Chapter Twenty: The Carter Legacy

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Music is "Revolver" by Vian Izak.

Picture is the SHIELD base in Manaus.

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CHAPTER TWENTY: The Carter Legacy

{February 8, 1991 -- Twenty-Five Years Ago}

A M A Z O N I A

The moment our feet hit the Amazonian shores, I feel a pit in my stomach start to form. Even though we can't see the SHIELD base from here, the shiver that runs down my spine tells me that something here is very wrong. Where are the guards? Where are the patrolling agents? Where are the alarms and other security measures? We've come unannounced. Security should be crawling over us by now.

But I see no one.

"I have a bad feeling about this," I mutter under my breath, drawing one of my weapons from my holster.

Peggy does the same. "Stay close. The base is only a quarter mile inland. Shouldn't take but a few minutes to get to."

I step in front of her, taking the lead. "Just tell me where to go." She starts to object, but I stop her. "I'm immortal. You're not. If someone has to get shot, you're bloody kidding yourself if it's going to be you."

Peggy relents, and we move into the jungle.

Though the sunlight is blocked by the heavy brush, the humidity is at its peak. Insects of all kinds thrive in this kind of weather, the dark, dampness of the rain forest. I swat away so many mosquitos that I lose count. The entire jungle feels like it's crawling over me, like it's one, single collective of life. The longer we're in the green expanse, climbing over roots and ducking under trunks, the more I feel like Peggy and I are the insects on this vast Amazonian creature.

The base is not easily distinguishable from the Amazon. It's a condemned house off the shore of the river, hidden beneath a canopy of trees and vines. I can hear the frogs chirping loudly all around us as we exit the dense green and step into the front yard of the base.

"Where are the patrols?" Peggy asks aloud. "There are always a team of two stationed at each entrance, west and east. Do you see anyone?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. You were right. Something is wrong."

"Emma," Peggy states in a low voice.

I grip my weapon tighter and turn towards her gaze. To our right is a dark spot in the brush. From here, it almost looks like a puddle. When I look closer, I see that it's not a puddle at all. It's a pool of blood, but there's no body.

"The guards were taken out," I observe in a whisper, eyes flickering around our surroundings. Peggy was right; I can feel eyes on us now, just don't know whose they are or where they're coming from.

Peggy steps ahead of me and takes the lead. We take careful steps towards the front door, an elevated entrance that requires going up several sets of stairs. The home itself is in terrible condition from the outside, broken bricks and rotting wood. All kinds of clinging plants crawl up the sides, breaking into one of the holes on the roof.

"This place is a dump," I mutter, turning to watch our six. "Why in the name of the King did you pick this place to house a SHIELD base?"

As we enter the third floor of the porch, Peggy takes out her compass and points in the direction it tells her is north. "That way, about a half-mile, is the Soviet warehouse this base is assigned to watch," she replies, putting the compass back into her pocket. "This building was the only thing nearest that. We couldn't exactly build a new base under their noses. Beggars can't be choosers, and you do know that there's been a Queen of England for nearly forty years, right?"

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