Birds of a Feather | | Leo Fitz Book One

Chapter 13

"Agent Monroe, late again," Coulson said in a light tone. He was clearly easing, but part of the man still hated her being late.

"Sorry, sorry," Asia said, moving to stand beside Leo, who looked down at her with a soft smile. He could see the sleep still clinging to her face, in the most adorable fashion.

"I forgive you, Monroe, this time," Coulson said with a wink. "Now, back to the fun stuff." He tapped at a tablet a few times and a picture of a darkly handsome man blew up on the screen. He had distinctly European characteristics, with glossy black hair and dark eyes, his skin tan and just a hint of stubble dotting his strong jawline. Skye wiggled her eyebrows in approval. Asia would have found him equally handsome if it weren't for the wad of cash in his hands or the boxes of semi-automatic assault rifles behind him. That, and well, he didn't exactly compare to the man standing beside her.

"This," Coulson said, indicating to the man on the screen, "Is Maciej Chekhov. Son of a Russian diplomat and a Polish gun maker. Guess what he does for a living?" Without skipping a beat or giving any of the agents present a chance to answer, Coulson continued with "He's an arms dealer. He deals with the worst of the worst. Specifically, HYDRA, or what's left of them. Now, of course there's no official proof of this. Daddy makes all of that go away real quick. So, it's going to be our job to get some. And if we can't, we're just going to take him out."

"Take him out?" Leo asked, "Like...pew?" He held up his hand, making a small finger gun and shooting.

"Exactly," Coulson replied, "Pew."

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The job was pretty easy, when it came to missions: Go in, talk enough to get some intel, get out. It would be occurring at a high society party in Russia, requiring one to be dressed to the nines, have looks that could kill, and be able to speak the language fluently.

So, naturally, Coulson chose Asia to complete the task, with Ward on point outside with a trusty sniper rifle, ready for if need be.

"You're going to have to dress....well, a lot differently than you usually do," Coulson explained with a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asia asked, playing with the zipper on her black leather jacket, challenging him to come at her.

"Nothing, Monroe, just you're going to have to get....fancy. SHIELD has set aside some options in your size, I suggest you try them on and get opinions." Coulson said with a laugh as he turned and left the room.

Asia looked over towards the corner, where a giant rack of clothes hung in dry-cleaning bags, crossing her arms with a slight 'humph.' There were at least ten different dresses to try on, if not more, and Lord knows what SHIELD thought was acceptable attire. At least there didn't appear to be any shoes, that way she could wear something of her own, something that wouldn't completely kill her to walk in.

Asia pulled out her phone, a rarely used device, and sent a quick text to Skye: Trying on gowns for this mission. Come give your thoughts?
Then proceeded to the rack, carefully zipping open each gown individually. They were each made of different fabrics with different designs. The brunette ran her fingers over each fabric, getting a sense of how it would feel on her skin, of if she would be able to wear it for an overly long period of time.

Admittedly, there was a sense of excitement in the whole ordeal. Natasha was usually the femme fatal sent in on missions like this, while Clint and Asia sat guard, perched up high, or Asia was sent in as a waiter. This was going to be a whole new experience, a chance to prove not only her finely honed spy skills, but also her art of seduction, and her ability to get the job done.