Ethan came into the research lab where he found Grayson and John. He glanced at both of them. "Do you have anything?" he questioned, curiously and hopefully. John sighed, taking a seat. Grayson shook his head as he looked at Ethan.
"No, I'm sorry. There haven't been messages or threats." Grayson responded, "this terrorist attack could happen at any given moment."
"It's been three weeks since the last message, right?" Ethan clarified. John and Grayson nodded. "Maybe she changed her mind?"
"Doubt that," Olivia added as she set two coffee on the table, one for Ethan and one for John.
Ethan shook his head, "I can't drink right now," he told her. His stomach was in knots. He was concerned for the world's safety, his families and friends safety, and mildly his own safety. He moved the cup towards Grayson. Grayson wasn't hesitant to take the coffee.
"But maybe we're wrong," Ethan voiced out after a long pregnant moment. "Maybe she's not going to attack...maybe she decided against it?" Ethan sighed, a piece of him knowing his curiosity and wondering was all wishful thinking.
John sipped on his coffee, "Or maybe she loves surprises."
. . . .
"I'm busy!" Emma bellowed from the next room, glaring at the door where there was obnoxious knocking.
The visitor didn't hesitate to walk in now. Emma sighed and looked at the man in annoyance. "Emma, you've been cooped up in here all day."
"Michael, I need my space," Emma ground out, stomping her foot childishly. Mr. Romone sighed as he looked at the girl who he treated as his own daughter.
"Emma Chamberlain, what are you even doing?" he questioned. The place was wickedly clean. She normally had papers scattered everywhere - she was a writer.
She smiled at him, but the smile was tight. "Well, I don't plan to leave my place with a mess. When I get back I doubt I'll want to clean." Michael couldn't help the chuckle that left his lips. Emma stared at his figure that looked uneasy. "Is there something wrong?"
"No, Well, yes, I mean no," he stammered.
"Michael," Emma bit out at him.
"Everyone wants to know when." Michael finally spilled. That was all he needed to say for Emma to know what he meant. Emma rolled her eyes and threw herself down on the couch.
"When I'm ready, I don't know!" she said, aggravated. "Why can't they leave me alone? I'm supposed to destroy the world, can I at least have some time to myself?" Michael sighed. Then Emma sat up slowly. "Plus...Why would they want me to hurry? Do they really think they're spared?"
Michael looked at Emma with semi-larger eyes. Had he heard her right? "Pardon?"
"Oh, come on, M." Emma let her lips curl with a smile, "They want me to defeat the entire human race - What makes them so special?"
Michael felt his heart flip flop in his chest. They hadn't thought that through. He knew Emma was much stronger than anyone in the world, if she had a plan of her own, she would use it without a doubt. "Right," he whispered. "That means me?"
"Would it be fair if I spared you and nobody else? No." Emma replied, but she didn't like the way the words sounded on her tongue. She loved Michael, to an extent of course. He was still the man that let The Board get away with what they were doing with her.
Michael nodded slowly. "I...I agree." He didn't really.
Emma hated what The Board made her out to be - a villain. It was only two years ago that she was a small, fragile girl who was heartbroken, sitting by herself in quarantine, unsure of what to think of herself; now they've turned her into their own puppet to do the inevitable.
