Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"NO! NO! You're not going to run off again!" Winston was yelling so loudly, Carmine had fled into Ilsa's office and was hiding underneath her desk. People outside on the street could probably hear him.
"We finally got a valid lead on Michele, you're not going anywhere!"
Three blocks away.
"Winston, this guy needs our help", Chance stated slowly and firmly. "He's stuck in a Venezuelan prison and we need to get him out."
Late night or unholy early morning telephone calls were never a good sign.
They usually meant hectically made flight arrangements, instructions on the way, the clock ticking against them and hitting the ground running.
The call half an hour ago, mostly consisting of static and a very, very desperate Aaron Cooper pleading for help definitely proved that rule.
Only that they hadn't made it into any flying or otherwise moving vehicle yet.
"There's always someone needing our help!" The way Winston had puffed himself up in the center of the lobby didn't leave much room for interpretation: Chance wouldn't get past him without a fight.
"We're talking about Aaron Cooper here. Without his brother I would have never made it out of Prishtina alive. Danny came back for me, Winston."
"We've already helped him!" Winston was not changing his position, neither physically nor figuratively. "Saved his ass from that Russian spy!"
"I didn't know we've got a one lifesaving per person limit – you checked that with Ilsa?"
Ilsa, who was standing by and witnessing the showdown between the two friends just as helplessly as Guerrero and Ames, seriously doubted that provoking Winston with irony was a good idea in the given situation.
"Don't you dare go smartass on me!", Winston exploded, predictably.
"Planning the ambush on that Krektovic guy will take at least five more days. We can't just waltz in there and grab Michele. We need to collect information first, and that's a job best left to Guerrero."
Chance took a deep breath and continued very calmly.
"Getting Aaron out of that prison will take three days tops. I already have a plan."
"With you nothing ever goes according to plan!" Winston actually stomped his foot.
"Now you're being mean!"
"Chance, you got POISONED during the Russian embassy shit!"
Fair point.
"I promised Aaron if he ever needed help…"
"If it wasn't Aaron it would be someone else! Last time, when YOU were supposed to meet the contact at the pier you ran off to save Baptiste, who, mind you, killed the woman you loved!"
Ames visibly gave a start. Wide-eyed, she stared first at Winston, then at Chance. She looked like someone had just slapped her in the face. Chance didn't notice. Ilsa did.
"I'm sorry things went a bit off the rails at the pier", Chance tried to calm the waves once more, adding a couple of extra wrinkles to his best "I truly regret this"-expression. "But Aaron's stuck in that prison and…"
"HOW COME YOU'RE THERE FOR EVERYONE ELSE BUT NEVER FOR ME? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I GAVE UP FOR YOU ASSASSIN SCUMBAG?"
Whoa.
Now Chance looked as if someone had slapped him in the face.
"Dude…", Guerrero growled.
Ilsa felt an icy shudder running down her spine. She needed to interfere. Fast.
"Chance will be going to Venezuela. He owes it Mr. Cooper's deceased brother. Gathering information on Mr. Krektovic will indeed take time, and Chance won't be of much help with that." Her voice was strict, loud and maybe a little too high pitched. Just like she had spoken back when she had first taken up "absentee" ownership. Nowadays, after finding out through first hand experience how Chance dealt with orders - not well at all, that is - she avoided that tone, but right now the situation was taking its toll on her just like on everyone else. "Do you agree with Chance's assessment of needing at least five days to get everything ready?", she addressed Guerrero.
"Yes boss, I do." Not a hint of irony in Guerrero's reply.
Winston turned towards Ilsa, shoulders squared, lungs pumped up, the angriest scowl on his face.
"Any objections, Mr. Winston?" Last time I checked, I was the one signing the paychecks, said the look on her face.
Winston opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Tried once more.
Shut up.
A) Ilsa indeed was his boss. B) Without her support he wouldn't get Michele back. From what they knew so far about Innokentij Krektovic's hideout it was a fortress, far better secured then Bogdan's. This time they might very well need the tank she had offered to buy for them three years ago.
A small smile, barely perceptible, tugged at the corner's of Guerrero's mouth.
Chance was still staring at Winston, motionless, frozen to the spot.
Ilsa had seen that expression on his face before. Back when he had implied that Marshall had cheated on her. When she had hurled at him that he had never loved anyone.
She still felt ashamed about that incident. But maybe she could now finally make up for it.
"And Ames will be going with you", she ruled.
Ames awoke from the state of shock she had been caught in ever since Winston's mentioning of a woman Chance had loved.
Eyes wide open, she stared at Ilsa.
Blinked.
She and Chance alone on a job that didn't present too much of a problem... in a beautiful, tropic country, with lots of sunshine… He'd surely get hurt, would need someone to patch up his injuries… They'd have time to talk… Sort things out…
"My Spanish is a lot better than yours", she stated just as matter-of-factly as Guerrero had supported Ilsa's decision only moments ago.
Sometimes it was really good to have a boss.
"Then that's settled. Unfortunately the jet is in repair right now, but I'm sure I can find you two a decent flight connection."
Ilsa nodded at all of them, just like she would have at the end of a foundation board meeting.
"Come on, we've got to wake some people up. For a nice little talk about the Russian dude", Guerrero told Winston.
"I'm not going to help you torture somebody!", Winston thundered.
Although for Michele, of course he would have.
"You haven't showered yet, dude, or brushed your teeth. You presence alone is torture enough."
"Wiseass!"
Trust Guerrero to pull Winston back to his usual ways.
Chance, however, was still very silent. Wordlessly, he walked upstairs to grab his go-bag.