12431/Unmasking La Madrina

Unmasking La Madrina
Date of Scene:	14 August 2022
Location:	Janet's Penthouse, Manhattan
Synopsis:	Steve confronts Janet about concealing the La Madrina operation. Things are said that can't be unsaid, and Steve tells Janet that he can't be with her anymore.
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Steve Rogers

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Janet van Dyne has posed:
Another drugs bust in New Jersey, in a nondescript and unoccupied office building. It's partially finished with some abandoned construction project and therefore makes a great location for criminals. Lots of entrances and exits, plenty of places to hide, and no one's more than fifty running steps from the streets beyond, disappearing into a neighborhood jaded enough to ensure no one's gonna talk to cops.

When the 'go' signal is given, Steve's already in a well forward position. Floodlights and megaphones blare, sirens whoop, and a police detail starts closing the loop around the building to ensure no one's getting out.

And once again, Steve witnesses the mysterious black-clad stranger-- the woman called 'La Madrina'-- making an early depature under some pretext, leaving the room well ahead of the other criminals.

She elects to head upstairs rather than down, moving through dimly-lit hallways with extreme confidence. Steve can in fact see her from his perch, and she's walking down the corridor with a snappy pace despite the heels she's wearing. It's hard to make out much about her with the hat, dress, and veil, but she definitely doesn't move like someone unaccustomed to her attire.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    There's a nagging suspicion in the back of Steve's mind, not anything he can really consciously explain, but something about La Madrina /bothers/ him. He's caught glimpses of her more than once now, and she's always gone by the time they arrive. Does she have a mole in the DEA? Is she a meta, a telepath maybe, sensing the minds of the government agents converging on her position? There's /something/ there, and he just can't figure it out.

    And he didn't bother telling Janet he was going, this time. She shows up late every time, and she's been cancelling plans at the last minute. And something about all of that's bothering him, too. He hasn't quite put two and two together yet. Not consciously, anyway. But it's all bugging him.

    So when La Madrina leaves, Steve doesn't bother waiting for the go signal. He doesn't say anything into the comms, either, in case there's a mole. He just moves, doing whatever he has to do in order to get to the roof of the building she's in and look for the access door. He can meet her on the way up.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
It doesn't take her long to get to the roof; she's got a phone in hand, speaking rapid Spanish in a husky low voice. "Si, mierde. Policia aqui. Si. Ven aqui, rapidamente, gracias." Fortunately there's no helicopter to worry about, so the lone figure in black walks to the edge of the roof and rather fearlessly peers over it to watch the police task force trying to snare the various low-level dealers swarming out in every possible direction.

There's some wind blowing and tugging at her skirts and hat, and she puts one hand atop her head to hold it in place and ensure it doesn't get whipped away.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve frowns briefly. Definitely a mole, if she already knows the police are here before they've moved. He glances up, briefly, but there's no aerial rescue swooping in for her. How's she planning to get off the roof? Can she /fly/?

    He crosses the roof toward the woman as she appears and heads toward the edge, shield ready, gun unholstered. He levels it at the woman; he doesn't want to kill her, but it's a possibility, if it'll unravel this whole conspiracy. "La Madrina!" he calls out. "Don't move!"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
The woman turns and looks at Steve, and gasps sharply. It's still difficult to see her face, but tension grips her shoulders and she adopts a defensive posture. This is definitely nobody's grandmother; her balance and self-comportment speak to a younger woman, someone still in her prime.

There's a *CRACK* of an energy weapon discharging and a bolt of energy hits Steve just between the shoulderblades. It is a weirdly familiar noise; in fact, if he were to guess (as his arms and legs quit working), Steve would be pretty confident someone shot him in the back with an ICER.

"What the shit?!" a woman screams. There's the sound of several sets of footsteps approaching, and then abruptly Janet's looking down at Steve, kneeling over him. "Baby, I'm sorry," she says, touching Steve's face with apologetic strokes. Another person is suddenly looking down at him; Janet's personal assistant, Arthur. He looks mortified, tugging at the jacket covering his holstered ICER. "Damn. I'm sorry, Captain Rogers," he says, andit sounds authentically remorseful. "I didn't realize it was you."

Janet turns her head at a distant noise, then focuses back on Steve. "I'm sorry but I have to go," she apologizes. "I can't fly you *and* Arthur out of here. Find me at my penthouse, I'll... I'll explain, I promise," she assures him.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve blinks rapidly as he's shot, in shock more than anything. He falls to the roof, blinking up at the sky. His eyes widen as he sees Janet and Arthur. "Wh--Janet? What?" He's terribly confused, and still a little stunned by the ICER bolt hitting him. For a moment, he wonders--why did Arthur shoot him? Why did Janet bring Arthur? Where's La Madrina? Did they scare her off--?

    Oh.

    "Janet!" But it's too late; even as Steve manages to struggle to his knees, and then his feet, Janet is presumably gone. "Shit!" He shakes his head, frowning. Why hadn't he /seen/ it? In retrospect, it all makes sense--why Janet was always late or cancelling plans, why she kept showing up /just/ on time, why La Madrina was always one step ahead of them.

    Well... it all makes sense except for one question: Why? What on /Earth/ is Janet up to?

    Shaking his head as he tries to shake off the effects of the ICER, he strides for the roof access, and growls into the comm, "La Madrina's gone again. I've got a lead; I'll follow it up. Don't worry about me." Then he heads to Janet's penthouse, to try to get some answers.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Waiting for Steve is one of the longest hours of Janet's life. She'd gone directly to her penthouse as promised, and told Arthur to take his boyfriend and disappear upstate for a long holiday-- ideally on a private mountaintop.

Then she'd poured herself a drink, slammed it down, poured another, and started hitting her vape pen until the worst tension in her neck minutely relaxed.

When Steve does arrive, Janet's waiting for him. Her hat's set aside, shoes and hose off, and the opera gloves set aside. It leaves her in a plain black dress, and apprenhension covers her features once the two of them make eye contact.

"Arthur's sorry," she blurts out. "Really, really sorry. He thought you were-- well he didn't know it was you, and--" Janet takes a breath, trying to stabilize herself. "Well, he's sorry," she concludes, lamely.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve considered changing out of his uniform, but ultimately the Captain America outfit works as emotional armor as well as physical. Going home and changing would give him more time to think, anyway, and he's not sure he wants that before he gets her side of the story. And he needs her side of the story, because there's no way this looks like anything but horrible in his mind, right now.

    "You can tell Arthur not to worry about it. He was just acting on orders, yeah? /La Madrina's/ orders." He winces as soon as he says it, and sighs.

    He reaches up a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you... just... explain, I guess? Start from the beginning."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
The edge on Steve's voice makes Janet wince. She's clearly agonizing over it, not just having hurt Steve inadvertently but having cut him out of the plan entirely.

To an extent, she's also angry about getting caught, but at least has the sense to not express that thought in a way Steve would feel compelled to call out.

"Christ. Okay." Janet blows out a breath, running her fingers through her brown hair. "So, uh... Sugar. You know him, he's my dealer at the Circle," she prompts Steve. "He got put in the hospital. Beaten up. He's not a hardcore dealer, he scores candy for the upper crust crowd and he's, y'know. Careful. He looks out for them and makes sure they don't OD or get crazy addicted."

"They beat him to an inch of his life to get him out of the way for their own people. A month later, three people-- people /I/ knew, personally-- OD'd. Two of them on heroin, one of them on coke. I-- I couldn't ignore that. Not my friends, in my club, getting... fucked over by some street hustler trying to bleed them dry." She pauses to take another quick gulp of her drink.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Something in Steve's face softens as Janet explains. He's still frowning, but it's not as deep, and there's sympathy in his gaze. "Alright. So... you decided to look into whoever put Sugar in the hospital."

    He remembers Sugar; that made him frown a bit more, but he's mostly just listening while Janet explains. For the moment.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"I called my old Mob contacts up," Janet explains. "Leaned on them, bribed a few cops, paid some criminals off and hired PIs. It's the Families, there's a-- like a turf war with the Mexican cartels. They both want Columbian coke and control of the markets on the seaboard."

"So I dig in, I bring in my troubleshooters--" Janet's guns-for-hire-- "and we start hitting them. Going after the distributors. The Mafia all think it's the Mexicans, and the Mexicans are sure it's the Mafia. I had them all chasing each other's tales for a few months," she says, and can't hold a bit of pride back from her voice.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve can't help but crack a smile, briefly, but quickly wipes it away to put a stern look back on. "And you didn't tell anyone else about this." Didn't tell me, he doesn't say, but it's implicit. "Just... went off to handle it on your own."

    He sighs. "Okay, so how'd you wind up this... 'La Madrina,' then?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet purses her lips at Steve's tone, but pushes on to the more direct question. "Well... the problem is, I was doing a little *too* well," Janet admits. "And they were real close to wising up. I mean, the Mafia thought we were the entire Los Zetas cartel. And the Mexicans were sure that we were every family in New England, plus the Sicilians."

She shrugs, a little helplessly. "So I go to the Mexicans, and I tell them I can handle their Mafia problem. And I go to the mob, and tell them the same thing. And since I *am* the problem, I was able to deliver. After things calmed down, I made a deal with the higher ups. I get first crack at any neighborhoods that, uh, 'open up'."

"So, I... kinda accidentally... formed a cartel?" she says, voice pitch inflecting upwards. She even twiddles her fingertips against each other, waiting for Steve's reaction. "And now I've got people on a payroll, because we have to move product to finance things. And they're also taking out wise guys and cholos from New Brunswick to Long Island. And even the, um, the Asian gangs, they're backing off," she adds, trying to make it sound like a good thing. "At the rate I'm going, there won't be any distributors but me in the New York area."

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve stares at Janet for a long moment. Just... stares at her. "I'm... not sure whether to say 'congratulations' or call the DEA." He reaches up to rub at his face again. "Do you know how long we've been trying to track you down? Well, maybe not you--there's evidence of metahumans getting involved in felony crimes, which might not be you at all. Still..."

    He sighs, and shakes his head. "Why didn't you tell me? At the beginning, when it got too big, when I /found/ you? Why didn't you just... tell me?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Yeah, uh..." Janet clears her throat. "Look, rule one, don't ask questions that you don't want the answer to," she advises Steve. "Which leads me into why I didn't tell you. One word: Deniability," she informs him.

Janet starts to fix herself up another drink and catches A Look from Steve. She sighs and pauses her motions, planting her hand on the marble counter to support her weight. "Steve, you are very cool with my libertine lifestyle, and, I love you for it," she says. "But I also know that the directors of like, six Federal agencies have you on their speed dial. Now--" she goes back to stirring her drink. "I'm not concerned with the cops or Feds. I'm untouchable, trust me. But like, even if they couldn't pin anything on me, I didn't want you to get... caught up in it. 'America's Icon Living With New York's Biggest Drug Queenpin'," she mimes, panning a hand overhead to illustrate a blog headline. "I didn't want to put you through that. This way, you can-- well, could-- say honestly you had no idea."

Steve Rogers has posed:
    "Okay. That tracks. At first. Even if I don't /care/ about the bad press--you're trying to protect me. Fine."

    Steve folds his arms across his chest, glowering at Janet now. It's a very definite Look. An 'I do not approve of the direction this conversation is taking' Look. "But what about when you came in and saved me from Goliath and the Irish mob, huh? I mean, at that point, you knew we were tracking you, following you. What if I'd brought other guys along with me tonight? Then it looks like not only am I living with New York's Biggest Drug Queenpin, maybe I'm /helping/ her evade the authorities."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet meets Steve's glower with a flat look. Not quite irritated-- not yet-- but the confrontationalism is starting to needle at her. "Hey, look-- Jumbo needed to go down either way. I didn't bring him along, and I sure didn't want to just blow up into Ant Queen--" she snaps her fingers over her head-- "and stomp on him while trying NOT to look like an Avenger. You showed up at the perfect time. I knew we could handle him, and you gave me a great cover story," she says with a beaming smile.

"Plus, I could have figured something out tonight. We're /Avengers/, Steve," she says with a wry laugh. "If I tell them 'Yeah I was here incognito', who are they gonna believe, the thugs or me? None of the dealers know who La Madrina actually is. God, you act like I've never had to explain my way out of a felony before," she says, and chortles into her drink before padding past Steve to head towards the softer chairs in the living room.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve chuffs at Janet. "That's--not really helping, you know? God, Janet, don't you get--you're right. We're Avengers. So you think we couldn't have explained our way out of the press problem? I mean, yeah, okay, in that case--we were going undercover to take down a big drug ring. You think /I've/ never lied to anyone about anything? You think--what, you think I'm /incapable/ of lying or something, if I had to? Besides, that's not even a lie, if you're actually telling me the truth! You were trying to stop a drug ring! So if it's all aboveboard, why do you have to /hide/ anything!"

    He shakes his head. "You of /all/ people should know I'm not the damn Boy Scout the press makes me out to be. You wanted to help me protect my reputation--fine. You didn't want to force me to choose between you and the law--fine. But when push came to shove, and I got entangled in the whole thing, you were lying to me. You didn't trust me. And that's--Janet, I would've--damn it, I would've had your back!"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Don't come in here and /yell/ at me!" Janet snaps, raising her voice to match Steve's rising ire. "Of /all people/, I'm the only one of us who knows how to deal with-- with-- this! This cartel bullshit!"

She takes a swift gulp of her drink and paces two steps away to set it down hard on a designer end table, and turns on the balls of her feet to match Steve's cold blues with her own intensely green gaze. "It's a business, Steven, it's moving money around. No one does that better than me," she declares. "You wanna--" she holds a hand out, laughs humorlessly. "You want to rope the others into the planning process? Let's call Tony, but make sure Pepper can play too. Ooh, or Thor and Bruce. I can't see that going wrong." She purses her lips, then: "Oh, or /Natasha/. Now *that* would be a body count," she says.

"You have no idea how delicate this game still is. I'm sitting on enough cocaine to open Aspen early. I've got dozens of dealers I'm trying to rehabilitate so we don't have them killing each other in the street anymore and hitting bystanders. I don't want to see any of my /friends/ fucking /die/ because-- because some asshole cuts his coke with fucking *meth* to string out a dumb nineteen year old socialite who-- shouldn't have to be DEAD," she says, voice rising on the last work. Tears spring unbidden to her eyes, but it doesn't lessen the anger trembling in her neck one bit.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    "Yeah, well--glad you care about it now that it's some /socialite/ dying from meth instead of homeless people out on the street." Steve just bulls right on through the 'oh why did I say that, I didn't mean it' feeling and keeps on. "Nobody should /die/ from this, nobody should--ugh, that's not even the point!"

    He drops his arms and gestures as he speaks. "You're not /listening/. I wouldn't have had to tell anyone. 'Look, Steve, I've got this, trust me,' and I would've trusted you. Simple. Done. But you kept stringing me along, showing up 'late,' lying to me, /duping/ me! Because you thought I'd turn you in? Because you thought 'as soon as Steve knows about this, he's gonna be mad,' well, I wouldn't have been back when this first started!"

    He shakes his head. "If you think you've got something to hide, Janet, then maybe you do. I mean, okay, maybe it /started/ with noble intentions, but at this point--is it really about reforming the whole system or is it just about the rush you're getting from outsmarting everyone?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's brows go up, then she pastes a Perfectly Polite smile on her face. A very sure sign that she's marshalling a howling squall of an outburst. It's the empty, plastic face she flashes when people are pressing on her nerves, and it's very much not a nice expression. In fact it looks downright sociopathic.

She turns that fake smile on Steve after he finishes his reprimand, and stays silent long enough to make the pause deliberately uncomfortable.

"Right. Because-- vain, self-absorbed socialite," Janet says, pointing at herself. Fingers flip towards Steve. "And heroic, selfless Golden Boy. Who never had to make a call in the field, had to tote around classified information he couldn't share with his troops. -Never- had to order someone to their death or lost a man by gambling wrong on an operation. I forget, I'm in the presence of Human Perfection."

Janet's patience is wearing dangerously thin, and the vitriol between them is turning the room frosty. "How's Bucky these days? Left hand still ain't sure whut the right is doin'?" Her tone is syrupy sweet, her mocking accent and the little wriggle of her shoulders nothing but vexatious rancor.

Janet can twist the knife, too.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve narrows his eyes, clenches his jaw. Bites back a hundred nasty things he could say in return, largely because most of them don't make any /sense/.

    Finally, "That's a low blow and you know it. What next, you gonna accuse me of still carrying a torch for Peggy?" He doesn't have a great flair for getting one up in an argument; he's just hurt at this point. "Leave Bucky the hell out of this. Stop--just--" He can almost feel something... slipping away. Ground shifting underneath him.

    He shakes his head. "Don't you /get/ it? I would've gone to bat for you, /just/ like I do for Bucky. For everyone I love. But now--if you don't trust me, how can I--"

    He stops, teetering on the edge. Pulls back, and turns away. "I won't turn you in. But I can't--I can't /do/ this, Janet. I can't--" He stops again, and shakes his head.

    "I should go home." Away from here, evidently.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet laughs humorlessly and steps around Steve to block his path. "Right, go home. Four years we've been together, you still keep your shoebox shag pad in fucking *Brooklyn* instead of moving in with me," Janet says with tart hostility, scowling up at him furiously. "It's always 'oh I need a place to unwind', or 'I just need my own space'. What you're really saying is, 'I need to run away any time Janet makes things complicated for me'," she accuses.

She laughs, a bitter and humorless tone. "Christ, Steven. The shit I have done for you. I spent millions to save any little piece of your life that you were going to lose. The pizza store, the old archived war photos... your VFW has an endowment that will *never* run out. Not to mention--" she lifts a brow, very pointedly. "Remember? Your birthday, two years ago? I sure don't remember you complaining at the time from the extra attention you got."

Janet stares at Steve a beat and then just shakes her head in exhaustion. "Peggy. God. If she saw you with this... hangdog BS, I can't even imagine. At this point, *I'd* have a better shot with her than you -ever- did."

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve clenches his jaw. "I keep an apartment in Brooklyn because it's /home/. Because I don't want to forget where I came from. Because, yeah, no, I don't want the old neighborhood to die, because people still /live/ there who remember what it used to be. Because for me, 'what it used to be' was /five years ago/. I'm sorry I'm trying to hold onto something familar."

    He shakes his head. "I'm grateful, for all of that, but--what, does that mean I can't disagree with you? Ever? Can't call something like I see it? You've been lying to me, canceling plans, and then you're just crowing about talking your way out of felonies like--God, Janet, are you /listening/ to yourself? Like if you just throw enough money or power at a problem, it makes it go away? That's--that's what the /bad guys/ say, Janet. Not us."

    His brow furrows. "I thought it /was/ 'us.' Guess I thought wrong."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"... are you breaking up with me?"

It's just shy of a whimper. Janet's frozen in place, eyes gone wide with shock. Like someone carelessly walking too far out on a lake and suddenly hearing the ice crack under them. Realizing too late they are far from safety.

It's not a question that needs a response. The look in Steve's eyes is enough. Something in the air between them simply *snaps* and drifts away in morass of animosity in the air. Janet blinks several times, looking away and trying to get her words together.

None come to mind.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve blinks down at her, for a moment, like the import of what he said hadn't hit him until just then. Like his brain hadn't caught up to his emotions, and his words.

    Then, "Yeah. I guess I am."

    He hesitates, mouth half-open, brow furrowing. Then he shakes his head. What is there to say? He takes a step, like he's going to try to move around Janet, for the door.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Steve-- no, Steven, wait, I--" Wait for what? There isn't anythhing to say. She's stalling, desperately, and utterly without words or a quick response or a deft turn at her fingertips. All she can do is try to stop Steve, grabbing at his wrist just enough to try and get him to look at her.

And when he does, her jaw moves to frame words that never emerge. She looks down, then reaches up to her neckline and undoes the clasp there. The shield pendant Steve had given her on their six-month anniversary. More than once it had held the real thing under incognito circumstances. She looks at it one last time, then offers it over to Steve, chain puddled in her palm. "You should.... this is yours," is all she can say, and can't quite meet Steve's gaze.

Steve Rogers has posed:
    Steve stops, looks back, like he's hoping that will fix something. Like looking back instead of pressing on has ever done anything but doomed a man to lose his lover. Maybe if he'd just left, he could've come back and apologized after they both cooled down. Wishful thinking, maybe, but--well.

    Then she hands him the pendant, and that just seems to seal something. He hesitates a moment. Swallows.

    "I'm sorry, Janet," he says. "I just--you're right. This is your world, not mine. Cartels and socialites and--" He shakes his head. What's the point in explaining?

    He reaches out to take the pendant, clutching it in his own fist. "Tell Arthur I forgive him, alright? I'll tell the DEA people I lost your trail." Then he turns back to the door, to walk on out.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's silent as Steve turns. Walks down the steps. Puts a hand to the door, opens it.

"Thank you." It's barely a whisper. What else is there to say? Perhaps if Janet was less prideful, if Steve was less frustrated, one of them might have salvaged it in the last moment.

But blood was drawn, and by the time Steve would even consider looking back at her-- Janet's disappeared.

It is her best trick, after all.