Genius #5; A Scorpion Fanfiction

Robots

Y/n's POV

"Hello? Excuse me. Deputy Homeland Director Katherine Cooper," a woman greeted and entered the garage.

"Where is Molina?" Walter asked.

"I'm Scorpion's Homeland liaison now. She doesn't want to interact with you because of the prior interaction. Now, I'm here due to a black operation, and my information is need-to-know.
Walter O'Brien, Cabe Gallo, Happy Quinn, join me in my SUV," Katherine instructed.

"Hmm," Toby hummed as he stared at the new director. "You heading north or south? Ooh, eye flutter on 'south'. Huntington, Long Beach, San Pedro...San Pedro it is, meaning water. And you can only take three of the team, so space is an issue. A submarine. It's a submarine, isn't it?  Homeland needs Scorpion's help for a black-ops nuclear submarine mission deep in international waters off the coast of California?"

"Nice one, Toby," I comment and fist bump him. "That was good."

"That was great," Toby corrected. "And you know what else is great? Us not having to go on that submarine."

"You're right. Have fun on that death trap guys!" I call out to the team as I made my way over to my desk.

"I'm keeping you guys on comms," Walter told us a few minutes later once him, Happy, and Cabe were on their way to the submarine.

"Fine," Katherine gave in from somewhere in the background. "But under no circumstances will you disclose the location of the sub once you're on board. The Navy insists that remains classified."

"50 bucks I can figure out their exact location anyway," Toby bet. "You want to bet? It's a bet. We got a bet?"

"You have a serious problem," Sylvester pointed out to him. An hour later, Toby had a map set up, and we got word that the rest of the team was on board the submarine. Toby was using Sly's sub sandwich as his boat, and he was not trying to guess where our team was located.

"Walter, what's your speed?" Toby questioned.

"Uh, I estimate about 20 knots," Walter guessed.

"They left San Pedro at 8:25. Roughly 20 knots for 30 minutes. Sub would head for closest, deepest water. That would be right off the Palos Verdes shelf break. Putting you 15 miles
east of Catalina Island," Toby assumed.

"Miss," Walter said.

"Okay then. Um, 32 degrees north, 117 degrees west. Point Loma?" Toby speculated.

"I'll call that a hit," Walter stated.

"And I think the Captain just crunched our comms," Sylvester shared as our end of the comms started emitting static noises. "Now how are we supposed to contact them?"

"They'll be fine," I assure Sylvester. 

..............................................................

"Another piece of paperwork done," I cheer. "Man, today has been great. I've been super productive."

"And without the team here, I can listen to my music as much as I want!" Sylvester chirped as he continued dancing to his weird, but catchy, song. Toby, on the other hand, was still sitting by our map of the pacific with his comm in. I don't know what he was trying to do since our comms weren't working, but I left him be. Until now.

"Sly, I know Toby used your lunch for his little map, so you want to go grab something to eat at Kovelsky's? I'm starving," I complain.

"Sure," Sylvester replied.

"Toby? You want to come?" I quiz and glance over to my coworker, who was now frowning as he listened in to the comms. "Toby?"

"Something's wrong," Toby insisted and transferred the comms from his earpiece to the radio, making it so that all of us could hear what was going on. I could only really hear static since the rest of the teams' comms had been crushed, but in the background, I could faintly hear guys yelling.