Chapter 18- Destroying a Business, and Becoming Crime Lords

POV- Clint Barton

This was a terrible idea. Sneaking into a foreign country known for being the 'Crime Capital' of the world, then removing heads of the key players there and those that operate some of the less savoury crimes, before replacing them with one of our own. 'Seriously what kind of nutcase comes up with an idea like that? Oh right, the almost-human monster running Vought. Though he was at least morally sound, deciding that human traffickers and some of the child-focused businesses were burnt to the ground. As someone with kids, I was more than happy to help with that.'

"It's a nice view," I hear, but honestly, I'm not sure what he sees in it. The island was clearly separated into two sections: the rich upper city, which has towering buildings and bright lights shining down on mansions, and the poor low town, where most of the criminal activity occurs, supported by the upper section. The low town contained the docks, where we would enter from with the others on this boat, as well as a market and the majority of the housing and warehouses where goods and services are made and made sellable, ready to be transported around the world at low prices.

"I guess, but compared to some parts of Europe, or Vietnam, this place is pretty bland looking."

"Yeah well, I've never been out of the States. I'd be happy to see the deserts and tin sheds of Australia."

"Are you basing your image on movies?"

"Maybe, why?"

"Because most of Australia's population live on the coasts, in cities just as modern as New York."

"Wow, Pete's gonna be so shocked." In moments like this, I remember what he is, a kid. A strong kid no fucking mention, but still a kid, inexperienced in so much, yet forced by his mutation to mature in other ways, to become a killer, a monster.

Getting into Madripoor was easy enough, not that we expected different. It wasn't getting IN that was going to be the issue, but getting back out before the end of the week after starting a civil war was going to be the trick.

"We should go through the market, I'll try to remember any scents I pick up," Nate then pulls out a small bottle of sweet-smelling aftershave, and I have this to mark potential targets. 'His powers are so weird, but I can't deny their use, with the exception of the pheromones, which to be honest sound fun for approximately 10 minutes until you find out they affect him too.' I agree with him and guide him through the market, looking at those who were affiliated with larger groups and watching as Nate subtly sprayed those who dealt with the money of those groups as well as those that were selling pornographic material of underage children. I watch both our surroundings and Nate, worried that he may just snap and do a Hulk right here in the market, but he doesn't. His jaw clenched tight and eyes sharp and focused, he remains quiet and on task, but I can see the hatred, the disgust. There was a moment when one of the market vendors began promoting to him videos and live shows of girls younger than him when he froze on the spot as if he was paralysed by the mental effort of trying to restrain the desire to rip his flesh from bone or lash him with his needled kagune. With a deliberate push from me to keep going, he simply nodded and continued after taking a deep whiff of the man's rather potent cologne, 'No marking needed.'

POV- Nathan Cross

Tracking people was easy, especially after marking them with such a sweet-smelling aftershave. Even if they realise and wash it off, remnants will remain in their clothes and hair, even in the air around them, creating the olfactory equivalent of a line of glowing neon, right up to them, for up to 12 hours at least. Deciding to hit those with transport out first, Clint uses technological arrowheads which disable the computers in the helicopters, while I quickly tend to the boats that line the coasts of this tiny island country, using needles and kagune to disable the propellers, and sails, 'Because apparently, some people decided that having sailboats would be fancy and romantic in their city of crime.'

Do I think this will temporarily cripple the nation? Perhaps, but there's no way I'm letting a single one of these fuckers escape, even if I have to sink every damn boat on the island. The past 40 minutes had been a cacophony of shouts, screams and gunfire, but now there seemed to be a temporary ceasefire, as the various groups on the Island band together to identify the danger. 'Something I need to remove quickly.'

*bzzt bzzt*

"All helicopters and planes are grounded, moving onto the heads."

While I was excellent at clearing a room, neither my glowing red tentacles nor bloodthirsty centipede forms were particularly suited for quiet assassinations, and with tensions as they were they would shoot me before asking questions if a teenager approached them, asking for a conversation with their boss. And so I was stuck with something a little easier, persuading someone to do what they wanted to do anyway. Which was why I was at a bar, tracking down Sharon Carter, great-niece of Peggy, and ex-fling of Captain America, having actually gotten further than the original Carter. I briefly recall her becoming something of a Powerbroker, whatever that is, and ruling the country, however, I am a control freak about the weirdest things. Which apparently includes the operation of the crime capital of the planet, thus forcing me to take control of it, even if through a proxy.

Two bars later I spot her, seated alone in the corner, waiting for me. Approaching her I sit down in front, relaxed and calm. "Glad to see you've already got messengers working for you, it should make this go quickly."

"Are you responsible for the isolation of the island?"

"Did you bang your great-aunt's boyfriend?" There was a momentary look of shock then disgust at being called out for the act, especially being phrased as I did. "Yes, and I plan to do a lot more."

"So you're another idiot that wants to be king of Madripoor."

"Actually, I'd like you to be Queen, rule as freely as you want, within certain guidelines."

"You'd need to start a war."

"Not really, just kill the heads and the seconds of the major forces, then put you forth as a powerful force, killing any deviants who disagree. Until you can hire your own security of course."

"Why? Why me? If you think you can use the Avengers through me-" I stop her with a raised hand.

"Ms Carter, I already work with Steve. Live with him technically, so no, that's not my intention. I want you because I know your skillset, and I know that you would be a fairly good ruler of this corrupted little rock."

"Steve wouldn't approve of this, so who do you work for?" Pulling out my phone I call 'Captain Ass.'

"This is Rogers, what do you need?"

"Steve, I called you, I know who it is. Sharon Carter wants confirmation I work with you, passing you over." Leaving the table while I order a drink, unworried about drugs or poison, I listen as Carter questions her old fling.

"Steve, tell me something only you would know." Listening to him describe one of their 'romantic' nights together was a little gross, but thoroughly amusing as I could hear Steve's embarrassment through the phone. "Why did you send a kid to Madripoor? Was the takeover your idea?"

"The kid is near-unkillable and stronger than me and Bucky combined. And no, that was entirely his idea, killing a few criminals, and taking over their centre of operations to limit the spread of crime worldwide. Is it legal, probably not. But the kid pointed out what the CIA has been doing the last few decades and it's pretty similar."

"Is that a dig at me Steve?"

"No, while I don't approve, I also can't control him. If he wants you as queen of Madripoor just make sure not to screw up, or he'll replace you." I decide to end it there, necking my drink and taking the phone off Sharon.

"Good enough?" She nods, rubbing her thumb over the rim of her glass, considering her options.

"I'll do it, when do we take control?"

"By the end of the week hopefully. All I need you to do is build up connections and allies as quickly as you can, while me and my step-father-to-be clear out a course. Ready?" Seeing her settle her breathing and look into my eyes with a determined ferocity I don't need an answer, and I tell Clint of my success.

"Idiot persuaded; Queen is looking for allies currently."

"Good, can you take the arms smugglers, I'm not bulletproof."

"Glad you've finally recognised that."

Taking off into the streets I follow the strong sulfuric smell of gunpowder, as I figure the largest collection of ammunition would probably come from the gun smugglers. Two massive warehouses full of guns, brass and heavily armed thugs prove me right, and I can see why Clint left this one to me. Between the four snipers positioned around and, in the buildings, as well as the manned 50 Cal gun mounted into an armoured car, I wouldn't want to have to fight them all with a bow and arrow, talented as he is. Unfortunately, I need control, so the kakuja will have to remain unused. The two warehouses were positioned between some towers on the west side of the island, with a large assortment of vehicles and transport surrounding them. Wrapping around the outside of the building, utilising the limited stealth training Natasha and Clint taught me before she left, I sneak up to the side of one of the warehouses, then use my kagune to push me off the floor and catch myself with as much grace as I can manage onto the roof. A quick spray of needles removes the two marksmen who'd taken position up here and provides me with a rifle, which will appear far more normal, more human at least when I attack them.

Pulling out a pair of earplugs I pick up the rifle, heavy, semi-automatic, and with a 5-round magazine, not that I'd be using it more than once. Taking aim at the man mounting the turret I fire, my enhanced strength allowing me to absorb the recoil with ease, and the next two marksmen were taken by surprise, as three shots followed, sending them to the afterlife. 'I can't believe that last one fucking shot me. He determined my position after two shots and within 8 seconds.' Looking down at the hole through my shoulder, chest and out through my ribs, I wait for it to heal, watching and listening as the workers guide their boss towards one of the armoured cars, hoping to flee.

Unfortunately, this spot doesn't provide a clear sight, so I shift over to the other warehouse, using my kagune like giant spider legs, my own dangling in the air. Luckily Clint was an expert at assassinations, or as he prefers to call them, 'missions,' as his preparedness saved the mission. Looking at the photo Clint sent me of the boss, I recognised they'd done a switcheroo, pretending to guard a nobody, while the actual boss pretended to be one of the guards. Clever, as it would have been truly annoying to track him down later.

*Boom* Dust flies up around me as the bipod bounces off the concrete ledge, revealing my location, for all that it was worth. Ignoring the cries of shock and anger of the dead boss, I turn to the second in charge, firing again. 'Honestly, this is so easy. No wonder none of these idiots get real jobs. This probably pays better too. OMG, are we the idiots? They have easy, better-paying jobs that we classify as bad simply because they're killing for business and personal reasons rather than for 'governmental issues.' We're so being conned. Whatever.' Dropping the gun and leaving at high speed, I move on.

Only 19 more people to go. 19, and then we can take over. 'God, I sound like Kingpin. Eww. Well, his tv persona anyway, because he is SUPER dead.'