A/N: Yay! A chapter chock full of action! It's a little shorter this time, but I figured this was a good stopping point.
Chapter 5: Supply Run
Sandy hates the fact that Sam is so very upset at her. She's used to Frank being that way, but they've been running around together for almost two years. She gets why they're worried, she does, but if anything, it might make things a little easier. If the baddies figure out she's there, but not the guys, then maybe she can be bait, or they'll under prepare. It'd leave her team with all the advantages.
Speaking of that… She pauses in scrubbing her legs, letting the soap gently slide off. They need a team name. Like the Avengers, but better. Sandy chews her lip in thought and goes back to her bath. She'll look into that later.
Over the next two days, everyone listened closely on the street and over the police scanner she and Frank brought for any sign that they might have been found out. They heard nothing about the incident at all. The bomb went off, she'd clearly heard it, but the news just reported on a minor power outage due to a blown transformer. The Magnate must be good at buying people's silence, they surmise. Not surprising, really. When they finally decided they were still safe, Sandy turned her attention to data mining the files she'd pulled from the warehouse. It wasn't much, which Sandy knew it wouldn't be. Start out small and see what strings they can pull on without drawing too much public attention and giving away exactly what they were looking for. That's always been the plan. Her audible didn't mess that up as far as she's concerned.
However, according to Sam, Sandy had ruined any anonymity. But Sam's going to be wrong every now and then; he's only human after all.
Bucky seems less concerned by her message. Sandy guesses that's because he isn't as tech savvy as her and trusts her to be safe in what she does. It's one reason she's starting to like Bucky more and more. Especially when he spends one afternoon asking about the science behind her powers while Sam and Frank are out scouting another Magnate facility. Sandy isn't exactly a biologist, but she explains it as in-depth as she can (aka what she heard from Jemma and Bobbi, actual biologists). He looks fascinated throughout the conversation, and it warms Sandy's nerdy little heart to have an actual conversation with another nerd.
Frank and Sam return eventually to find Sandy demonstrating the force it takes her to perform various moves with her powers and using Bucky as a veritable punching bag for the more harmless maneuvers. Frank rolls his eyes. He's watched her practice—and been her test subject—first hand too many times. Sam, however, eventually sits down to watch, too. Poking fun at Bucky seems to be one of his favorite things to do nowadays. It's cute.
She notices that Frank and Sam seem more comfortable around each other as the days go on. Their team is really meshing together well. But Sandy hasn't come up with any good team names yet. She knows the bad ones that'll get a negative reaction from the others. She fully plans on telling them, too, before she reveals her finalized name. Whenever she figures it out.
Years later, and it's still hard to stop being a performer, even if her audience is just three people with questionable senses of humor.
Eventually, they all agree that they need to restock on some supplies before hitting the next warehouse. Sandy feels confident in their disguises, but they still need to stay split up for the time being. They'll cover more ground and get done quicker that way. The guns and ammo stock is fine. Food, toiletries, and clothes, however, are a different story.
Sandy's a little disappointed each of the men have basically ruined the shirts Sam's contact gave them. Bucky hadn't been involved in that directly, but he didn't exactly complain too much when Sandy brought it up that morning. But unfortunately, she isn't in charge of the clothes, so she'll have to wait to buy replacements and force them to wear it. Torturing them is too much fun, plus she really likes having eye candy around.
So, she volunteered for the food, since she's less likely to be noticed in a grocery store. She'd gotten some funny looks from the others, until she explained that any one of the three men would probably elicit too many stares. Plus, she wants some mangoes and doesn't trust anyone to pick out the exact ones she likes.
They haven't said anything directly to each other over the comms since separating, and that's a good sign. The grocery store, which Sandy had spotted during one of their nightly recons, is the farthest away from their safehouse. This doesn't bother her. She knows she'll be the last one back, so she takes her time getting there. The sun is warm and the ocean breeze, although fainter in this part of the city, is cool, crisp, and downright wonderful.
In hindsight, maybe she should have worked a little faster.
It isn't long after entering the grocery store and grabbing herself a drink from the cafe at the front entrance before someone catches her eye. Well, multiple someones. She slightly regrets sending that message a little more now.
Well, at least she'll get to have a little fun and stretch her muscles again.
"I wondered when company would come," she says, so low that she can only be heard over the comms.
"How many?" comes Sam's voice first.
"Only two right now. If they're smart, there's more hiding in the back or around the corners I can't see. At least not without my tech." She'd been dumb enough to leave her glasses at the safehouse, opting for the pair of normal ones instead. Well, she won't be making that mistake again.
Bucky's second. "Think you can handle it?"
"I'll be fine. Maybe I can make it out of this unnoticed." She'll figure out how they found her and if the safehouse is compromised later.
As if right on cue, she suddenly comes face to face with a third lackey. Guess not, she amends. Man, I really miss my glasses.
Even though she hates wasting it, she "accidentally" spills her drink on the man. "Oh, my god! I'm so sorry, sir. Must not have been paying attention to where I was going, silly me. I'm sorry about that!" she apologizes profusely in deliberately broken Portuguese, feigning to be some random, clumsy tourist.
She can see that the lackey is not fooled. Unhappy about suddenly being soaked, but not fooled. She resists making a face once she gets a good look at him. All three guys look like typical bad guy muscle. You'd think they'd change up their look every now and then. She is impressed, though, that they're actually dressed so casually instead of the all-black look the men at the first warehouse (and the second one they've been scouting) had been in.
The first guy she'd spotted, standing behind her now, grabs her left bicep roughly. Sandy's head turns to look sharply at him and sees surprise flash in his eyes. No doubt at the sheer size and bulk of her arm that's hidden under her light jacket. She flexes her arm and keeps her gaze calm, enjoying how annoyed he now looks. Most likely, he'd been expecting some petite woman he could most likely easily overpower, even if she had a gun. Which Sandy does, well hidden at her back.
Tough luck, her eyes tease.
The man regains his composure and conjures up his best intimidating face. "You're coming with us," he threatens in English.
Sandy figures the clumsy tourist act is over with. Good. This way's more fun anyway. "Oh? So the Magnate doesn't want to kill me anymore? Why the sudden change of heart?"
"He decided he'd like to meet the self-proclaimed Most Beautiful Woman in The World," the second lackey sneers from over the first man's shoulder. "He takes great offense to that."
Ah, so it is a he. "I mean, he can call himself the most beautiful woman, too. It's 2024, isn't it?" Sandy suspects that might not actually be why he's mad about the comment, but she'll look for clues down that avenue, too. The first man's grip tightens and she narrows her eyes slightly. "Well, would you please let him know that I politely decline. I'd rather just break into his place and kill him, thanks."
She hears the alarm in Sam's voice. "She's surrounded. We need to get her out of there right now, come on."
"Wait." Frank's voice crackles over next, calm and alert.
"This isn't a negotiation. You have nowhere to go," the man holding Sandy's arm asserts. He certainly is confident.
Sandy scrunches her face at him. "Well, you have no guns, so I really don't see how you're gonna get very far trying to stop me," she said simply, both for her backup's benefit and so these idiots know that she knows. She may not have her gadgets, but she can tell if someone's armed or now. That's a big mistake on their part. Though understandable, not wanting to raise alarm in a heavily tourist-populated area, it's still stupid.
"She'll be fine," Frank assures the other two. "Don't make too much of a distraction trying to get to her. I think they only know that she's here, not us." Oh, my dear Frank. You know me so well.
It'll take them a few minutes at least to get from their various locations to the store she's in. She'll just have to kick some ass by herself in the meantime. No powers, though. The Magnate might know who she is, but she doesn't need everyone else filing reports of a water bender fighting a big group of baddies. Then they'd have S.H.I.E.L.D. and probably the rest of the Avengers breathing down their necks. None of whom would approve of exactly how they're taking care of things.
Well, at least she's wearing pants and not a skirt.
"Oh?" The third lackey laughs. "Despite the fact you took out all our men, you're an idiot, showing up here alone."
"We'll see who the real dumbasses are five minutes from now."
"It sure as hell won't be us." The man's grip tightens on her arm again as he tries to pull her closer in a threat. "We ain't leaving without you, girl."
Sandy looks at the other two men, a feral grin now plastered on her face. "Oh, I do love that song!" She doesn't wait for a response before throwing her right fist into Lackey #1's throat, feeling the satisfying crunch of his larynx cracking. The man stumbles backwards into Lackey #2 with his hands to his throat, gasping for air that won't come. Sandy registers the shouts of surprise from bystanders as she whirls to gut punch Lackey #3, the one closest to her, with her newly freed arm. He goes down to one knee as the air leaves his lungs briefly. It's not enough to take him out of the fight completely, but it's sufficient to stun him so she can focus on #2.
He manages to push #1 off of him, but he doesn't get very far in his attempt to attack Sandy. She aims a quick right kick at her target's knee, dislocating it. The man yelps in pain as he, too, falls to his knees. Pivoting on her foot that has just landed, she throws a powerful reverse roundhouse kick with her left leg to his face. He collapses on the floor, unconscious. She'd have liked to kill him, but there's no time for that, nor does she need the police there any faster than they'll likely already be. It needs to look like she was simply defending herself from a group of handsy men.
She turns back to #3 in time to see him standing up straight. He's too far away and a little too alert for a high knee strike, so she settles for going low. She ducks a wobbly right hook from him and goes for his crotch. He squeaks in a very undignified manner and crumples.
"Man you guys should really learn to wear cups," she teases as he writhes on the floor. She admires her work for a few short moments. It took less than twenty seconds to take them out. That might be a new record. "Who's the idiot now?" When the lackey looks up at her, eyes ablaze, she responds with a heel strike to the side of his face. He goes limp.
"Sandy, there's more!"
Sam's warning comes at the same time she hears the distinct sound of several men in combat boots coming towards her. She doesn't have the benefit of the security cameras that Sam has apparently hacked into—which she will need to wipe as soon as possible—but when she finally sees them popping up out of aisles and through the front entrances, she knows she'll be okay. Only seven of them. Still no guns, or they would already have them aimed and ready.
"Looks like they were actually smart! Sorta. This'll be fun." She takes a split second to pull the hair tie off her wrist and throw her hair up sloppily as the new arrivals take in the scene. She hates having her hair in her face in a full-on fight. Way too dangerous.
"Hey, boys," she purrs, throwing her chin up at them.
They may act tough and powerful, but Sandy knows it's finished before it's even begun. Oh, good. I guess I'll have "Suicide Blonde" stuck in my head the rest of the day. She pushes the thought aside as they rush her. They're disorganized, sloppy. Probably because they're mad. And intimidated, Sandy hopes. They'd also likely not expected to have to do anything other than stand watch.
Wishful thinking, really. At least her boys will have an easy time getting inside whenever they arrive. If she isn't done and gone by then.
She blocks a sloppy punch with her left forearm from the first guy before aiming a solid punch at his crotch with her right. She swings the arm she used to block the punch in a wide arc behind her, twisting her body as well. Her fist lands on the side of another man's face. Not the most clean hit, but it does its job. He staggers backwards a few steps, and she turns her attention back to her first attacker. A quick, hard right elbow to his face sends him down for the moment.
Her center of gravity is low to the ground, so the second attacker is too surprised to react fast enough when she shoots a palm up to his chin. There's an audible crack; she's likely broken some teeth, maybe even cracked his jaw. She grins, grabs his shoulder, and jumps, swinging herself in the air behind him. Her free hand grabs onto his other shoulder to steady and aim herself. She lands with both feet on the backs of his knees, causing them to buckle and hit the floor with a loud thud. Then she slams his head into the floor with one arm. One down for the count.
Sandy catches the baton that's aimed at her head from a third man. Using the man's momentum, she redirects it to her first attacker, who has started to stand. Two down.
A flash of light and the unmistakable sound of electricity crackling in the air captures her attention immediately. A fourth lackey has pulled out another baton, this one laced with an electric current. She loves those things, but maybe not when she's not the one wielding it. She wretches the third man's baton out of his grip with a sharp twist of his wrist and tosses it from one hand into the other quickly before sidearming it into the man with the taser baton. It hits him in the chest. Not hard enough to do any significant damage, but that wasn't her goal. Just to momentarily stun.
An idea suddenly comes to her. It's been a while since she's tried that particular move, but the second man will most definitely be close enough that she can pull it off.
She grabs the third man's injured wrist and twists it harder. A howl of pain is cut off when she pulls the wrist down and uses the momentum to swing her right leg up and wrap it around his neck, heel digging into his throat. Using the same leg, she pulls herself up into the air and lets go of the man's now broken wrist. Keeping her leg's grip tight around his neck, she leans forward towards the taser baton lackey and grabs him by his surprisingly white hair. It looks really bad on this guy. She adds it to her mental list of Faces I'll Always Remember for One Reason or Another.
The shock in White Hair's eyes is more than enough to elicit another wicked grin. She uses her momentum to fling the men in opposite directions. The fourth man is flung into the nearby flimsy dining tables, where he now lay motionless. White hair ends up face down a few feet away. She may have thrown him into the ground a little too roughly, but whatever. It's cathartic.
Four down.
Unfortunately, Sandy lands on her stomach very unceremoniously. Judging by the way her whole front feels, it maybe wasn't the best move to use. There's no more landing mats for her. Old habits die hard, despite the fact that she finished field training at S.H.I.E.L.D. several years ago. This is nothing some Tylenol won't fix, though.
She grunts and rolls over when she registers how close these new footsteps are. She locks eyes with the fifth lackey standing over her and winks before pressing both legs together and kicking up. Her boots collide with his chin hard. As he falls back, she jerks her legs back down and uses the rocking motion to get back onto her feet. A sixth man growls darkly from the other side of a table.
"What's the matter, darling?"
He does not take kindly to being patronized, but he barely has any time to react as Sandy flings herself over the table, feet first. She slams into his chest and knocks him back into a counter full of plastic desserts. The fifth man that she's pretty sure now has a broken jaw seems to regain most of his senses and moves towards her. They are a determined bunch, she'll give them that. She quickly slides back under the table and sweeps her leg, knocking him flat on his ass. A quick, hard knee to the face and he's out cold. Five down.
Standing back up, she whirls to face the sixth lackey as he recovers, looking even angrier now. She sticks her tongue out playfully, but is quickly taken aback when a new fist collides with her side. Simultaneously, her feet are taken out from under her by the leg that belongs to whoever punched her. Instinctively, she manages to soften her landing by turning it into a half roll with her arms tucked into her sides. When she rolls onto her back, she finally sees the seventh man looming over her. Got a bit too carried away, McIntosh.
"Gotta admit, you were more impressive than I thought you'd be," he muses.
"Everyone says that about me. Thank you," she breathes playfully, hiding the fact that she's starting to get a little bit mad. The punch managed to stun her, but she's nowhere near out of the fight yet.
She kicks out his knee with her left leg while her right lands squarely in his crotch half a moment later. She packs a little bit extra into the crotch shot as revenge for momentarily getting the upper hand on her. The seventh man's knee is now broken and his crotch likely has irreparable damage, much to her satisfaction. He's effectively out of the fight, but Sandy will make absolutely sure that he's unconscious before she leaves. Let him suffer a little bit longer, crying on the floor and paying for making the mistake of pissing her off.
Before she does that, though, she has to get rid of the last remaining fully functional idiot, #6. He's closed the distance between them relatively quickly, using her momentary distraction to weave through the tables. So she's forced to roll out of the way of a kick aimed at her head. Sandy stands up in a fluid motion to face the man as he straightens back to his full height.
She can't go for a low shot because they're too far apart again, and he'll see that coming. So, fuck the self-imposed no powers rule. The place had emptied anyway. Besides, all she needs is a minor distraction.
As he begins to struggle for air, she blows a patronizing kiss at him. Sandy momentarily fills his lungs with water once she's been able to find them, and when she feels that he's distracted enough, she lunges at him. Her knee plows solidly into his chest. She dissolves the water from his lungs as his back smashes into the ground, making sure to knock him out with a firm punch. Six down.
"You know," she says, turning to Lackey #7, who's still squirming on the floor clutching his privates, "you really shouldn't underestimate women. Next time, bring guns. The odds might not be as bad for you."
Before he can reply, she drives the toe of her boot into his face and he stills, blood splattering out from his broken nose. She frowns when she realizes that she'll have to wipe that off before she leaves.
"And my work here is done. Do wish I could have gotten those mangoes, though," she mumbles as she surveys the scene around her.
"Blondie?"
She turns as Frank rushes in through the entrance closest to her. He doesn't look or sound too worried, though. In fact, he makes his thoroughly impressed face when he sees all the bodies.
"Nice job. Come on, let's go," he says, nodding towards the street.
A thought occurrs to her, and she files away another stupid team name.