Washington DC suburbs, 0253 hours
Miri jolted awake to the sound of her phone ringing off its metaphorical hook. Her heart pounded out of her chest as she reached across the pillow, grasping for the extremely offensive vibrating device and flipping it over. The light temporarily blinded her, and Miri squinted at her boss' contact info. Which had appeared on her phone. At three in morning. Damn it.
"Merdan-" she croaked, reaching with her other hand for the water bottle she had almost knocked over.
The line was quiet for a moment and Miri wondered for a second if it was a buttdial.
Christ- I will block her number. I swear to god I will.
It wasn't. Within minutes Miri was staring up at the shower head, swirling water around in her mouth and contemplating how she was going to get any sleep with the day she presumed was ahead of her.
Her boss- Julia Labaye had not, in fact, woken her by accident. From what Miri could gather of Labaye's groggily delivered and heavily French-accented spiel of information, Director Fury had woken her even earlier. A SHIELD scientific team off the coast of Italy had been taken hostage by pirates in the final hours of the previous day- teams were being called in, but Miri had been selected as handler.
According to Labaye, the head pirate honcho and mastermind behind the hijacking was Georges Batroc, a French mercenary who boasted a series of files deep in SHIELD archives full of all the nasty stuff he did - assassinations, bombings...tax fraud. From what Miri understood he had never been suicidal, but this move - taking SHIELD personnel and property hostage - well, it was about as close to suicide as you could get without actually pulling the trigger.
Especially with the Captain, STRIKE, and Black Widow supposedly being called in.
Stepping out of the shower and stripping herself of the pink shower cap topping her figure, Miri stared at herself in the mirror.
Dark circles. Hair that she didn't have time to let dry. A pimple above her left eyebrow. She'd likely have a few more before the day was out. From what she'd experienced working with STRIKE in the past, stress was bound to be a factor. Despite his devil may care attitude, in Miri's experience Brock Rumlow was an anal retentive control freak who took special pride in having and being the biggest dick. And she'd heard around the water coolers that Captain Rogers in particular wasn't the easiest to work with. Something about how his impressive ability to not break every bone in his body attempting things lesser men would be flattened by had given him a staggering hero complex and an ego the size of a black hole.
Don't judge. You haven't met him, you don't know him. He's also supposed to be a perfect gentleman, so there's that.
Miri sighed as she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was not a perfect gentleman. No one was. Especially at three in the morning.
Triskelion Archives , 0400 hours
The old file cabinets creaked as Miri maneuvered her way through the archives. Even at SHIELD, an organization rife with overachievers and early risers, the dark bowels of the Triskelion were still deserted. She was free to glare at every passing file cabinet without judgement, and attempt to open the ones that had rusted shut without the critical eyes of the standard 6 foot tall ex-military SHIELD employee.
Is that a seven or a one? Low lighting plus sleep deprivation was not making it easier for Miri to find the Lemurian Star folder, even after she'd found the right cabinet.
A bout of intense rifling proved satisfactory, however, as she found the folder holding the blueprints, comm systems and engine room schematics, and fingers crossed, a recently updated crew roster. Tucking the folder under her arm and cursing the overhaul of the filing security system that had forced her to go searching for the hard copies, Miri made her way back up the stairs and towards the elevators.
At least after she exited the archives the rest of the Triskelion was still down to its barebones staff. The night shift was small- just a handful of analysts and handlers like her who had either stayed too late or come in too early. Other than the occasional burst of quiet chatter, the only sound was the whirring of janitors waxing floors.
It's kind of nice, actually.
The elevator doors dinged softly and opened, delivering her to the third floor and the soft comfort of her cubicle. Miri lowered herself into her chair, plopped the Lemurian Star file on her desk. She stared at the alert on her computer for the intel file she had just received and then stuck her palms into her eye sockets. Tired or not, work had to be done- a plan formed, teams alerted- etc, etc.
Miri picked up the phone, mentally scrolling through her list of prep duties. Check the Star details, develop the basic strike plan, call Ari and have her prep for departure, get approval from Labaye and brief Rumlow or Rogers.
The number she dialed was one she knew by heart- it rang twice and was picked up. A female voice sounded at the other end.
"Hey Mir- what's up?" The voice of Ari Robinson, Miri's close friend and a rather skilled stealth quinjet pilot, sounded at the other end of the phone.
Miri let out a small sigh of relief- "I'm so glad you're not Bernerd."
Ari laughed. "Yeah- thank god I'm not Bernerd. What's going on, aren't you not supposed to be here for-" Ari paused, and Miri knew she was glancing at her watch, "-another four hours?"
"Special op from Fury," Miri stated.
"Ooo- do tell." Ari settled back in her chair.
"Batroc - you know that french merc I told you about? He hijacked a ship of SHIELD science officers off the coast of Italy. We've got STRIKE, the Black Widow, and get this - Captain America."
Ari squealed and Miri smiled. Her friend was a rather notorious gossip, and the small amount of scuttlebutt Miri was ever aware of usually came from the fact that Ari seemed to have more details of the personal lives of SHIELD employees than they themselves.
"You know, I hear he and Romanoff are a thing. Maybe." Miri could hear Ari's smile through the phone.
"Well - whether or not they're a thing I want you for flight. Bernerd's not here, he'd obviously be my first choice -" She could hear Ari cackle on the other end of the line.
Miri smiled. "Departure at 1600, from Hangar 2 - you in?"
"You say that like I don't work here or have to say yes - but yes!" Ari whooped over the phone.
"You're awfully chipper for someone who's up so early. I'll send you the specs - fuel for Italy and back." Miri leaned back in her chair and scrolled through the intel folder on her computer. "We should get to see another sunset."
"You bet your sweet ass we'll get to see a sunset. I'll see you at 1600." The phone clicked as Ari hung up, not double itching to get out from behind her desk and back into the quinjets she loved so much.
Miri smiled and swiveled her chair, reaching over her desk to hang her phone back up. She had an op to plan.
Hi guys. I've been working on this story for a really long time, and I don't have any plans to abandon it. I really hope you like it because it means a lot to me, and it's been really fun to write. Please comment, it really makes my day. This is also my first long form fic so any constructive criticism is welcome :) Enjoy!