Prologue

"What can you tell me of the Dragonfly Project, Dr. Chelinstov?" Fury asked in his usually deep voice, calm and relaxed in his environment.

He sat within one of the interrogation rooms of SHIELD, right on the hellicarrier, on a hard, metal chair of soft gray. Across from him in an equally hard and gray chair was a woman with graying blonde hair that was twisted into a top bun. The woman had a pale face, blank and expressionless, and cold blue eyes that dared him to approach, threatening to drown him, and not peacefully either.

The woman, presumably Dr. Chelinstov, smirked at him with her thin, pink lips. "I don't know what you speak of, Agent Fury."

"Director, actually." He corrected her, not dropping his gaze from hers. Her smirk strengthened, stretching a little into something twisted.

"Of course." She obliged, stretching her hands out before her, on top of the table. They didn't go very far though, for surrounding her wrists were two metal bands, linked together. Handcuffs.

"It's funny that you say that because all our files say you were the one to develop the program. Though you gave it a different name."

She didn't twitch, merely rose a delicate eyebrow and quirked her head to the side. "Really? Interesting. And what pray tell do I call it?"

"The Arachne Program."

24 Hours Previously

"Target is approaching. Your good, Lynx." A cool voice spoke in her ear, barely above a whisper. She ignored it, lifting up her glass and taking a small sip. Swallowing slowly, she gave a tiny nod, knowing they would be watching and see it.

"You look pretty lonely, Miss. Want some company?" A man stood by her table in a black suit that had no tie and a few buttons undone of his collared shirt. He had brown hair and a briefcase in hand. She smiled, jutting her lip out just a little to resemble a slight pout.

"My friends were suppose to return, but I think they're a bit distracted." Here she tipped her head to her left, gesturing. Predictably, he turned his head to see what she saw. Amidst the other dancing bodies on the floor were two blondes, both of a very young age, maybe 16, if that, who were grinding up against not only two older men but each other. Both had open mouthed grins on their faces and a glass in their hands. The man chuckled lowly, shifting his weight to the other foot.

"Looks like it. But there's no need for you to sit here alone," he pointed out, drawing it back to his original question. Smiling slightly, she nodded and gestured with her own glass for him to take a seat, which he did with a wide smile. He placed his briefcase on the table to his right, leaning over it to look at her better. She grinned when she noticed his eyes flicking to her breasts. She had chosen well with the blue dress tonight. She was still getting used to these types of clothes.

"I'm Richard, by the way." He smiled.

"Elizabeth." Her red lips spoke with a grin full of perfect teeth.

They talked for the better part of the next hour, Richard having eventually gained the confidence to slide on over to the seat next to her. Drinks littered the top of their table, most from them, and most of those coming from him. She, herself, had only ordered one and was still nursing it. Didn't want to get drunk, not now.

Leaning in close so that his lips brushed against her ear, he lifted one hand to tuck a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear while the other placed itself on her thigh, fingertips creeping underneath her dress.

"Why don't we go to my place? It's not far from here and I'm getting a bit tired of this club, bit loud, yeah?" He breathed into her ear, lips grazing against it. She shivered and nudged her body against his, pressing her breasts against his arm. Looking into his eyes through her eyelashes she shyly bit her lip.

"Okay."

Collecting the black heels that had been shoved off earlier, she made her way out the front door. Her dress was unzipped and she was barefoot, with her shoes in her right hand and a briefcase in the other. Closing the door behind her, she didn't look back. He meant nothing to her, to anyone, now. Just a mere corpse.

Looking around and seeing nothing, she walked down the road, swaying her hips. Pressing the hand with the heels to her ear, she said, "Target has been eliminated. The briefcase has been acquired."

"Excellent job, Lynx. Now get rid of it." A voice, the same as earlier, spoke only seconds later. She didn't care that they had probably been listening for the last two hours. They had taught her everything she knew, what did it matter now?

"Ma'am?" She asked, confused despite herself.

"The mockingjay has sung, Lynx. You know what to do."

A pause.

"Yes ma'am."

"You know what we want, doctor." Fury said, peering at the woman before him.

Chelinstov just continued to smirk at him, seeming to be amused by the whole situation. "You want what all men want, Director, and unfortunately for you, I can't give it to you. None of us can."

"We have the children. They will speak. You can't play ignorant forever, Dr. Chelinstov."

"What makes you think children know anything of importance? Here of all places? They are children, Nicholas Fury. They are weak and foolish."

Instead of looking deterred, Fury nodded. "They had been but you made sure they weren't anymore, didn't you doctor?"

She merely smirked.

Fury stood up and made to leave, turning his back to the woman. When he made it to the doorway, he paused, door open.

"Just so you know," he tossed over his shoulder, voice flat. "We have Potter."

The hissed curse word in russian that was spat behind him made the man smirk.

A/N: I know this is terribly short but I need it to be for my introduction into the story. Picks up next chapter (with length and content!) so stay tuned!

Please review. I want to know if anyone actually wants to read this.