Notes: Apologies for the lack of updates. Real life is kicking me in the ass pretty hard lately. As such, future chapters won't be beta'd because I've got such spotty internet access right now. It's probably better to post them and be done with it. :c So, let me know if you see mistakes so I can fix them, please!
Chapter 10: Revelations
Locating and intercepting the box truck carrying the suspicious cargo had been child's play for Natasha and Clint. It was an unmarked truck with a civilian registration. ...A registration that turned out to be fake upon closer inspection. Still, the Tea Party had been covering their tracks well. Natasha was willing to bet it would check out if they searched it on the database. The Mafia was backing the insurrection, after all, and they were nothing if not thorough. The two men in the truck had been carrying expertly crafted fake IDs as well. They'd left them alive. Hollie once said that the mafia didn't kill a target unless they had to because dead men still talk. That was true. If the bodies were discovered, the terrorists would know they'd finally been compromised.
As of the moment, the two men were tied up and gagged in the back of the truck. ...And hidden behind the larger part of the cargo. The intelligence they'd previously gathered suggested that the supplies could be used to make cheap bombs, but what Natasha and Clint found had them worried. They were basically carting a dissembled nuke to a remote location in New Mexico, under the assumed identities of the men they had tied up in the back.
"I don't like this. It's too risky." Clint said, as he dug through the glove compartment from where he sat in the passenger seat. Natasha grunted noncommittally as she drove, glancing in the rear view mirror occasionally. She'd noticed the same black S-Class Mercedes with New York license plates behind them for some time. Occasionally the sleek luxury car switched lanes on the highway, but it seemed to be keeping up with them well.
"We're being followed." Natasha said flatly. "I think the risk would be greater if we strayed from the route we're taking. We can't afford for them to get suspicious."
"Damn it." Clint hissed, looking in the mirror at the Mercedes. "How long have they been tailing us?" He asked, as he took his Stark tablet out from under the seat and ran the car's plate numbers.
"I noticed when we left Tennessee. Could have been longer, though. I'm going to assume it's some kind of escort. If this bomb is what Stark thinks it is from the pictures you took, they're not going to take any chances." Natasha replied.
"True. Anyway, the car belongs to a guy named Lucio DePaola. But, it could be a fake identity and registration, too." Clint explained, scrolling through the department of motor vehicles database.
"Who is he?" Natasha asked while Clint was obviously running a background check.
"Just a normal, tax-paying, law-abiding US citizen who moved here from Sicily two years ago. He owns a contractor's business and recently got his master plumber certification." The archer replied, rolling his eyes.
"Mafia." Natasha commented.
"Obviously." Clint replied and stowed the tablet back under the seat. "The question is whether they're an escort, or waiting for us to stop so they can snuff us."
"We're just going to assume the worst and keep going. No stops, unless we're switching drivers. That was the orders these goons had, anyway. Did you forward the location of the destination to Stark?" Natasha said, glancing back at the car that was now riding in a blind-spot. She could still see a bit of it's front quarter panel in the mirror.
"Yeah. He's working on getting some intel on the area now for us."
Slowly, and very carefully, Hollie took a few steps in the direction of her bedroom's door. Worst case scenario, she'd fall and have to crawl into the penthouse lounge. Either way, she was bored out of her mind and sick and tired of watching CSI reruns.
"I can do this. I have to do this." She said to herself as shuffled forward slowly. It was easy for her to walk now if she had someone to hang onto, but by herself she was having a very difficult time balancing. If only she had a cane or something to lean on... Her toes snagged on the plush carpeting and she fell with a thud.
"Figlio di puttana. (Son of a bitch.)" Hollie muttered, her cheek pressed against the carpet. In annoyance, she shoved herself into a sitting position. "five feet to the door. About twelve feet to the elevator. Sixteen stairs down to Stark's workshop. I can do this." It took a few tries, but she managed to raise herself back onto her feet. The thought of the stairs intimidated Hollie a bit, but she was pretty sure she'd be fine as long as she held onto the railing.
"Miss Steele, I might advise you to return your bed, or seek assistance. You are likely to injure yourself if you continue this course of action." Jarvis quipped. Hollie scowled and took another shaky step forward. She completely ignored Jarvis and leaned on the door frame panting from the effort it took her to walk a six measly feet. She took a deep breath and stared at the elevator doors in determination. She knew better than anyone that some obstacles had to be traversed – they wouldn't just go away if she was patient enough. This was one of them. She wasn't going to learn to walk again by laying in bed watching TV. What was it that Stark said? Sometime you have to run before you can walk? He was right about that much.
"Open the elevator, Jarvis." Hollie snapped, and started making her way forward. It was easier to walk on the tile floor, as her slippers didn't catch on it as easily. A few times, she nearly fell but managed to regain her balance. With each step, it became a little easier. After what seemed like an age, Hollie made it to the elevator. Deciding to rest for a moment, she laid her hand near the control panel – and jerked it back with a squeak when a sharp electrical shock tore through her.
That had been happening a lot if she touched anything electronic. Her clothes and hair had also been a mess of static charge lately. She and Bruce both assumed it had to with the the fact that there was basically a live electrical current running through her body at all times. Absently, she shook the numbness out of her hand and shuffled into the elevator.
"Take me to Stark's workshop." She told Jarvis.
"You are not authorized to access that area." Jarvis informed her. Hollie rolled her eyes.
"Access code 71193. Password: Pepper Potts. Take me to the Workshop." She snapped.
"Right away, Ma'am." Jarvis retorted and she held on tightly to the railing in the side of the elevator carriage. A few seconds later, the bell rang and the doors opened at the top of the staircase leading down in the underground workshop. Cautiously, she grabbed the rail and looked down the semi-dark staircase. Maybe this wasn't the best idea... Hesitantly, she lowered her left foot onto the first step. With some effort, the right foot followed.
"One step at a time. Devo fare questo. (I have to do this.)" She muttered as she sluggishly descended the stairs. At the last step, she lost her footing and fell hard against the thick glass wall at the bottom. She righted herself and looked into the shop. It was in a state of chaos by the look of it, and at the center was Stark seated in a leather chair near a massive computer set-up that was probably Jarvis' control center. He was leaned over the desk with his head in hands and an open bottle of vodka next to him. Hollie rolled her eyes.
She made her way to the keypad by the door and punched in the same numeric code she'd given Jarvis. It opened effortlessly, and muted Tony's obnoxious music at the same time. Blearily he looked up, obviously expecting Pepper as it was her pass code that Hollie had used. His face fell when he saw her and he laid his head on the desk.
"Shecurity breash." He slurred to Jarvis. Jarvis ignored him. "Not shuposed to be in hur." Hollie ignored him, and grabbed a nearby piece of copper pipe to use a cane to lean on. She hobbled over to Tony and looked up at the screen in front of him. An undercover bomb shipment, and co-ordinates to remote location in the middle of the desert in Nevada were displayed.
"Is this about the Tea Party?" She asked. Tony didn't reply. Hollie sighed and grabbed his phone that was showing a new text from Clint.
Do you have anything for us yet? Was what it said. Hollie dialed the number and pressed it to her ear, despite Tony's incomprehensible drunken protests.
"What the hell is taking so long? Did you find anything out?" Clint blurted, the second he picked up the phone.
"Mind filling me in, Agent Barton? Stark has been drinking like a fish and I doubt he remembers his own name at the moment." Hollie replied tartly. Clint swore animatedly for a good two minutes straight before giving Hollie all the details. She spent a few moments looking up Lucio DePaola first, considering him to the most immediate threat. When she brought up an exploded view of his driver's license, she dropped the phone as her hands had suddenly started shaking.
"Dante. That is Dante Carnivale." She managed to choke into the receiver when she picked the phone back up. "Well, it is him in the license photo at least. As for the location... The satellite images show an old warehouse. It it likely heavily guarded. Perhaps it leads into an underground compound? They would need expansive facilities to develop and house a nuclear weapon of this scale."
"That was what we were thinking. Well, we're going to try and pull off an infiltration. There's nothing else we can do now, really. We're sort of trapped." Clint told her, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.
"If you get the chance to kill Dante, do not hesitate. I'd rather do it myself, but as long as he dies, I won't be too picky. Prestare attenzione. (Be careful.) It may not be him driving the car." Hollie told them and hung up. She glanced down at Stark who seemed to have finally just passed out. "I suppose I can't just leave you here like this..."