sign of good faith and a prayer that they wouldn't mess anything up and make him awkwardly correct the order.
A few minutes later, he hurried down the bustling street, being careful not to spill the drinks. Even if the temperature had dropped well below freezing, he didn't consider splashing piping hot coffee all over his hands to be a particularly desirable remedy. Snowflakes continuously wafted through the air, sticking to his gloves like gum to a seven-year-old's hair. Headquarters stood a short distance from the coffee shop, and he only paused outside for a moment to assess the dingy little brick building that dared to house an operation tasked with saving lives.
It used to belong to an antique dealer, though no one could possibly tell anymore. The large front windows had been blacked out with paint, and the once-red door was scuffed and chipped within an inch of its life. A passerby could see no sign announcing the building's purpose, and the awning sagged worse than the pants of a 2000s teenager.
Mozart knew the inside was better, but only because it was clean. With half the room blocked off for sparring matches and other large sections taken up by the conference table and other people's workspaces, there was barely enough room for Mozart to store his records and technical equipment. But his team was waiting for him inside, and this thought spurred him to enter and forget about the awning that bothered no one but him.
He opened the door to find everyone rushing about, a development that he found less than surprising. He saw Ryan preoccupied with lacing up his boots as Geneva dug through an array of weapons. He could hear Tambara speaking on the phone in the back, and Dot looked busy flickering in and out of tangibility. Tambara turned and noticed Mozart standing with the coffee. She didn't have to tell him what to do because he was already setting the drinks on the conference table and heading to his desk.
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ActionRosalind Thames is a woman whose existence invites strong opinions. A mutant who possesses the ability to manipulate technology, she recently became the perpetrator of the biggest leak the government has ever seen. The media can't decide if she's a...