The A-Team has grown up, but what will that entail? With everything that happened in their lives, they've been through together, can they really live apart from each other?
Continuation of A-Team.
Disclaimer: Like always I own nothing but the girls...
"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur." Louna sighs as she takes a sip of her cappuccino and reads the files over, waiting for her contact to appear.
"Bonjour," a young man with golden mane and dark brown eyes sat across Louna.
Louna looked confused, "Je pensais rencontrer le Dr. Foster."
The man smiled, "Um… yeah, mom couldn't make it, so Aunt Darcy had me come…"
"Mom?" Louna asked.
"Uh… yeah, Erik Foster…" introducing himself, "pleasure to meet you, Ms?"
"Louna." Louna shook his hand, "Louna, daughter of Loki."
"I know…" Mr. Foster nodded; looking over the menu, "So what's good here?"
Louna cleared her throat, "Pardon me, but you look awfully like Thor…"
Foster put the menu down, "Yes, Louna, I am Thor's son. After finding out she was pregnant that lowlife went to Asgard and never came back. So, if you're here to tell me how great of a father figure he was to you, just leave…"
"I'm not here for that reason," Louna shook her head, "I'm here to ask your mother about these…" Louna placed the three photographs in front of Foster.
"What?!" he picked up a photo.
"It's our aunt." Louna sighs.
"Who?!"
"Hela…" Louna explains.
"Hell is right." ____________________________________________
Anya walks through the noisy streets of Moscow. It was the morning of a concert. Anya looks at the for sale trinkets. "Вы знаете, где находится Ново-Огарево?" she asked.
The vendor had long black hair, dark skin, and light blue eyes; she looked no more than 16. The girl looks up and immediately saluted Anya, "Капитанская дочь!" she exclaimed happily.
Anya frowns, "So much for blending in…" As she turns around to leave, a group of children was running excitedly towards her; she smiles as she met them. In the distance, she sees a little blonde haired little girl wearing a shirt with Natasha's signature red hourglass on it. Anya slowly made her way towards the girl, "Hello?"
The girl looks up and Anya notices the necklace that hung on the girl's neck:
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"What's your name?" Anya asked.
"Talia." the girl said in an English accent, while clutching an American flag.
"Talia, can you show me the way to Novo-Ogaryovo?" Anya asked.
Talia took Anya's hand and led her to a magnificent yellowish residency. As a man with a thick Russian accent escorted Anya towards an office, the staff were more excitedly asked if Anya wanted a drink or something to eat, while she waits.
FinaDlly a man in his 60s entered he had a pointed gray goatee with balding head only the sides had hair. He was a thin gangly man with dark brown eyes and thin lips, pointed nose, and had pale skin that went nicely with his red suit. "Ah," he explains with his arms stretched out, "Ms. Rogers… I am Aleksandr Yahontov, the current president of mother Russia."
Anya stood up to shake hands with him and was offered vodka… "Uh… no thank you, sir. I make it a point not to drink in the middle of business…"
The president sat on his chair, "I am sure you know the current status of your mother's case in our country…"
"Why? Of course, she's seen as a traitor, which is why I'm here…"
"Why are you here, America?"
Anya raised an eyebrow, "I am here to negotiate the terms of Bezuhkov's crime and punishment…" She leans back on the chair.
Yahontov signals for his guards to leave, "Half of my guards feel that you should be arrested and the other half want you persecuted…"
Anya leans in, "And what do you want, Mr. President?"
____________________________________________
Mary sets her bags on the bed in her hotel room dressed from head to tie in black:
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Her mission was simple on the files: take down a kingpin in Vietnam, make sure the victims are safe, and get out. "Simple enough." Mary sighs as she grabs her hot pink duffle bag that contained her weapons.
She looks around the room, "Bạn an toàn với tôi."Mary chuckles at the words, "Right? A kingpin on the loose and I am safe, right?!"
