Bella respected Professor Serizawa's academic credentials. The man was serious by nature, rarely wasting words. He didn't speak about anything he wasn't confident in.
If Serizawa was this certain, it was worth a look. Others might worry about danger, but Bella wasn't concerned. With her Teleport spell at the ready, even if someone threw her into hell she could find her own way back.
Just before departure, she spotted a familiar face.
It was Heather's second uncle—the man whose arms were thicker than Bella's legs—Hobbs Sawyer.
The big man recognized Bella. Seeing her approach, he raised his right hand, and the two exchanged a firm high-five.
His brother and Bella's father were now running mates. The two of them were squarely in the same camp.
Fathers and sons belonging to different parties wasn't unheard of, but that was a phenomenon among political elites. Neither Hobbs nor Bella had any political ambition to speak of. Whatever stance their family took, they took.
"You're here too? Are you... on security detail?" Bella noticed that Hobbs and Shaw were both dressed in guard gear and standing together. She remembered him working with the San Francisco rescue squad. Why was he out here playing bodyguard?
"Don't get me started." Hobbs was brimming with grievances. His normally cheerful face couldn't muster even a shadow of a smile.
"Those pieces of garbage! Every day, hordes of reporters asking if I sexually harassed women during rescues. Or they claim I prioritized rescues based on how much people were worth in dollars. Every time I hear that crap, I want to stuff their heads up their own asses!"
Hobbs vented for a while, and Bella understood instantly.
Nobody knew elections better than she did.
This was all because of the election. Before campaign season, everyone was a pillar of society. Once the race was underway, it devolved into a competition of who could dig up the worst dirt. After the election, they'd all be pillars of society again.
Right now, they were deep in the mutual-mudslinging phase.
Charlie's ex-wife—Bella's biological mother—had popped up claiming Charlie was an alcoholic.
Samantha's ex-husband—Natasha's previous stepfather—told the media his former wife had a violent temper and abusive tendencies.
The original Bella's history had been dragged out: the cynical, anti-establishment remarks her predecessor had made publicly, the female and male classmates she'd beaten up after transmigrating, her chronic truancy during school. All of it was now public knowledge.
Naturally, a few intrepid souls had tried investigating her for tax evasion. Shouting about "the public's right to know" while charging into a den of killers armed with a laptop and a voice recorder—well, the outcome was self-evident. So far, no financial scandals had made the news.
Bella's problems were relatively minor. Natasha's file was a different story entirely—smoking, drinking, bullying classmates, illegal street racing, insulting the authorities, alleged sympathy toward terrorist organizations. Stack up all the reports and they'd stand as tall as a person.
The only reason little Katie had been spared was that she wasn't even two years old yet. Otherwise, she'd be dragged into it too.
The sole reason Bella didn't have a parade of children with different skin colors speaking different languages popping up as her surprise half-siblings was that Charlie was just a running mate—the kind of figure who was nice to have but not essential. Otherwise, that would've happened too.
Charlie was only a running mate, not even the main attraction, and he was already getting this treatment. As the Black president's own brother, Hobbs had it exponentially worse.
Rescue someone? They'll turn around and accuse you of sexual harassment.
Save an old man, and the media asks why you didn't save the old woman. Are you sexist?
Save a white person, and why didn't you save the Black person next to them? Are you racist?
There was no winning. Hobbs's solution was simple and direct: quit. He was done.
The Black president still wielded considerable power. He'd arranged for Hobbs to transition through Monarch for a while—a gilding of his résumé—before moving him to the military. Whether or not the president won reelection, the military's influence was set to surge next year. The armed forces were a far better career path than the rescue squad.
Professor Serizawa, Bella, and two other students. Hobbs and Shaw. Plus Monarch's pilot. Seven in total. They boarded a U.S. military CH-47 Chinook transport helicopter bound for the island nation of Palau in the western Pacific.
…
If Kronos's escape had brought Bella any tangible benefit, it was this: the Cabin in the Woods had been destroyed, scattering hordes of creatures across the globe. The sea monster born from Calypso's incarnation had been raising storms throughout the Atlantic, and her attention on Bella had plummeted.
Bella figured that as long as she stayed out of the Atlantic and away from the Caribbean, she'd be fine.
The great age of monsters was dawning. Threats to Bella were popping up everywhere, but the same was true for Calypso. Several deities at her level—Greek, Egyptian—had either reawakened or broken free. Calypso wasn't nearly as untouchable as before.
The transport helicopter spent one night in Palau. The team restocked supplies, and the following day, they flew toward the empty stretch of ocean marked by the coordinates from the three books.
"I recall you know how to shoot?" Hobbs handed Bella a Beretta.
Ignoring the protests of the doctoral student beside her who'd been hovering all trip, she slid the pistol into the small of her back with practiced ease.
"This is a scientific mission. We won't encounter hostiles! Your concerns are unwarranted. Based on my analysis, this island has gone undiscovered by humans, which means it can't be very large. The ecosystem dictates that the plants and animals on a small island like this won't be particularly dangerous..."
The doctoral student launched into an unbroken monologue. The core message boiled down to one thing: the island was safe.
After four-plus years in this world, Bella was well practiced at handling suitors. She was careful not to draw the young man's ire toward Hobbs either, just casually steered the conversation away from island safety with a few offhand remarks.
The Mysterious Island wasn't far from Palau. The pilot soon approached the coordinates.
"Professor! We can't get through! I don't believe there's any prehistoric site in there!"
The pilot shouted over the noise.
Everyone rushed to the cockpit.
A wall of dense, dark clouds filled their entire field of vision. Wind and rain raged. Visibility was virtually zero.
An enormous waterspout was ceaselessly hauling seawater into the sky, only for it to cascade back down like rain. The transport helicopter was still several nautical miles from the waterspout, and already the instrument panel was spinning like a windmill, showing signs of malfunction.
"But... we have to reach the center of that storm! That's where the coordinates mark the Mysterious Island!" Professor Serizawa held firm.
Hobbs Sawyer, still thinking like a rescue squad veteran, addressed the group solemnly. "Professor, I urge you all to prioritize your safety. I recommend we make better preparations before returning."