"What?" Atticus bent around again, seeing the scrape on her arm after she had taken her coat off. It wasn't life threatening, but it was an open wound none the less. That stuff got infected. Then it would hurt even more. He pulled off the road the first chance he got, grabbing the first aid kit from the glove box and getting out of the car.
"Uh," he said, opening the door of the back seat, "I'm just going to... okay." He pulled out a small bottle of alcohol, dabbed it on a cotton bud and gently wiped down her scratch then applied a band-aid, then a bandage. Probably a little over the top but Atticus didn't want to be responsible for any kind of extra pain Helena. When he was done, he left the First Aid kit in the backseat for Helena, in case she wanted to do her own thing, then hoped back into the front seat. They continued on their way to the airport, which was a little packed for a day like this. It was probably heading towards 10 o'clock now. The carpark was packed and the terminal even busier. It was a good thing that their plane was a private one, or Atticus would have suspected their flight would have been filled with crying babies and disgruntled businessmen who couldn't afford business class.
The only problem with this airport was the guards standing at every gate with a doctor looking person beside them. Oh crap. These guys were checking for Atlanteans and he had a pretty good idea that any Atlantean without an ID card would be refused entry. He looked over at Gate 7AA, the terminal which Atticus had been informed prior to this that their plane would be at. Indeed, standing at it was a large man with muscles that would crush a small child and a woman standing next to him, armed with a syringe. She nor the large man didn't look like anyone Atticus could recognise so they was most likely there thanks to Airport Security. Crap. He had no fake IDs. He had left them... in the car. In... the cup holder? Somewhere. The car had probably been moved by another AUP by now.
"Hey... hey Helena. How good are you at your power?" he said to her, feeling a little awkward just standing there in the middle of an airport.
The plane arrived at the Stockholm-Bromma Airport, landing safely and pulling in to rest at Gate 7AA. Cooper emerged from the cockpit, looking quite exhausted. He greeted them, exchanged a few words before retreating back to his sanctuary, stating he was going to have a sleep before they took off again for France. He had been flying all night, Natalia didn't blame him at all for wanting at least a little sleep. Annie had retreated back to her computer, totally engrossed in her work. Natalia on the other hand had nothing to do but wait.
"Afon?" she said to the exhausted boy. "We have a little time before our other members arrive. Did you want to get out? Stretch your legs? Do you need anything? Because this is our last stop until France." She didn't blame him if he declined, he looked almost comatose.
"To the Vatican, though I am probably on the wrong train for that," she said, tilting her head at the boy. What odd eyes he had. "London is an odd choice from Italy on train for Americans like you. I'm guessing you are not tourists, by the look of your luggage. And lack of camera." She tilted her head back straight, barely blinking while she was speaking. "If I could take a guess, I think you are Atlanteans."
She didn't like to mess around with weird tricks and wordplay like the other members did when trying to recruit. She said what she thought. Though, this was not like any other Atlantean Unification Project recruitment. This went deeper than goading people into joining their cause.
"So, what can you do?" she said, acting as if this was any of casual conversation. To her, this did not bother her. She had found other Atlanteans were rather reluctant to answer her appropriately but to her, an Atlantean ability was just like the colour of your hair or your eyes. You could always colour your hair or wear contacts to hide them from everyone, but it will always be a part of you.
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