"Bellefleur, status?"
"Turkey has accepted the deal with Pakistan, sir."
"Excellent. That means they'll be more compliant to deal with us."
"I hope so, sir. Assuming our negotiators do not assume a triumphant air with this new information, I believe we shall be successful. Remember that these are a proud people—and we don't want to repeat what happened with Afghanistan."
Alexander Pierce chuckled. "I should hope not. Good work, Bellefleur. You continue to amaze me." After this high praise, he nodded and left the room, gently shutting the door behind him.
Zelda leaned back in her chair and sighed angrily the moment he was gone. What a wretched man, she thought, taking advantage of an already poor people for HYDRA's own good. This thought fueled the hatred and disgust she withheld for the organization since she'd begun working there.
Her ever-so-constant rage consumed her once again. Forcefully, Zelda grabbed the stress ball at the corner of her desk and squeezed it so hard her knuckles cracked and turned white. But she couldn't help it. She hated HYDRA. She hated what they did, what they made her do. She hated herself.
But if she wanted to protect her family, there was nothing else she could do.
With a sigh, she returned to perusing the papers at her desk. Although she had successfully convinced Turkey to purchase a hundred-thousand gallons of oil from Pakistan for a rather expensive price, she could not confirm that they would be stuck with an excess of oil, thus making prices cheaper for America. It all depended on what the people of Turkey did with it… personally, Zelda hoped they used it all. Then HYDRA wouldn't get what they wanted.
Opening her eyes, she looked at the next paper. Her next assignment was to support the terrorist group, ISIS, by "accidentally" sending a few journalists who were a potential threat to HYDRA on a trip to the Middle-East. Zelda swallowed uneasily. She hated her job.
She hated it so much.
Zelda reached for the stress ball again. If only she could have remained at SHIELD, she thought. Her life would've been full of honest work, something that would give her pride and not shame. She could've made peace, not war, and created diplomacy, not chaos. Plus, she wouldn't have to deal with Pierce or Grant…
Grant. Zelda frowned at the mere thought of him. He was absolutely repulsive, and he would certainly be in the lounge if she went to take her coffee break. Or was he on guard duty…? Zelda couldn't remember. But she knew that she really needed a pick-me up.
Knowing that she would simply have to take the risk of running into him, she rose tiredly from her office chair and ducked her head into the hallway. Seeing no one around, she cautiously emerged and tip-toed her way to the lounge.
Luckily, it was empty. Relieved, Zelda grabbed a cup of coffee and prepared it to her liking: two sugar, no milk. She took advantage of the empty room and sat down in a chair, a hand to her head.
How she wished she could just go back to her apartment. The thought of returning to work and trying to figure out how to get those journalists to ISIS nauseated her. It was wrong; it was sick.
It was murder.
How could Pierce casually make that an assignment? How could he just send three innocent people to their deaths far away from their home?
She had no idea. Then again, she should've expected it. After all, he'd had no trouble holding a knife to her mother's neck two years past.
The memory made Zelda turn green. It had been two years ago. She had been in HYDRA for all that time, performing terrible deeds, taking advantage of people, harming them, killing them, worse.
She'd been a slave for all that time.
Zelda sighed. She felt something familiar—that feeling she got that signaled everything was bubbling up inside her. Soon it would explode. Realizing what was about to happen, she stood up. If she was going to scream and break down the way she did whenever it all became too much, she would much rather it be in her office, where no one except Pierce bothered her.
Swallowing the shriek in her throat, Zelda grabbed her coffee cup and gripped it so hard she almost broke the Styrofoam. But she calmed herself enough so that didn't happen and walked towards the door—right when she exited, she ran into someone, spilling her drink all over her shirt and pants.
"Oh, brilliant," she exclaimed. "Just great!"
"Sorry, dear," said the voice she least wanted to hear. Zelda closed her eyes in fury as she recognized Grant. Her anger became greater upon realizing that he'd probably bumped into her on purpose. "Here, let me help."
"No thank you," Zelda protested quickly. "I can manage for myself."
"Nonsense. Let me grab that cup—here are some napkins." And without her consent, he wiped the steaming liquid off of her face and neck, Zelda making sure not to look at him as he did. When he was finished, his eyes rested on her soaking shirt—she crossed her arms and glared at him. Noting her belligerent attitude, Grant smirked sideways and said, "Sorry again, Zelda. It was nice bumping into you, though."
"I wish I could say the same, Grant, but then I would by lying," retorted Zelda. "Now if you'll please excuse me, I'm swamped, and I need to get back to it."
Without waiting for his response, Zelda threw her empty coffee cup in the trash and darted back to her office.
As soon as she closed the door, she rushed to the chair, grabbed the pillow on it, and screamed into it. Unfortunately, she didn't feel much better afterward. There was only so much she could do to alleviate herself from the pain and guilt that HYDRA thrust upon her. It was not like screaming would help her forget the people she'd wronged or the hatred she festered for the organization.
She wished she was back at SHIELD. Her life had been wonderful while she was there… Zelda had had friends; great ones. There had been Bryan, who'd always call her "kiddie" or "junior" because of her age. Violet had shown her the ropes of SHIELD and helped her the first few weeks when Zelda was new and didn't quite understand how operations worked.
And of course, there had been Rory, who was the IRD—International Relationships Department—joker. He would always go out of her way to make her laugh, especially if he knew she'd had a bad day. If she hadn't been forced into HYDRA, Zelda figured that she and Rory would've eventually been dating. They had been growing rather close, after all…
Another part of her job that Zelda had loved was getting to know Nick Fury, her boss. He had championed her to all who would listen, claiming she was the best person he'd ever hired for international diplomacy and relationships, particularly with the countries in the Middle-East. He would always brag about how she'd accomplished so much at nineteen years of age.
"Yes, sir, one of the damn best I've ever had," Nick had exclaimed once to a council member and Alexander Pierce. "Ask her to stop a war, and she'll probably be able to do it. It's astounding. Obtained only an associate's degree in college, and she's keeping the peace between seven countries! I repeat, one of the damn best."
Zelda smiled slightly recalling this. Although the memory gave her a sense of warmth, seeing as Nick was the person who'd appreciated her the most, she also figured it was this praise that made Pierce decide he wanted her for HYDRA. He wouldn't have bothered with her otherwise… With another sigh, Zelda checked the clock. She prayed it was almost seven… her heart fell when she saw it was only half past three in the afternoon.
As if she wasn't miserable enough.
And it was only Tuesday…
She glanced down at her desk in defeat. The file for the journalists was open, glaring up at her. With a sudden spurt of defiance, Zelda tossed the entire folder in the trash. She was not going to complete that mission, she would not, Alexander Pierce be damned.
A grim satisfaction filled her when a janitor came to empty her trashcan. Little acts of rebellion at a time, Zelda, she thought to herself. Little acts of rebellion at a time.
At last, it was seven in the evening, and Zelda was free to go. The moment her alarm started going off, she shut her computer lid, stashed all the files to the side of her desk, and exited her office cubicle. Once she was walking the hallway, she breathed deeply in relief. She hated that office—she often felt trapped and constrained in there. Even the narrow hallways were better, because at least she had more room to look around and see.
But of course, right as she reached the lobby of the humongous HYDRA headquarters, Grant just so happened to appear. Seeing her, he gasped and exclaimed, "Ah, Zelda! I was hoping to run into you."
"And I was hoping to run away from you," grumbled Zelda under her breath. But she merely glanced Grant's way before saying audibly, "I believe you did that earlier, actually. As you can see, the coffee stains haven't come out."
Grant wore an expression of fake sympathy. "I am sorry about that, my dear. As it is, might I repay you for the coffee I unfortunately spilled earlier? How about we go to the nearest Starbucks and I buy you a drink? Or bar, whichever you prefer. We might discuss the mission we've both been assigned!"
Zelda raised an eyebrow. "Which mission?"
"The one concerning the three journalists, of course," exclaimed Grant, almost as if he was offended she had to ask. "I myself am quite excited about this one. Think about how excited the journalists will be if we tell them we can get them an interview with an ISIS member… Not that they'll actually get it, however…"
That's sick. You're sick, thought Zelda, though all she said was, "I regret to inform you that I have no idea what you're talking about, Grant."
"Oh, please, call me Peter," said Grant, waving his hand dismissively. "Aren't last names a bit too formal once we're off the clock?"
"On the contrary, I believe it maintains class," replied Zelda. She was careful not to look at him as she said, "I wonder whatever happened to the days when the usage of first names often meant a sincere friendship?"
"They passed," smirked Grant. "So I've noticed," muttered Zelda. After what seemed like an eternity of talking to Grant, she was relieved to reach the giant set of double doors—as soon as she passed these, she could give him the slip by declaring she needed to return to her apartment…
But Grant stepped forward and blocked her way. "So, Ms. Bellefleur," he emphasized with a certain gleam in his eye that made Zelda want to roll hers, "how about that drink?"
Zelda attempted to put on a rueful smile, even though it pained her that she wouldn't simply be able to say no. "I'm sorry, Grant, but I've got to run some errands. Besides, I have to be back here at eight in the morning tomorrow, so I'm afraid a drink would be a bad idea for me."
He smiled, though there was a sort of amusement behind it. "I see… would you be able to join me Friday? We've got Saturday off this week, so there would be nothing to detain us from a wonderful evening."
Somehow, Zelda was able to see right through to what he was suggesting. "No thank you, Grant," she retorted, heavily wishing he would get out of her way so she could go grab some dinner and go back to her apartment and watch Netflix. "I'm very busy this weekend, you see. Perhaps some other time."
Grant, however, just sighed. "You're always busy, it seems, Ms. Bellefleur. Sooner or later you have to have some free time."
Half of her wanted to tell him that she would be rather have her Star Wars marathon than go to a bar with him. But the other half of her was a little more reasonable, so Zelda abstained. She knew that Grant would get nasty otherwise, in more ways than one. Besides, he always persisted until he got what he wanted—and in this case, what he wanted was sex. With her. Great.
"That's what I tell myself, yet it never happens," lied Zelda, shrugging her shoulders. "Now, Grant, if you please—you're blocking everyone from leaving." She pointed over her shoulder towards the line of angry HYDRA workers that were attempting to figure out what the holdup was.
Grant noticed this and allowed her through. He walked beside Zelda as they exited, and his hand happened to brush the back of her leg, close to her butt. She glared at him, but he chose to ignore it.
"Have a pleasurable evening, Zelda!" called Grant over his back.
As soon as he was out of earshot, she exclaimed angrily to herself, "It will be, thank you very much, because you are not a part of it!"
With that, Zelda stormed to Schwarma, her favorite restaurant. Their burgers were simply unparalleled, and she needed something fat and greasy to cheer her up after that horrid encounter with her least favorite coworker. Luckily, Robbie happened to be working the cash register; Robbie was her apartment neighbor just one room across from her. He had been the first to welcome her when she moved in, and they had become good friends in the past two years.
When she entered, Zelda spent a fair amount of time complaining to him about Grant and his unwanted advances. He used his ten minute break so she could rant to him about how annoying and suggestive he was, and how she wished she was in a different line of work so she wouldn't have to put up with him.
"Go on, honey," said Robbie encouragingly, clapping a hand on her wrist. "Let it all out. It's fine, I totally getcha, it's all going to be okay."
Zelda couldn't help but smile at his words—Robbie was all about optimism; between her and his boyfriend, Nathaniel, it was left to him to be the bright, smiling one. Neither Zelda nor Nathan liked their jobs or the people they worked with, though luckily Robbie did not understand their struggle. He very much enjoyed his job; he'd become especially fond of it when the Avengers had all come and ordered while he was on the clock.
"There you go, sweet cheeks," grinned Robbie as he inspected his nails. "Keep smiling! Now we're getting somewhere." He glanced over Zelda's shoulder to see a little boy looking at him quizzically.
"Why are you talking like that?" asked the boy. "John!" cried a woman that could only be the boy's mother. "Apologize!"
Robbie sighed, though he seemed bored instead of offended. "It's fine, ma'am. And son, I talk like this because I can. Now here—eat these Skittles, taste the rainbow, don't go hating on people, okay? Fabulous." And he chucked the package of Skittles at the boy, who appeared nothing short of delighted.
Zelda chuckled as the child ambled off, tearing open the candy. "Do you always have Skittles upon your person, Robbie?"
"I wouldn't be caught dead without them," he grinned in confirmation. But then he gasped. "Oh, honey, what if I came and met you after your shift tomorrow? Then I can pretend to be your boyfriend and Grain will leave you alone!"
At this, Zelda burst into laughter. "Wouldn't that be painful for you?"
"It would," admitted Robbie, "but anything for you, girl. If it gets Grain off your ass I'd be glad to help!"
"It's Grant, but it'd be great if you could call him Grain," giggled Zelda. She was astonished with how quickly Robbie could turn her mood around. She felt lucky to have a friend like him, even if he was the only friend she had. "Whatever his name is. He sounds meretricious. I want to insult him for making a move on my bestie!"
Zelda laughed again, and she exclaimed, "Well, Robbie, I'll be sure to let you know! My workplace is really strict, though, you won't be able to come inside the lobby. You'll have to wait for me outside."
"That's fine, dear. Will you call me?"
"You can count on it."
"Fantabulous. Now I've got to get back to work. Ciao!" And with that, Robbie darted back behind the register to welcome whoever else walked in the restaurant.
Zelda smiled and left Schwarma—thanks to Robbie, her day was starting to look up. It became better as she remembered she had a date with Star Trek: Into Darkness.
With this project, I plan on updating twice a week; no more, no less. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! :)
Please review!