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The trip back to the base had been.. stressful, to say the least. The sudden crash of their original vehicle had left most of the Rockets jarred, both in body and mind. Nadja had been lucky, and occupied herself with picking glass out of her superficial wounds, doing some piecemeal first aid on broken bones and cuts, and when Nikki's adrenaline wore off and the van began to swerve dangerously, ordering someone else to drive.

In her mind, the mission wasn't over until they were safely back on base and the casualties had been seen to. Getting through the desert in a vehicle built for suburban housewives would be an ordeal in itself.

Dawn was giving way to morning when Nadja's clipped voice crackled over speakers. "Volkov to base. On approach in nonstandard vehicle, bearing casualties."

That little girl had been the cause of a lot of trouble.

In spite of the tired tension running through her body, Nadja smirked faintly at the angry voice coming through her Rocket Dex and voiced a quiet "H'm" to herself.

"An unexpected element. I'll discuss it with you after I report," the elite replied. "The serial number is- thank you." There was a rustle of paper as someone handed the glovebox manual back. "Y0139836." She ran a hand through her hair, coaxing it back into some semblance of order after hours under a hood, and turned her attention to the desertscape outside.

Sand kicked up by the tires pinged quietly against the windshield, and the tall, dark shape of headquarters was halfway in view. Whatever possessed Team Rocket to build such a conspicuous base was probably what led them to put it in the middle of nowhere to avoid detection as well.

Nadja was one of the first to exit, and any bystander could see the mission had been rough as she stepped down from the vehicle, her hood crumpled in one hand. The crash had done a number on the elite's well-groomed appearance - wisps of hair waved free of her sleek hairstyle and glass had torn her stealth suit, laying bare skin streaked by smears of drying blood and road dust. She was a mess.

Damned if she was going to act like it, though.

Ignoring her disheveled state, the elite turned her attention toward helping the mission's casualties from the vehicle, her voice businesslike and authoritative as she directed the minorly injured away to clear space for the medics.

The broken bones and gunshot wound were obviously first priority, but the infirmary team stopped all the returning Rockets to look them over and be sure they weren't hiding injuries for the sake of pride. Nadja's lacerations drew comment from one of the medics. "They're superficial," the elite said in her collected murmur. "No, I'll treat them myself. Of course."

Seth's appearance didn't alter her pace or path, but the redhead did pause as she neared and canted her head to the side, looking up at him with one of her knowing smiles.

"Good morning."

Nadja didn't seem to take any offense at the surly response; it was typical of the man. In any case, actions spoke louder than words.

In answer, the redhead tucked her hood into her belt and smirked at him. Her amused tones lost their echo as they left the garage and headed into the base proper. "Would you like to see it?"

The smirk remained; Nadja half-lidded her eyes briefly and put a hand to her waist. There was the sound of a zipper. "Then shall I assume you want to see everything I have to show you?" she asked, her focus on drawing the orb from the pouch there.

The elite held it up; balanced between her thumb, index and middle fingers, it glowed like a jewel, blue as the ocean depths even in the fluorescent lighting of the halls.

Nadja and Seth would find their discussion interrupted suddenly by a flashing light and ringing from the female Elite's pocket. Someone was calling her on her Pokédex.