"I don't care how many agents you have on blackouts, I need them all now!" Nick Fury barked, slamming his hand down on the desk. It cracked. That was the problem with all this modernist glass bullshit, he thought, you couldn't emphasize anything without breaking something. And he wasn't even gamma-radiated.
But the fact remained that Captain goddamned America was missing and they had no clues at all.
He hears Hill behind him and turns, scowling, and there's an imposing woman with impeccably coiffed hair behind Hill and Fury's day has either gotten much better or much worse.
"Chief," he says, and it's meant to sound cordial and comes out half-amused. She gives him a wry nod. She's still wearing the blazer with the shoulder pads. It's as much armor as his own trenchcoat.
"Agent. Or Director now, I should say. You've moved up in the world."
And the hell of it is, she could have too, could have been the greatest agent SHIELD had seen since Carter and Stark started the damn place. She could've been head of Interpol if she wanted. But Nick's fairly sure ACME is just as much a front as the telephone company was for the SSR back in the day, so he's not going to mourn the Chief's missed chances.
Instead he brings up the one blurry image they managed to pull of their suspected hero-napper, the broad-brimmed hat and matching trenchcoat unmistakable. "Our most valuable asset has gone missing, and I'm told you're the one to come to when it comes to Sandiego."
"You're right." The Chief steps aside to reveal the small agent standing behind her, fumbling with a tablet and muttering about exports. The agent looks about twelve. "Agent, pay attention. This is Sandiego's last known location." The Chief nods at Fury and he steps back. He knows SHIELD agents are already on the case, but when it comes to tracking down Carmen Sandiego there's nobody he trusts more than her.