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xp_logsA seed of an idea is hatched between Jennie and Clint.
Clint finished looking at his test results and grinned. “Sweet,” he said, pushing himself off the counter in his kitchenette and snagging a bottle of vodka as he passed it. From there, it was a simple matter to stash the paperwork in his room and go looking for Jennie.
Jennie opened the door to her suite, and raised an eyebrow at her visitor. “Well?” she eyed the vodka in his hand. “You going to die?”
“I am not going to die!” Clint said, still grinning. “Miraculously, I do not actually have mercury poisoning. So we’re celebrating my continued good health with really good vodka.”
“Never doubt a lady when she gives you the last bit of luck,” Jennie beckoned him in with a crook of her finger. She fished in her cabinets for shot glasses and put them on the table as Clint poured them servings. Her injuries would heal, already she could take full breaths without her ribs hurting. Marnie was going to have kittens if she was going to have to cover all of Jennie’s classes at the studio for the remainder of the year. It was a miracle Donal hadn’t hurt her worse.
No, it was just lucky.
“Nasdarovje!” Jennie lifted her glass.
“Prost!” Clint clinked the bottom of his shot glass against hers, and then downed it. He hissed a little, the bruising on his face having gone down even though the cut he’d gotten still throbbed every now and then. “That was good, though. I mean, shit mission in general, but. It was nice to… do something again.”
“Well, I mean the part where we were completely bamboozled and they stole a priceless artifact and a whole bunch of people got murdered,” Jennie sighed and poured herself another shot. “Oh, and I may or may not have properly blown up my fiancé,” she chugged the vodka. “Good times.”
Clint half-choked on the next shot of vodka. Coughing, it took him a moment to clear his airway and then, eyes wide, he asked, “Your fiancé?”
“Surprise,” Jennie said weakly, and then pulled out a chair to sit. Standing for too long was still a little painful. There it was, her great secret. Donal McGrath, both her idiot partner and the love of her life.
“We were only engaged for a week before the Disciples slaughtered Clarent House and recruited him. We had barely been able to admit it to John. I thought he was going to murder both of us. The fact that we were even dating was so far against company policy it wasn’t even funny.” Jennie shook her head. “So you can see why he wanted me dead so bad. It’s been so hard to admit that-- I mean, I didn’t even have time to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to get married, and then he was gone.”
“Yeah,” Clint said, pulling out the chair across from her and shaking his head slowly. “Shit.” He poured her another shot, then refilled his own glass. His windpipe was less than impressed with him, but he knew it’d get over itself eventually. Especially if they kept drinking. “I’ve… never. I mean. Shit.” He didn’t even know what to say. She might’ve managed to ‘properly blow up’ her fiancé. Sometimes, the world was just too fucked up for him.
“I hope I got him this time,” Jennie shook her head. “I don’t want to think about what he’ll do now. I’ve cheated him out of killing me twice now. You’re supposed to cut off their heads and burn them to ash. I don’t think an explosion was enough. But,” she took another drink and coughed. “Now we have bigger problems.”
“Yeah, what was it that they took?” Clint asked, taking the change of subject and running with it. “National Museum of Denmark, right? Eighteen guards killed. Never got much intel beyond it being something of the royal family’s that went missing.”
“I called in a favor with the home office, they said it was something called ‘The Star.’ A jewel of unknown origin. The Danes nabbed it from Sweden a few centuries ago. They got it from a raid in Russia during the viking era. And before that, who knows? It’s supposed to grant the bearer long life when coupled with another gem called ‘The Eye.’ Which disappeared sometime during World War 2.”
Jennie reached across the table for her trusty tablet. She tapped a few commands on it, handing it to Clint. It was a photograph of a large gem, faceted blue and shimmering not unlike an opal.
“Hm,” Clint said, frowning down at the photograph. He tilted his head to the side, brow furrowing. “The Star and the Eye,” he commented. “What intel do you have on the Eye? Like, who had it and when? Tasha’s usually better at gems and things than I am — she likes those kinds of shiny things.” And if they both originated in Russia — or if Russia acquired them from somewhere else — then Tasha might have sources with information. Or at least sources with folklore or fairytales.
“My only intel is the Nazis ate it,” Jennie leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily. She’d found her first gray hair yesterday, and if things continued the way they had she’d be completely gray by next spring. If she lived that long.
“Maybe check with your people? Could help us as to why Mother’s going after artifacts now, and why she’s taking her recruits out of Britain. The last time she hit, she stole a list of intel on US congresspeople. She’s doing something and it’s going to really suck if we can’t stop her.” Something that involved a lot of innocent people dying.
“I’ll get in touch with Tasha, maybe see if she can do some digging,” Clint said, nodding. He poured them both another shot, then tapped the picture on the tablet. “The Nazis were assholes, obviously. The whole HYDRA thing. But they were very good at locating artifacts that might or might not have had some kind of… I don’t know, arcane power or history or something. Mind if I toss out another line of inquiry to the Snow Valley people? Wanda does a shit-ton of stuff with weird artifacts. I think. Maybe. I’m still not 100% sure what she does, just that it’s weird.”
“Yeah, they were the ones that got slammed on the tanker, so they need to be looped on this,” Jennie took another drink, and then smiled wryly, looking at a place somewhere far beyond her glass. “It’s stupid, but in a way I’ve missed this. This is what we did at Clarent House. Dug up weird shit or buried it back where it belonged. I’ve felt so useless these past few months. Now it feels like I’m doing something.”
“That’s what I meant earlier,” Clint said, nodding. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me at all. I mean, the circumstances are less than ideal, but this… it’s not exactly what I did at SHIELD and it’s not exactly what SWORD’s done so far, but it’s along the same lines. It’s what SWORD wants to be doing. I think the end goal got lost after M-Day, but finding and fixing these sorts of things. It’s good work. It’s worth doing. And it’s rewarding in that ‘fuck yeah, we accomplished something epic’ sort of way. Also, in the ‘fuck the Nazis, those stupid bastards didn’t manage to do what we just did’ sort of way, too.”
Jennie snorted into her glass. “Maybe we’re onto something here, do you think? We worked pretty good back there in Denmark, and while you’re no Fian, I think you’d be a good partner in all this weirdness.”
Clint laughed at that. “We might just be,” he said. Then he offered Jennie the bottle of vodka. “We need a really cool name, though.”
“We need to be drunker for that,” Jennie said, accepting the bottle and pouring herself another shot. Then she poured one for Clint. “We doing this? For real? You in this with me? Because Mother is not going to quit until she does what she wants to do. And a whole lot of people will die.”
Clint hummed low in his throat, glancing from the tablet to the vodka to Jennie and back again. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think that’d be good. Y’know, try and stop her before she actually… does whatever it is she wants. There’s worse pursuits.”
“Cheers” Jennie offered her glass to Clint.
“Cheers,” Clint said, clinking their glasses together.
Clint finished looking at his test results and grinned. “Sweet,” he said, pushing himself off the counter in his kitchenette and snagging a bottle of vodka as he passed it. From there, it was a simple matter to stash the paperwork in his room and go looking for Jennie.
Jennie opened the door to her suite, and raised an eyebrow at her visitor. “Well?” she eyed the vodka in his hand. “You going to die?”
“I am not going to die!” Clint said, still grinning. “Miraculously, I do not actually have mercury poisoning. So we’re celebrating my continued good health with really good vodka.”
“Never doubt a lady when she gives you the last bit of luck,” Jennie beckoned him in with a crook of her finger. She fished in her cabinets for shot glasses and put them on the table as Clint poured them servings. Her injuries would heal, already she could take full breaths without her ribs hurting. Marnie was going to have kittens if she was going to have to cover all of Jennie’s classes at the studio for the remainder of the year. It was a miracle Donal hadn’t hurt her worse.
No, it was just lucky.
“Nasdarovje!” Jennie lifted her glass.
“Prost!” Clint clinked the bottom of his shot glass against hers, and then downed it. He hissed a little, the bruising on his face having gone down even though the cut he’d gotten still throbbed every now and then. “That was good, though. I mean, shit mission in general, but. It was nice to… do something again.”
“Well, I mean the part where we were completely bamboozled and they stole a priceless artifact and a whole bunch of people got murdered,” Jennie sighed and poured herself another shot. “Oh, and I may or may not have properly blown up my fiancé,” she chugged the vodka. “Good times.”
Clint half-choked on the next shot of vodka. Coughing, it took him a moment to clear his airway and then, eyes wide, he asked, “Your fiancé?”
“Surprise,” Jennie said weakly, and then pulled out a chair to sit. Standing for too long was still a little painful. There it was, her great secret. Donal McGrath, both her idiot partner and the love of her life.
“We were only engaged for a week before the Disciples slaughtered Clarent House and recruited him. We had barely been able to admit it to John. I thought he was going to murder both of us. The fact that we were even dating was so far against company policy it wasn’t even funny.” Jennie shook her head. “So you can see why he wanted me dead so bad. It’s been so hard to admit that-- I mean, I didn’t even have time to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to get married, and then he was gone.”
“Yeah,” Clint said, pulling out the chair across from her and shaking his head slowly. “Shit.” He poured her another shot, then refilled his own glass. His windpipe was less than impressed with him, but he knew it’d get over itself eventually. Especially if they kept drinking. “I’ve… never. I mean. Shit.” He didn’t even know what to say. She might’ve managed to ‘properly blow up’ her fiancé. Sometimes, the world was just too fucked up for him.
“I hope I got him this time,” Jennie shook her head. “I don’t want to think about what he’ll do now. I’ve cheated him out of killing me twice now. You’re supposed to cut off their heads and burn them to ash. I don’t think an explosion was enough. But,” she took another drink and coughed. “Now we have bigger problems.”
“Yeah, what was it that they took?” Clint asked, taking the change of subject and running with it. “National Museum of Denmark, right? Eighteen guards killed. Never got much intel beyond it being something of the royal family’s that went missing.”
“I called in a favor with the home office, they said it was something called ‘The Star.’ A jewel of unknown origin. The Danes nabbed it from Sweden a few centuries ago. They got it from a raid in Russia during the viking era. And before that, who knows? It’s supposed to grant the bearer long life when coupled with another gem called ‘The Eye.’ Which disappeared sometime during World War 2.”
Jennie reached across the table for her trusty tablet. She tapped a few commands on it, handing it to Clint. It was a photograph of a large gem, faceted blue and shimmering not unlike an opal.
“Hm,” Clint said, frowning down at the photograph. He tilted his head to the side, brow furrowing. “The Star and the Eye,” he commented. “What intel do you have on the Eye? Like, who had it and when? Tasha’s usually better at gems and things than I am — she likes those kinds of shiny things.” And if they both originated in Russia — or if Russia acquired them from somewhere else — then Tasha might have sources with information. Or at least sources with folklore or fairytales.
“My only intel is the Nazis ate it,” Jennie leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily. She’d found her first gray hair yesterday, and if things continued the way they had she’d be completely gray by next spring. If she lived that long.
“Maybe check with your people? Could help us as to why Mother’s going after artifacts now, and why she’s taking her recruits out of Britain. The last time she hit, she stole a list of intel on US congresspeople. She’s doing something and it’s going to really suck if we can’t stop her.” Something that involved a lot of innocent people dying.
“I’ll get in touch with Tasha, maybe see if she can do some digging,” Clint said, nodding. He poured them both another shot, then tapped the picture on the tablet. “The Nazis were assholes, obviously. The whole HYDRA thing. But they were very good at locating artifacts that might or might not have had some kind of… I don’t know, arcane power or history or something. Mind if I toss out another line of inquiry to the Snow Valley people? Wanda does a shit-ton of stuff with weird artifacts. I think. Maybe. I’m still not 100% sure what she does, just that it’s weird.”
“Yeah, they were the ones that got slammed on the tanker, so they need to be looped on this,” Jennie took another drink, and then smiled wryly, looking at a place somewhere far beyond her glass. “It’s stupid, but in a way I’ve missed this. This is what we did at Clarent House. Dug up weird shit or buried it back where it belonged. I’ve felt so useless these past few months. Now it feels like I’m doing something.”
“That’s what I meant earlier,” Clint said, nodding. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me at all. I mean, the circumstances are less than ideal, but this… it’s not exactly what I did at SHIELD and it’s not exactly what SWORD’s done so far, but it’s along the same lines. It’s what SWORD wants to be doing. I think the end goal got lost after M-Day, but finding and fixing these sorts of things. It’s good work. It’s worth doing. And it’s rewarding in that ‘fuck yeah, we accomplished something epic’ sort of way. Also, in the ‘fuck the Nazis, those stupid bastards didn’t manage to do what we just did’ sort of way, too.”
Jennie snorted into her glass. “Maybe we’re onto something here, do you think? We worked pretty good back there in Denmark, and while you’re no Fian, I think you’d be a good partner in all this weirdness.”
Clint laughed at that. “We might just be,” he said. Then he offered Jennie the bottle of vodka. “We need a really cool name, though.”
“We need to be drunker for that,” Jennie said, accepting the bottle and pouring herself another shot. Then she poured one for Clint. “We doing this? For real? You in this with me? Because Mother is not going to quit until she does what she wants to do. And a whole lot of people will die.”
Clint hummed low in his throat, glancing from the tablet to the vodka to Jennie and back again. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think that’d be good. Y’know, try and stop her before she actually… does whatever it is she wants. There’s worse pursuits.”
“Cheers” Jennie offered her glass to Clint.
“Cheers,” Clint said, clinking their glasses together.
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