As Light-Speed's revelation hung in the air, the room's tension shifted from frustration to skepticism. Vanguard, always pragmatic, narrowed his eyes. "You've been tracking this? And only now you bring it to us?"
Light-Speed didn't flinch under the weight of Vanguard's stare. "The information wasn't solid until now. I didn't want to bring half-baked leads."
Banshee crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on Light-Speed, suspiciously. "Half-baked or not, you've been quiet for weeks. You show up with a fresh lead at the exact moment we're at a standstill? Convenient timing, don't you think?"
Light-Speed kept his composure, sensing the doubt growing in the room. "I'm not trying to withhold anything. It just took time to piece together."
Light Strike, usually the joker of the group, was the next to speak. "Yeah, but you come in here with this bombshell and then sit back, like you're waiting for us to trip over it. Why not share everything from the start?"
The room buzzed with uneasy energy. Maxwell remained silent, watching from his corner, his eyes darting between Banshee and Light-Speed, as if sensing the undercurrent of distrust in the room.
Light-Speed leaned back slightly, looking around at the team before responding, "I've been playing it safe. We're up against Von Blood. He's known for having eyes and ears everywhere. If I moved too quickly, we'd lose our shot."
But his calm explanation only deepened the suspicion. The way he held back, offering just enough to keep them hooked, without diving into specifics—everyone could feel it.
Banshee's patience snapped first. Her body stiffened, fists clenched at her sides. "I'm not one for games, Light-Speed. Either you're with us, or you're not. If you're playing your own angle here, I will find out." Her voice had an edge to it, more accusatory than she had intended, but the doubt gnawed at her.
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the hallway as the door slammed shut behind her. She needed space—away from the room, from the team, from him. The suspicion clawed at her, and she didn't want to let her emotions get the best of her in front of everyone else.
Maxwell, sensing the growing tension, cleared his throat. "We don't need to jump to conclusions here," he said softly. "But... Light-Speed, I agree with them. You need to be more forthcoming. This city has seen enough secrets."
Light-Speed offered a slow nod. "I get it. But trust me, I'm here to help."
Vanguard leaned back in his chair, eyes still trained on him. "We'll see about that. For now, let's follow the lead. But we're watching."
Meanwhile, Banshee, now outside the building, took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The timing, the way Light-Speed revealed his information—it all felt too controlled, too precise. But she didn't want to accuse him without proof. She needed to investigate on her own.
She vanished into the shadows of the city, her mind racing with unanswered questions. If Light-Speed was truly helping them, she'd find out soon enough. But if he wasn't—if he was playing them—she'd be ready.
