Lacuna (Spiderman X reader)

Chapter 36

~

"We need you to accompany Mr. Adams on a business meeting as a body guard."

"A business meeting? Don't you guys have actual professional trained body guards?" You asked, putting heavy emphasis on the word 'trained.'

"Yes, Mr. Adams has professional body guards, who will be accompanying, but having you there is going to send the message we need," replied the tall, thin blonde woman walking in front of you, tapping away on her tablet. You strode along behind her, boots silent while her impossibly high heels clicked on the tile with a pointed no-nonsense authority. "The clients he is meeting have no idea, as far as we know, that you work for us. Having you there makes the point that we are good at what we do, we know how to keep things confidential."

"And I'm guessing also that A.I.M. isn't one to screw around."

Sharp gray eyes cut into yours. "Yes. We don't 'screw around.'" She stopped to swipe her key-card across a reader, and the elevator doors slid open in front of you. Stepping inside after the woman, the doors slid shut with a calm hiss of air, and the elevator took you up to the roof where a gaggle of men in suits were waiting beside a helicopter, propeller spinning. They all stepped aside without question for the tall woman leading you, and only half of them stared at you.

"Right on time!" A cheerful Mr. Adams called out. "We're about to take off, please, hop on board."

The blonde woman waited behind as one of the suits walked you and Mr. Adams to the helicopter, the wind threatening to knock all three of you over. You all three climbed on board, buckling up, and then the helicopter lifted off the ground. You closed your eyes under the lenses of your mask, not exactly eager to see where you were going.

-

The sound of the propeller was dull through the large and clunky orange earmuffs on your head, like bass through walls. You weren't plugged in to whatever channel that allowed Mr. Adams and his associate—a man you'd never seen before—to talk to each other through the small mics that hovered beside their faces off of their own earmuffs, and you suspected that the rest of the muscle team wasn't either by the looks of boredom on their faces.

Slowly the city faded away, the soft glow of lights replaced by stars and hills, the occasional town passing by underneath in the distance. And then you were landing on cracked tarmac, pine trees surrounding the area, a dark square building peaking over the top of the treeline in the distance. The helicopter touched down with a surprisingly gentle thump, and then everyone was unbuckling and taking off their earmuffs as the sound died down, hopping down to the ground out of the open door. The three bodyguards exited first, followed by Mr. Adams and his associate. You unbuckled finally, hands shaky. You paused to check your belt, make sure everything was still in place, and disembarked as well.

About thirty feet away, Mr. Adams and his associate were shaking hands with a few men in suits. The night vision filter showed you that they were nearly as immaculately dressed as Mr. Adams, and quite serious, though enthusiastic. You couldn't hear what they were saying over the slow whoosh of the now quieting propellers above you, but you didn't miss the way that two of the four stopped and stared at you as you approached. For each of the four men there was an additional guard accompanying.

"Mr. Adams," one of them said, clearly the highest ranking. "Вы не сообщите мне вы были в ... Одаренных прав с вами."

"Она была с нами в течение некоторого времени. Господа, я хотел бы представить черный свет." Mr. Adams replied, smiling broadly with cold eyes, gesturing at you as a presenter might gesture to a special guest mounting the stage.