>Knock. Knock. Knock.
>“Miss Sparkle!”
“Yeah, shut up, I’m asleep.”, you groan to make the noise stop.
>Knock. Knock. Knock.
>“Miss Sparkle! Please.”
>The man trying to get your attention has not heard you.
>How dare he not hear you through your muffled voice and the door of your van.
>The noise continues for a few minutes at different frequencies.
>Whoever it was is damn lucky that, now that you are awake, you need to pee.
>Which means you have to leave your van.
>Lucky you.
>A quick check if all the important bits are covered tells you that you had fallen asleep in the clothes you wore the day before.
>Which means you don’t have to bother getting dressed today.
>Success.
>It’s the little things which give the life value.
>You open the back door of your vehicle and step out barefoot on the street.
>Ignoring the man who talks in on you, you close the door and head into the small family diner.
>“Look ma’, ze dead are walking.”, the owner informs his mother of your presence, “Its-a a sign of se apocalypse!”
“Mornin’ Enrico,” you greet him.
>As little taste as you have for social interactions now he let’s you stay, so there was no reason to not be friendly towards him.”
>“It’s three in the afternoon, Ms. Sparkle!”, he partially informs and rebukes you.
“Okay then... coffee, please”, you order, while trotting past him towards the bathrooms, “Black like my soul.”
>“We only serve edibles here, Ms. Sparkle.”, he says with a chuckle, “Health code!”
“As black as possible then, like usual.”
>“Certainly!”, he confirms with a happy nod.
>Ugh...
>How can people be this cheerful this early in the day?
>He doesn’t know your exact past, but he reads the news, and even if he never seen your name he can surely but two and two together.
>“There’s a man for you here, he’s not been ordering anything for two hours!”
>That guy didn’t bother you until now when a bang of guilt hits you.
>You don’t want to cause Enrico any troubles after he already lets you use his parking lot and bathroom.
>You stop in your tracks but don’t look back to the man who tried to talk in on you ever since you exited the van.
>Then your senses overwhelm you.
>His husky voice, his pungent cologne, the reflection on the shiny tiles of the kitchen of a pinstripe business suit, the cold hand on your shoulder trying to get your attention.
>Cold hands means more blood is most likely in his feet as a fight or flight response.
>With the information you already have about him insisting on staying to meet you, and that it’s you whom he wants to meet, …
>Ahhhh...
>With your brain activating you notice everything else in the diner as well.
>The warmth of the tiles adorned with small crumbs of dirt underneath.
>No.
>The smells of various food stuffs almost overshadowing the few things hiding out of plain sight, like the fresh chewing gum underneath table 7.
>It’s still somewhat fresh but you wouldn’t be able to pull DNA off of it, barely the bloodtype of the person who put it there.
>No, no, no.
>You hear the people around you, talking amongst each other or on the phone.
>The elderly Cuban woman, Enrico’s mother, cussing about your continued stay in their parking lot in a fast and thick Spanish accent.
>The relationship troubles and ensuing love triangle of some characters in a TV-show.
>The faint buzz of a vibrating telephone an older gentleman does not notice, even if it is placed in his front right pocket.
>The tapping of keys on a laptop by some multicolored hipster-haired girl in the back.
>No, it’s too much, don’t focus.
>You can almost ID the store brand of her hair dye by smell, as it was recently dyed.
>Can she not keep a consistent hair color? Is she hiding from someone by taking on another look?
>No, don’t think.
>Not your place.
>Not your business.
>You shrug the guy whose hand is still on your shoulder off and stumble into the woman’s bathroom where a new world of smells await you.
>They were still present before, but now even more so, but you don’t mind.
>Shit has a purity of itself.
>It’s not pretentious.
>Everyone’s shit stinks.
>You fumble out an applier, load it up with your cocktail of neural inhibitors and shoot it right into your common carotid artery.
>As usual your vision and hearing are the first things to go, quickly followed by almost all other senses as well.
>The drug wasn’t perfect, but it at least let you keep a muffled version of your sense of touch.
>As you can still feel the floor on the soles of your feet and the ceramics of a sink in your hand, you know to have remained upright.
>At least you have that dignity left.
>On average it takes you two minutes to regain sight, but the side effects are getting worse, it’s been a while since you’ve last been able to measure that time.
>There’s so much things you’d like to do, yet so little...
>You splash some water into your face and leave the bathroom as soon as you deem fit.
>A man stands before the woman’s bathroom.
>Huh, weird.
>You make place for him, maybe he’s waiting for someone...
>No, wait.
>Work, brain.
>Oh yeah.
>He’s waiting for you.
>“Twilight Sparkle?”
“Yes?”
>“Uhh...”
>Now that he actually has your attention he forgot what he wanted to say, wasn’t he?
>“Someone... tagged your vehicle.”
>You lean to the side to look over his shoulder.
>The letters “HYDRA WHORF”
>Your brain starts to kick into gear and offers you trivia on Uto-Aztecan languages
>Or maybe the perpetrator misspelled Worf.
>You’ve never been a Trekkie, but -
>No.
>You’re stupid.
>The information you have is unfinished.
>The last line of the letter “E” is missing.
“I see...”, you say slowly before facing him again, “I’ll drink my coffee and you tell me about what job you have for me in the meantime. And then I’ll tell you I’m not gonna take it, okay?”
 
>“Do you know anything about space shuttle design?”
>This may not be so bad, but you doubt Flam wants to hire you for that.
“Give me a ruler, some compasses and a pencil and I can give it a shot.”
>Once you stopped shaking, of course, but the coffee was working wonders already.
>“Someone stole my designs for an express system for Homeworld Security.”
“You don’t look the designer type.”
>“My companies designs! They took everything!”
“I don’t care.”
>You know you said you’ll tell him off afterwards, but there is some satisfaction to see his expression on your live commentary to his story.
>“I have a shareholders meeting coming up and nothing to show for. I- I’m done.”
“Don’t care.”
>“My company’s done. 4500 employees!”
>This hits a spot.
>Can’t hurt to at least hear him out, but you take your time to respond by finishing another cup of coffee.
“So... you want me to find them?”
>“Nono, I know who they are,” he tells you, “My chief engineer went missing and one week later Alpha Flight announces a similar project? I know exactly where they are.”
>Alpha Flight...
>“I want you to steal the designs back.”
>U wot mate?
“Contrary to my reputation I’m an honest citizen. And stealing them back sounds like a stupid risk, Why... why would I do that?”
>“I’ve read all about you, Ms. Sparkle. The works you were involved with. Against Dr. Doom. That disaster control in Sokovia after Ultron. That virus threatening to destroy the Worlds banking system. I know that the world owes you a debt. And I know that when you needed-”
“There’s some point where I’ll pour scalding coffee into your crotch,” you interrupt him, “and we’re getting there pretty quick.”
>He bites his lip and scoots a little closer to you.
>“Hydra and SHIELD may be gone, but you it was only in name. Now it’s Alpha Flight, only now they are stealing good American companies and workers their jobs to regain their own footing.”
>You hesitate.
>Yet he knows he already got you.
>“Ms. Sparkle, how badly do you want to screw with the people who ruined your life?”
“So what do you want me to do? I’m not a thief.”
>“Nono, thieves, I got. What I need is one honest guy to keep them in check.”
>You’re not liking this...
>He takes a folder out of his suitcase and hands it to you.
>“Here’s a list of people whom I’ve already got.”
>This time you don’t hesitate.
>You take the folder and open it up.
>“Do you recognize any of these names? They’re supposed to be good. Are they good?”
>Applejack, Rarity, …
“Yeah, I investigated those one time or another-”, you flip the page, “Ponk? You got the Ponk?”
>“Why? Is there anyone better?”
>You look at a selfie of the superpowered mix of a cat burglar and a bucket of silly putty.
“No, but she’s insane.”
>“Which is why I need you.”
“Two of them have confirmed super powers, and even if one’s only punching. I don’t have any powers.”
>You add ‘anymore’ in your mind.
“And it’s not gonna work, these people all have the same reputation. None of them’s a team player. They work alone, they always work alone and there’s no exception.”
>“Oh, for half a million they will, and for you – for managing all of that it’s a full million.”
“That, ahh...”
>That’s a lot of money.
>“Look, I’m desperate here. It’s a quarter billion dollar intellectual property. Your salary are only peanuts here.”
>Had it been less you would have- no.
>You don’t know.
>This is all too...
>It’s not really your style.
>Then again, you worked with criminals and real bad guys before without knowing so.
>The people in the folder are comparatively petty.
>“And there’s a bonus!”
>You look up to him again.
>What would more money do to sway you?
>“The communications officer with Alpha Flight in Homeworld Security is Spitfire. If you steal it she’ll stand there and will have nothing to show for in her own presentation. Don’t you want to screw with the people who ruined your life?”
 
 
>Nighttime.
>As your van was tagged you had to set up base in a hotel room with a view to Alpha Flight’s headquarters, and the second sky scraper on which the rag tag crew of thieves is stationed right now.
>On one Laptop you have different video feeds of what each of your subordinates is seeing and a few black ones which are not yet hooked up to anything.
>On a second Laptop you have all kinds of notes on the building and it’s employees which were either available to the public, or have been acquired by White in some other fashion.
“I have clear visuals of you. White, have all comms been handed out? Over.”
>“Oh, you mustn’t use those, darling. It’s tech which went out of style in the 80s, I have something nicer, check the white box by the antenna I installed for you.”
>You look over to the box she mentions and wait a second before responding to her.
“No surprises, White. And you need to indicate the end of your communications with the term ‘over’, do you understand me?”
>“I’ve been doing this since secondary school, darling.”
>The box contains another ear piece, and, choosing to trust Rarity, you take one out and insert it into your ear.
“What is this? You ask. Can everyone read me? Over.”
>“This ear piece is of my own design. It works off the vibrations in your jaw and the signal goes over a VPN with my own security codes. Be a dear and remove that ghastly comm you wanted to use, Twilight Sparkle, it can be traced too easily.”
>You frown.
“Wilco. Removing the old communication if everyone can copy. But first, White, don’t use real names. Do you copy? Over”
>So far you’ve avoided meeting anyone of them face to face.
>“Your identity is secure with us, uhh... ‘Purple’, I’d just like to know who I’m working with, you know?”
“It is no surprise to you found out who I am, but act professionally and stick to the code names, and use communication jargon. Do you copy? Over.”
>“I told you, this connection is secure. And I vote no on old timey radio talk. What do you think, Appl-?”
>“No names!”, another voice interrupts, the fact she just interrupted her own name tells you it could only be Applejack. “But yeah, Purple, cut the fancy speech.”
>This may not be worth it.
“Roger,” you confirm anyway, “Code names but no communication jargon. But still, can everyone hear me? Red, do you copy?”
>“Ah think yer not wantin’ to be our friend,” Applejack responds.
“White, do you copy?”
>Rarity giggles and takes on a mocking serious tone, “White reporting in, darling.”
“Rose, I have not heard you yet. Do you copy?”
>“Nah, but I can hear you.” another voice, the Ponk, tells you.
>You have not even started and you’re already fed up with that team of misfits.
“White, the building acts as a Faraday cage, will your comms work-”
>“Way ahead of you, Purple. We can use the same method we planned with yours by connecting it to the cage’s construct itself and let the entire building function as an antenna. I’ll place a simple transmitter inside and we are connected with you.”
“Alright, mission is a go.”
>You’re going to regret this.
“Ponk, on my command. It’s cloudy, there’s little light from the moon or down from the streets, On my count of five. Five, four, -”
>“She’s gone.”
“What?” you hiss out.
>“Waaah!”
>Screams.
>The video feed on your screen went crazy, as if they were free falling.
>You rush to the window and use some binoculars to look over to the Alpha Flight HQ.
>As you’ve said, the visibility was bad, but you know what you are looking for.
>You were only quick enough to notice a thin shape retreat onto the building.
“Son of a-”
>“Gnn...  Ah’m gonna feel that t’morrow...”, Applejack groans.
“That’s why we do it on a count, for everyone to be ready!” you rebuke the Ponk.
>“White here seems fond of carousels so I thought it would be fun for them.” She innocently says, “Like on the carnival.”
>“Carousels? Whatever makes you think that? Gaah...
>Rarity does things at her own pace and so does the Ponk.
>You can imagine Rarity trying to get her bearings on the rooftop after having been flung over out of nowhere.
“Status report, is everyone okay?”
>“Started this adventure on an adrenaline high for everyone!”, Ponk announces proudly.
>“Had worse.”
>“I assume you don’t care about the state of my hair, do you?”
>You grind your teeth.
“Moving on. White, locate the best access point to the Faraday cage. Red, get the power tools for our construction ready and communicate with White for the setup of the antenna. And Rose, secure yourself on the roof and let yourself go down the side of the building. No work yet, we  don’t know what vibration detection equipment they use, so no cutting, if any, use the binary.”
>They do as you order and give you appropriate insight into their own expertise as they navigate the building.
>There were no hurdles outside the foreseen scenarios you’ve wrote down and prepared proper equipment for.
>Or at least none you couldn’t easily improvise around.