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A new day has started, bringing with it all of the problems from last night for the tired Avengers to tackle after receiving only a few hours of restless sleep.
Celeste stands in the hallway and out of earshot of everyone else in the other room, staring down at the phone number she shakily put into her phone. Taking a deep breath, she presses dial before she can talk herself out of it and places it against her ear.
She starts to pace the carpeted floor, her heart rate jumping with each ring.
"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system."
Celeste breathes out a sigh of relief, absurdly happy to have her call ignored. As the monotonous voice continues, she recites the dialogue she practiced all morning in her head when she should have been sleeping.
"When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options," the message concludes with the familiar beep.
"Sam, hi! Its- it's-" Celeste falters, forgetting everything she planned. "It's me, Celeste. I hope I'm not calling at a bad time- well, it obviously is since you didn't answer, but um- anyways, there's something I've been meaning to tell you and I didn't think in front of everyone at the party was the best time. In all honesty, I should've told you a lot sooner, because it's a lot to take in. I've been struggling to find a right way to word it, but I ought to stop rambling and just say it. I- I'm-"
Celeste pulls the phone away, suddenly acutely aware of how humid it is in the hallway. Taking gulping breaths, she leans against the beige wall for support as she wipes her sweaty palms on her pants. Before a full-on panic attack can overcome her, she forces herself to calm down, taking several moments to regain her breathing before putting the phone back to her ear.
"I'm sorry for not thanking you sooner," she lies, pushing the truth out of her mind for the time being. "For saving my life a few years ago, when I fell out of the helicarrier."
She hangs up before she can embarrass herself any further and sinks to the floor. Cradling her head in her hands, she groans quietly as a headache begins to form.
"Want to talk about it?"
Celeste jumps, glancing up to see Tony offering her a bright red smoothie as he claims a spot next to her on the floor.
"Not really," she admits, gratefully accepting the drink.
"Oh thank God. I'm terrible with advice," he sighs in relief. "That's goji berries, by the way. They replenish energy after a strenuous exercise, or in your case, teleportation."
A small smile lifts the corner of her lips as she resists the urge to immediately finish the delicious smoothie, unable to miss how obviously proud Tony is for doing a good job on it.
"Not that I don't appreciate this," she begins, pausing for another sip. "But, shouldn't you be trying to find a way to stop the murder bot?"
"I've been working hard!" Tony protests indignantly. "In fact, Steve and Thor are following Brielle to bring up several important boxes of files that potentially have extremely important information. Which is what led me over here to you, because I was going to see if you'd like to help us instead of hiding out in a hallway."
"I'll help," she giggles, not having expected such a long answer. "On one condition."
"Which is?"
"You give me a piggyback ride to whatever room they're taking the files to."
"You're unbelievable."
➵➵➵➵
Celeste discards yet another file, having barely glanced through it as she reaches for another one. Despite having the assistance of eight people to dig through the mountain of paperwork overflowing one of the conference rooms, they've barely made a dent in it in the past hour.
"Finally!" She exclaims, holding up a file victoriously as all heads snap in her direction.
"Something on Strucker?" Steve questions.
"Oh, no," she admits sheepishly, causing him to sigh and go back to sorting through his file. "But it's still interesting. I found Brielle's doppleganger."
Clint peers over her shoulder to see the photos, then glances at Brielle, his eyes lighting up. "It looks just like you!"
"I thought it was her, but it says this girl is German," Celeste continues reading, not noticing how Brielle sitffens at her words. "I'm not even going to try to pronounce the name, but apparently she worked with HYDRA as an assistant scientist during World War Two before being put into a cryogenic stasis. Upon being woken up, her memories were replaced and- oh."
Celeste snaps the folder shut, thoroughly startling Clint as he had been reading along silently. Steve, Thor, and Natasha look up confusedly, the same question on their minds.
"The article ends there," she offers weakly, handing the papers over to Brielle. "I guess we'll never know who her twin is."
Making eye contact with the scientist as everyone returns to work, she mouths an apology. In return, Brielle offers a kind smile and dismissing wave of her hand before dropping the file into the trash can without so much as opening it.
"Well," Bruce speaks over the awkward silence, gesturing to photographs of yet another con artist. "These people are all horrible."
"Wait," Tony stops him from discarding the file. "I know that guy, from back in the day. He operates off of the African coast in black market arms."
Steve frowns, shooting him a disappointed look.
"He had arc inventions, alright?" He defends himself. "Mean people, I didn't sell them anything. He was talking about finding something new, a game-changer. It was all very Ahab."
Thor points to a photo of the back of the man's balding head, where tattoos and a red brand can be seen on his neck. "What's this?"
"It's a tattoo," Tony explains. I honestly don't think he knew he had it."
"No, those are tattoos," Thor argues, gesturing to the green ink. "This is a brand."
Bruce steps away from the group and over to the computer built into the wall, searching for more information.
"Yeah, it's an ordain African dialect meaning thief," he informs them. "In a much less friendly way."
"What dialect?" Steve asks.
"Wakanada?" Bruce glances back to reread the answer, struggling to pronounce it correctly. "Wakanda?"
Steve and Tony share a look, both having the same idea.
"Why do I get the feeling they know something we don't?" Celeste whispers.
"I've stopped questioning it," Clint admits
"If this guy got out of Wakanda with some other trade goods-"
"I thought your father said he got the last of it," Steve cuts him off.
"I don't follow," Bruce admits, furrowing his eyebrows together. "What comes out of Wakanda?"
