Who: Samantha Ellis What: Following some leads & getting shot When: Monday night, July 21st 2014 Where: Tijuana, Mexico Warnings: Violence? Also some bad puns
Every work day always ended the same for Samantha. She clocked out, she slipped her heels back on where they'd been sitting under her desk all day. She checked in with her boss and then breezed out the door leaving Roman Investigations behind her for yet another day. It was a cute set up and all, hats off to the plucky private investigators of the world trying to keep their small businesses running in this economy, but Samantha had somewhat surpassed this all by now. As far as anyone she met on the street knew, she was an IT girl. As far as anyone at the office knew, she was a private investigator that mostly pushed papers. And now? She was a full fledged spy working for S.H.I.E.L.D and sometimes with the Avengers. Her cover had become a cover for her cover job that was a cover for her real job, or something. What her boss and everyone else didn't need to know wouldn't hurt them. Besides, she was the one risking her life out there. There was every chance she could wind up dead on any given day, but that never bothered her. No, it just made the thrill and the rush all the more appealing. Yes, Samantha was taking after Natasha in more ways then one.
"Me gustaría hablar con el... gerente." I would like to speak to your manager.
Samantha's Spanish wasn't the best, she was much better with Russian but a little flash of skin and a smile always seemed to do the trick. People will forgive you almost anything as long as you have a pretty face, and she worked that angle just like every other. It was also incredibly hard to talk over the cheesy mariachi band music playing over the loud speakers, and she was a little tipsy off the few shots of tequila she'd had previous to this conversation. The surly Mexican with a pronounced mustache and an even more pronounced beer belly stared down at her where she was standing at the bar with her hands on her hips, inwardly having trouble not getting queasy at the sight of him. But Samantha was nothing if not an incredibly skilled actress. "Do you comprende? The food was no es bueno, okay? Gerente, por favor!" Well, that was sort of correct.
The man gave her a few more squinty-eyed stares before finally nodding and moving around the bar, gesturing her to follow him through the kitchen and into a back room separated from the tiny restaurant venue by a curtain of cheap door beads. The sound of jingling plastic clicked around her ears as Samantha followed him in and immediately down a narrow, dirty hallway. Her bright eyes looking subtly around for any sign of a surveillance camera or someone waiting in the wings. Not so far. "Your manager all the way back here, honey? You boys should really think about investing in some new digs, this place is..."
Samantha trailed off, knowing full well the man didn't know any English but that didn't stop her anyway, what did stop her was the sudden halt in their steps as they rounded another corner into the tiniest office she'd ever laid eyes on. "... shitty."
The man left with an audible grunt and Samantha was left standing in the middle of the dark office, the guy hadn't even bothered to switch on a light. What a gentleman. It was hard to tell whose thought that was, but knowing Natasha and Samantha it could very well have been both. With a little bit of wall groping, Samantha was able to locate a light switch and flip it on just as she felt hands behind her grab onto her shoulders and Samantha's mouth lit up in a wicked smile. She didn't miss a beat before she was throwing herself to the ground and stretching a leg back up behind her to kick the weapon out of his left hand, bracing both her hands on the floor so she could use her weight to twist around and lock both legs around the guy's neck to flip him over onto the ground. Two seconds after the guy tried to attack her he was flat on his back, with Samantha on her feet standing over him and pointing his own gun in his face.
"You know what they say about unhappy customers," she spoke in a low, dangerous tone, before lifting a foot and kicking him square in the face, knocking him out cold. "They might just send someone back here to complain." She didn't waste any time before shutting the door to the office and walking around to sit down at his computer. She placed the gun just to the left of the keyboard just in case he woke up and waited for the computer to boot up before typing in a few codes at rapid succession. A few password protected files immediately appeared on the screen and she smirked in triumph, plucking a USB drive from a pocket in her belt (she was wearing pieces of Natasha's suit under her street clothes) and inserting it into the side of the computer.
Wilder's face flashed onto the screen along with a bunch of other government stats as certain files began transferring over to the USB and Samantha had to look away, renewed anger boiling in her. She was here for him, she was here in her quest to find the last of the CIA assholes who had hunted her former boss down and killed him in cold blood. But she wasn't going to kill them when she found them. No, not this time. This time she was going to make sure they spent the rest of their days in a cold, unforgiving prison cell. She had all the evidence she needed against them, all she needed now was the mouth breathers who'd conveniently jumped ship after the crime had been committed. "Popalsya." Gotcha.
Fifteen seconds after she'd been attacked by the man on the ground she was re-pocketing the USB drive in her belt and walking briskly out the door, making fast for the opposite end of the hall that she'd come in and locating her pre-approved escape route. It only took a few more seconds for her to climb out onto the window ledge, but she hadn't been counting on a second guy after the first was knocked out. She heard the shot before she felt it, the bullet ripping through her abdomen and Samantha's head swam, gritting her teeth against the immediate pain to keep from crying out, her breathing became more rapid. She had already attached herself to the harness so she pushed herself through the pain, letting Natasha take over a little and more or less throwing herself over the side, hitting the ground twenty feet below and stumbling to her get-away vehicle.
Once she was on her bike and putting some real distance between herself and the thugs, Samantha screeched to a halt on the side of the road. She wasn't going to make it to the border, she was having a hard time keeping a grip on her bike and also her own consciousness. She needed help, but she couldn't call just anybody. Pulling out her phone with a trembling hand, she winced and shifted her other hand to the point of entry, pressing on it hard to apply more pressure as she tapped in the number. She was losing blood. At least she'd have a good excuse for calling in sick in the morning.