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❝𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒?❞ ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
𝗟𝗨𝗡𝗔, 𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗜𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗨𝗜𝗧, 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗔 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗡𝗝𝗘𝗧 𝗙𝗟𝗘𝗪 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗡 𝗢𝗖𝗘𝗔𝗡. Rumlow began to explain their mission. "The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them 93 minutes ago." Rumlow tapped on a screen, showing everybody on the jet what the ship looked like.
The blonde glanced Natasha, whose index finger was around her chin. As Natasha looked at Luna, she moved her gaze to Rumlow.
"Any demands?" Steve asked, causing Rumlow to look at him.
"A billion and a half," Rumlow answered.
"Why so steep?"
"Because it's SHIELD's."
"So it's not off-course, it's trespassing."
"I'm sure they have a good reason." Natasha joined their conversation, causing Steve to look at her.
"You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor."
"Relax," Luna turned to the blond. "It's not that complicated."
"How many pirates?" Steve turned back to Rumlow.
"Twenty-five. Top mercs led by this guy." A man appeared on the small screen. He had light stubble under his nose that connected to his beard. "Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He's at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy's got a rep for maximum casualties."
"Hostages?"
"Uh . . . mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell." A photo of Sitwell showed up on the monitor, causing Luna to tilt her head. She's seen him before, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "They're in the galley."
"What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship? Alright, I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, L, you'll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get 'em out. Let's move."
"STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up." Everybody on the jet began to prepare their gear. The ramp of the quinjet opened, allowing agents to jump out. Steve began to talk into his wrist communicator. "Secure channel seven."
