Maria Hill waited until the limo had cleared the entrance of the building and trundled a good fifty feet down the road before she slipped an over-coat on over her jumpsuit, pushed open the door and started stepping briskly back down the road toward the surveillance
van. She knocked on the van's doors, once, twice, peeking around quickly to make sure no one had seen her, and then stepped inside as the doors opened.
Four agents, dressed in hardened S.H.I.E.L.D. assault armour, sat huddled inside the van, rifles clutched between their knees. They sat like packed sardines, shoulder to shoulder. Maria squeezed her way inside and took a seat next to the fifth agent; who
sat hunched over a computer screen; a pair of headphones squashing down her tight bun of blood-red hair.
"What're we seeing, Natascha?" Hill asked as she took a seat next to the woman and settled a set of headphones over her own head; her tidy, cropped black hair unruffled by the headset.
Agent Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, glanced at Maria just long enough to pull her eyes away from the screen and shrugged, "They're in the lobby, Potts is making small-talk with the secretary, who...well, look."
Hill looked; the image from the two lapel-mounted mini-cams; one on Potts' jacket, the other on Victoria Hand's. The iamge they showed was crystal clear; a gigantic pair of glistening, shining, obviously fake tits.
"Christ," Maria chuckled as she gazed through the fish-eyed lens of the camera at the secretary's heaving bosom, "What's she saying?"
The Black Widow shook her head, jostling her red hair, "Something about Fink; the guy who runs the place, can't hear much of it, she keeps giggling all the time...ah, here's the welcoming committee now."
Hill glanced at Hand's camera-lens. Two men strode in, one was thin and with greying hair while the other was a large, burly, dark-skinned man; both wore pressed suits. The bulge of a holster was visible under the black man's jacket.
"Hmmm," Maria pursed her lips, watching the screen intently.