"What are you thinking?" James asked.
Carlos thought for a second. "Maybe a pickup."
James blinked. "A pickup? Seriously?"
"Yeah. Why not? Something simple. Reliable."
"Carlos, you're not eighty. You're in your forties. That's prime time. If you've got something in mind — a hobby, interests, maybe a midlife crisis — go for it."
Carlos chuckled. "Maybe I will."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I think I might take up fishing," Carlos said casually, leaning back as they waited for the taxi. "Daytime fishing. It suits me. I've done it a few times before, but never had the time."
James nodded. "Makes sense. You've spent most of your life dodging bullets. Some peace and quiet sounds good."
Carlos gave a small laugh. "It's strange. I never imagined I'd be free enough to fish with my son."
"Why not?" James smiled. "We could even get a small yacht. Go out to sea now and then when I'm not working."
Carlos lit up. "Yeah. That'd be nice."
They arrived at a large auto dealership — one of those warehouse-sized places where every major brand was on display. Sedans, SUVs, trucks, muscle cars... all neatly lined under showroom lights. The father-son duo strolled through the lot, slowly scanning.
"Still going with the pickup idea?" James asked quietly.
"Pickup trucks are practical," Carlos shrugged. "You can throw gear in the back, fishing equipment, maybe even camping stuff."
James smiled. "Fair enough. Not everyone's into speed. Some people want utility."
They stopped in front of a black Ford F-150, gleaming under the lights. It looked powerful — with a big frame, elevated stance, and muscular lines.
"This one's not bad. Definitely better than Chevrolet's current models," James said.
A young salesman, noticing their interest, walked over. "Good eye, sir. This is the new Foose Edition— part of Ford's 11th generation pickups. Sporty and durable."
"Let's take a closer look," James said.
The salesman led them around the vehicle, rattling off details. Carlos didn't need convincing. He was sold the moment he saw the reinforced bed and interior space.
"I'll take it," Carlos said, straightforward as always.
The total? Around forty grand — reasonable for something solid and new.
James, on the other hand, had different tastes. He wasn't buying a truck. He was young, about to join SHIELD, and would have access to government vehicles anyway. What he wanted now was for himself — something fast, something sleek. Something that would naturally make him pumped with adrenaline.
He found what he was looking for in the import section — an Audi R8 V10 Spyder, the same model Tony Stark drove in the films. It wasn't overly expensive, not compared to what he had in the bank. Just over a couple hundred grand with taxes. But it looked good and it felt right.
Besides, if Stark drove it, why can't he?
They bought both cars before heading back. James split off midway and met up with Phil Coulson at a nearby coffee shop.
Phil eyed the car key James dropped on the table. "New ride?"
"Picked it up this morning. Can't be driving a clunker around New York," James replied, smirking. "So… mission briefing?"
Phil leaned in. "You've heard about Tony Stark?"
James gave him a flat look. "You've been watching me, haven't you? You know I bought a ton of Stark Industries stocks."
"We didn't monitor your investments," Phil said, slightly embarrassed. "Good that you're keeping up. After Stark got kidnapped, he managed to escape on his own. We don't know the full story, but something's off."
"And SHIELD is stepping in?"
"Howard Stark was one of our founders. We've got ties. Plus, Tony's not just a billionaire — he's a genius on par with his father. If he survived that, he probably invented something new. That's what we're worried about. And Obadiah Stane? His behavior is getting suspicious."
"Let me guess — he's the mole?"
"We're not sure yet," Phil admitted. "But he was overseas just before Stark's kidnapping. Last known location was the same region Tony was taken. We need someone on standby. So that's where you come in."
James thought for a moment. "I'll need gear."
"What kind?"
"I need two sniper rifles — one high power with long range, and one lightweight. Four assault rifles, with lots of ammo and a high fire rate. I have my two pistols: a Beretta 92F and a M1911, my standard loadout. And toss in some grenades, smoke bombs, and flashbangs. The usual."
Phil raised an eyebrow. "You planning to start a war?"
James smirked. "You've seen my armory. I'm just stocking up while it's free. You want me to be ready, right? I still don't have an exact mission plan. If I'm supporting your team, I'd rather be overprepared."
"Fair enough. Though don't you and your father already have your own equipment?"
"Some, yeah. But it's specialized. My pistols are easy to register. My dad's sniper rifles? Those are assassin-grade. Designed for one-shot kills before vanishing. I'm not going to be using those. I'm an agent now, not an assassin."
Phil nodded, impressed. "You've shifted your mindset. That's good. I'll have someone deliver your loadout. We'll file the paperwork, and you'll officially be on SHIELD's roster."
He paused. "But your new car… kinda small for the mission, don't you think?"
James chuckled. "Who said I'm using my car for missions? I'll use yours, obviously. SHIELD's fleet is decked out with tech, right?"
Phil grinned. "Right. Just checking."
James leaned back, satisfied. SHIELD indeed has some serious gear of many varieties— armored SUVs, digital camouflage, even flying transports. He's not expecting to get Fury's personal ride, but if he played the long game, maybe he could work his way up to it.
The Tesseract was the goal. The car, the missions, the weapons? They were just bonuses.