Chapter Text
Steve drained the last of his coffee. He crushed the paper cup in his hand and tossed it into the garbage. Sam hummed in approval. He still had a full cup of coffee because he had more self control than Steve. He also preferred his hot beverages closer to "has been sitting out for 5 hours" than "just came out of the pot" because he had a tendency to burn his tongue on hot drinks. Steve had no such weakness. He eyed Sam's cup, wondering if he'd even be able to stomach all the sugar and milk Sam had dumped into it. Sam narrowed his eyes at him and wrapped both hands around his cup, pulling it closer to his chest.
Steve frowned. "It'll be your fault when I die of caffeine deprivation."
"That's not a real thing. I'd bring flowers to your funeral if it was though," Sam said, taking a long gulp of his coffee.
Steve was contemplating knocking the cup over, because if he wasn't going to have coffee then neither was Sam, when the door banged open . Director Hill stormed into the room and t he new guy at the end of the table jumped and honest-to-God squeaked.
Hill came to a stop at the head of the table, demanding the attention of the room effortlessly. "Everyone have a nice weekend?" Nobody said anything. Stark groaned - he had been in the office all weekend working on some new prototypes and Hill had not given him a day off.
"I had a nice weekend," New Guy piped up. "Got to see my daughter graduate from second grade." He had a huge smile plastered on his face. Clearly nobody had sat down with him to explain the unspoken rules of the office. Rule number one was 'Everyone had a shitty weekend. Do not share nice weekend stories at the Monday morning debrief'.
Hill narrowed her eyes at New Guy. "Who are you?"
"Lang. Uh. Scott Lang? I'm the new Extraction Specialist," New Guy answered.
Hill nodded. "You're the new thief, huh? Shoulda guessed. You look like the type of guy who would have a rap sheet about a mile long. Welcome to the team."
Lang looked around the table like he wanted to point out everyone here looked like they had a rap sheet a mile long. He wouldn't be wrong. He was obviously a quick learner because he didn't say anything out loud about it.
"Anyway, welcome to Monday debriefing everyone. We had a good week last week and I'm expecting another successful week from you. Stark has been working in the lab all weekend and it sounds like he's finally got some updates for us. Stark, care to give us a report?" she asked. She sat down and folded her hands neatly on the table.
Tony stood up with a flourish that was surprising considering he had probably skipped sleeping this weekend. "Alright. Here's what I've been working on." He swiped a hand across his tablet and into the air, flicking the image from his screen onto the wall. A 3D design of a rifle scope rotated around with specs lined down the side.
"We all know there's nothing more satisfying than menacingly telling your target to look at their tie and having them look down in horror to see the red dot of doom there; meaning a sniper is ready to blow a hole in them if they don't cooperate. But, this is wildly impractical for the more seasoned targets that you're trying to pick off from a distance without getting made. This new scope features a laser that is undetectable by the human eye unless you're wearing the coordinating gear. I can make the tech work with just about any glasses you want so don't worry, this amazing new advancement won't cramp your style," Stark said.
Elektra sighed. "This is wonderful, Anthony, really, but not all of us are snipers."
"Those of us who are aren't complainin'," Frank put in.
"Thank you, Castle, for your undying support. Elektra, darling. What can I say? You think the snipers enjoyed the ninja stars I designed a couple weeks ago that released microchip trackers into their targets? No, probably not. I can't please everyone at once and not die of exhaustion. At least not in the office anyway," Tony said.
"As long as we're complaining, I'm still waiting for an upgrade on my wings," Sam teased.
Hill cleared her throat. "Alright, that's enough heckling for your quartermaster for one day. Stark, thank you for the new gear. Now go to the lounge and get some rest before you pass out."
"Yes, ma'am," Tony said, throwing a sassy salute before clicking off his tablet projection and leaving the room.
"Now, we have a few new job assignments. Elektra, I want you on the French Ambassador. Just recon. Something is definitely off about him and I want to know what it is. He'll be at the gala event at the Met tomorrow night. Pack your bags, you're headed out today. Take Murdock with you in case things get messy," Hill said, sliding a file across the table to Elektra.
"Murdock? The blind guy I met in the lobby earlier this morning? I thought he was with Legal , " Lang interrupted. Maybe he wasn't such a fast learner after all.
Elektra smiled. "Matthew is a man of many talents."
"Lang, you're in the office today. You'll be touring the facilities with Pepper Potts. She used to be a field agent but she wanted to retire into an HR position for some ungodly reason. You'll be able to learn a lot from her," Hill told him.
"Rogers. I've got a local case for you," she said as she slid a file over towards him. He looked at the mission title printed on the front and frowned. "Wilson's going in with you for eyes in the sky, just in case anything goes wrong."
Sam snorted when he saw the file. "I thought I misread this, but it actually says 'The Prostitute Poisoner'. I can't believe it."
Hill gritted her teeth. "Coulson gets carried away when he puts files together."
Steve snorted on a laugh. "So what's the job, then?"
"This man, Wolfgang Von Strucker ," she said with obvious distaste towards his pretentious name, "is murdering sex workers. We want you to stop him."
"Alright, so what, is this a track him down at home and make it look like an accident kind of case then?" Steve asked.
"That's the problem. He's a nomad. We can never get a reliable location on him. And he's almost always in heavily populated areas so public assassination is a no-go. The last thing we need is more footage on youtube of our operatives doing their jobs," she explained.
Steve could tell she was dreading saying anything else about the job, which was strange because Hill was always a straightforward, no-nonsense kind of woman.
"Fair enough," Steve shrugged.
There was a silence that nobody seemed willing to fill. Hill sighed deeply before saying, "You're going to have to go undercover as a prostitute, lure him to a secure location, and take him out quickly and quietly." Her eye twitched, but she showed no other signs of finding the mission to be funny.
Sam, on the other hand, was unsuccessfully choking back laughter.
"You want me to pretend to be a sex worker? Don't you think there are other agents better suited for this job?" Steve asked.
Elektra leaned across the table. "I'd like to know who exactly you think is more suited for this job," she hissed, twirling a throwing knife.
"Definitely not you. No offense, but I think you'd have a hard time waiting to kill the guy," Steve said.
She nodded, sheathing her knife. "He does sound like the kind of scum I would kill on the spot," she conceded.
"Natchios isn't exactly this guy's type, anyway," Sam said. He had the file open and was intently reading the details. Because he was a good agent like that. "If it was going to be anyone but you, it'd have to be Castle. Strucker has been targeting male prostitutes and all of his victims are...well, they're rugged looking. Very masculine." Sam frowned hard. "It says here one victim survived the poison long enough to give a brief statement. He said Strucker picked him up, drove him to a remote location, and then as soon as he started...doing his uh...job....Strucker started reciting bible verses and telling him he was a sinner. He then stabbed the victim with a syringe and injected the poison. Dumped his body and drove away."
Steve felt as sick as Sam looked.
"I'd be glad to kill the motherfucker," Frank seethed. "Where the fuck is he?"
"Castle, I still need you on the gang job. There's been some activity that suggests they're coming out of hiding and I need you ready. And besides, your self control is only marginally better than Natchios. This needs to be discreet. We don't want to attract any unwanted law enforcement attention to the workers in the area," Hill said.
Steve sighed. "Looks like I'm the guy for the job then. What's the timeline here?"
Hill started packing up her stuff. "Stat. Get it done tonight if you can." Steve nodded in understanding. "Everyone, read your case files for reporting guidelines and coordination times with Q. And for god's sake, keep yourselves out of Banner's med bay this week." She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on Lang, I'll take you down to Potts. Everyone else, fall out. No mourners, no funerals."
Everyone responded with "No mourners, no funerals." Except Lang, who looked very confused.
"It means good luck," Elektra explained with a grin. Lang didn't look particularly convinced as he got up to follow Hill out of the office.
Everyone filed out of the briefing room. Sam got a huge grin on his face. "Come on, buddy. Let's head down to Tac Gear and see what Thor has in stock for your outfit for tonight's mission."
Steve sighed. It was a weird job. But it paid the bills.
Bucky rolled his windows down. He knew it was a bad idea to have your windows open in a neighborhood like this, but Barton's car was a piece of shit with no air control at all and he was fucking steaming.The night breeze rolled across his face and he sighed in relief. He looked around. The street was still pretty empty , which didn't bode well for him. Natasha's intelligence had indicated their target would be in the neighborhood tonight, but he hadn't shown up yet. He drove a very conspicuous red mustang so Bucky knew he hadn't just missed him.
The job would be easy. Once the target picked up a date for the night, Bucky would follow the terrible red mustang . W hen it came to a stop he would get out of his own car, walk up to the driver side of the mustang, and blow the target's brains out. Simple. Quick. He had Barton running a rooftop perimeter just to keep an eye on things, but Bucky doubted his assistance would be necessary.
There were a few guys loitering on the corner. Bucky hated words like "hooker" and "prostitute". He knew the best term would be "sex worker" but he hated that one too. They were just workers. Why qualify the kind of work they do? He wasn't a "murder worker". He was just a guy with a job, which happened to be taking out low life creeps of all shapes and sizes .
One of the guys was obviously a pro. He had that 'hire me or just keep driving but don't waste my time' vibe perfected. He was a little twitchy, which could be expected in a profession where you got treated like garbage on the regular and there was some perverted serial killer out there targeting your co-workers.
The other guy was a newbie. His stance clearly said he was uncomfortable, and he didn't have that rough around the edges, streetsmart kind of look to him. The guy actually looked like he just walked out of GQ and onto the worst lit street corner in the dodgiest neighborhood he could find. His clothes were disheveled, but not in the same way the other guy's were. They were artfully ripped to show off a flash of his strong thighs, purposefully tight enough to highlight his toned upper body. It was all too clinical and poised and his beard was way too well trimmed to really pull off the look. He looked like he belonged in a lumberjack catalogue, wearing flannel and swinging axes.
Bucky was distracted from his lumberjack thoughts by a flashy red mustang rolling up to the curb. " Barton, he's here. You see him, right?" Bucky said into his comm. There was no response. Barton probably fell asleep on him. Natasha was gonna have his ass for that. You don't leave your teammates hanging during an op. Not that he was concerned about his safety; he could hold his own against a coward who poisoned innocent people trying to make a living.
Strucker rolled down his passenger window and leaned across the seat to proposition Lumberjack. Bucky was a little disappointed he couldn't hear the exchange because Lumberjack was about 3 shades brighter than the Mustang he was climbing into.
Bucky waited a few moments before starting his car and pulling away from the curb. He followed the mustang down a few winding roads out of the neighborhood and into a secluded park. "Can't wait to murder this asshole," he said to himself as he thought of all the poor people Strucker must have driven to similar locations before he poisoned them.
The mustang came to a stop in the shadows between two pools of light cast by the lamp posts on the park road. Bucky parked in the shadows just behind them and pulled his gun out of the bag on the passenger seat. He double checked the silencer and turned off the safety. He prowled up to the car, careful to stay out of the light cast by lamp.
He rapped his knuckles against the window with possibly more force than necessary. Strucker rolled down the window and Bucky wasted no time pulling his gun up and shoving the muzzle of his silencer against the asshole's forehead. Strucker looked satisfyingly terrified , but his passenger mostly just looked pissed. It wasn't a bad look for him.
Bucky made himself focus on the job. "You killed all those innocent people and you're going to pay for it." Strucker was praying out loud. "You're going to Hell, and God thinks you're a piece of shit," Bucky sneered as he pulled the trigger.
Lumberjack stared at him with his mouth gaping before it snapped shut in a thin line of anger.
Bucky sighed. "Listen, pal . S orry to put you out of the job , but he was planning on murdering you." He turned to leave and heard the car door open and slam shut.
" I was going to murder him !" Lumberjack called, stalking after Bucky.
Bucky spun around. "I'm not a cop or a lawyer, but it doesn't exactly seem like a good idea to go around loudly announcing your intentions to kill people."
"It's my job to kill people. Strucker was my target," Lumbe rj ack said, only slightly quieter than a yell.
"Huh, guess that explains it," Bucky said with a shrug, turning his back on Lumberjack to get back in his car. "You need to work on your camouflage skills. You stuck out like a sore thumb; I had you pegged right away."
Lumberjack scoffed. "Oh, like your shitty surveillance wa s any better. You were too close and you had your windows rolled down. I could clearly see you. I should have had my partner take you out."
"Look, buddy, I did your job for you. I don't see why you're so bitter about this," Bucky said, starting the car and throwing his gun in the back seat.
Lumberjack was still fuming. "He was MY target."
"Not my fault I'm better at this than you," Bucky said with a smirk. Lumberjack gaped at him again. It was less attractive than his angry face but Bucky was starting to realize Lumberjack could make anything look good. He had nice bone structure. Not many people could pull off the 'pissed off beyond the point of yelling, mouth gaping in silent rage' look , but he was somehow rockin' it. "Have a nice night!" Bucky said, slamming down on the accelerator and peeling out of the park before Lumberjack could say or do anything else.
He drove back into town to the emergency meet ing point. He had tried using his comm but Barton wasn't responding. Something was wrong with their gear, as per usual. He drove up to the spot to find Clint sitting on the curb under the street light.
"Having a rough night?" Bucky called as he came to a stop in front of Barton. He had a black eye and he was cradling his right hand.
"Fuck you," Clint shot back as he carefully climbed into the car.
Bucky assessed him closer. Something had definitely gone wrong. "What the fuck happened to you?"
"There was another agent there. He was running the perimeter for his partner. He had some fuckin thing that jammed the comm signal," Clint explained. Bucky pulled away from the curb and Clint groaned. "This guy had fuckin jetpack wings. He was fucking flying with fuckin steel wings."
Bucky hummed in consideration. "That's interesting. I ran into another agent too; musta been his partner. He was the guy that got picked up by Strucker."
"Shit," Barton hissed. "Did he fight you?"
"Not physically." Bucky laughed. "He was pretty pissed I took out his target right in front of him though."
Barton huffed a laugh and then groaned. "Well , at least you got the guy in the end. That's all that matters."
Bucky scoffed. "I always get my guy."