Brazil

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises, and this story is for entertainment purposes only.

Timeline: Sixth in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1977, near the start of the second season, probably shortly after the events of Hostage and the year-later bits of Gnaws and The Last of the Cybernauts...? It is strongly recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read the previous stories in the arc, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, and Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit.

Author's Note: Inspired by one throwaway exchange in Angels of Death, this is the piece I completed most recently. Meant to explain a few things that went on in the show's second season, it also sets up the rest of the arc in terms of the characters. All the other fics have been fairly plot-light, more or less character studies. I have fun doing character sketches. What can I say? But this one's got a bit more going on in the background, and it sets the tone for the next few stories, a bit darker than I've been posting thus far (nothing too terrible though). Also, this one's long. Really long. Really, really long. And I'm trying to edit it with what little spare time I have. So expect to see this one to be updated for months as opposed to weeks. I hope you enjoy it.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

They went in Purdey's car, the girl driving while Gambit kept a watchful eye in the rearview mirror, scanning the morning traffic for any cars that were adhering to the same route. But no one followed them more than a block or two, and none of the pedestrians showed any sign of talking into their coats or other suspicious behaviour. He said as much to Purdey, and she couldn't help but agree with him. For all her worries, the meeting seemed legitimate. Purdey wasn't certain if that made her feel better or worse. If there was no conspiracy, that meant that someone in the department had dragged her name, and her past with it, back into her life, and something told her nothing good would come from it. She almost wished someone would jump the pair of them once her TR7 was safely ensconced downstairs in the Ministry car park. At least she knew where she stood with the enemy. With your own people, it was always trickier.

Gambit's thoughts must have been whirring along in the same direction, if his heavy silence and gently working jaw were any indication. He checked in at the front desk distractedly, and it was only when they were in the lift gliding up to McKay's floor that he spoke again.

"You don't think it's some sort of official reprimand?" he ventured, voice laced with worry. "That's the only thing I can think of," he explained to Purdey's raised eyebrow. "Last name could be an official mode of address, way of letting you know you're in for a dressing-down. It'd explain circumventing Steed, too."

"There's only one problem," Purdey pointed out. "I haven't done anything wrong." She paused, and looked thoughtful, brow furrowed in thought. "Have I?" she added uncertainly.

Gambit smiled uneasily. "Not as far as I can tell, and I should know. I've been trying to corrupt you for ages."

Purdey smirked back. "Maybe you haven't been using the right incentive."

"Feel free to fill me in." Between their grins, there was a momentary easing of the tension, and they somehow managed to make their way down the corridor putting more thought into getting a leg up on their banter than on Purdey's imminent meeting. As a result, they found themselves outside McKay's office in relatively high spirits, a situation that didn't last when the door eased open before they had a chance to knock, and they were face-to-face with the man himself. That was the first sign of trouble. McKay wasn't the smiliest of sorts, but today there was an underlying grimness—a frustration—that twisted his face into a sour expression. Tommy McKay wasn't happy. That much was clear. Purdey and Gambit's arrival didn't seem to do much to improve matters.

"I thought Purdey was the only one we had contacted," he grumbled, although he didn't seem to address either agent, but the world at large.

"I was," Purdey confirmed. "But I thought there might have been a mistake. I am supposed to take all my assignments from Steed, and Gambit—"

"No mistake," came a voice from within the office, and McKay's features tightened. Purdey and Gambit watched in surprise as a second man appeared behind McKay. He slim, about 5'11", and dressed in an impeccably-cut suit. The hair was brown, but silver-streaked throughout, and the eyes glimmered with the same metal. He held a pair of reading glasses in one hand, casually balanced between thumb and forefinger. It was clear he didn't need them for distances—the thorough up and down inspection he was giving to both Purdey and Gambit made it abundantly clear that he could see them just fine. It was a calculating look, judging, appraising. Gambit felt like a piece of meat, and could only guess at how Purdey was taking it, barely managed to restrain himself from stepping between her and this interloper. From the looks of things, Purdey didn't like the newcomer anymore than Mike did—she was fixing him with that calm, cool stare that had been bestowed on many a baddie right before she acquainted him with the toe of her shoe. The man, to his credit, was unfazed. "I was the one who had Miss Bryde called in."

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name," Gambit snapped, the name setting him on edge, and the man had the nerve to smile.

"Not surprising, Mr. Gambit, seeing as I didn't give it. But I'm forgetting myself." He reached out a hand. "Grey. Julian Grey. MI12." Gambit didn't want to take it, but McKay was eyeing them both in a way that suggested there wasn't much choice in the matter. Mike obliged. The handshake was aggressive, a touch too hard for a friendly greeting. Gambit squeezed just enough to get his own back, but Purdey evidently did more judging by Grey's slight wince. Gambit fought back a smile. Purdey could get away with things any other agent would be reamed out for, and at times like these she was more of a marvel in his eyes than ever.

"I'm afraid we've never had the pleasure," Gambit said meaningfully, in a way that suggested that they hadn't had it now, either.

Grey was unfazed. "Naturally, you don't know me. Separate departments and all that. But I know you—both of you. I've read your files, but most people have an idea of who the great John Steed has allied himself with. Of course, it's a bit unusual of him to take on two partners, but then everyone slows down eventually." He smiled at what he obviously thought was an amusing quip. Purdey and Gambit's looks told him otherwise. "But then I'm only interested in one third of your little unit. Miss Bryde—"

"Purdey." The name left both Mike and the girl's lips simultaneously, and Grey smiled again. "Just Purdey," she added.

"Terribly sorry," Grey apologized without much sincerity. "Old files, you know. Although I'm sure you could have clarified without Mr. Gambit's invaluable assistance. Just as you will during our little meeting."

Purdey's eyes narrowed. "I thought McKay—"

"McKay will be present, of course," Grey assured. "But Mr. Gambit will have to wait outside. That is all right, isn't it? She is capable of making decisions without your input?"

Gambit's jaw was really working now. "That rather defeats the purpose of having a partner, doesn't it?" Purdey commented brightly.

"I suppose," Grey sniffed. "But in your case, Miss Bry—Purdey, I've a little solo excursion that needs doing, and McKay has assured me that you'll be happy to help. If you'll just step inside, I'll explain everything."

Purdey looked suspicious, but there wasn't much chance of being attacked in her own building, with McKay on guard. She glanced at Mike, who it was obvious was silently pleading for her to refuse. But Grey's words had stung a little, and she wanted to show him just who he had chosen to tangle with. She gave Gambit a cocky half-smile, and for all his worry he managed to return it before she faced the MI12 man.

"Get on with it, then," she told Grey. "I haven't got all day."

Grey merely nodded, and gestured for Purdey to follow McKay into the office. Then he turned to Gambit. "I wouldn't worry," he told Mike. "I'm sure that Purdey can make do without a chaperone."

Gambit replied by stalking over to the opposite wall and leaning back against it, arms crossed, with a darkly brooding expression that made it clear that anyone who tried to move him would end up a crumpled heap on the floor. Grey just smiled—an oily, self-satisfied, all-knowing smile—and closed the door behind him with a gentle click.

To Gambit, it was a gun shot.

Note: There really was a department known as MI12, although it no longer exists, and doesn't bear any resemblance to Grey's organization. Instead, I'm using a throwaway reference by Mother in Bizarre, who mentions the possibility of fobbing off a difficult case to MI12. Considering Brian Clemens referred to Steed and co.'s organization as "MI5 1/2," I'd say accuracy wasn't foremost on the writers' minds, so things are being set up in the context of the canon. Thanks for all the reviews thus far, and I hope you enjoyed the new chapter.