Chapter 40: We're Not Waiting


July 22

Capitol After-Party


The parties in the days after the Games were always long and went well into the night, though of course, America was usually one of the first to leave. She wasn't required to stay for anything beyond the public parties — not yet. That would come during the victory tour, though she didn't know that yet.

She was in high demand all the same, as everyone wanted to dance with her. And to her credit, when the dance partners were good, she honestly did like to dance. In fact, her favorite partner so far was Jessica Drew, who could be coaxed into letting loose easily enough.

Of course, that was with fast, upbeat songs. Anything slow, and America just wasn't interested unless it was someone gorgeous and someone she didn't suspect of being too deeply entrenched in the Capitol or the Games. Which meant she didn't want to slow dance with anyone, really.

But America's new favorite dancing partner had already explained how it was going to go: "You play along, you dance, and you smile, so when you get home, your friends and family are safe and whole and unharassed."

America didn't know why anyone cared who she danced with or if she smiled, but the threat hung heavily enough over her head. These were the same people who tortured Billy to death, who had let Creed threaten Kate in last year's Games — no matter what the angle was on the 'official' story, America knew a threat when she saw one. She wouldn't put it past them to follow through and just finish off the rest of her team. Not like there were many people left in Twelve who would care. Billy's foster parents, maybe. They liked Teddy, treated him like a son. But that was about it.

Still, she tried to sit out most of the slow dances where she could — by the simple act of dancing hard enough during the faster ones that she could be entirely honest when she said she needed a breather.

And it wasn't lost on her that her fellow victors tried to find a way to join her whenever she was open. There were a couple sweethearts, like Sam and Rhodey, who seemed to genuinely want to know she was okay. Sam in particular had privately thanked her for trying to protect Miles, though America wasn't sure what to do with that.

Then there were people like Sarkissian, who had approached America during the first night's party, gave her a clear up and down, and complimented her dress. Or Stane, who had gotten through all of maybe half a sentence worth of introduction before America had decided she was done with that creep and cut out with not even a pretended apology.

In fact, America was sure that the only victor she hadn't seen was Peter Quill, which was a shame, since she'd liked him when he came to the rooftop before the Games. But she understood why he'd been MIA for the most part.

He did, finally, make an appearance during that night's party, though. He arrived on the arm of the princess he'd married, as expected, though the change in the bright and joking young man she'd met on the rooftop was almost depressingly stark.

He was dressed to match Gamora's usual black sheen, the sharp black tuxedo perfectly fitted and absolutely not his style. He wasn't even pretending to smile, either, sticking by Gamora and more or less going through the motions of the party, though when Gamora left to talk business with some people, the other victors could see the visibly relaxed shoulders as he glanced around, grabbed a drink, and made his way over to the table of victors that included Jess and the usual crowd.

The gathered victors all watched him as he took a seat, though no one really wanted to address the elephant in the room, and it was unnaturally quiet as they all poured drinks for those that didn't have one. But when it was clear that the usual suspects were in protect and cushion mode while dealing with Quill, Logan couldn't take it anymore.

"So how is the palace treating you, Mr. Gamora?" Logan asked with a perfectly straight face just before he tipped his glass of whiskey back.

Quill's head popped up, and he looked over at Logan like he could hardly believe what he'd heard before he simply started to shake his head, still with that same expression. "Oh. Just great."

"You pick up whatever kind of virus it is that turns you green yet, or does that take a little longer to set in?"

The other victors at the table were giving Logan disbelieving stares, though not one of them asked him to shut up when Quill clearly wasn't going to. In fact, Quill was smirking.

"No, lucky me that's genetic," he said.

"I'd still be concerned it might rub off," Logan said evenly.

"Yes, Logan. That, of all things, is my number one concern right now. The green," he said, though the smirk was still widening.

"Might do you good," America chimed in, grinning over at Logan. "I thought everyone looked good in basic black, but... " She waved her hand at Quill. "You need more color."

With that, Logan turned her way and poured her a drink. "Least it's not blue, right?" he said.

"Not blue I gotta worry about," Quill said, watching Logan and America for a moment before he shook his head. "What about you — you found any good protection from blue?"

"Yeah, be an insufferable, unmoveable ass. Seemed to work pretty good last time," Logan said.

Quill smirked and took a long drink. "Yeah, seemed to," he had to agree.

"So how long have you got before you shock collar tells you that you gotta head back?" Logan asked before he poured Quill another drink.

"I'm sure you'll know before me. Not like she's hard to spot when she comes by," Quill pointed out. "But it's still early days — you know the royals don't stay for the full party until the last night."

"Yeah, when your favorite new relative comes out. Got the memo last year," Logan replied with a little smirk.

Quill almost had a grin on at that as he leaned forward. "You know, comparatively, of the in-laws… that's accurate."

Logan mirrored him with a smirk. "Only because he doesn't want a damn thing to do with you and he probably hasn't said more than two words to you at once."

"That's why he's my favorite. I ask so little," Quill replied.

Logan lifted his glass Quill's way as he leaned back in his chair. "Then I wish you the best in getting all four of them to drop dead."

"Preferably all at the same time," America chimed in, clearly enjoying the show as Jess gave Logan a look as if to blame him for already corrupting the new victor to his way of dealing with things. "What?" America shrugged when she caught the look. "No use wishing for it if it's not a useful wish."

"That's the most useful thing you can wish for?" Rhodey asked.

"He started it — I'm just helping him specify," America said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at Logan. "Now, me, I'd wish for someone with long legs and no ties to the Capitol right about now, but that's not real useful to anyone but me."

"I'm good without all that noise," Logan said with a little smirk her way.

"Wasn't wishing for you anyway," she laughed.

"I just meant I've got my whiskey. That's all I'm after right now. The long legs are trouble."

"We'll find you someone shorter so you don't have to reach to kiss them," she promised. "You know. Later on, after the whiskey."

"Nah, I'll just get a box if she's that tall."

America broke into a huge grin at that. "I'd pay to see that. You carrying around a box… just drop it in front of a pretty girl and climb on up… She's wearing heels of course…"

"I ain't carrying it around, Jeez. Come on," Logan said with a little laugh.

"It's not as funny if you don't carry it around."

"Yeah, not worried about entertaining anyone," Logan said. "That ain't my thing."

"No, but the mental image is nice anyway," America said with a smirk. "Don't waste a good show like that on these idiots."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever decide to put on a show," Logan promised. He checked the clock on the wall and shook his head. "When can we leave?"

"Tired already?" America teased him. "You need a save, we can always say our stylists needed dummies to wear the clothes on their 'line.' People will get suspicious if there's no clothes after a while, you know."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I don't know that I wanna wear the crap they're putting in their line."

"Too much glitter," America agreed, though she was half-serious as she plucked at the spangled dress she was wearing.

"You get glitter; I get yellow," Logan pointed out.

"And together, it would be yellow glitter?" America shook her head. "You know, suddenly staying here sounds good. Who can I harass that would get their panties in a wad if I asked them to dance?"

"I'm good with yellow," he said with a shrug as he looked around the room. "But if you want to irritate someone … and you like long legs, Groot isn't busy."

"That actually sounds like fun," America smirked his way as she pushed back from the table. "Not my type, but hey. I've never seen him get riled. I'll play."

"Just don't expect him to say much," Quill advised. "Not much of a conversationalist."

"It's just dancing," America said. "Find the right song, and you don't need a conversation." She grinned horribly his way. "You're not my type either, but if you need help figuring it out, I'll give you a lesson or two."

"I may take you up on that," he replied with a little smile.

"Next dance," America promised, leveling her finger at Quill before she all but strutted off to go find Groot and force him onto the dance floor with her, like it or not.

The group of victors watched her go for a moment, glad that she at least was taking the parties in stride so far, before Quill cleared his throat and looked a little more serious. "So, ah." He paused and looked around the group. "Yeah, pretty much everyone here — don't go anywhere. The Mrs. wants a word," he said. "With all of you."

The group as a whole shared a few confused glances between themselves. "All at once?" Sam asked. "Why?"

"After-party plans," Quill admitted, looking more and more like he had when he'd first come in as he thought about it. "Some rich guy throwing a large, private party… that's all I've got for you. I'd tell you more if I knew it."

"That doesn't sound very good at all," Jessica said quietly.

"Way she was preening? It won't be," Quill said, and he looked honestly apologetic and uncomfortable to be the one to bring it to them.

"Hey," Logan said, trying to get Quill to lighten up. "Lil' bit better than delivering a message for your brother-in-law."

"Yeah, that's one family bonding ritual I'm going to put off as long as possible," Quill agreed fervently.

They didn't have long to wait, either. Gamora found her way to them soon enough, with Bobbi trailing behind her looking a little off-set by the fact that there was a gathered group. Gamora took a second to do what looked like a quick head count and then nodded to herself with a small smirk. "There are three cars outside — I'm sure you can divide the rides among yourselves. The drivers know where you're going; you leave in five minutes," Gamora told them even as she trailed her fingers over Quill's shoulders. "Come now, Peter, you haven't danced with me yet tonight," she added, turning her attention from the others as she pulled him to his feet, and he shot the lot of them an apologetic look before they were off.

As soon as they were gone, Logan looked toward Jess. "What fresh hell is this?"

Jess shook her head, her hands up in front of herself. "Don't ask me. This isn't… normal."

"So you haven't had to deal with this before?" Logan asked.

The group of them exchanged glances, but when all of them shook their heads, it was clear that not one of them had been prepared for… whatever this was.

"We're on a timer, guys," Sam said quietly. "And probably better if we're out before America notices us."

"Yeah, I'm not going to be the one to explain where we're headed if she does," Rhodey agreed. He and Sam were the first to stand, though when Logan didn't move, both of them paused.

"Logan," Sam prompted.

"Yeah," he said in a near growl. "I know." He got to his feet, and the little group headed out together with a glance toward America, who had managed to get a smile out of Groot as she pulled him into a more high-energy dance than any of them had ever seen him do.

Groot actually wasn't too hard to deal with, she'd found — he just needed a little prompting, and he needed someone who wasn't an idiot to deal with. She'd managed a real smile, not a small one, either, when she glanced over her shoulder to see if the other victors had seen her success… and had to frown when she saw that they were all leaving together.

"What, did I not rate a ticket to the cool kids' party?" she asked, and though she wasn't expecting an answer, Groot did give her a little shrug.


July 23

Triskellion: Fury's Office


With the Quarter Quell out of the way, and the last of the parties wrapping up the next night, it was time to move on to other things. More important things.

Which was why Fury's office was currently occupied by not only Maria Hill but Phil Coulson and Melinda May, as all three of them would need to sign off on the final plans for the revolution that they'd been painstakingly preparing for over years of work.

"We're ready to move — or we will be by the time the victory tour comes around," Fury announced, and he did allow a moment for the others in the room to sit on that statement for a while. Hill had already known, simply by virtue of knowing how much prep work had been finished, that they were ready to move, but Coulson was the one to look the most outright pleased. Which was saying something, considering the man's poker face.

"When, exactly?" Coulson asked outright. He'd been the one to push Fury hardest for a sooner date, considering how close he was to the Tahiti kids.

"The last night of the tour, when everyone's all in one place," Fury said. "I'll need your teams, all of them, to-"

"The last night?" Coulson interrupted him, and it was a mark of how floored Coulson was that he hadn't waited for Fury to even try to explain his decision-making process.

"That's what I said," Fury replied. "Now, your teams will need to be in position no less than thirty minutes prior to the start of the party, but no more than an hour; our intel in the Capitol says the security there will be-"

"I'm sorry, sir," Coulson cut in again. He hadn't changed his expression in the least, but seeing as Phil Coulson never interrupted Fury in front of other people — and certainly not twice — he was clearly not going to let it drop. "We can do it the first night. There's no reason to wait."

"I need the extra time to be sure that all of our forces are in place and ready to go," Fury said. "Last. night."

"If your forces need the extra time, you must not be training them well enough," May said with a smirk.

"Don't be glib, Melinda," Fury replied dryly. "It's a matter of staging, and you know it. This is a massive effort, and we can't be too obvious about what we're doing."

"So the staging we just did during the parade…" Hill raised an eyebrow.

"Was excellent practice," Fury said. "But we have other forces that need to move too. Larger groups to handle the Nova Corps. Your teams can't be everywhere at once."

"That's what these next few months will be focused on. You don't need the extra days of tying up SHIELD leadership with parties and kowtowing to the royals any longer than we have to," Coulson argued. "If you need some extra time in the Capitol, I can understand one day, but waiting until the end?"

"You know that as soon as we attack, we'll have to pull all of our forces and move to the secondary location," Fury said. "We need all the time we can get."

"And we need all our forces at their peak. Three days in the Capitol with all twenty-five of our victors?" Hill asked pointedly. "Even if we warn them ahead of time not to get too drunk, and you know some of them would without the warning, you know that won't be the only issue."

"I'm not going to argue every point," Fury said, his voice raising a bit. "This is the plan. This is how it's going to go. The victors can handle it."

The other three in the room shared glances and frowns, though Hill looked more resigned than anything else. "Alright. Thirty minutes before the party starts."


After the night Logan had put up with, he was livid. The parties were always something to be avoided in the Capitol for him, but … this was the first time that he'd been to one of the after parties with other victors.

It was usually a one-on-one arrangement. Or in some of the worst cases, a little more than that … But this was every young victor short of the newest winner, and the newly married, in one place — and it was … a nightmare.

There were no rules, and frankly … he'd thought that he had been handling the whole arrangement pretty badly until he watched from across the room as Jessica Drew simply seemed to have an out-of-body experience dealing with a very handsy Capitolite. She didn't even try to push the guy away or slow him down when he got aggressive with her, and he was pissed off on her behalf — until he realized that all of the others were reacting similarly and passively letting the partygoers handle them as they pleased.

He was left wondering for a split second as he pushed a woman's hand back out of the no fly zone if he was doing a lot better than he'd given himself credit for. It made sense in retrospect — the lack of detail that Jessica had given him on what was expected of him in those situations with the people that first Selene, and then the princesses had sent them to. It was because Jessica had mentally checked out herself. As was likely the case with the others, if their behavior was anything to go by.

They were compliant. With whatever they were told to do. And all at once, he was … it was all he could do to follow through with that ridiculous party of grabby people, keeping in mind the whole time who he was trying to keep safe. But come dawn, when they could finally leave …

He didn't even consider going to his room in Seven's suite. Or the group meeting point in Eight where the stylists were sure to be gathered. Not when he was that mad. . So, still in his suit from the night before and smelling like six kinds of perfume and a little bit of spilled booze, he stormed into the Triskellion intent on tearing into Fury — and to hell with whoever was there when he found him. He'd officially had it.

He made his way to Fury's office, where the secretary informed him that he was in a meeting, but Logan flat ignored her and simply went in anyhow, kicking the door hard enough that it rebounded off of the wall.

Coulson, May, and Hill looked to be deep in discussion about something or other right up until Logan slammed the door after he came in.

"When is this thing happening?" Logan demanded, nearly shaking in rage.

"Are you still drunk?" Fury countered, both hands flat on the small conference table as he got to his feet. "Because you would have to be drunk to come storming into my office like this in last night's clothes."

Logan's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stalked forward to put his hands on Fury's table across from him and level with him eye to eye. "When."

The two of them glared at each other, and it was clear Logan wasn't going to leave until he got a straight answer. "That," the director said with a sigh, though his gaze lost none of its fire, "was what we were discussing."

"Then you should be able to answer me easy enough," Logan growled out through gritted teeth.

"We have to wait until the victory tour is all but over. We need everyone to be in the Capitol, and that's the next time that happens," Fury said.

Logan tipped his head the tiniest bit. "Yeah. But when."

"You'll know when we get closer."

"Like hell. I wanna know now," Logan snarled back, and the two of them both looked livid with each other as the stare down started in earnest. Fury had just opened his mouth to say something when someone beat him to it.

"Last day of the victory tour," Coulson said from his seat off of Fury's left. Logan turned his head to focus on him as he continued. "Before Miss Chavez heads off for the night, and before Thanos can finish his 'victory' gloat."

For a moment, Logan simply stared at him, unblinking in what had to be disbelief. "No."

"Excuse me?" Fury said in a supremely insulted tone.

"No," Logan asserted, turning his attention back to the man nearest him. "First night, before Miss Chavez has to get dragged off, or I'll start it myself."

"We'll need until then to get the backup—"

"If you can have the backup for the third night, you can have it for the first. You have a few months. Make it happen," Logan shot right back at Fury, pointing one finger in his face. "First night. Or I'm out." Fury faltered for an instant as Logan continued. "And I swear to God, Nick, the next time I'm in the palace, I'm going to start killing royals in your name."

The others in the room watched the showdown as the two of them faced off. "You don't understand all of—"

"I understand more than you think," Logan snapped. "Going the third night isn't about anything necessary for your revolution — it's to make sure you'll have a grateful little victor for rescuing her from that…. crap." He straightened up — clearly ready to start fighting with Fury on the spot. "And I'm telling you, I'm not letting that happen. If you can do it the third day, you can do it the first and save that girl from being passed around the Capitol like a damn party favor."

Whatever rage Logan had walked in with hadn't ebbed in the least. If anything, he was shaking a bit now that he'd gotten it off his chest.

Finally, Fury let out a breath slowly and looked to the three silent parties at the conference table for a moment — none of whom were about to make a peep, though the smug looks on all of their faces were plain enough to see. "Fine," Fury said, very calmly. "First night, before any after-parties can start up."

Logan relaxed slightly and lifted his chin Fury's direction, sure there was more to come.

"Now, your trainer has been pestering me since you got into the Capitol. It's time, he says, for a test. I'm sure he's up. Go and try not to make a fool of yourself," Fury instructed. "I know it's been a long time since you've had a session with Ogun."

Logan glanced toward Coulson, Hill, and May, then looked back to Fury with a nod. "Fine," he replied under his breath before he slipped out of the door behind Fury's desk.

"If I'd known we needed to get one of your favorites in here to argue my exact same points, I'd have scheduled him accordingly," Hill said dryly.

"Don't start," Fury warned with a glare.

"She has a point," May said, smirking hard. "Should we be concerned that you're getting your tactical advice from a nineteen-year-old and not your AD? Even if it is the same advice, ultimately?"

"His AD didn't threaten to kill a royal and say Fury sent him," Coulson pointed out in his most reasonable tone. "It's all in the delivery, apparently."

"I'll work on that," Hill promised Coulson with a little grin.


Skye, Fitz, and Simmons were all crowded around Skye's laptop as they watched the show go down — first in a slight state of panic when Fitzsimmons had seen Logan storm Fury's office… and then with nothing short of pure entertainment as they watched Logan take Fury down several pegs and tell him how it was going to be.

"Has he taught you how to do that yet, Skye?" Fitz had to tease her, nudging her shoulder with his, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I'd need leverage to pull that off, smart guy," she replied.

"I don't think I've seen Agent May look that entertained since she glued all of Fitz's shoes to the floor," Simmons said.

"I don't know — you should have seen her on April Fool's," Skye said with a little smirk, remembering the show she'd caught on camera of both Fury and Hill going down in a tumble with their coffees.

The three of them chuckled to themselves over the whole situation for a while, glad to see that at least things had turned out well — and there hadn't been the fight in the middle of Fury's office that they'd been worried they would see, considering how Logan had looked when he came storming in like that.

"But you know — he had a point," Fitz said with a bit of seriousness as they finally came down from their joking a little. "I'd much rather do the revolution sooner than later."

"And no more Games," Simmons agreed with a sparkle to her eyes. "No more mutts… no more projects like that…."

"No more sneaking around, either," Fitz agreed. "Once you rebel, you don't exactly have to hide that you're building super cool weapons for your rebellion, right?"

"And no more sneaking around to see a certain friend of yours, right, Skye?" Simmons added, grinning Skye's way.

"What? No. That's not… a … that's so not a thing." Skye shook her head at her, though her tone had faded off. "Keep me out of this," she said, holding up both hands.

They were still enjoying themselves when the intercom turned on with a beep, followed by a request from Fury. "I need a medic to my private training room," he said in an even tone.

All three of them glanced at each other in alarm, sure that it was a call for Logan, since Simmons had patched him up after training with Ogun before. "O...okay. Yes sir. I'll be right there," Simmons said quickly, though she was already worrying with both of her hands pressed together by the time she'd grabbed her supplies and rushed to the training room.

When Fury let her into the office, Coulson, May, and Hill were all looking a bit alarmed at whatever had happened, and it put Simmons on edge — until Logan walked out of the training room with little more than a few fresh cuts and bruises.

"Don't look at me," Logan said before he gestured to the door. "I'm fine."

But of course, that had Simmons staring at him even more openly as she put together who it was that Fury had requested the medic for — though professionalism kicked in a moment later, and she hurried herself inside to look over the absolutely trounced Ogun. He was in rough shape, his arm broken again, among other injuries, and his walking stick in two pieces beside him.

Simmons didn't say anything about it, but she logged it away in the back of her mind to tell Skye exactly how scary her newest friend was when he put his mind to it.

Logan had taken up a spot leaning on Fury's desk with his arms crossed, since he was actually listening to Fury's suggestion to wait before he went back to his suite. So when Simmons was done, he almost wasn't surprised when the little lab rat pointed his way. "Come see me again by tomorrow night at the latest. You haven't been by the lab in weeks, and I need one more follow-up, just to be sure on longer-term effects."

"That's what you said last time," Logan grumbled.

She shook her head at him. "That's simply part of the scientific process, I'm afraid. We like to make doubly sure. Triply so, even."

"Don't give my biochemist a hard time," Fury said with a dry look, and Logan looked only slightly irritated before he nodded.

"Tomorrow," Logan said with a low grumble.

"I'll make it as painless as possible," Simmons promised on her way out the door.