UNKNOWN GUEST

#31 Get A Room!

James's POV-

The Quinjet cut through the sky, its engines humming steadily as it soared over the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean. Inside, the atmosphere was a blend of focused anticipation and casual preparation.

Mom was already geared up, her high boots laced tightly, and her demeanor was all business. Dad, too, was getting ready, meticulously strapping on his gripping gloves. In contrast, I was fumbling with Dad's helmet, trying to figure out how it fit. I clumsily placed it on my head, but it felt awkward and oversized. Seeing Mom raise an eyebrow at my attempt, I quickly pulled it off.

"It doesn't suit me, right? It's made for Cap," I admitted, tossing the helmet towards him. Captain caught it with ease and placed it on his seat, a subtle smile on his face.

Mom and Dad then made their way to the front of the cabin, where Agent Ramlow was presenting details on a screen. The image flickered, showing the layout of a large, advanced-looking structure.

"Target is the mobile satellite launch platform, the Lemurian Star," Ramlow announced, pointing to the image on the screen. "They were sending their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago."

Dad's expression turned serious. "Any demands?"

Ramlow nodded gravely. "A billion and a half."

Dad's brow furrowed. "Why so steep?"

From behind, I offered an explanation. "Because it's SHIELD's."

Ramlow's nod confirmed my comment. Dad's realization hit him, and he looked even more concerned. "So, it's not just a random act of piracy. It's trespassing."

Mom, with her usual composed demeanor, muttered, "I'm sure they have a good reason."

She was well aware of the complexities of these situations and the broader implications they carried. Dad sighed, frustration evident in his tone. "You know, I'm feeling a little tired of being Fury's janitor."

His disdain for Fury's methods was clear, reflecting his frustration with constantly cleaning up after the Director's decisions and handling high-stakes situations.

Dad's next question cut through the tension in the Quinjet's cabin. "How many pirates?"

Agent Ramlow's face grew serious as he responded, "Twenty-five. Top mercs led by these two." He pointed at the screen, which now displayed images of two formidable-looking individuals. "Georges Batroc and Stella Morris. Ex-DGSEs, action division. They're at the top of Interpol's Red Notice."

Dad nodded, processing the information. "Any hostages?"

Ramlow switched to another slide, showing a few faces. "Mostly techs. One officer—Jasper Sitwell."

The mention of Sitwell raised an eyebrow. I glanced at Dad, noticing his puzzled expression. Sitwell? What's he doing on a launch platform? He's from management, I thought aloud. Dad's muttering echoed my confusion. "What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship?"

Mom raised an eyebrow but chose not to press further. She remained focused, understanding the urgency of the situation. Dad sighed and laid out the plan. "Alright. I'm gonna sweep the deck and track Batroc. Romanoff, you kill the engines and wait for instructions."

Dad then turned to me with a wry smile. "You find the Morris lady."

I sighed mockingly. "Whoa, you choose an easy target for yourself."

Mom and Dad exchanged a look that said I'd better not underestimate my task. I nodded, determined, "Roger that, Cap."

Dad glanced back at Ramlow, who was already moving into action. "You guys sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods. Let's move."