Farewell, Dingy Warehouse #26

I walked deeper into the warehouse, my mind still racing from the conversation with Dugan. The interior was a maze of makeshift partitions, crates, and various pieces of equipment that gave the place a sense of organized chaos.

The air was thick with the smell of machinery and the faint, sweet scent of the red berry plantation in the corner.

Dugan followed behind me, his footsteps echoing off the concrete floor. He glanced around, taking in the sight of the unusual inhabitants of my hideout. The Pals were scattered throughout, each busy with their tasks. His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"Hold up," I said, stopping abruptly. Dugan came to a halt, confusion written across his face.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his tone wary.

I whistled sharply, catching the attention of a Pengullete watering the red berry plantation. The small, penguin-like creature with sleek, blue feathers and a beak that glinted in the dim light waddled over to us. It stopped in front of Dugan, tilting its head curiously.

"Dugan, meet the Pengullete," I said with a hint of a smile. "Pengullete, wet'im."

The Pengullete opened its beak wide and unleashed a powerful jet of water that drenched Dugan from head to toe. He spluttered, wiping water from his eyes as I began to pat him down, searching for hidden devices.

"I heard Coulson didn't get frisked," Dugan said, a touch of amusement in his voice. "We both carry the same firearm, so why do I get special treatment?"

I retrieved his gun from its holster and handed it back to him. "I'm not interested in your gun," I replied, continuing my search. "It's these I'm after."

I pulled out a body cam and several recording devices, tossing them to the ground before stomping on them until they were nothing but shards of plastic and wires.

Dugan's brow furrowed in confusion. "Coulson was also wired. What's the difference?"

I met his gaze, my expression serious. "It's not the wiretap that's the problem. It's who's listening on the other side. In Coulson's case, it was Fury. And Fury is paranoid enough to ensure no one else is. In your case..." I trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Dugan's eyes narrowed. "Relax, will ya? We're the good guys."

"I only wish it was that simple..." I sighed, dismissing the Pengullete with a wave of my hand. It gave a curious look, then waddled back to the berry plantation, its sleek feathers glinting in the dim light.

I turned to Dugan, nodding towards the office room. "Come on. Let's talk inside."

The office room was a cluttered space, filled with papers, maps, and various bits of equipment. I motioned for Dugan to take a seat, and he did so, adjusting his bowler hat with a casual grace.

"So, what do you want?" I asked, leaning against the desk, trying to mask the tension that coiled in my gut.

Dugan shrugged, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Just curious about some things. You looked like you had nothing better to do, spacing out in the middle of the day and all that."

"Fair enough," I replied, gesturing for him to continue. "What are you curious about?"

"Why Phil Coulson?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual. "You clearly know an awful lot about SHIELD. There must have been a reason why you picked him."

I gave him a strange look, the corner of my mouth twitching in a wry smile. "You're not here just because you're curious, are you, Dugan? You're here to probe how much I really know."

He shrugged again, this time with a hint of a grin. "Well... I am curious about that too."

"Alright, I'll allow it," I said, crossing my arms. "I picked Coulson because I needed someone with high-level clearance. Fury and Maria Hill were both valid options, but Fury's too paranoid and Hill's too by the book."

Dugan chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. "So you picked the one who's easiest to get along with."

I said nothing, and Dugan took that as confirmation.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "And what about these creatures working in your warehouse? Where'd they come from? Are there more of them out there somewhere?"

"They're called Pals," I said, feeling a small smile tug at my lips. "Not my name for them, by the way. They come from a place called Palbagos Island. And yes, there's a lot more of them there, all kinds of different species."

Dugan's expression grew more serious. "You know this for a fact?"

"Someone else told me about it," I admitted. "A guide of sorts. I haven't ventured too deep into the islands myself."

Dugan's eyes narrowed, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "So someone else knows about these creatures..."

I scoffed at him, flicking ash from my cigarette. "I'm not stupid, Dugan. It's impossible to find the person in question, and even if it was, you wouldn't so much as get a look at them without my say-so."

Dugan chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "No need to get your panties in a twist, mate."

He was about to ask another question when shouting from outside interrupted him. The urgent tone in the voice calling his name made him swallow his words. I gave him a nod. "Seems like a good time to end our conversation."

I escorted him to the exit, where we found an agent waiting. The agent quickly handed Dugan a phone, his expression tense. "It's for you."

Dugan frowned as he took the phone, glancing at me. "My communication device got bloody waterboarded. What happened?"

I could only hear faint murmuring on the other end of the line, but I saw Dugan's eyes widen in surprise. "Really now? They actually found him? And he's alive?" More murmurs followed, and Dugan nodded, saying, "Alright, I'll handle it," before ending the call.

He turned to me, a mix of disbelief and excitement on his face. "Guess what? They found Captain Rogers, just like you said."

I nodded, taking a final drag from my cigarette before crushing it under my boot. "That's good to hear. I'll be expecting my promised payment. And when they inevitably want more information, I want them to send Captain America."

Dugan frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "It'll take some time to thaw him out, and even more time to get him adjusted. Breaking the news that he's been in a coma for over 60 years isn't going to be easy."

"Exactly," I said, my smile widening. "That'll give me time to set myself up on the private island you will generously donate to me."

Dugan shook his head wryly. "You'll get the island, but I can't make any promises regarding the Cap'n..."

I narrowed my eyes, holding his gaze. "My conditions are clear and not up for negotiation."

Dugan repeated his earlier statement, his voice firmer. "I can't make any promises." He then hurriedly left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Vito appeared beside me, his arms crossed, a familiar look of skepticism on his face. "You always wanted to find a way out of the mob mess, and you've finally found it." He trailed off before adding, "But you've landed yourself in an even bigger mess and the original one is still there... you'll need to deal with Manfredi sooner or later, one way or the other..."

I ignored Vito's specter, watching Dugan's retreating figure and smiling, feeling a sense of accomplishment. With Captain America found, my credibility was proven. SHIELD would have to honor their promise and be more willing to entertain my demands for intel, as long as I kept my requests within reason.

I headed back into the warehouse, the familiar smell of dust and machinery greeting me. I found Carlo in his usual spot, watching the Pals work while munching on a handful of red berries. He gave me a quizzical look when he saw me approaching.

"Start packing, Carlo," I said with a grin.

Carlo looked confused, wiping his hands on his pants. "What's going on?"

"My reckless gamble paid off," I replied, a note of triumph in my voice. "It's time to leave this dingy warehouse...."

Carlo's face twisted with offense. "Hey, my warehouse isn't dingy. It just needs a few repairs."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, Carlo. Just call your wife and tell her that some nice men will soon come over and take her somewhere safe."

Carlo's confusion deepened. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I'll be moving my operation to a private island soon. You and your wife can decide if you want to come with me," I explained, "or you can try to hash things out with Manfredi, or just get into some witness protection program. Either way, you need to make a decision soon."

Carlo hesitated, his face a mix of emotions. He had always been loyal, but this was a lot to take in. "Alright, I'll talk to her," he said finally, pulling out his phone.

...

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