The beep is subtle, unobtrusive, but impossible to ignore, sounding on every speaker in the flat at the same time. One tone, then four variable clicks to let Leah know exactly who's calling.
Sighing, she lowers her bow. "All right, Trickshot?"
"It's all gone wrong," the boy whispers urgently, on the verge of panic. "They're not talking, just fighting a lot, and I don't..."
This was a mistake, Leah told herself angrily. Robin was too green to go on a mission like this. Even as recon, he didn't know which info to gather, and as far as dealing with situations...
"I need visualisation, here." Leah places the bow back in its stand, and with a few swift movements of her fingers the tactile sight powers down, letting her unscrew it from the tripod. That latter snaps into a long lightweight stick that then retracts so she can sling it on a hook on her belt.
"Make the time, all right?"
As the boy describes the scene, she shuts down the whole practice room on automatic, finding every single arrow she had fired and returning each one to its exact position in the arsenal. She knows her space so well, that only her body needs to be there. Her mind is with the teenage boy, standing on a rooftop in East London, watching an orchestrated meeting quickly unravel into something bad.
After several briefings, his description is more than adequate, and Leah especially appreciates the information about wind strength and direction - the boy's an archer, all right.
Her body moves through her flat in the same way, with the ease and confidence of someone who knows exactly where everything is: gym to hallway to living room, to study, to desk, tapping away at her computer with one hand while the other sorts out her headset. Her mind does a visual check of everything she'd expect Robin to be carrying in his Trickshot outfit.
"You'll need smoke bomb number three, OK?" she tells him. "Before you throw it, have rubber bolts in your crossbows. You're gonna land the bomb straight in front a' the fat guy, then straight away gonna shoot Cryer to the head and the Hanson's left flank in the knee. Cryer's gang will do a runner, so will some a' the others. But Hanson's will know you're there, and tryta gun you down. Lead them to Whitechapel Tube, got that? I'm having Cuckoo meet you there."
"No ifs, all right? Keep me posted on whens."
Hearing the tinny explosion, muffled shouts and controlled breathing that acknowledged a potential inter-gang shoot out had turned into a single gang chasing down a masked archer, Leah gets up and heads towards the kitchen to make herself coffee. Carrie may or may not need her assistance, but she knows it'll be handled well either way. It's ruined her plans for the afternoon, though.
She's not complaining. It's nice to be in the loop...BANG