Marlene shut Damali's bedroom door, walked down the long hall, entered the weapons room where the team gathered, and glanced at Big Mike.
Mike tilted his head to the side and nodded. "She's not stirring, Mar. If you're not picking anything up either, we can talk."
"When are you going to tell her, Mar?" Shabazz asked in a tense voice. "She'll be shark bait on her birthday, and we might not be able to stop it. You just saw what happened."
Jose nodded. "I've been trying to design something for her... something that can keep her from even being scratched. When I was knocked out at the hospital, I saw it in my head. Got the idea from the light wands."
Without Jose having to tell him, Big Mike brought over Jose's sketch pad, and he flipped it to the page that held a new pencil drawing.
"Looks like a shark-resistant wetsuit," Rider chuckled.
"It is. Reinforced silver-threaded fabric sealed to a thin layer of Kevlar with fiberoptic threads running through it. Covers her from head to toe, but looks like it's concert worthy... shows the curves, fits like a glove, but won't let her sustain a bite or a scratch - except in the face... but she won't let them nick her face. Madame Isis covers her front, and will back the vamps up. Doesn't keep her from broken bones or internally hemorrhaging, though, should one of them really land a hard blow. If she gets bitten in the shark suit, the jaws of a vamp deliver the force of a great white. So she can still get hurt, but at least their virus won't get into her bloodstream."
"By the time her birthday rolls around," Marlene said quietly, "the likelihood that she'll be killed from a bite will diminish. That's not their objective, to kill her."
"Precisely," Shabazz murmured. "But, the suit is extra insurance, and is da bomb, Jose."
Jose smiled and dropped his open book on the table, even that small effort appearing to have drained him.
"How long does the suit battery last?" J.L. murmured, glancing at the fatigue in Jose and getting up to look at the design closer. "This is awesome, brother."
"Thanks," Jose breathed in a rasp. "Wanted to still do my part. The battery lasts about four to five minutes, but if she gets surrounded, or they take her into a dark lair, she'll leave 'em smoking."
"That makes me feel a little better, after what we just saw." Rider sighed.
Big Mike smiled. His fingers drummed the edge of the table serving a funky beat, trying to lift spirits, and working hard to calm his own frayed nerves. "Jose, man, we're connected. You did your thing. This is the first time in weeks I started feeling my rhythm again. Words are pouring into my head."
"Let spirit speak," Jose said with a weak chuckle. "We all need a positive word after what y'all told me."
Big Mike grinned. "We gonna have Damali's back, and blow that concert wide open."
Mike waited for the others to nod in agreement. The group needed a confidence boost. They couldn't just go down like that, and Damali needed something to give her new energy, too. Her sobs had broken him up. He'd never heard her sound so sad. As an audio sensor, he knew her crying would stay with him for weeks, maybe longer. The only thing he could do was to replace it with something else. Perhaps that's why he loved his music so much. It cleared his head, blocked things he didn't want to hear. He glanced at his team. They smiled. They understood. They were his family. He started a beat on the table again. Words came to his mind, chased away Damali's tears, and rushed past his lips.
"She leaves 'em smokin' - on fire... baby got da high beams for any desire. She's hot, burning with emotion - passion so deep, she ain't jokin'... she ain't playin' - will beatcha down. Betta step off, or hit da ground... She's running wit da big dogs, stay on the porch - this ain't no game, baby's got da torch, 'cause - "
"She leaves 'em smoking - so watch your back! Nighttime's coming when creatures attack. She'll drop a body, dead or alive. She works da rhythms like a nine to five." Rider laughed, making J.L. join in.
"Go, Jose, get your energy on, my brother," Big Mike teased.
"Ain't scared of nothin'," Jose said with a smile, picking up from J.L., "ain't worried 'bout a thing. Baby's locked and loaded when she steps in the ring. The wise will tell you, ya betta step off, 'cause - "
"She leaves 'em smokin'," Rider repeated. "All day and all night. Li'l sis ain't bluffin', check her stance. Fights fire wit fire, the only chance. Baby owns the high road, ain't kickin' it low - "
"Will hunt cha down, so act like you know." Big Mike picked up the tempo and winked at Shabazz. "I ain't lying, just ask her friends. Hunts like a panther to the very end..."
Satisfied that his medicine was working, Mike laughed hard. Even Dan was tapping out an offbeat rhythm, though his spastic ass couldn't rap. Everyone on the team laughed except Marlene and Shabazz as the others kept the beat, and each freestyled a verse, adding to it, releasing tension.
"Smoking." Rider jumped in again. "Watch your back. Baby got da high beams, don't lose track."
"Smokin' - hear what I'm sayin'? Smokin', I ain't lying, smoking, leaves 'em cryin' and dyin', smokin' like a house on fire, smoking, and your only chance, betta - "
"Enough!" Marlene yelled, bringing an end to beat-box revelry. "You guys think this is a joke?"
"Naw, Mar, it's a great concert entrance song to go with her new weapon outfit. Screw it," Rider said with a nonchalant chuckle. "If we gotta do this, then let's do this. You wanted new music, we're all f**ked up, everybody's head is twisted, and we have to get a show right before tomorrow. But, no, we don't think this is a joke. Trust me."
Jose shrugged. "Look, we're in the business, we're all artists - need new material to come out smokin'."
J.L., Big Mike, and Rider looked at him and laughed, and started beating on the edge of the weapons table in percussion harmony again.