"How's my kit compared?" he asked, amused.
Mindy stared at the weapons. "You're… serious?"
"Dead serious," James said. "And if you're going to keep sneaking out of school, you and I are going to have a long conversation about patrol routes and cover drills."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mindy stared at the two pistols in disbelief, eyes wide.
"I thought you're a businessman?" she asked slowly.
"I am," James simply said. "Chairman of League Games. But I've also got another gig." He pulled out a badge and handed it over. "S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. The whole weapons thing? It's just a hobby. I prefer doing fieldwork."
Mindy blinked. This was not what she expected from her supposed new brother.
"A chairman... is also an agent? That's a thing?"
James shrugged. "Why not? No rules about running a company while working for a secret service."
She hesitated. "Is... the new dad also an agent?"
James laughed. "No. He's an assassin."
Her brain hit a wall. An Assassin, An Agent, The Armory, and Sniper Rifles.
"What kind of house am I living in?" she muttered.
"Wh-What about Hannah?" she added.
"Hannah?" James smiled. "She's Hannah. An actual civilian, she doesn't know all this stuff, so—shush shush to her ok?."
Mindy took a breath. "Okay"
With Mindy finally in the loop, It's time for her to open up so James can stop pretending not to know. "Anyway, let's talk about you. When we get home, I'll show you the armory—most of it's been moved next door for renovations. But I kept Dad's sniper rifle. Quite a solid work of art."
Mindy prepares herself as what she's about to say isn't something she had ever shared with anyone before. "Well, Daddy was a cop. He got framed by some bad men. So he got sent to prison.
When he got out, he trained me how to fight, so I could protect myself from those bad men. Then... Daddy got captured and killed by them. So I took up the job to take them down.
Then Mr. Marcus, my second guardian who took care of me when daddy died and when he got sent to prison, died on duty too. I didn't know what to do until I met Carlos and Hannah. I wanted to protect them so I came here."
James reached out, placed a hand on top of her head, and gently stroked her hair in a comforting gesture. "You don't need to worry about protecting anyone any more. That's our job. Carlos and I—we've got this. Want proof?" He stepped toward the spacious, nearly empty living room and waved her over. "Try to hit me. Go ahead."
Mindy didn't need a second invitation. She stepped up, watching his stance. And seeing him with no guard. The little girl grinned.
She leapt—legs spinning in mid-air, going for a twin-kick to his head.
James didn't flinch. He grabbed her ankle mid-air and flipped her upside down.
She twisted hard, trying to headbutt his stomach—but he shifted her weight easily, dodging it like nothing.
Dizzy now, and dangling in his grip, she felt it.
This wasn't like sparring with other kids.
This was like an immovable stone.
James lifted her a little higher, meeting her eyes. "How's that?"
"I'm not done." Mindy flushed, twisting again. Her arm hooked around his neck and she tried using her full weight to flip him judo-style.
But James didn't move—At all.
She tried again. But the same result.
"It's not fair," she huffed. "I don't even have a weapon."
"Exactly why we're training like this," he said, and gently lowered her to the floor.
Of course, Mindy faked giving up.
As soon as she touched the ground, she snatched his belt, flipped up, and landed on his back like a spider. He was surprised—for a split second. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her again.
Defeated, she exhaled. "Fine. You win."
James chuckled. "C'mon. Let's hit the range. I want to see what your daddy taught you."
They headed for the S.H.I.E.L.D. New York branch.
Surprisingly no one stopped them. Who was going to question a supervised kid?
At the shooting range, James handed her a set of earmuffs. "Pick your pistol."
Mindy looked at the selection and instantly grabbed a Glock 26.
A compact, semi-automatic pistol that's often referred to as the "Baby Glock" due to its small size. 9mm of Ten-round mag. The very gun she used in the movie.
She lined up the shot.
Ten rounds and she scored 85 points.
James nodded, impressed. She was happy. Beaming, even. Then she looked at him with that competitive glint.
He pulled out his shield certified M1911.
One-handed. Ten rounds.
The center of the target obliterated.
Mindy's jaw dropped at the display.
He didn't even show off any flairs. No twirls. No theatrics. Just aim and shoot.
"You're amazing," she admitted. "How does Carlos even keep up with you?"
"He doesn't," James said. "He's an assassin. In his profession—One shot, one chance. And me? I'm an agent, is all you need to know."
Mindy paused. "Why'd you become one?"
He just gave her a smirk. "It's Classified."
She stuck her tongue out. "Whatever. I'll tell Carlos and Hannah a more childish version of what we did today. Don't want them worrying."
James nodded. "Good. That's your only job right now. Just focus on being a kid. We'll deal with the rest of the problems."