El sat in his dimly lit office, the glow of the city casting fractured patterns across the sleek glass walls. He stood with his back to the door, his sharp gaze fixed on the sprawling skyline. A knock echoed softly through the room.
"Come in," El said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of menace.
The door opened, and Toxic entered, her steps precise and deliberate. "Sir," she began, her voice clipped and professional, "contact with the other Legion members has been made. What are your orders?"
El remained silent for a moment, his posture rigid as he continued to stare out the glass. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips, growing darker with each breath. He turned slightly, the reflection of his sinister smile glinting faintly in the glass.
"Gather the bodies from Page's factory," El commanded, his tone both chilling and deliberate. "Let's see if there's anything left in their minds—any trace of how she created the Finder. If not..."
He turned fully now, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "Then it seems we've just found some new recruits for our little operation."
Toxic nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Understood, sir."
El's smile widened, his expression that of a predator closing in on its prey. "Let's show them that they can't hide from me."
Toxic bowed her head slightly before leaving the room. El turned back to the glass, his laughter echoing softly in the silence, a harbinger of the chaos to come.
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Page stepped closer to Miles, her gaze shifting between him and the Finder in his hands. "Give me the Finder," she said firmly, her tone resolute. "I'll take it to the workshop and figure out what's wrong with it."
Miles hesitated for a moment, his fingers tightening around the mechanical sphere. His expression was etched with both frustration and concern, but he eventually nodded, handing it over. "Be careful with it," he said softly, his voice tinged with worry.
Page took the Finder and noticed the tension in Miles's face. Her eyes dropped to his injured arm, and she frowned. "You should get Ray to check that," she said, motioning toward his swollen, discolored limb. "If you're serious about continuing this journey to find your friend, you can't afford to be dragging around a busted arm."
Miles managed a faint smile, but Page wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. She turned and started toward the stairs leading to the lower deck, her footsteps brisk and determined. "Fix yourself up," she called over her shoulder, her voice carrying a mix of concern and practicality. "We're going to need you in one piece for what's coming."
Page disappeared below deck, the Finder held tightly in her hands. The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving Miles alone with his thoughts amidst the steady hum of the ship's engines.
Ray leaned casually against the ship's railing, watching Miles with a smirk that bordered on amusement. "You know," he said, his tone laced with dry humor, "I don't like you much, but I gotta admit—this is going to hurt you more than you think."
Miles frowned, his brows knitting together as he followed Ray. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, trailing behind him.
Ray turned sharply, his smirk deepening. "Follow me. You'll see soon enough."
Curiosity and a hint of apprehension tugged at Miles as he trudged after Ray, who led him to a small, makeshift operating room tucked into the corner of the ship. The room was sparse but functional—shelves lined with containers of pills and medical tools, and a single cot positioned in the center.
Ray gestured to the bed, his expression neutral as he began rummaging through a drawer. "Lie down," he ordered, pulling out a small container and a pair of gloves.
Miles hesitated, his eyes scanning the room. "Why don't you like me, anyway?" he asked, his tone more curious than defensive.
Ray glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "It's not that I don't like you," he replied casually. "I just see you as desperate, reckless, and, well… stupid."
"What?!" Miles exclaimed, incredulous.
Ray turned back to face him, holding up a small packet of pills. "Here," he said, dropping two tablets into Miles's hand.
"What are these for?" Miles asked, eyeing the pills suspiciously.
"They'll dull the pain when I fix your arm," Ray replied nonchalantly, already preparing the tools he'd need.
Miles looked at the tablets, then back at Ray. "Wait. Before we do this, can I ask you something?"
Ray sighed, setting a roll of gauze on the nearby counter. "Go ahead."
"When we find Page's dad, my friend, and maybe even a way out of Amethyst…" Miles hesitated, looking down at his hands. "Do you think Page would come with us? I mean, wouldn't she want to be with her dad?"
Ray's movements stilled for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice quieter than before. "That's up to Page. But as her friend… I want her to be happy, whatever that means for her."
Miles nodded, the weight of Ray's words settling in his chest.
"Alright," Ray said, his usual sharpness returning as he gestured to the bed. "Now lie down and let me fix that arm of yours."
Miles climbed onto the cot, his stomach pressing against the thin padding as he stretched out, his face turned toward the wall. "Like this?" he asked, his voice muffled.
"Perfect," Ray replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Now, stretch out your right arm."
"Wait, I haven't taken the—" Miles started to protest.
But before he could finish, Ray grabbed his dislocated arm and yanked it sharply.
CRACK!
The bone shifted back into place with a sickening pop.
"OUCHHHHHH!" Miles screamed, his voice reverberating off the metal walls. His entire body tensed as a wave of excruciating pain shot through him.
Ray stood back, wiping his hands on a rag, his smirk returning. "See? Not so bad."
Miles glared at him, still panting from the pain. "Not so bad?! Are you insane?!"
Ray shrugged, tossing the rag aside. "If you'd taken the tablets first, you'd would not be screaming. At least now it's done."
Miles groaned, cradling his arm as he sat up. "You're the worst," he muttered.
Ray chuckled, patting Miles on the back with a smug grin. "You'll thank me later," he said, clearly enjoying Miles's lingering discomfort.
Miles scowled, cradling his arm. "Don't count on it," he muttered, still wincing from the sudden pop of his joint back into place.
Before Ray could fire off another sarcastic remark, the door to the small operating room burst open with a loud clang.
Page stood in the doorway, her face pale and her eyes wide with panic. She clutched the Finder tightly to her chest as if it were a lifeline. Her breaths came in short, frantic gasps, and her voice trembled as she shouted, "We have a huge problem!"