Welcome to the second arc in Rando Week (I say despite writing this chapter the moment I finished the previous one). Here, we'll find out about the weapons shipment, the odd debriefing report, and who was involved with it. I know a lot of you will be happy by the first line.
Chapter 158: Bourbon & Jaws Part One
Overpriced Hotel Coffee Bar, Upper East Side - 11:55 AM
Given his prolonged work trip in New York, Blake sits at the coffee bar in the hotel he was supposed to be staying at since his company was paying for it. Whoops. So sue him if he prefers Chez Barton's cheap and expired beer over the hotel's expensive frothy coffee. As he annotates through printed copies of the love letters that he's supposed to answer for his company's paper's next issue, he glances up at his overpriced espresso that has grown cold. In his peripheral vision and the occasional looks, he'd see the same people surrounding him: business people in their sharp suits grabbing their morning coffee and breakfast pastry. He's only in a dress top with rolled sleeves, dark pants, and sneakers.
Then the scent of deep, seductive perfume hits him, overpowering the lingering scent of ground coffee and fresh pastries. He almost coughs but stops himself, covering it up by clearing his throat. Blake looks up and sees a young silvered-haired woman sitting across from him. She can't be more than his age but she looks like a doll. Porcelain skin, pale blue eyes, dark purple lips. She's dressed the part of everyone else here, formal business wear (a classic, dark pantsuit ensemble), but she looks too made-up to work on Wall Street.
Given that she has a to-go cup with her lipstick imprinted on the spout and that she sat across from him without asking when there are many empty tables, he has a feeling she's here for him.
"Yeah, the seat's not taken," Blake says despite her already sitting there.
"You know Merida Barton," she states, not making an effort to hide her thick Slavic accent or continue the conversation from what he said.
Blake straightens his posture, not expecting that statement or its certitude. He thought he'd have to tell this beautiful woman that he has a more beautiful girlfriend, if Merida is even his girlfriend. He's still not sure. "Who's asking?"
She doesn't bat a lash. "A friend. Look I need you to get her to do something for me."
"If you were really friends with her, can't you ask her yourself?"
She purses her lips. "Bold. She won't say yes to me. That's the kind of friends we are."
"Okay, so I assume you're here because you have some kind of idea who I am but it's not like that, I don't think. She won't say yes to me either."
Instead of refuting, the woman takes a napkin from the table's dispenser and borrows Blake's pen without asking. She scribbles a message on it before sliding it over to him. Blake reads an address not far from here based on what he knows about New York, which isn't much.
"You'll find a lead there. Do not tell her I'm involved."
Without hesitating, Blake removes his glasses and pushes back the napkin towards her. "No offence but this is sketchy as hell. And how can I trust you?"
The silver-haired woman takes his pen again and writes something underneath the address. She slides it back to him as he puts on his glasses again. Blake looks down it and raises his brows in confusion as the woman grins while sipping the rest of her coffee. She slides out of her seat and Blake already lost her by the time he looks back up.
Fear not, the child will not die.
Blake looks up her weird message's addition written in perfect cursive on his phone and doesn't get anything the looks suspicious. His search results are filled with pictures of Rasputin.
-o-
Second-Hand Embarrassment, Manhattan - 13:56 PM
Merida was more than happy to have time off following Emily and Daniel's wedding. She enjoyed the pictures Emily sent of the beautiful Bora Bora sunsets but Merida couldn't be happier than her plans until she gets called into work. She just came back from the liquor store, the last of many stops on her trip. Merida envisions the rest of her day back at her apartment which comes to a drastic halt when she turns a corner to an empty street where she sees Blake trying to climb a metal fence and failing.
She can't make this shit up. It wasn't even funny. The second-hand embarrassment makes her queasy.
Merida walks up to him, stopping right beside him which is when he notices her presence. He smiles charmingly at her as he jumps down. She stares straight at him as he tries to grin and lean against the fence like one of the cool kids.
"You got good taste," Blake says, glancing through the plastic bag in her hands that she can see through, "and I'm not talking about me this time. The film and its medium. Drink too. I knew you were a perfect woman and it wasn't because you know four of the random languages I know."
Merida looks down at her VHS of Jaws she rented from a corner store and the bottle of aged bourbon she got from the neighbouring liquor store. It's the concept of a guilty pleasure she wanted to enjoy for a while. She isn't sure why it's called a guilty pleasure when she doesn't feel bad about it. Then she remembers Blake obviously flirting with her after she nearly caved in her own body seeing him try to climb a fence that had a questionable abandoned building on the other side.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Merida asks. "You did not grope a fence to try and flirt with me."
"You don't know what flirting is."
"Maybe I would if you weren't busy groping fences in broad daylight and in public."
"I was at my hotel and heard about this place so I did my research on Google," Blake explains, still smiling at her. "Local papers aren't sure but there was something about a drug cartel. There's reporting on shootouts and potential gang involvement but nothing more than that. I've triangulated the sightings and it took me here. It's not apocalyptic enough for SHIELD but seems interesting."
Merida doesn't blink. "You don't have your fake FBI badge on you."
"Cause I'm undercover."
She rolls her eyes at his stupidity, still seeing his matching stupid smile. "Sure. Look, this is illegal so let's do it before I completely become Angela. Give me a minute and don't move or grope that fence."
"Can we have the bourbon later?"
"Don't move."
-o-
Merida ran home, which was a block away. She ditches her bag on the couch since she knows from experience that bourbon shouldn't be refrigerated. Merida pulls out the cassette and puts it in her VHS player. She almost punches the wall when she sees that it hasn't been rewinded by the last renter. Fuck that asshole. Merida sets it to rewind as she walks over to her room, which was a few steps away in her studio apartment. She slides a box of weapons out from under her bed and arms up before changing clothes.
Then she heads back out to see Blake right where she left him, stupid smile and all.
"Is that your superhero outfit?" Blake asks. "Shouldn't you wear something to cover your face or curls?"
"Maybe I should cover your face with a pillow and hold it in place." She glances down at her outfit of choice: a black turtleneck poncho with black leggings and sneakers. "You don't know what I have under here." Even her quiver full of arrows is hidden well under the flowing fabric.
Blake scoffs a little. "Actually, I do."
Merida pulls out a gun and he jumps a little.
"Jesus!" Blake yells.
"Don't come after my poncho," Merida threatens.
Blake puts up his hands. "I won't anymore. You're like a sexy Grim Reaper." He lowers his hands when Merida's lips twitch. Her attempt to hide a grin which he's too familiar with by now. "That's the first time I've seen you so smitten. You love me."
"I barely tolerate you."
"Keep lying to yourself and maybe you'll believe it. This could be our fifth date."
Merida glances at him as she looks at the fence. "You're still counting?"
"Someone has to."
"Then at least count right. And who said you're coming with me?"
"I did."
"You're not."
"You think you could stop me?"
Merida pulls out another gun and he still jumps.
"Okay, not fair," Blake states.
Merida hands him the gun, an icer, which was the first gun she pulled out on him. Either way, he doesn't know what to do with it.
"Relax, it only knocks people out," Merida says. "It's basically a sedative. It'll be easier to protect you if you can protect yourself."
"What makes you think I can use this?" Blake asks as Merida double-checks the safety and puts it in his pocket since he doesn't have a proper holster. She should've brought him one. "Switzerland was a neutral state."
"You supplied weapons."
"Doesn't mean we used them."
"Just point and shoot," Merida instructs.
"That's not as easy as you make it out to be."
"Sure it is."
With the second gun she pulled, she fires it through the fence and knocks out a henchman surveilling the premises, all while keeping eye contact with Blake. As Blake looks ahead at the unconscious man, he notices that Merida scaled the fence so gracefully she didn't make a sound. Silent despite the rickety metal fence that squeaks when the wind blows.
"Are you coming or not?" Merida asks him.
Yes, the stupid location headers are necessary. They get better.