Y/N L/N is the adopted son of secret agents Natasha Romanoff and James "Bucky" Barnes. You might think that he would follow on his parents' steps and become a superspy just like them. Well, he did that. But in the early stages of his career, he went...
Travelers stream through the terminal in waves, each with a destination, a purpose, or a loved one waiting on the other side. Among them stands Y/N, dressed impeccably as a chauffeur. His attire: a peaked cap, dark sunglasses, and a neatly buttoned trench coat lends him a sense of quiet authority, blending him seamlessly into the line of other drivers awaiting their clients. Each driver holds a sign with a name, a client to pick up, but Y/N's attention is razor-focused, his eyes scanning over the crowd
And there he is...
Patrice
Moving with purpose, he glides through the sea of people, slipping past hurried travelers and weaving effortlessly around tourists. Y/N, maintaining a discreet distance, begins to follow. He avoids staring directly at Patrice, instead tracking his movements through a careful study of reflections in glass panels and his own peripheral vision. He blends smoothly into the flow of the crowd, moving with an easy, unhurried grace. The airport lights flicker against the polished floors and reflective surfaces, providing glimpses of Patrice from various angles as he maneuvers his way toward an exit
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Outside, in the relentless pace of Shanghai's highways, Y/N is behind the wheel of a sleek black sedan, maintaining distance while keeping Patrice's cab in sight. The highway's roar is muted within the car, as Y/N's eyes scan the road, his hands steady on the wheel
The sprawling skyline of Shanghai rises ahead, towering glass and steel giants looming against the horizon, the lights of downtown casting an ethereal glow that contrasts with the darkness of the approaching night
They then arrive near the waterfront, where Patrice's taxi slows and finally stops in front of a shadowed office tower. The building stands as a monolithic presence, its ninety floors soaring into the night sky, surrounded by a ring of other skyscrapers that line the river. The building is dim, only a few scattered lights revealing the interior offices, giving it a cold, imposing appearance.
Patrice steps out of the taxi, carrying an aluminum briefcase. Y/N, watching from his vantage point in the parked sedan across the street, observes as Patrice walks calmly toward the glass entrance of the building, his stride purposeful, unfazed by the darkness or the quiet eeriness of the place.
Y/N shifts slightly in his seat, his gaze never leaving Patrice, his breath steady as he watches. The distant city lights reflect off the glossy surface of the building, casting faint glimmers across its sleek facade. Patrice approaches the entrance and pauses momentarily, surveying the area before stepping inside.
