A/N: I told y'all it'd be up soon! So I decided that I am not writing in past tense anymore because present tense is SO much easier. So sorry for the sudden shift, but man this makes my writing feel much less stiff. I'll eventually go back and fix the previous chapters into present tense and probably fluff up a lot of stuff. But that's for later. For now, we're actually getting somewhere with the plot and figuring out who the Magnate is! And what the team is gonna do about it.

I hope y'all enjoy!

Chapter 7

"Leticia Avellar? Thought those goons said it was a he. And she doesn't look like she goes by any other pronouns. But I've been wrong about that before so..." Sandy studies the woman in the picture intently. She is beautiful, that's for damn sure. Dark, perfectly styled hair. Tall and slender. Big, beautiful eyes. Soft features. Also Brazilian. Is Sam's intelligence on nationality wrong, or—

"No, not her. I just think she's married to the guy. This one," Sam corrects, pointing to the man she's lovingly hanging off of.

Blonde hair, bright eyes, nice smile... "God, he looks like such a typical rich white boy…" she muses, unimpressed. "You know the one I'm talking about?" She looks back at Frank and Bucky expectantly, who are now also crowded around the computer.

If these two are behind the Magnate's operation, then it's literally disgustingly cute, how in love they actually look. But Sandy keeps that to herself.

"That's exactly what he is. And can you guys… Sandy?"

Sandy senses Sam's sudden discomfort and pats him on the shoulder. "Okay, got it." She yanks out something from her bag on the counter, plugs it into Sam's laptop, makes a fist, then jerks her arm towards the television screen. The screen lights up and mirrors what's on the laptop. "There, now we can give Sam his personal space back."

"Give us the rundown of what you found," Frank says, crossing his arms and watching the TV screen carefully. His brown eyes are incredibly attentive, and she can almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"All right," Sam sighs and stands, going full Leader on them again. Not for the first time, Sandy feels a strong sense of pride swell up in her chest. "So, this dude's name is Jonah Myers. Columbia graduate and basically the heir to a multi-million dollar corporation called Am-Can. His family owns the American side of the business. And, as Sandy pointed out already, he's a spoiled rich white dude. Smart, but pompous and has never wanted for a thing in his life. He's even married to Leticia Avellar, Brazilian supermodel who was recently named Miss Universe."

Sandy points at the screen, unnecessary as the action is. "Her. Which is most likely why the Magnate was so pissed off at me. And, you know, I can absolutely see why."

Sam continues before Sandy can get too off topic. "He used to be a typical party boy until he met her. Then, suddenly, the reports and tweets about his outings basically started dropping off, mostly in New York. Up until about a year ago, he was regularly being spotted out and about here in Rio. There's even some footage of him schmoozing it up with Barrett Gage, who's one of the guys we took out a few months ago." Sam pulls up the photo in question, where Myers is shaking hands and laughing with a burly-looking redhead. Sandy keeps her comment about how that one looks like a typical bad guy to herself. "And a bunch of other people with questionable backgrounds. But he hasn't been seen out too much lately. Even less so since all of us started messing with his operations. This all seems to fit with the vague shit we were told."

Sandy needed something clarified, so she had moved to her laptop to do additional research while Sam talked, only half listening now.

"He has legitimate business connections here and everywhere else we've found traces of his operation." Sam is pointing wildly at the screen. "This guy fits the description of someone in the Magnate's position. This can't be a coincidence."

"Except that it can be," Frank challenges. "We need evidence. Eyes on him. I'm all for getting rid of shitheads like him, but I'm not going to do it without solid info. That's the quickest way to get us into an even worse situation. Think I'd like to avoid that if at all possible."

Grumbling, Sam crosses his arms. "That's kinda hard considering the dude doesn't seem to go anywhere anymore. He's basically a recluse."

Oh. A picture grabs Sandy's attention. "Unless it's with his wife."

All eyes are now intently fixed on her.

"She's out almost every day, guys. She's always got a security team with her, but she's a socialite. She's like the top model, after all. Kinda goes with the job."

"I don't think he'll like us threatening his wife," Bucky muses, frowning. He obviously doesn't like where this is going.

Sandy scoffs, totally unconcerned. "I don't give a fuck what he likes or doesn't like. This prick wants us dead, so we're gonna kill him first. I don't care who we have to go through."

Sam leans over her shoulder. "You know, I don't think she's totally innocent in all this. I saw something earlier about someone in her family getting arrested?"

"Right, okay, give me a second." She and Sam work for a few minutes searching until they finally find what they were looking for. She vaguely registers Bucky and Frank's shushed conversation, but she's too busy to catch what it's about. Besides, she can bug one of them later about it. "Ah-ha," she practically sings triumphantly.

Sam nods and begins chewing on his fingernail. So that habit hasn't been broken. "So, her family's dirty. It's all been mostly covered up, but it's there if you know where to look."

"Bad girl with experience and a great cover meets bored rich boy looking for excitement. Classic evil couple love story."

"So…" Frank starts. "How do we get to her?"

Sandy chews on her tongue for a brief moment before she replies, "I don't know yet. I think we'll need to do some recon first before we can even start coming up with a plan. In the meantime, we've got other work to do."

Ugh, this place stinks.

Bucky wrinkles his nose and pulls his collar up in an attempt to cover up the smell. It doesn't work. This particular hideout is in a less than stellar part of Copa, and he's finding it hard pressed to see how anyone could work all day with that stench. Then again, it provides perfect cover. Nobody's going to actively wander into this area. Who wants to go anywhere near an abandoned sewage plant, anyway?

"I'm gonna have to wash my clothes and myself like 6 times after we're done. This is awful." Her nose is pinched between her index finger and thumb, so Sandy's voice comes out rather nasally.

At least they're all on the same page.

"I know. But we need to focus," Sam whispers with his hand over his mouth and nose. He's not doing much better. "You're going in first, so you're gonna have to suck it up, short stuff."

A groan betrays the wild grin now plastered on Sandy's face. "Ready whenever you are, Cap."

With a whispered authorization, Sandy slinks across the empty street. Then Sam, Bucky, and Frank, in that order. The way the building is laid out flush against the side of a rather large hill has made it difficult for them to spread out like they had last time. Instead, they opt to go in all at once behind Sandy. She'll be able to easily clear out enough people using her powers, and the others will work cleanup. Redwing had already taken out the two sentries on the roof, so they aren't spotted.

There are a few more guards now than there had been before Sandy's mess at the grocery store, but they'd accounted for that. They'd also gone over the plan multiple times. Sam had been insistent that Sandy stick to the plan, to which Frank had said something under his breath about best laid plans. It's what Bucky had been thinking, too, and he finds himself liking Frank more and more.

"I'll be faster and more efficient than I was with those idiots. I've got my tech and my uniform, so I'm good," she'd assured them.

And Bucky has to admit, the gear is impressive. Helpful, too. She has a typical S.H.I.E.L.D. all-black suit that's armed to the teeth; guns, knives, and even what looks like a few of the bombs Bucky used to carry around. Her sunglasses have rearranged to form a visor, and though it doesn't have the infrared that Sam has, it's highly useful for the current situation. The rest is pretty standard; she and Castle are equipped very similarly, though Castle seems to like the bigger guns more. Another thing Bucky can add to the list of ways he and Castle are alike.

The only confusing part about their getup is whatever shiny metal is coating the back and forearms of McIntosh's outfit. It's not vibranium, Bucky at least knows that. And it's also not the same as Stark's nanotech. The stuff Peter works with doesn't shine the same way.

"It's a secret," she'd replied cryptically when Sam asked what it was for. Which really wasn't a surprising answer from her.

Bucky and Sam have their usual tac gear on, though Bucky had actually forgotten to scrub out the blood stains on his blue vest from the last warehouse. And stupid Sam did and will continue to give him hell for it. Ugh.

Sam looks pristine, as usual. He takes good care of all his equipment, and Bucky sometimes catches him staring wistfully at the red star stitched across the chest of his uniform. It tends to draw Bucky in as well.

But this is no time for reflection. Or that rotten feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The two men at the door are easily taken care of; Sandy and Sam snap their necks at almost the same time, after which they enter the short hallway leading into the main foyer. They stop at the edges of the hallway, Sam and Sandy on one side, Frank and Bucky on the other. Shitty fluorescent bulbs dangle from the ceiling, offering limited light. This isn't a heavily guarded area, but there are still enough goons that they can't quietly rush through without being spotted. And taking out the lights is too obvious.

Sandy signs, "Got this," with a signature smirk and crouches down, waiting.

When Castle's gun is at the ready, Sandy takes that as her signal and places her hands on the ground. Bucky can faintly make out something glistening on the walls, winding like ivy on old abandoned buildings. A few beats of silence, then Sandy make a pushing motion, hands still splayed out on the floor. Water springs out from the walls in thin, sharp points. The guards are dead before they even have a chance to react, either from being impaled through the neck or being slammed against the wall with such force that even Bucky would probably have had a hard time not dying. The walls shake with the impact, but there's no trace left of what exactly had done the guards in, just their crumpled bodies, some with blood spilling out. Impressive and handy.

"Man, that's cool," Bucky breathes. She'd shown him a little bit of what she could do at the hotel, but seeing it in action is something else entirely.

"I know." Sandy is practically preening as she stands back up. "But they definitely heard that, so there's more on the way."

"You're both right. Got five coming from straight ahead, three from the right. Barnes, you're up," Sam commands.

Bucky nods and heads towards the door immediately in front of them. The other three will handle the ones coming from the side; one for each of them. Once the steps and murmurs are close enough, Bucky springs up from his crouching position at the doorway, jamming his left arm into the lead man's chest. The man flies backwards, acting as a bowling ball and knocking over the other four following him. Bucky can practically hear the sound effect as if this is a Disney movie. He makes quick work of the others with his gun. They've already been discovered, so there's no sense in trying to hide gunfire.

"Well, now it's gonna be a party," Frank muses, coming up beside Bucky to admire his work.

Bucky makes a face. "Parties are fun."

"Especially if you get to take out some bad guys!" Sandy chirps. "There's still some guys up ahead in a few rooms. Most of them are at the back."

"I think there's a truck…" Sam taps at his wrist band and adds a moment later, "Yeah, there's one at the back. I'll have Redwing take out the driver, but we need to move a little faster. Sandy?"

"Got it!"

They follow her lead, winding their way through several more corridors and taking out whoever pops up to stop them. Which isn't as much as they expected. It's easy enough that Sandy doesn't seem to be paying as much attention to what's directly in front of her now. As they're about to go through the main entrance to the loading docks, Bucky has to jump in front of Frank, metal arm extended, to block a shot aimed at his head. The man is close enough that Bucky can slam his right fist into the assailant's head and watch as his lifeless body falls to the floor.

"Thanks," Frank mutters as they start forward again. He doesn't seem too concerned about the goon's proximity, and Bucky guesses it's because he knows they're watching each other's backs.

Bucky simply grunts in recognition. It's eerie how easy it is to be in sync with him. Easier than with Sam, almost.

The sounds of boxes being loaded onto a truck are unmistakable. And when he listens hard enough, he can hear that the boxes are full of guns and ammo and… something else. They'll find out what it is soon enough that Bucky doesn't dwell on it. He nods at Sam and moves to stand beside him, taking the Captain America shield that's offered to him. Sam's wings extend, then fold to create a full body shield of his own. It'll serve as protection for he and Frank, who is directly behind him.

"Everyone better be ready, they're almost here," Sam warns.

Bucky spares a glance at Sandy behind him, and she's nodding. Several icicle-shaped blobs of water hover in the air around her, and her gun is loaded and at the ready. Frank's got his gun ready too, peering out from behind Sam just enough to get clean shots.

The doors swing open, and the unsuspecting first round of men are quickly taken care of. Clean shots by everyone, but they're close enough to get some blood spatter on Sam's wings and Bucky's uniform. Again.

I've definitely gotta wash these clothes when we get back.

The men who aren't dead at their feet notice the commotion and quickly scramble to get their own guns, dropping the boxes and allowing the contents to spill out everywhere. It doesn't take long before they're dead, too. A few bullets manage to ricochet off Bucky's arm, the shield, and Sam's wings, but that's as close as they get to taking damage.

"All gone," Sandy says gleefully, standing up straighter and holstering her gun.

It's seeing her proud head tilt that has Bucky reeling a bit. He hadn't quite been able to put a finger on who exactly she reminded him of until that moment: Dum Dum. That crazy bastard was always giddy after successful missions, particularly when they were as easy as this one had been. And suddenly, it's not Sandy in his line of sight, it's Dugan, and it's 1944.

"What's up, buttercup? You all right?"

Her question catches his attention again and causes the image to fizzle out, revealing Sandy with her hands on her hips and eyebrow cocked. Shame hits him as he realizes he's been staring, mouth agape. "Yeah, sorry. Just…" He shrugs and walks away, leaving her confused. She might take that the wrong way, which will be just great for him later. But he needs to focus on the mission at hand instead of getting stuck in memories again. Besides, the longer he stays in the past, the worse his headache will be.

He goes over to one of the boxes that had been dropped and finds, as expected, guns and ammo. It's similar enough to the batch that they scrounged up and destroyed from the first warehouse, so he loads them back up and lugs the crate over to the others. The only sounds in the room are the opening of boxes, a bit of humming from both Sam and Sandy, and the rustling through the crates. Bucky studies some strange looking bombs while loading them back into their box, which is off on the other side of the room. It looks like a more advanced version of the S.H.I.E.L.D. bombs he's used to. Shaped like a grenade, but there's no pin to pull. Just four little buttons that are barely discernible from the rest of the black, bumpy coating.

"This is new," is a mutter only he's meant to hear. However, the next words he speaks are meant for everyone.

Bucky almost doesn't notice the blinking red light on one of the bombs still on the floor in time. A warning of, "Get down!" almost doesn't leave his mouth in time. And he almost doesn't get the shield he's still carrying over it in time. He thanks his lucky stars that his arm is vibranium and that his reflexes are fast enough, because the sheer force of the covered blast is enough to send everyone reeling a few steps. He bites back a yelp as the receptors on his fingers register some damage.

"What the fuck happened?" Frank asks in a near roar.

Bucky's grinding his teeth too hard to answer right away, opting instead to stare at his left hand. The blast ends up doing more damage than he thought was possible for non-vibranium based weaponry—if that's what this is. It's not irreparable in any sense, but there are definite singe marks on the tips of his fingers. Even the inside of the shield has the same marks, and the straps are now complexly gone. Sam's not gonna like that.

"You all right?"

Speak of the devil.

Sam's face is a little too close, and it startles Bucky, who looks up sharply. He's met by very concerned brown eyes, which are quickly redirected to Bucky's hand. "Holy shit," comes out a gasp. "That bomb did that? How?"

"I don't know..." Bucky replies, confusion lacing his words. "I think we have an even bigger issue now."

Sandy appears suddenly and reaches out for his wrist, studying the burn marks. "You think it's vibranium? And if so, how'd they get their hands on it?"

There's now a frown etched on Bucky's face, and he finds it mirrored on Frank's as he approaches. "I don't know…" he repeats. "But this isn't good." Bucky all but growls. "Gonna have to make a call soon, looks like."

"We need to make sure the rest of this shit isn't gonna go off," Frank orders.

Sandy lets go of Bucky's wrist, and he's thankful he doesn't have to pull away himself. "Agreed. The guns are fine." She spins around to investigate the nearest box. "But we will need to do something about these bombs. I vote chucking them into the ocean, and I'll try and push them out as far and deep as I can. We're close enough to do that tonight. But I need to bring one back with us so I can study it. And see what I can do about your hand," she adds, glancing over her shoulder at Bucky.

There's a shared look of apprehension between Frank and Sam, but they say nothing. Everyone's still on the same page, and what needs to be done is obvious, so nobody's willing to argue. Instead, they all go back to the tasks at hand: gathering the equipment up to destroy it, data mining the computers, and wiping away all evidence that they'd been there.

"What the fuck happened to my shield? Barnes, dude, you are never touching this again, you heathen."

Here we go again.

"Relax, Sammy, my love," Sandy calls soothingly. "I can make you a magnetic device for your wrists in addition to building you some new straps. I'm sure he'll still look just as sexy, but there's no need to bash up Bucky's face."

Sam scoffs, "Sandy, girl, you have a weird taste in men."

She pouts at him. "I think you're sexy, Sam. Still wanna call my taste in men weird?"

"I don't count. I'm everyone's type."

Bucky snorts, and he hears Frank's amused grunt as well.

"Shut the fuck up, Barnes."

"I didn't say anything!"