Talking #24

The rhythmic thump of helicopter blades sliced through the tense silence, drawing the attention of everyone on the ground. The police officers looked up, shading their eyes against the glare of the descending aircraft. As it touched down with a gust of wind and dust, a man in a dark blue suit and tie stepped out, his presence radiating authority and calm.

Detective Vasquez watched as the man approached, flanked by two agents. She stepped forward to meet him, her expression a mix of curiosity and frustration. "Agent Coulson, I presume?" she asked, extending a hand.

Coulson shook her hand firmly, his eyes scanning the scene with practiced efficiency. "Detective Vasquez. I understand you have a situation here. Can you brief me?"

Vasquez nodded, launching into a concise explanation. "We had reports of a skirmish, possibly a gang war. When we arrived, we found what looked like the aftermath of a missile strike on the warehouse's driveway."

She paused, letting out a sigh. "Multiple armed suspects inside, including some... unusual creatures. And then Vito Morreti came out, holding a hostage and demanding to see you specifically... gave us a show we won't soon forget..."

Coulson's expression remained impassive, but Vasquez could sense the wheels turning in his mind. "And you have no idea why he would ask for me?" He asked.

The detective shook her head. "No idea. Who the hell are you anyway? Some kind of high-ranking spook?" She asked with a frown.

Coulson's expression remained impassive. "I'm not authorized to disclose anything beyond my name to you, Detective. Honestly, I don't know why he requested me either. My boss saw the bodycam footage of those creatures and immediately ordered me to look into it."

Vasquez frowned, her frustration mounting. "So you're saying your higher-ups know something about what's going on in there?"

"Who knows?" Coulson replied, his tone even. "They know enough to be concerned, and that's why I'm here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get in there and talk to this... Vito fellow..."

Vasquez hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But be careful. He's got at least one hostage, and those creatures... they're not like anything we've seen before."

Coulson gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll handle it. Just make sure your men are ready in case things go south."

He signaled for his escorts to stay put and turned towards the warehouse, his stride confident and unhurried. As he approached the entrance, he raised his hands to show he was unarmed. "Vito Morreti!" he called out, his voice steady. "It's Phil Coulson. I'm coming in."

...

The dim light of the warehouse office flickered above me as I sat on the old wooden stool, biting my thumb and staring at the cluttered desk in front of me. Papers, maps, and scattered weapons covered the surface, each one a reminder of the mess I was in.

I couldn't stop my mind from racing, trying to figure out the next move. The sound of footsteps approaching pulled me from my thoughts. I turned, annoyed, as Carlo entered the room.

"What do you want?" I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended.

Carlo hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm curious, that's all," he finally said. "Who the hell is Phil Coulson, and why do you want him here?"

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. "Phil Coulson is my ticket out of this mess. I might land into another, bigger mess at the end of the day, but right now, I'm running dry on options."

As if on cue, Vito appeared beside me, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "I've been asking the same question for over an hour now, and yet, no answer," he taunted.

I ignored him, focusing on Carlo, who was waiting for more information. "How can Phil Coulson get you out of this mess exactly?" Carlo pressed.

I sighed, the weight of the situation heavy on my shoulders. "Someone once told me that I can't get out of this mess alone. I need someone powerful and connected to get me out of it."

Vito's smirk widened at my words, clearly enjoying the situation. He had been the one to tell me that, but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

Carlo's eyes widened in surprise. "Phil Coulson can do all of that? Who the hell is he, anyway?"

I shrugged. "He's a high-ranking spook, working for a government agency that doesn't even exist as far as most people are concerned."

Carlo's curiosity only seemed to grow. "How did you get to know such a guy? And why would he help you?"

I was about to reply when a shout from outside interrupted me. "Vito Morreti! It's Phil Coulson. I'm coming in!"

I turned to Carlo, urgency in my voice. "Your questions can wait. He's here."

I pushed past Carlo, making my way down the stairs in a hurry. The main floor of the warehouse was a chaotic scene of overturned crates, and the various structures I'd built, now neglected as the pals hid behind covers, reading to fight.

The tension in the air was palpable as I approached the entrance, my heart pounding in my chest.

I leaned my back against the wall and peeked outside, and there he was, Phil Coulson standing just outside the door, his expression calm but alert. He was just as I remembered him from the movies.

Coulson's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I felt a glimmer of hope. "Phil Coulson... I didn't think you'd get here so quickly..." I called out, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

Coulson nodded, acknowledging me. "Vito. You've got yourself in quite a situation."

I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "That's putting it mildly. Come on in. We need to talk..."

Phil Coulson said nothing as he stepped into the warehouse. As soon as he was inside, two Tanzees, their small, agile bodies moving with surprising speed, rushed to the entrance and sealed it shut.

Coulson merely glanced at them, his expression unreadable, but I could sense his mind working, cataloging every detail. I motioned for him to follow me as I led him deeper into the warehouse, away from the windows and doors.

As we walked, Coulson finally broke the silence. "What? You're not going to frisk me? Point a gun to my head and tell me not to do anything stupid?" His tone was dry, almost amused.

I smiled slightly, glancing back at him. "There's no need for that," I replied. "I know you're not here to rescue the hostages or put me in cuffs... your time is far too precious for such trivial things..."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "You're here because Nick Fury saw my little friends here and sent you to look into it, to see if he could make use of them somehow.." I said, gesturing toward the Pals hiding behind every corner of the warehouse. "The man is always looking for the next secret weapon..."

Coulson's face remained impassive, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. Finally, an expression of surprise appeared on his face at the mention of Fury. Still, he quickly gathered his bearing and hummed thoughtfully, continuing to trail behind me without giving away any of his internal thoughts.

I knew he understood the gravity of the situation. He didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was assessing the defenses of the warehouse and our firepower. At the sign of any sudden move, the Tanzees and Lifmunks would riddle him with holes before he could even reach into his jacket, where had his pistol.

We reached a small office at the back of the warehouse, cluttered with papers and makeshift plans. I gestured for him to sit, taking the seat opposite. The flickering overhead light cast long shadows, adding to the tension in the room.

Coulson sat down, his eyes never leaving mine. "I know why you wanted to talk to me... you're in a lot of trouble..." he said, his voice calm but firm. "You don't just get to walk away from something like this unscathed... not even with my help..."

I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair. "Spare me the bullshit, Agent Coulson. If SHIELD can pardon war criminals and Nazi scientists and even let them into the club, then you can definitely get me out of this small mess scot-free." I chuckled, adding, "Letting Nazis into the fold was a huge mistake by the way, but we'll get to that later."

Coulson's frown deepened, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually impassive face. "Maybe I can help you, after all," he conceded, "but why would I do that?"

He turned his gaze to the Tanzee holding an AK-47 in the corner of the room, its eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and readiness. "Are you willing to volunteer these creatures for research or maybe deployment as compensation?"

"Hell no," I replied firmly, shaking my head. "I'm not letting anyone within touch my Pals with a ten-foot pole. But I can offer you something else: information."

...

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