Chapter Text
Despite having spent over a decade bouncing around the world Bobbi had always considered New York to be home. The hustle and bustle always brought a sense of calm. She could blend in. But now being back in Manhattan, her stomach was in knots. The sheer nature of the city was anxiety inducing, a gridlock of streets with only a number of exit points, all vulnerable. If they needed to run it wouldn’t be fast. It felt like there were thousands of pairs of eyes locked on her, studying her every move, waiting a moment to attack.
She reached up to adjust her baseball cap as she started on another lap around the park. The coordinates had sent them to Washington Square Park. In her leggings and athletic jacket she blent right in with the crowd taking advantage of the iconic arch as the starting point for their midafternoon run. “See anything?” She asked.
Using their newly acquired burner phones and her earbuds, she was on a call with Hunter, who was clad in an oversized crewneck, and a beanie far too small to actually keep his head warm, sat on the edge of the fountain. “Nope,” his horrendous American accent had made a resurgence.
Bobbi glanced down at her watch. 1425. Any second now. She understood why Coulson had picked this place, it was crowded. Tourists snapping photos on their one vacation a year, college students, business men taking a working lunch. But right now they were just threats and potential casualties.
As she turned the corner her eyes immediately locked on an elderly man struggling with his groceries. He had a distinct receding hairline and fatherly aura. Coulson. She couldn't help but chuckle at the lengths he’d taken to disguise himself. He was hunched over limping, with full prosthetic makeup. She jogged towards him and removed her earbuds. “Sir, let me help you with those.” She offered, holding her arms out for the bags.
“Oh! Thank you young lady. I’m parked right over there.” He handed the bags to her before gesturing across the street.
As they crossed the street Bobbi shot a glance back to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“Relax. You’re on a commercial flight to Andorra right now.” Coulson whispered.
She gave a small nod. It would buy them enough time to get out of the tri state area.
“It’s right over here. 92 6th Ave.” He said as they approached a Honda CRV. That was not their address. He opened up the back passenger door, allowing them to stand behind the car and not be seen.
She loaded the groceries in and bumped the door closed with her hip.
“Thank you again, miss. Without you these probably would have ended up all over the floor.”
“Not a problem sir. Happy to be of service.” She held out her hand for a handshake.
“Do you do hugs? I’ve always found shaking hands to be too Wall Street.”
Bobbi bit back a laugh, she couldn't say that she'd ever imagined what Coulson would be like as an old man, but if she had this would not have been it. She gave a small nod and pulled the man into a hug.
“I’m so sorry we can’t do more, but this should be enough to get you going.” He slipped a car key into her pocket.
“Sir, you did not need to do this.”
“I did. You gave up everything for us.”
“Any other agent would have done the same.” She pulled out of the hug, trying to blink back the tears that were in her eyes. At first she had her doubts about Coulson, but she had come to appreciate his leadership, in fact, she even considered him to be a friend.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Agent Morse.”
Bobbi sat across from Coulson’s desk in his office at the Playground. They had crossed paths a handful of times before his death but never directly worked together. “Good ones I hope. And sir, it’s just Bobbi, or if you really insist on being propper, Dr. Morse.” She had a warm smile on. She had never been a fan of the whole agent title. It didn’t signify anything, it was her job. No one referred to the cashier at Target as Cashier Frank.
“All good things. And we both know that you haven’t used your PHD in the better part of a decade.”
She chuckled softly, “Does that negate the work I put in?”
“No it does not.” He glanced down at her file for reference, “I’ll be honest, we were under the impression that you were lost in the Triskelion collapse.”
“And I was under the impression that you’d di-. Nevermind.” She caught herself before saying something that would bite her in the ass later. “Fury sent Agent Hartley and I on a mission to destroy an artifact that we couldn’t risk HYDRA getting their hands on.” She explained.
“Seems Fury kept secrets from both of us.”
“Appears that he did, sir.” She said with a nod.
“I know you have extensive experience with undercover work. And I have just the op for you.”
“Oh?” She asked, her interest piquing.
“HYDRA. If we want to be a step ahead we need a man on the inside. They have facilities that desperately need staffing popping up all over the place.” He explained.
“Copy that.” She said with a nod.
The door of her rented apartment was ajar. She pulled her gun from the holster and clicked the safety off. Was her cover blown? She tentatively pushed open the door. The kitchen light was on but there was no one there. With her gun drawn out in front of her she made her way deeper into the apartment, her gun quickly settling on a shadowy figure on the couch.
He raised his arms up in surrender. “Don’t shoot Agent Morse. Friendly fire would be a crappy way to die.”
Bobbi immediately lowered her gun. “You couldn’t at least turn on a light? Send a text?” She asked, returning her gun to its holster. “And it’s just Bobbi.”
“It would have looked suspicious.” He said.
She flicked on the light. “Were you able to get to the safehouse in time? Was there anyone there?” She asked. HYDRA was beginning to question her loyalty and she had no choice but to give up the location of another SHIELD safehouse.
He shook his head. “Our records show that Agent 33 was using it. They got to her first.”
“Damn. She was a good agent.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
She leaned against the arm of the couch, “I know you didn’t come here to tell me that.”
“Have you had any contact with Agent Simmons?”
“Only in passing. She doesn’t know who I am.”
“Good. Keep it that way.”
“Copy that, sir.”
“That ex husband of yours is really something.”
She chuckled softly. “Oh, I know. But Iz’ll keep him in check.”
Coulson’s expression shifted the second she mentioned Izzy.
“What is it? What happened? Is Izzy okay?”
“We lost Agent Hartley.”
Bobbi’s heart sank. Izzy had been by her side since the moment she left the academy. She’d been there through the two divorces, missions gone south, injuries, birthdays, christmases.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Agent Morse. I know you two were close.”
“She’s with Vic now.” She said, voice threatened to crumble. She couldn’t bring herself to correct him. Izzy had been the first one to listen to her request to ditch the Agent Morse bullsh*t and just call her Bobbi.
She lay in the med bay, her knee propped up on a pillow. Three days after throwing herself in front of a gun for Hunter, and she'd finally managed to get him to sleep in a real bed. There was a knock at the door. Unnecessary because the med bay was a glass cube, but she appreciated the sentiment. She glanced up to see Coulson standing there, what remained of his arm in a sling. “Come in,” she called out, her voice still weak from having a tube shoved between her vocal cords during surgery the day prior.
Coulson gave her a gentle smile as he stepped into the room. “It’s good to see you awake.” He said. “If you’re not feeling up to it or just want some alone time I can come back when you're ready.”
She shook her head, “it’s better than being alone with my own thoughts.” She shifted into a bit more of a seated position with a wince. “You can skip the pleasantries, I know why you're here.” She hadn’t managed to get much information out of anyone, but it was enough to get by. Her, Mack and Weaver were the last remaining heads of the other SHIELD.
He sat down in the chair usually occupied by Hunter. “That’s only partially why I’m here.”
“Oh,” she said quietly.
“I wanted to apologize. Letting Agent Palamas stay was a mistake. It’s the reason you got hurt.”
“It was the right call. I would have made the same one.” She paused for a moment, trying to keep from getting too winded. “You had no way of knowing she was still colluding with Ward.”
He shook his head, “I should have known, Grant Ward doesn’t do anything without having motives.”
“Enough about him.” She said quietly. It was the last thing she wanted to think about at the moment. She took in a deep breath, or at least as deep of a breath she could given the state of her left lung. “Look, I understand if you want to kick me to the curb. Just don’t send Hunter too. He likes you. A lot. Refused to turn on y-”
Coulson cut her off. “I’m going to stop you right there. You’re a terrible judge of character if you think I would kick an injured woman to the curb.”
Bobbi let out a sad laugh.
“You’re a good agent. And you made some good points. I wish you would have come in the front door, not snuck in through the window.” He said.
“Yeah, I suppose we could have gone about that better.”
A beat.
“I’m sorry about Gonzales. He was a good man.”
“He was always a bit too dramatic for my tastes.” She shrugged.
Coulson chuckled, “I hope when I’m dead you have nicer things to say about me.”
“I do,” she said.
“Why don’t we start over? Put the past behind us.”
“I like that idea.”
“Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Morse.” He held his left hand out for her to shake.
“Yeah, if I reach my arm across my body it’s going to feel like my entire chest is on fire.” Her right hand was heavily bandaged. “The best I can do is an elbow bump.”
“Works for me.”
She lifted up her right elbow and bumped it against his.
“Thank you for your service Agent Morse.”
Bobbi cracked a small smile. “Bobbi,” she corrected.
“Right. Bobbi.” He said quietly.
She was already jogging back towards the park. She slipped her earbuds back in. “Hey Siri, text Amadeus Ravenclaw and say, ‘Meet me at 92 6th Avenue.’” It was safer for them to move through the city separately.
“Your text to Amadeus will say ‘Meet me at nine hundred and twenty sixth attitude.’ Do you wish to send it?”
“No you idiot. I’ll just do it myself.” She muttered, pulling aside and just sending the text before starting another lap around the park.
Despite it looking like they were on a flight to Andorra, she couldn't help but remain vigilant. The people hunting them down weren’t stupid. After finishing her lap she returned to the car. She quickly changed into jeans and a t-shirt before taking out her contacts and putting her glasses on. If it worked for Clark Kent it might work for her too. She pulled out a wipe and cleaned their prints from everything they might have touched before grabbing her backpack and abandoning the car.
As Bobbi rounded the corner onto 6th she could see Hunter standing in the parking lot, confused. She pulled the keys from her pocket and clicked the lock button twice, beeping the horn. Hunter jumped, his eyes frantically scanning for anyone suspicious. He only saw his partner smirking a bit as she turned into the lot.
“What in the bloody hell was that for, woman?”
“I wanted to know what kind of ride Coulson hooked us up with.” She approached the car, a dark green Jeep Wrangler. She unlocked it and opened up the back. Two duffle bags sat in the back along with sleeping bags, pillows, and a plastic tote with food and water.
“Looks like the boss man decided to give us a hefty severance package.” Hunter commented.
“C’mon let’s get out of the city.” She tossed the keys to him. “Remember we drive on the right side here,” She teased.
“Yeah got it, love.”
Once inside the car with the doors locked she let out a sigh of relief. She knew bulletproof windows when she saw them. While it wasn't much, it was a layer of safety. In the cupholder were two cans of Cactus Cooler, and a manilla envelope was tucked under the visior on the drivers side. She immediately popped open a can and let the sickly sweet orange liquid coat her throat.
“Where to?” He asked, starting to pull out of the lot.
“South I guess. I doubt the Canadians would like our guns.”
“And you think the Mexicans would?” He asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t have experience smuggling weapons across the Mexican border.”
“I do.”
“You what?”
“Mercenary. Remember. We just need to slip ‘em some cash and they'll look the other way.” He said.
“Oh. I never would have thought about that.” She was used to working inside the system, using the proper channels, and when that failed a cloaked quinjet would do the job. They were in Hunter’s world now.
Soon they’d made it through the Holland Tunnel and on to I78 heading west.
Bobbi grabbed the manila envelope and tore it open.
“What did they leave us?” Hunter asked, noticing movement in his peripheral vision.
“A new life.” She said quietly. Inside the envelope was everything they'd need to become new people. Passports, IDs, cash, credit cards, the deed to the car, hell Jemma had even thrown in a prescription for Bobbi, well Rebecca Porter, to refill her meds. She thumbed through the passports, “So Matthew Porter, who do you want to be?” She asked, with a small smile. She set the passports into the center console and continued to go through the envelope.
“Hmm, think he’s American, darlin’?” The horrible western accent returned.
“Not if you insist on talking like that,” she said, looking over at her ex-husband turned fiancé.
“Well that’s an American passport, isn't it?”
“Dual citizenship exists. You’re married to an American.”
As the sun dipped lower in the horizon it came straight through the windshield and hit Bobbi in the face, overpowering her sunglasses. As she lowered her visor a white envelope slid out and landed on the floor. She leaned forward to pick it up.
“What is that?” He asked.
“It’s addressed to us, not Rebecca and Matthew.
She slid her thumb under the flap and pulled it open. She pulled out the bundle of papers inside and began to flip through them.
“What is it?” He asked curiously.
“It’s a letter. Two actually.”
“From who?”
She flipped through the pages. “Coulson and Mack.” Her heart sank as she saw Mack’s smudged handwriting.
“Well? What do they say?” Hunter asked.
Agents Hunter and Morse,
I know it isn’t a lot, but it’s the least we could do after your sacrifice. Rebecca and Matthew are remote workers who decided to sublet their apartment and venture around South America for a while. You don’t need to worry about establishing paper trails or cover stories. It’s all taken care of, just focus on staying safe. Their bank accounts have enough to keep you going for a month or so until you can figure out something more permanent. The car and everything in it is yours to keep, sell, abandon in a ditch. Whatever you deem necessary. If you decide to go south, cross the border in Antelope Wells, New Mexico on Sunday. Officer Sánchez will look the other way about the guns.
Safe travels, Phil
“Coulson is a good man,” she said quietly, looking over at Hunter.
“I don’t know why you ever doubted him.”
She shrugged a bit. “Gonzales got into my head I guess.”
“Did you want to read Mack’s letter?” He asked.
“Honestly, I don’t think I can handle it right now.”
“That’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, love.”
They drove through the night, trading off who slept and who was behind the wheel. At about 6 they pulled off the highway and stopped at a diner about half an hour outside of St. Louis for breakfast. As Bobbi stepped out of the car her knee cracked when straightened. A consequence of spending the past few hours behind the wheel. The diner was a small hole in the wall, clearly stuck in a previous decade with a jukebox and all. They settled into a booth in the back, Bobbi sitting with her back to the wall so she could survey the early morning clientele.
After a few minutes of looking at the menu the waitress came over and poured coffee into their mugs. “My name is Cheryl, I’ll be taking care of you today. What can I get started for you two? Pumpkin pancakes are our special this morning.” She was far too cheery for 6 AM.
Bobbi bit back a gag. She hated pumpkin. Acorn squash were the superior gourd. “I’ll do a full stack of pancakes with a side of bacon please," she said. “Regular pancakes. Not pumpkin.” She quickly added.
“Got it, regular pancakes with a side of bacon.” She turned her head to look at Hunter, “And for you?”
“A short stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon please.” Hunter ordered.
“Oh, you’re not from around here are you?” She asked after hearing his accent.
“No, London actually.” Hunter said.
“So, what’s the story here?” She asked, looking between the couple.
“We met while I was studying abroad in London. Did the long distance thing for a while before I moved over there for a few years. We recently moved back and decided that we’d drive out west to visit my parents so he could see the country.” Oversharing was probably better than undersharing in this situation.
“Oh how fun. I’ll go put this in. It shouldn't be too long.” She said before leaving their table.
Hunter leaned across the table to get close to Bobbi. “Your ability to lie is unnerving.” He whispered.
Bobbi shrugged, the moment she walked into a room, the wheels started turning. She took note of the occupants and began to develop a cover story. It had become her escape. You can’t worry about your problems if you’re someone else.
As they were close to finishing their breakfast Bobbi’s eye immediately picked up on two biker type guys pulling up outside. Both of them had a bulge in their jackets under their arms. Guns. “Don’t panic. I think we’ve been made.” She said, shoveling another bite of pancake into her mouth.
Hunter glanced down, picking up their reflection in the napkin dispenser. He downed the rest of his coffee and began to collect his things, clearly anticipating running. “What the hell are you doing, woman?” He asked, unsure why she didn’t have the same sense of urgency he did.
“Relax. They don’t know we’ve spotted them. Just don’t get hit when the bullets start flying.” She said, taking another sip of her coffee. She grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and quickly scribbled a message on it.
Get everyone out. Two men are about to walk in and start shooting.
She stood up as if she were going to the bathroom and found Cheryl at the register. She slid the napkin folded between two twenties across the counter, before discreetly flashing her SHIELD badge, desperately hoping it would be enough to convince her that she was worth listening to.
“I-I tho-” Cheryl stammered.
“We’re still the good guys,” Bobbi said softly. She had this aura about her that gained people’s trust.
“Like the Avengers?”
“Yeah, like the Avengers.”
Cheryl began to get everyone out of the restaurant, she was the only one left when the door creaked open.
“Get down. Behind the counter.” Bobbi ordered.
Cheryl obliged.
Gunfire erupted through the diner. Glass shattered. Each man was armed with an automatic pistol.
Bobbi dove across the counter, ducking behind it with Cheryl. She pulled out her gun and flicked the safety off before co*cking it. “If they come near you, point and pull the trigger. Please just try not to hit me or my British friend.” She whispered.
Cheryl quickly nodded.
Bobbi inched towards the edge end of the counter and caught Hunter’s eye. He was under the table. The booth provided him with pretty good cover. She gestured towards the kitchen, trying to indicate that she was going to go out through the kitchen and sneak up on them from behind. He gave a quick nod.
“So boys, decided you wanted to cash in today. I’m sure your mothers would be ashamed of you. Imagine how nice your lives would have been if you’d settled down, started a family, grown old. Instead you chose to chase after a paycheck. Well let me say, you pissed off the wrong woman. And trust me I would know, I’ve been on the receiving end of that death stare many a time.”
As if on cue Bobbi barreled through the door frying pan in hand. She clocked one on the head causing him to drop to the ground.
The other whipped around sending a stream of bullets flying her direction. “You’re a dead woman.” He grumbled.
She dropped to the floor to avoid them.
While his back was turned Hunter landed a shot on his shoulder and the gun clattered to the floor.
Bobbi wound up again and nailed him in the face with a frying pan. He was out. “Yeah? Tell that to my frying pan.” She muttered, blowing some loose strands of hair out of her face.
“You good?” Hunter asked, giving Bobbi a once over.
“Yeah. You?” She asked.
He nodded.
“How about you Cheryl?” Bobbi asked.
A thumbs up popped up from behind the counter.
She chuckled softly. “You can come out now.”
Cheryl tentatively came out from behind the counter and set the gun down an arms length away.
Bobbi grabbed it and tucked it back into her waistband. Her and Hunter got the gunmen tied up behind the counter. “You should probably call the police, I think they’re going to have some questions for these men about why they decided to shoot up an empty diner. If you catch where I’m going…”
Cheryl nodded.
“Good. We were never here.” And with that they were gone, continuing on their journey south.
“What the hell was that?” He asked once they were back on the road.
“What?”
“That little stunt you pulled. We could have both very easily gotten killed back there, Bobbi.”
“But we didn’t.”
“We could have. We should have gotten out as soon as we knew we were made.”
“I was minimizing casualties.”
“Stop with that SHIELD talk. That doesn’t matter anymore. We either survive or we don’t.”
“It matters to me, Hunter. I realize we need to survive.” She paused for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. “But I-I don’t think I want to if it means innocent people get caught in the crossfire.” Her voice was fragile.
Silence.
“And you think I want to?” He asked quietly.
“I’m not saying that. It just feels like the antithesis of everything I spent my career doing, shooting with reckless abandon, putting our lives ahead of everything else. That’s just not who I am. I took an oath to protect those in danger, and I know I’m not an agent anymore, but we’ve inadvertently put anyone we come into contact with in danger, and I’m going to fight like hell to protect them.”
He gave a small nod, “and I will do my best to help.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“You know, on the flight back I was finally starting to let myself get excited for the life we were going to have - shopping at Whole Foods, having real hobbies, and maybe even learning how to bake, to just being normal.” She said quietly.
He smiled softly, “I was too. Go somewhere warm, settle down. Be us for once in our lives, not super spies, and mercenaries, or fugitives.”
“I’m not so sure if we’re ever going to get that.” She said quietly. There was no point in dreaming about the future when tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed.
After a few minutes in silence Bobbi flicked on the radio and began to go through the channels, eventually finding one that wasn’t completely static.
Thanks for listening to KSHE 95, Real Rock Radio. Next up, a classic from 1976. Here are The Eagles with ‘Life in the Fast Lane’ from their smash hit album ‘Hotel California’.
Hunter immediately reached over to turn off the radio.
She chuckled softly, “what? You don’t want to take a trip down memory lane?” She asked.
“Oh god no. I have repressed the memory for this long. I do not need to be reminded.”
“Please remind me why the hell we thought driving would be a good idea?” He asked.
“To see the country. This is supposed to be fun.”
They were currently in bumper to bumper traffic trying to get out of DC. Bobbi was being relocated from the Triskelion to the Los Angeles field office and they decided that turning it into a road trip would be fun.
“Does this rust bucket at least play music?” He asked, reaching to turn on the stereo.
Bobbi cringed. “Oh, please don't do that.” She was too late. The cassette player whirred to life. Her 1987 Toyota Land Cruiser was not the most technologically advanced.
‘On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair’
“I hope you like the Eagles.” She said, shooting a glance at her boyfriend.
“Do you?” He asked tentatively.
“No.”
“Why is it in your car then?”
“This was my dad’s car from way back when we were kids. When Ben learned how to drive he got a new car and gave him this one, cassette included. He tried to take the cassette out and couldn’t, so he just left it. When he went off to college the car became mine, and still is.”
“Can you not just take out the cassette?”
“Do you think I haven’t tried? They fused together in the 90s.”
“What about the radio?”
“Oh, the antenna disintegrated a few years ago. Pure static.”
“Just buy a new car, you make six figures, Birdbrain. ”
“Why would I do that? This one still works fine.”
He reached to turn down the volume, the dial crumbled in his hand.“Does it though?”
“Caren hasn’t failed me yet.” She said reaching over to turn the stereo off.
She would come to regret that statement.
The air conditioning stopped working somewhere near the border of New Mexico and Arizona. Even with all of the windows rolled down the early June heat was borderline unbearable. The pair were drenched in sweat when they eventually reached an open auto shop in Winslow Arizona.
They were sitting in the waiting area of the shop when Bobbi saw a map on the wall and realized where they were. She started to chuckle.
“I think the heat has started to get to your head, woman. There is nothing funny about this.”
“You haven’t spent enough time in a car with my dad,” she said between laughs. “Winslow Arizona gets mentioned in an Eagles song on a different album.”
“This god forsaken band,” he said, starting to laugh.
Both were still cracking up when the mechanic came to talk to them.
“I have good news and bad news. The AC is fine, it was the controller that went out. In order to get it working again I had to tie it into the power for the stereo. So if you want air conditioning the stereo needs to be on.”
“Oh that’s fine we can just turn the volume down,” Bobbi said.
Once in the car and back on the highway they realized they could not in fact turn the volume down. The dial was in the trash somewhere in Virginia.
‘You can check out any time you like, But you can never leave’
She pounded her head against the steering wheel. “I. Am. Losing. My. Mind.” She muttered, each word coinciding with her head bumping the wheel.
“You and me both, love.”
They were still stuck in Arizona. A truck carrying paint had overturned and the highway was closed while they tried to clean it up.
‘Life in the fast lane, surely make you lose your mind’
“We’re not in the fast lane and I’m still losing my mind!” Hunter shouted, as the chorus of the third track started for what felt like the hundredth time.
‘You're just a victim of love’
“I’m a victim of this music,” Bobbi lamented. The road had finally reopened. They originally planned on making a detour to the Grand Canyon but unilaterally decided against spending any more time than necessary in the car.
At about 11 PM somewhere in the California desert they gave in to the music.
"Welcome to the Hotel Californiaaaa” They belted as they drove down the highway.
One cycle through the album and the novelty was gone. They were back in misery.
It was 1 AM when they finally pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. Bobbi shot a look over at her boyfriend. “Wannna go car shopping with me tomorrow?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“I came out of that car a changed woman,” she said with a small laugh.
“Oh I know you did. Never trust your brother and a cassette player, love,” he teased.
They stopped somewhere between Amarillo and Roswell for gas and a late dinner. Bobbi went into the minimart for more snacks while Hunter filled the tank.
Upon exiting the minimart Bobbi immediately drew her gun. A black SUV with tinted windows was parked at the pump across from theirs. Hunter stood beside the pump, a semi automatic rifle trained on him. The door of the SUV swung open and a man stepped out with his hands raised. “Don’t shoot. I just want to talk.” He was tall and built like a linebacker.
“Give me one good reason why I don't put a bullet in your head." Bobbi snarled.
"You do and he dies.” The man responded.
“Just hear him out.” Hunter piped up. He recognized the man.
“Fine. Can we do this at a restaurant? I’m starving.” Bobbi grumbled.
The Denny’s was empty at the late hour. The three sat at a booth with the door guarded by the gunman that had come with their mysterious guest.
“Agent Barbara Morse and Lieutenant Lance Hunter. You two weren’t exactly easy to pin down.”
“For a good reason.” Hunter grumbled.
“I’m not here to cash in. You’re of much more use to me alive than dead. The name’s Dominic Fortune.”
Bobbi had heard the name but never put a face to it.
“You in particular have ended up in quite the predicament,” he nodded towards Bobbi. “Around the world former spies are being targeted. No one is quite sure of the who, or the why. But bodies keep piling up. After the fall of SHIELD no one knew if the Mockingbird survived. Until last week when there were rumors that she was at an Interpol black site in Moscow. Filing for the marriage license confirmed that she was not buried alongside SHIELD.”
Bobbi raised her eyebrow, “how did he get tied up in this?” She nodded her head towards Hunter.
“He is not. Perhaps your friends at SHIELD were given some false information. I needed to ensure that I met with both of you.”
“Why should we trust you?” She asked.
“I can protect you, specifically her. But that protection does not come free. In return, all I ask for is your services.”
She made a disgusted face, “ew, what? I’m not going to have sex with you.”
Hunter looked over at her, “not those services, you dirty dirty mind. He means hired guns. Mercenary work.” He explained.
“What if we say no?” She asked.
“I make one phone call and this place is teeming with assassins before you can even get to your car.”
Bobbi looked at Hunter, trying to gauge what he was thinking. She didn’t like the idea that he was being dragged into danger because of her.
“Just take me.”
“That’s not the deal. Together you have a specific skill set that I’m looking for.” He stood up, “I’ll give you two a moment to discuss, but I implore you to choose life.” His voice cut like a knife.
They turned towards each other.
“We’re saying yes. I’ve crossed paths with Fortune before, he’s by no means a saint, but we’re better off on his side than on our own.”
“I don’t like that you’re putting yourself in danger for me.”
“What other option is there, Bob? Walk outside and face your death. At least this way we might be able to help a few people along the way and figure out who’s doing this.”
“Okay.” She said with a small nod.
Hunter stood up and turned to face Fortune. “We’re in.”
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