"Taxi, taxi."
Jack Kadere, traveling light with only a small bag, flagged down a cab outside and headed toward the airport.
…
"What?"
Upon reaching the terminal, he spotted Barbara Morse—better known to the world of espionage as Mockingbird—smiling and waving at him from across the concourse.
Jack blinked in surprise.
"What's going on with you?" he asked, scanning his boarding pass at the security checkpoint. "I don't remember signing up for any kind of… escort service."
"Vice President Kadere, that's a rather rude way to put it," Barbara teased, folding her hands in front of her waist with exaggerated sweetness. She bent forward just slightly, her bright smile radiating across her face. "Aren't you glad to have a beauty like me tagging along? Hmm?"
"She is very beautiful, sir," the security agent—a young woman on duty—remarked with a knowing smile, clearly thinking she was witnessing the early stages of a romance.
Jack shook his head. "Well, where you go is your choice."
Once through security, he tossed a dry remark over his shoulder to the nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who had been keeping tabs on him, and then continued on toward the gates.
Just as he was about to enter his assigned cabin on the plane, Barbara leaned casually against the doorframe of the next cabin over. With a playful wink, she called out, "What a coincidence—I'm right next to you! Maybe you can come by later and keep me company. You're always welcome~"
Jack narrowed his eyes. She really booked the cabin next door?
He took in her appearance for a moment. Blonde hair, striking blue eyes, a bright and pretty face framed by athletic features. Slender arms, long legs, fair skin that reminded him faintly of Gwen Stacy's allure—but more mature. Her figure was nothing to scoff at either.
He remembered that Barbara, in her youth, had been a national-level gymnast. Her body was trained to perfection, her movements sharp and precise, and her waist carried that lean, taut strength that spoke of years of discipline.
Still, she was an experienced S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. If she was getting this close, it wasn't just about companionship—there was always another agenda lurking beneath.
Naturally, Jack couldn't let her play the game so easily. If anything, it was an invitation to mess with her first.
He noticed a flight attendant making her rounds down the corridor and quickly gestured her over.
"Sir?" The attendant approached with a polite professional smile.
"Keep an eye on her," Jack said bluntly, jerking his thumb toward Barbara, who was still leaning with deliberate casualness against the frame. "Don't let her pester me, alright?"
Barbara's face froze in place.
The attendant paused, unsure, but quickly regained her composure. After a quick glance at Barbara, she replied formally, "Of course, sir. We do our best to ensure every passenger's comfort."
Then, leaning closer, she whispered discreetly so that she thought only Jack could hear, "If you'd prefer, I can alert the air marshal… or even call ahead to local authorities once we land."
As a woman herself, she probably thought this charming, well-dressed man was being harassed by a pushy admirer.
Barbara's eyelid twitched. Do I really look like some kind of stalker?
Of course, she'd caught every whispered word—her training made her hearing sharper than most civilians.
Jack, however, only smiled in satisfaction.
This time, he turned the tables with a smug grin, winking at Barbara. "Get some rest, madam. It's going to be a long flight~"
With that, he stepped into his cabin.
The attendant, still nearby, presented him with a glass of iced tea from her tray. "Sir, this is a welcome drink."
"Oh, thank you~" Jack accepted it smoothly.
The attendant turned with the same polite smile to Barbara. "And this is yours, madam. Please call me anytime if you need anything."
Barbara accepted it reluctantly, her pride stung. "Alright…"
"Jack!"
A familiar voice rang out.
Doctor Stephen Strange, dressed casually but unmistakable with his distinct air of composure, came striding down the aisle with his own glass in hand.
"Didn't expect to see you here!" Strange said with genuine surprise. "What are the odds?"
Barbara raised her brows. Didn't I just say something like that a moment ago?
"Stephen," Jack chuckled. "Yeah, what a coincidence."
"Come on, cheers," Strange said, lifting his glass.
Jack obliged, clinking his cup lightly against Strange's.
Strange downed the iced tea in one gulp, then handed the empty cup back to the attendant. Turning back, he asked, "So where are you heading? This flight's bound for Monaco."
Jack smacked his lips. "Tsk. Monaco? Car racing."
"Same here!" Strange grinned. "Tell you what—why don't you come sit by me for a while? We can catch up."
He lowered his voice slightly, nodding toward Barbara. "By the way… do you know her?"
Jack glanced at Barbara, catching her faintly resentful gaze. He couldn't bring himself to be too cold. "Yeah, I know her."
"Good taste," Strange said approvingly, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Alright, let's go."
Jack placed his half-finished iced tea back on the attendant's tray. With a casual wave toward Barbara, he added, "If you want, come along."
Barbara's eyes lit up. She stepped forward and slipped her arm around his, hugging it tightly as though sealing her victory.
The three of them walked off together, leaving the bewildered flight attendant behind.
Didn't he just say he didn't want to be bothered? she thought, her brows knitting. And now they're arm in arm?
She sighed inwardly. Must be one of those young couples who fight one moment and make up the next…
With that, she returned to her duties, a little disappointed. So much for a chance encounter romance…
…
"Thank you~"
Barbara clung more tightly to Jack Kadere's arm, her voice playful yet teasing. "This is your reward~"
She clearly enjoyed his charisma and talent, and while on duty, she didn't mind offering him a little extra attention.
Jack tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Thank me for what, exactly?"
"Thank you for saving my face." Barbara smiled brightly, showing a hint of pearly teeth. Her tone carried both sincerity and a flirtatious lilt. "You handled that situation gracefully. Not many men could've pulled it off like that."
"Really now?" Jack smirked, sliding his hand casually along her slender waist. Even through the smooth fabric, he could feel the firmness and delicate elasticity of her body.
"Speaking of which," Barbara continued smoothly, "you've been hanging around the Club for quite a while now and helped Skye a lot. I haven't had the chance to sit down and actually chat with you. The Vice President is always so busy, isn't he?"
Jack's smile widened at her angle. "So, what are you suggesting?"
Barbara's eyes glimmered as she seized the opportunity. "Then how about we go to my private room later? Or… I could always drop by yours."
Just then, Stephen Strange—already ahead of them—opened the door to his own private room. He turned back with an easy smile. "We're here. Not far from yours, right?"
...
After the three settled into Stephen's room, conversation naturally flowed. Jack and Strange exchanged words on racing, power dynamics in New York, and high-society gatherings.
Barbara chimed in here and there, but more often than not, her hand lingered where Jack's had found hers, offering subtle teasing touches.
Jack certainly didn't mind. To him, Barbara's company was more than pleasant—it was entertainment. When he engaged in conversations, he liked having something to distract his hands and mind, much like how some collectors absentmindedly fiddle with jade pieces or walnut shells.
The name "Tony" came up, and Strange arched a brow. "Tony Stark? Is he also participating in this… little game of the rich?"
Jack chuckled, lowering his voice just enough to sound conspiratorial. "Yes. But he asked me to keep it under wraps and not tell Pepper. Stephen, if you see him, don't let it slip."
"Don't worry," Strange replied with a smirk. "You know I don't waste words on people I barely know."
"And you, Barbara," Jack added, his hand tracing circles against her side. "You don't get to talk carelessly either…"
Barbara's cheeks flushed, her lips parting just slightly. "I—I understand… but not here~"
Strange, with the eyes of a seasoned surgeon and futere sorcerer, noticed the shift in her body language immediately: the quickened breathing, the slight tremor of muscles, the congestion in her capillaries. He narrowed his gaze toward Jack.
"Kadere… are you this suave now?"
...
Jack raised both hands innocently. "I think I can explain, Stephen—"
Bang! Strange clapped his hands together with finality. "It's getting late, Jack. I wish you both a pleasant evening."
A heartbeat later, Jack and Barbara found themselves politely ushered out of Strange's room.
...
Out in the corridor, Barbara's hand brushed against her skirt, adjusting it subtly as she regained composure. A hint of embarrassment lingered on her face, but her smile quickly returned.
"So…" she said sweetly, "want to come by my place for a bit?"
Didn't Strange just say it was late? Jack thought, amused. And yet, what else is there to do when the night is young?
After a brief pause, he smirked. "That might be a good idea…"
Her invitation had piqued his interest. Barbara might not throw herself entirely into his arms for the sake of her career, but from the way she acted earlier… there was definitely room for entertainment. With the right guidance, maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. could lose more than just a pawn tonight.
For Jack, chewing on a challenge as tough as a seasoned female agent sounded like an enjoyable game.
...
In Barbara's private room, the tone shifted.
"Vice President~" Barbara called out sweetly.
"Jack," he corrected, a sharp grin tugging at his lips.
"Jack~" she repeated with honey in her voice, clearly pleased at the closeness between them. She gestured toward his empty hands. "I noticed you don't seem to have any luggage. Did you forget something? You can borrow mine."
Jack arched a brow. "And what exactly do you want me to borrow?"
She giggled. "Just a moment."
Barbara reached into her suitcase with practiced ease, pulling something out with a hint of mischief in her eyes. She still remembered investigating Jack's supposed hobbies with Skye last time—things like drawing beautiful women, martial arts, and even meticulous orals.
Some of those could be traced and verified. Others… not so much.
Obviously, martial arts weren't going to work in a small cabin.
So, instead…
"Ta-da!" Barbara produced drawing tools and a sketchpad, handing them to him with a triumphant grin. "Surprise!"
...
Jack's expression turned flat, his eyes almost deadpan.
I came here to play…And you still want me to work?How malicious…
"Huh? Why don't you look happy?" Barbara tilted her head, confused by his lack of reaction. She slipped off her jacket, revealing the elegant contour of her body beneath, then reclined sideways on the cushioned seat of the private cabin. Striking an alluring pose, she beckoned. "Don't just stand there. Come on~"
Jack narrowed his eyes. "What do you want to do?"
Instead of waiting for an answer, he decided to play along with her tease. With deliberate exaggeration, his hand went to his belt buckle. "Alright, I'm coming right away."
"Eh? Eh!?" Barbara quickly sat up, panic flashing across her face. "What are you doing!?"
"You told me to 'come on.'" Jack's tone dripped with false innocence.
"No, no…" Barbara laughed nervously, pulling her blouse tighter around her chest. She softened her voice into a gentle murmur. "I meant for you to draw me. I heard you liked drawing beautiful women. That's why I brought the tools…"
She pointed toward the sketchpad, her cheeks flushed. "Can't you tell?"
Barbara pointed toward the scattered sketching tools in front of Jack Kadere. "Can't you tell…?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
[Heh~] [Dressed so conservatively] [And still want my drawings for free?]
Jack gave a flat response, his tone firm and unyielding. "No interest."
"Huh?" Barbara froze in surprise.
But then she caught the way Jack's gaze lingered, scanning the subtle curves and lines of her figure. His eyes weren't lecherous—more like an artist's precision in sizing up a subject—but Barbara still caught the meaning behind his stare.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, as though accepting a challenge, she rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out two pristine, thigh-high silk stockings, pure white and smooth to the touch. She slid them onto her long legs with a graceful motion.
A few moments later, she crossed one leg over the other and tilted her chin. "How about now?" she asked, confidence returning to her voice. "Don't they look good?"
[You little thing~] [And you still think you can charm me to death?]
Barbara felt her pride swell—until Jack tilted his head, studied her quietly with his brush poised in hand, and then spoke flatly: "You're wearing too much. Take it off."
Barbara nearly fell over. "…"
[I'm already wearing so little…] [If I take off any more, there'll be nothing left!]
Her mind raced, torn between embarrassment and mission duty. Finally, gritting her teeth, she forced herself forward. Piece by piece, she shed the last of her armor—until her pale, flawless figure was fully revealed.
At the same time, her thoughts betrayed her calm façade: [Hill… I've sacrificed too much for this mission. Please, when I return, at least give me a promotion and a raise!]
…
"It's finished." Jack finally set down his brush and handed her several sheets.
Yes—several.
Each portrait captured Barbara in different poses, her elegance laid bare with an artist's precision.
"The security officer was right," Jack murmured as he leaned back. "You are very beautiful, Barbara."
"Huh…?"
Her mind went blank for a moment, caught between the humiliation she felt and the genuine sincerity in Jack's compliment. She took the portraits with trembling hands. After just a few glances, she was overwhelmed.
[So beautiful…] [But… so embarrassing…]
They were masterful—delicate, vivid, and undeniably sensual. She couldn't bring herself to ruin them by adding strokes, nor could she bear to throw them away.
So, in a voice far softer than her usual confident tone, Barbara pleaded, "Can you… change them? Maybe make them less revealing? Please…"
"No rush for that."
Jack's expression barely shifted, but when she leaned forward, her alluring posture close enough to touch, he seized the moment. He pulled her gently into his arms. His calm façade gave way to something far bolder—the beginning of his conquest.
…
Barbara's resistance faltered. Though she fiercely clung to her final line of defense, the rest of her armor—her composure, her pride—had already crumbled.
"W-wait…" she sobbed softly, humiliation and strange warmth mixing in her chest.
[What am I doing…? How did I give so much, so easily, to this man…?] [If this was just for the mission, it should never have gone this far…]
What Barbara didn't realize was that Jack's quiet intensity, his strange charm, and the relentlessness of his approach had already begun to sway her heart.
Even agents could fall in love.
Though she repeated "it's for the mission" to herself like a shield, the truth was already undeniable.
[Forget it…] she thought, her heart pounding. [It's come to this point. I'll go all out!]
Her voice trembled as she leaned close to Jack's ear and whispered something private, something that betrayed how far she had fallen.
Jack smirked, nodding with satisfaction. "Alright. But first… I need to test the standard of your service."
…
From the outside of the private room, the faint silhouettes on the glass porthole pressed together. Two figures leaned closer, until finally—
They kissed.
…
The "test" began. Barbara, awkward and hesitant at first, tried to fulfill the role she had forced herself into.
When it came to this particular kind of service, Jack's mind instinctively compared it to others:
Gwen Stacy
Felicia Hardy
Skye Johnson
Jessica Jones
Each had her own unique approach, small details that set them apart.
Cindy Moon hadn't ventured into this territory yet, and Kate Mara was simply out of the equation.
As for Barbara… she still had a long way to go.
Yet, for Jack Kadere, there was a strange satisfaction in watching her cross boundaries she never imagined she'd step over—proof that even someone as disciplined as Barbara Gordon could falter under the weight of his pull.
…..