#agentsterling

Fury didn't waste any time. All it took was a quick question to another trusted head and off he went.

Who can I trust to keep an eye on him?

Once he had his answer, Fury had a file sent over to the selected agent. It didn't come with any context, just a messy background and a familiar face.

Fury went in person to deliver the context, to make sure the information got where he needed it to. He didn't call or message ahead, just showed up, lingering in the doorway as he waited to be invited in.

White glowing eyes watch what's happening below - take in the sight of men and women meeting up at a rather secluded spot, dressed in fine garments---

And armed. Yeah, they're definitely armed. To be honest, they're swimming in weapons of all kinds - quite literally so, that is: Boxes upon boxes are stacked up against the side of an old shipping container, words being exchanged...

And Marc is crouching on top of another of those containers, a bit of a distance away, higher up than the others; Khonshu had asked him - or rather, demanded him - to travel to the US to solve the issue that's presenting itself here. Usually one to remain more-or-less local these days, whenever crime is going to be deep-rooted and especially worrisome to the dead bird, Moon Knight is still very much ready and available to expand his borders of operation, so to speak---

"...El de la izquierda es el gran jefe."

A hum, a glance toward where Jake is guiding Marc's gaze to; A man who might be somewhere in his late fifties (might be part of the local Mafia, Jake notes) takes a step forward, followed by what might be bodyguards of sorts. Two groups, an exchange happening between them...

---Thing is, it's not only about those weapons. It's about so, so much more.

"...The kids?" Attention flicks away, trailing along other shipping containers---

"...I suppose they're inside the red one." A brief pause. "See, there's two more of those big boys waitin' right at the front door of said container; Ain't that awfully suspicious, huh."

"...Can't believe they're smugglin' children in shipping containers." A grind of teeth behind the mask, a heavy sensation tugging at the center of Marc's chest, his heart. "How long have they been in there---"

"Dunno. But if we ain't stoppin' them from pullin' through, these kids are in trouble."

A sudden gunshot is ripping Marc out of his thoughts and he whips his head around to where those two groups are currently facing each other; There's blood on the ground, one guy dropping dead, and now everyone's starting to scramble and more bullets begin to fly---

Shit. That's not good.

"M-Marc?! I think we---I think we should stop them, like, right now---?"

---Steven barely manages to finish his inquiry, and Marc's already on the fly - literally so. Cape shaped into a crescent moon, he jumps from the top of that container he's been perching on and flings himself straight in the middle of that battlefield. He can see from the corner of his eyes that some men are already trying to get back to the red shipping container---

A brief moment of general confusion as his figure lands on the hard concrete, since he's appeared out of literal nowhere and no one really seems to know who the fuck he is - but bullets are soon penetrating his body and Marc groans, storms forward, begins to take on one guy after another. A kick, a punch, a jump, his cape used to catch some of those bullets just to throw them right back---

"---Marc---!"

"...Try to protect the red container! If any bullets hit it, they might break through an' hurt the kids!"

"---Fucking hell---" Another jump, a swirl in the air, a cape now catching some of those stray bullets that were heading right toward the no-go-zone. A sudden impact on his chest catches him off-balance, though, and Marc finds himself flying through the air again before his back is colliding with another shipping container in a loud bang.

---The pain is something else, and Marc lets out a deep groan followed by an "Oh my fucking god the hell was that---"

"---A fuckin' massive shotgun, jefe. Watch out!"

Marc can duck his head just in time before another shot of that massive shotgun can hit him - and he wheezes for a second and a half there...

@agentsterling asked: 🗡️ [For Pen] Send ‘🗡️’ for our muses to be sword fighting | accepting

Pen half stepped back, sword out in front of her, "I had no idea you had any sword training Sonny!" she laughed, swiping at him sloppily, "I mean- I barely have any myself, but it's fun!"

Not like you.

She knew it hadn't been Sterling's intention, but those words had hurt.

The telltale sting of tears began to prickle at the corners of her vision, and she cleared her throat in an attempt to hide the emotions.

❝Yeah I - Um...❞

The words were thick, and they felt caught on her tongue.

Damnit.

Amity desperately looked up into the lights overhead, rapidly blinking in another attempt to mask the tears that were threatening to fall.

❝Can I tell you something?❞

A pause.

❝I think I just...❞

A shuddered exhale.

❝ — Need to get it off my chest and maybe I'll feel...❞

It wasn't unusual for Lisa Chen to receive phone calls from her daughter. The two were very close and since the birth of her only grandchild, she eagerly welcomed any and all information from her. However, it was odd for her to receive a call for help. The rare request usually came in the form of Rebecca needing a babysitter for Ara, or Rebecca needing to be talked down from the overwhelming pressure of motherhood. So when her daughter asked for help not for herself, but for another, Lisa knew it was bad.

She packed only what could fit in a carry-on, hopped the next flight to New York, and went straight for the Sterling-Chen apartment. She had barely finished sending out the text saying she was walking up to the door before she found it swung open, a frazzled Rebecca standing in front of her.

"He just excused himself and went back to his office," Rebecca whispered, quickly making her way back to the toddler on the floor. She scooped Ara up in one motion before turning back to her mom. "I'm really worried about him, Ma."

Lisa motioned for her daughter to let her handle it, then gave a more aggressive motion when it seemed she would be argued with. Rebecca finally caved and playfully told her daughter that they would go finish reading her book in the bedroom. Once the duo had shut the door to Ara's room, Lisa made her way down to Erikson's office and carefully knocked four times on the door.

You have reached the voicemail of Erikson Sterling, please leave a message after the tone...