Clay Quartermain was driving the SUV towards the church. Nick Fury was riding shotgun. G.W. Bridge and Black Widow were in the back.
Rhodes and Taylor were in a moving truck behind them. Mason was in a moving truck behind that one.
They stopped once they reached the church.
Fury looked at his three agents.
"Ready?" He asked.
All nodded silently.
"Clay, get the briefcase," Fury said.
"Why me, Boss?" Clay asked, "Why not ask the others?"
"I can't ask Bridge to carry luggage, he'd bust my balls with a racial harassment thing. Widow's a lady, and I'm a gentleman. I'm the fuckin' boss, I don't carry my own luggage, that leaves you, handsome."
"Sure. I drive, I carry luggage. Next, I'll be pickin' cotton," Quartermain said.
Fury smiled. So did the others. Quartermain didn't give a shit about carrying the briefcase. Fury knew that. But he also knew Quartermain was using the banter to soothe his nerves. What they were planning to do could either work or turn into a full on gunfight.
"Ok. Let's do thing," Fury said.
Taylor, Mason, Rhodes got out their trucks and deployed around the church as was discussed earlier, armed with M-4 carbines fitted with 40 mm grenade launchers. Fury, Quartermain, Bridge and Widow went to the door.
The church door opened. A young white man, 20s, dark hair, opened. The young man eyed the four visitors with care. He saw that the visitors were armed, but that didn't change his cheerful disposition.
"Can I help you fine people," the young man asked.
"Ricardo, right? The young apprentice? We wish to speak to Sisters Yolanda and Eda, please."
Fury was looking right into Ricardo's eyes. Something registered in those eyes. But the young man didn't lose his smile.
"Of course," Ricardo said, "Come in."
The four SHIELD agents walked into the church. It was a typical Roman Catholic church. High arched ceilings. Wooden benches. A cross in front. Painted, coloured glass windows.
"I'll be back shortly, mister..." Ricardo said.
That almost seemed to shake Ricardo's good mood and he turned away and walked briskly away.
"Moment of truth," Bridge said.
"Indeed," Widow said, "Shame if he we have to damage this place with gunfire."
"Have some faith, Widow, this is the place for that, isn't it?" Quartermain asked.
"Well put," Widow said.
Soon, Ricardo came back with two women. Two very different women, both dressed as nuns.
One was short, old and had an eye-patch, like Fury. Sister Yolanda. The other was tallish, much younger, blonde, had round pink sunglassed. Sister Eda.
Yolanda stood very still, straight. Eda tried to be cool as well, but Fury could sense that she was nervous.
The Church Of Violence or Rip-Off Church.
"Well," Sister Yolanda said, "Colonel Nick Fury of SHIELD. This no small event that you're here. No coincidence either considering recent events. And with you, Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow. You seem to be accompanied by two more agents, most likely senior agents as well."
Fury smiled. "Why senior?"
"For you to be here, Colonel, it must be serious. You would want experienced people next to you in here for this impromptu meeting."
"You are correct, Sister Yolanda," Fury said.
"Now that we are all acquainted, why don't you state your business," Yolanda said.
"Sure," Fury said, "It's really simple. The Church Of Violence is closed for business. You are to leave and hand over all of your inventory."
Yolanda paused, but he wrinkled face didn't change. Eda got a bit more agitated. Yolanda actually smiled before responding.
"I beg your pardon?" Yolanda said.
"You said it yourself, Sister Yolanda," Fury said, "Things are happening in this city. Things are gonna change. Big time. And we're asking you to leave."
"Fuck you, Fury," Eda said.
Fury said nothing. He expected this and let it play out. Eda went on.
"Who the fuck do you think you are walking in here, like John Fuckin' Wayne and asking us to just fuck off? You actually believe your own legend, Fury? You think everybody will just shit their pants because Fury and his fuckin' Howling Commandoes bark orders? Go fuck yourself, you arrogant motherfucker!"
Fury said nothing.
"Though I do not approve of such language in the house of God, I share Eda's sentiment," Yolanda said.
"Of course," Fury said, "That's understandable."
Fury took a deep breath and started walking. Slowly, deliberately, like a professor giving a lecture.
"Guns. Knives. Bombs. Martial arts, all pretty effective weapons," he started, "But none are worth shit-sorry, Sisters-without information. And, being a spy, information is my business. But you know all about that, do you, Eda?"
Eda stiffened. But she wasn't shocked. She probably expected this to happen.
"See, Eda, I know you're a CIA plant," Fury said, "I know that you've been undercover here for a while now. I also know that you've made deals with all sorts of shady characters like dope dealers and human traffickers and all other sorts of scum. But I also know something else. I also know about Grey Fox and The Bloodhound."
Eda inhaled sharply.
"Eda, you're a good agent, in the sense that you follow orders," Fury said, "And you were under orders to sabotage a military operation designed to bring down a major heroin dealer in the Golden Triangle. A top secret operation which was ordered by the NSA."
Eda was breathing hard Fury went on.
"Tell me if I'm wrong, Eda. Grey Fox, the unit that was supposed to take down that smack dealer had set up here In Roanapur. They were on the hunt. But they were also prey weren't they. Hunted down by one of the deadliest people on this planet, Roberta Cisneros. Cisneros, by no small miracle, gave up her violent ways and was taken in by this kind, rich man in Venezuela. But that guy, politically, was considered a problem, so Grey Fox had sanctioned him. She found out they were here and wanted revenge for her new master. Of course, even in this shithole, the death of American soldiers could mean trouble. So you cut deals with the scumbags that run this town to escort the soldiers to safety out of this city."
Fury paused and watch Eda slowly lose her composure. After a second, Fury continued.
"But it didn't stop there, did it? You gave up those soldiers to Cisneros. You gave her Intel that allowed her to hunt down and kill most of that Special Forces squad. Soldiers die all the time. It's part of the job. But you fuckin' sacrificed them. You handed them over to that psycho terrorist and in doing that, you fucked the NSA and the US military. That blew my mind when I learned that. But the NSA and the US military, they don't know the details, do they. As far as they know, the mission was a success and those brave boys died for-" Fury snorted and looked around-"God and Country. I don't think they would be too happy if they found out the details of this goatfuck, don't you agree?"
Eda was trembling with rage. Fury continued.
"But imagine a leak to the press? 'CIA helps terrorists kill American soldiers who were trying to stop a drug cartel'. Nasty headline, don't ya think?"
Eda was still overwhelmed with anger. Fry signalled to Quartermain who approached Eda with the briefcase. Fury spoke again.
"You asked if I expected you to leave because I asked ya. No. I didn't. But this little chat, I had it with your boss in Langley. My agent there will open a briefcase. There will be a scrambled, secure satellite phone. Your bosses' number is programmed. Your fuckin' boss is gonna ask you to leave."
Quartermain dialled the number and handed the phone over to Eda. She was pale and trembling and she took it. She spoke for a few seconds and hung up.
"So," Fury said, "Eda, was I right? Was that your boss? Did he just back my story?"
Eda swallowed hard and said, "Yes."
Fury looked at Yolanda, Eda and Ricardo.
"Now," Fury said, "Get the fuck outta here."
Slowly, the three people walked towards the door. It was a tense moment. It could have gone either way. But they left. Fury heard a car and a motorcycle go away. No gunfire.
"Well," Bridge said, "That was pleasant."
"Bridge, Clay," Fury said, "Get the others. Have Mason check the inventory for booby traps and have it loaded in the trucks."
As Bridge and Quartermain stepped out, Fury pulled out a cigar, chewed off the tip, put it in his mouth, lit it and took a few drags on it.
"Smoking in the house of God, Nick? A nice Irish Catholic boy like you?" Widow teased.
"You've been around this city, Widow. God left here a long time ago."
"This will not put you in good graces of the CIA."
"Fuck the CIA. We already hate each other anyway."
"You're angry about those soldiers, aren't you?"
"I've waged my share of wars, Widow. Soldiers die. It happens. But those boys were used as fuckin' pawns for political bullshit and then, fuckin' bargaining chips. Someone had to pay. Might as well be the bitch who set them up here. Caxton...he became a fuckin' wreck after this. So, yeah, I was pissed."
Fury blew out a cloud of smoke.
"Come on, let's load up some goodies," Fury said.