from_the_outside | [oom] the rules have changed since I learned to play

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[oom] the rules have changed since I learned to play

Five days has never felt so goddamn long. Fortunately, there's a lot to do.

She throws herself into mission prep, spending hours strategizing with Steve and Nakia and T'Challa and Ayo, going over the exit paths Bucky had outlined, discussing their bid, their timing, their plan, their back-up plan, their back-up to the back-up.

She works with Shuri on the newest iteration of her suit: improved, stab-proof, and locked away inside a chic gold bracelet. It takes a little while for her to get used to how it responds, but after a few hours of testing and adjusting, she can call it into being with a second's thought.

She and Steve have long calls with Fury, going over the intel he's collected on the other guests. There's only one Fury's really concerned about, a representative from the crime-soaked island of Madripoor. The rep's name is Kwan, but it's the person he's representing that has Fury worried.

"This guy calls himself the 'Power Broker,'" he tells her and Steve. "Word is he takes it literally. If someone out here is looking to merge Chitauri tech and vibranium, it's this asshole."

But even she can't be in meetings all the time, and at least once a day she packs her laptop and intel into her tote bag and heads down to the little hut by the lake where she checks on the goats (all doing just fine under K'Senge's care), the hut (untouched), and more often than not sits for an hour or more under the shade tree, trying not to picture Bucky lounging next to her.

Steve sometimes accompanies her. He's doing his best, she knows: he always seems to be nudging her to eat something or reminding her when it gets late that she should sleep. And he's good company. It's not his fault he isn't his best pal.

Who is absolutely everywhere she looks: in her room, down by the lake, in the meeting rooms, in the lab; everywhere.

She'd been sitting beneath the shade tree the afternoon after he went under when Anwuli, the little girl with the pretty beaded bracelets, came shyly up to her, holding out a small bouquet of wildflowers. "From the White Wolf," she told Sharon, who took the flowers, wordless, as everything she'd tamped down in the lab threatened to spill right back out of her.

"Thank you," she'd said, and the little girl had flushed and run off.

That had been five days ago. She's received four more bouquets since. They sit in water in her room, filling it with a faint sweet fragrance as she looks at herself in the mirror, putting the final touches on Irma and waiting for Steve to arrive.

Nearly time.

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He trails her like a bulky shadow, listening to and absorbing everything he can without being obvious about it. Sharon's and Nakia's advice echoes in his mind, of course, but so does Nat's - and Bucky's, whether his friend knew he was giving it or not. He trades the occasional look with other bodyguards, as they size each other up for potential trouble.

Most of them are professional, he thinks. Some look bored. A few, a very few, are more aggressive, aiming for junkyard-dog confrontational. He recognizes the build of a couple of these as steroid-bulked, and makes note that they're likely to be the first to start something if trouble comes.

This part's easy. He's always been able to spot a bully.

Sharon works their way around through the room with a skill he has to admire, finally bringing them into the circle of people around Kwan without looking like she'd had any intention of doing so at all. It seems to have worked, as when they draw near enough, it's Kwan who calls out, "And who's this?" The voice is light, smooth, and a high tenor with an undertone he can't quite place.

On the other end of the earpieces, T'Challa and Ayo frown simultaneously.

"Kruhl," she says, smiling in light surprise. He knows who she is, of course, and that she's navigated her way over here on purpose – but he won't say anything. She'd bet anything that he's already sized her up as the bid to beat. "Irma Kruhl. And you must be Mr. Kwan."

"Charmed, Ms. Kruhl," he says, offering her a hand to shake. Like the others in the room, he's well-dressed and nicely mannered. Unlike the others, he looks at Steve with real curiosity. "The late addition, am I right? Good. These things are always more fun when there's a surprise element to them."

Butter wouldn't melt in her perfectly smiling mouth. "I'm happy to provide, Mr. Kwan."

"You've been busy, my dear," he tells her, leading her over to a window. She make at least two bodyguards, standing a little ways away: the good kind, not the steroid-laden bullies she's already seen. They look ex-military... ex-special forces military. They're not physically imposing, but they hold themselves comfortably apart and move with the kind of lupine grace she's used to seeing in someone else.

Great. She focuses again on Kwan. "You've done your homework," she compliments, and he shrugs.

"In my line of work, it's always a good idea to keep an eye out for new talent."

It's Nakia who places it. "Busan," she breathes, barely audible to the field team, and soft but clear over the earpiece. "Among those seeking to purchase from Klaue. Be careful."

T'Challa's jaw sets in hard lines, and he gives a sharp nod.

In the auction room, 'Devlin' doesn't react to the whisper, nor to the way Kwan's sizing him up, but he doesn't like either one. He hadn't seen any sign of recognition in the man's eyes, but this mission'll go FUBAR in an instant if he's been made.

He drifts after 'Kruhl' toward the window, keeping an eye on Kwan's guards as he does.

"Oh?" she asks, lightly, sipping at her champagne. Kwan hasn't given any sign that he recognizes either her or Steve, but the whisper in her ear makes it all too clear that they'd made the right call by keeping the Wakandans out of the field on this one.

"Yes," says Kwan. "Tell me, Ms. Kruhl, have you ever been to Madripoor?"

All of this polite camaraderie will fade in an instant if she beats his bid, but for the moment she plays along. "Several years ago," she tells him. "I remember enjoying the nightlife."

He smiles, satisfied. "If you're looking to do business in this sector," he tells her, "there are some people there who you should meet."

Looks like Fury's intel was on target, Steve thinks, expressionless. As usual.

A swirl of activity at the other end of the room draws his attention as Gray walks through, heading for another door.

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Kwan," she tells him, and indicates Gray with her champagne glass. "But for now, I think our host is ready to begin."

Sure enough, a few minutes after Gray enters the other room, two of his men pull open the double doors and hold them as Gray return. "Dear friends," he says, smiling. "The auction will begin momentarily. Kindly make your way to your seats. Only one representative from each group, I'm afraid."

She turns to hand her glass to Steve, keeping her expression neutral. "Kindly wait for me out here, Mr. Devlin," she tells him, and smiles at Kwan as he puts a light hand on the small of her back to guide her towards the auction room.

"Here we go," T'Challa breathes, listening intently. "Be ready to act if we must."

Steve nods to 'Kruhl' in silence and takes up position in the room where he can keep an eye on the door to the auction room as well as the exit. He watches as Sharon and Kwan disappear through the door together, then as the other hopeful bidders follow suit, and is very aware of the other guards distributing themselves around the reception area as the tension starts to tick up.

There are about half a dozen of them in the room, with Gray and an assistant at the fore. They sit in assigned seats – ostensibly to give each of them a clear view of the small stage and auction block, but Sharon would give even money it's so no one can stick a knife in anyone else's ribs. She'd be a fool to think they're the only ones to get weapons past the metal detector.

"Thank you for joining me this evening," Gray begins. He's a practiced salesman – would have to be, to run this kind of gig for so long. He'll be a useful collar for Ross. "We have one bundle up for auction this evening, ladies and gentleman: two items, one price. First: the star of the show."

His assistant unveils the prototype, and Sharon leans forward to look at it along with everyone else. "Built for subtlety," Gray continues, "elegance. An effective sidearm featuring both portability and power. Marcus, if you would?"

The assistant lifts the prototype and aims it at a sheet of steel, then gently presses the trigger. A burst of blue light rips from the gun's nose and burns a dime-sized hole in the steel sheet, and Sharon's heart falls.

Chitauri tech. Melded with vibranium. On the stage, Gray is continuing. "...are both adjustable. Marcus?"

Marcus fires another bolt, this one wider in diameter and not powerful enough to burn all the way through the steel, then adjust the gun and fires a third time, leaving a smoking hole the size of Sharon's palm in the metal.

The guests mutter to themselves. Gray smiles. "Included with this incredible weapon are the plans necessary for production," he tells them. "Questions?"

The finely tuned Wakandan remote-monitoring earpiece is able to transmit clear, easily distinguishable environmental sound as well as the wearer's speech, which means that when the weapon fires both the field team and Shuri are able to discern roughly what's happened. Shuri's sharp yelp of dismay echoes in everyone's ears before T'Challa hisses at her to be quiet.

"There is no question now, even if there were before," he says, low and furious. "That prototype, those plans, must go to no one else. And we must capture Gray, as well, without question."

Back in the room, the muttering among the guests stops for a moment as one of them stands up. "I'd like to examine it," he says, baldly, and another murmur sweeps the room. "Otherwise, how do we know this little demonstration wasn't staged for our benefit?"

"Please," says Gray, and ushers the man to the stage, where Marcus shows him how to fire the prototype. He's clearly not used to firearms, and Sharon relaxes slightly – if his plan is to shoot the rest of them and make off with the prototype, he wouldn't get more than one, maybe two shots off.

Gray is clearly thinking along the same lines; he holds up a small blue cartridge. "The power cell for this piece is combination Chitauri technology and vibranium," he says. "Both very rare, but for a small finder's fee, I will be more than willing to help the winning bidder source the necessary materials."

The man who'd questioned them before squeezes off a shot that hits a little left of center, and nods to Gray. More questions come from the bidders – from everyone but Sharon and Kwan.

She's not sure she likes that. She hopes the number in the envelope she took from Steve is high enough.

Finally, Gray calls a stop to the questions and waves Marcus forward with a small black box. "The time has come, ladies and gentlemen," he says, politely. "Please cast your bids."

She lines up with the others and drops her envelope in the lockbox with a smile for Gray. "Quite a demonstration," she tells him, and he bows, slightly.

"I think it will be a lively competition," he tells her. "Please make yourself comfortable back in the reception room. I will be announcing the winner shortly."

Back in the reception room, near-silence reigns. For the most part, the guards distributed around are keeping watch on each other. Steve observes a couple of edged arguments start, both of which are quickly suppressed by Gray's own guard team.

For the most part, though, it's calm, which lets him listen closely to everything that's happening in the other room. About the only thing that's good, from what he can tell, is that nothing got heated. It's a good thing they're here - if that tech goes further, they'll have a problem. Not to mention that the developer's still out there somewhere.

One problem at a time's enough for now, though, and he turns his attention to Sharon as she walks back into the room. She looks as cool and composed as ever, unruffled by whatever she saw. He crosses to her and offers her the glass back without saying a word, having held on to it the whole time.

She takes her glass from him and takes a sip, murmuring,

"Get ready, everyone. We may have a big target on our back soon."

We are in position, T'Challa assures her. And so is Agent Ross and his men. We will not let anyone slip through our net.

Turning, she keeps Steve just behind her left shoulder. He's positioned them well, with their backs protected, but she can't help feeling like they're in a kill box.

It's a few tense moments later when Gray appears, Marcus in tow, and claps his hands for their attention. "My dear friends," he says. "I'm delighted to announce the winner of our little auction: she is new to our brotherhood, but clearly will make her own mark. Ms. Irma Kruhl, the winning bid is yours."

A flurry of murmurs makes its way through the room. 'Devlin' sets his jaw and his shoulders and readies himself, watching everyone's reactions. More than a few look truly surprised, while some look resigned.

It's Kwan who concerns him most, however. True rage passes over the man's face, swiftly concealed behind an ice-cold mien. He gives a slight bow to 'Kruhl,' as though acknowledging an opponent, and says nothing as Gray continues,

"Ms. Kruhl, if you and your associate will come with me to complete the purchase?"

She acknowledges the light golf claps and walks toward Gray, murmuring with her lips barely moving,

"We're moving clear of the room. Send in the cavalry."

Ross has to sweep the guests up while they're in the area in order to pin anything on them, but it can't be while she and Steve are in the room. She returns Kwan's nod and follows Gray out of the reception area and down a short hall to a beautifully appointed office. This building may be rented, but he does things right.

"This will only take a moment," he tells her, and gestures for her to take out her phone. "As soon as the digital transfer goes through, the item is yours."

She pulls up the app and takes a second to hope that Shuri had spoofed the account correctly, then swipes a finger and smiles as his phone chimes. "Done. And may I say, a very great pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Gray."

Somewhere outside the building, those code words set action in motion.

Steve follows her down the hall, keeping himself between her and everyone else in the reception area. Behind them, Kwan's face twists again as he storms out of the room in the opposite direction, trailed by his guards. "We will have to intercept them," he snaps, moving quickly down the hallway and into the stairwell. "I refuse to let this slip from my hands."

Outside the building, where he's stationed in one of the JTTF surveillance vans, T'Challa's voice sounds in Everett Ross's ear. "They are moving!" It takes a lot to keep his teeth from grinding at not being the one to call the shots on this one, but Wakanda's king has more than earned his trust, and it's one of his people on the inside; none of his team had been able to secure an invitation.

"Go!" he snaps to his task force. "Green light, green light, all teams converge!"

To Gray's credit, he doesn't panic when the first sounds of chaos reach their ears. Ross' men have the building surrounded, but Gray is no amateur; he only escorts her to a back door in the office and directs her down a narrow staircase.

It's fine; they'd planned for this. She carries the locked briefcase containing prototype and plans and follows Gray down the stairs as sirens blare and the sounds of fighting escalate.

"You are quite well prepared," she comments to Gray as he holds open a door for her. It leads to a basement level with an unobtrusive exit; too bad for Gray they've already tagged this way out as one of their own exit strategies. T'Challa and the others will –

Gray makes a strange choking sound and collapses, and she nearly trips over him before she realizes what's happening.

"Ms. Kruhl," comes the smooth, high tenor, and Kwan steps from the shadows, his two guards in tow. One has already shot Marcus. She can't see if he's alive or not, but the main problem right now is this:

Kwan and his men are between them and the exit. "I can see you're in a rush," he continues. "But I really must insist you take a moment to consider the business opportunity I'm about to present to you."

"I think not," she says, tightly, and doesn't even glance at Steve. "Ryan?"

He's moving around and in front of Sharon before she's finished speaking his name. As the first guard swings his gun toward him, he slams a booted foot into his knee and a fist to his jaw, collapsing him, and throws an elbow strike into the solar plexus of the second. Steve follows that with a knee to the gut, sending the hapless guard airborne. He crashes into Kwan, flattening him to the ground.

The shouts from upstairs are getting closer. Steve's head jerks up as they suddenly get a lot louder, too - clearly someone's found the stairwell. He moves swiftly to Sharon's side and takes her arm. "We've got to go. Now."

Ross and his team will round up everyone they can find. They can't afford for either of them to be caught, especially not with what they're carrying.

She nods, even as she can hear a familiar voice echoing down the stairs. "Request extraction, southeast corner, garden level," she tells her earpiece, and trusts to T'Challa and the others as they run. They make for the exit as quickly as she can move in these heels and this dress – a casualty of cover maintenance, but she's more agile in them than most.

Not quite agile enough for them to be out the door before sounds of a fight break out behind them, and although she knows she shouldn't, she looks. There's a brief second while Steve forces a lock they hadn't expected when she glances behind and sees – oh, crap, Ross. The guard hadn't hit Kwan hard enough, and he got the drop on Ross.

Sharon does a quick mental calculation – Ross' back is to her and Steve is through the door – and makes a decision. She reaches for the sidearm in her hidden thigh holster and in the space of a breath squeezes off three quick shots.

Center mass. Absolutely perfect. And as Ross turns, she's heading through the door in a flick of blonde hair.

Steve jams it behind them and they make for the open air of the street. She prays the extraction team is right where they ought to be.

He's staring down the barrel of the gun in the weapons dealer's hand - turns out the guy wasn't down for the count after all - when three shots come from behind him and the dealer suddenly hits the ground in a limp heap. No faking this time; the guy's done, each bullet placed with stunning precision.

Ross spins around in time to see the blonde woman in the black dress who'd just saved his life vanish through the door, and as realization hits for a second it feels as though she's shot him instead.

Carter. That was Carter, who, evidently not satisfied with blowing up her incredibly promising career and being named enemy of the state, has apparently decided to go for an encore performance by fucking around with the illegal weapons trade in stolen vibranium.

Goddammit. How he's going to explain this to T'Challa, he hasn't a clue.

Edited 2021-05-16 03:46 (UTC)

Anyone looking would see two figures – one tall and broad-shouldered, the other small and slim – bolting from a garden-level door towards a small side street. So much, so usual: where it turns a little odd is how they slip into a shadow and just...

Disappear.

"This cloaking tech is the best," Sharon tells Nakia, seated at the wheel of the car they've piled into. Light spills from its exterior like water off a duck; it's nearly impossible to see in the dim light of the Prague evening. She only grins and hits the accelerator, taking them away from the fray and towards the quiet location where T'Challa and the others wait with the flyer that will take them home. "Package secure," Sharon tells the earpiece. "We're heading your way now."

Update complete, she grins at Steve. For the first time in five long days, she feels amazing. "Nice job. You may graduate spy school yet."

"You had the harder job," Steve says, with absolute sincerity. "How you and Nat get such a kick out of this is a mystery to me." Nakia laughs and whirls them around a corner, down another street, and then whips them into the narrow alley that leads to the abandoned square they'd set up in.

T'Challa steps forward as they get out of the car. "Well done," he says. "And thank you."

She hands him the briefcase containing the precious prototype and plans. "Kwan is dead," she says, without preamble, "and Ross was in position to apprehend Gray. The good news is I think he'll roll on the prototype designer, the bad news is somebody out there really, really wants this stuff."

They head into the cloaked flyer as she says to Steve,

"Looks like you and Sam and Nat have a few new leads to track down."

"Looks like," Steve agrees, as T'Challa secures the briefcase for the flight back and turns to them. Ayo is already at the controls, ready to take off, and Nakia comes to stand beside T'Challa. She touches his hand lightly, and he gives her a quick, slightly rueful smile before looking back at Sharon and Steve.

"I will follow up with Ross later," he tells them. "You have done a great kindness for Wakanda, for my people, and for me. We are no strangers to those who would steal and misuse our vibranium, but this is more. I am in your debt."

"You're not," Steve says, a little more sharply than might be expected. "If anything, it's the other way around."

"Definitely not," Sharon agrees, taking a seat and slipping off the heels with a sigh as Ayo lifts them into the air with a barely perceptible hum. "You've already done more for us than we could ever pay back."

With Fury in the mix she's sick to death of the 'who owes who what' game. T'Challa is a proud man, she knows... but he is also someone who understands the give and take tidal push and pull of the world.

"We were happy to help. You owe us nothing."

T'Challa studies them both, then simply nods, accepting.

"We will be home in only a few hours," he says. "Less than you may expect. You have not seen Ayo handle a flyer."

"My king!" Ayo protests, from the front, and Nakia laughs. "What? It is true!"

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from_the_outside - 2021-05-16 15:32 (UTC) - Expand

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