March 30, 2014
"Bellona Drager, meet Secretary Alexander Pierce."
She immediately hated the well-dressed, aging man with sharp eyes and glasses that made him look like every white male who held a position of power since King John ratified the Magna Carta. It was Face-Hate. The moment she saw his face, she hated him. So the blue-eyed girl smiled charmingly and shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Secretary Pierce."
"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Drager," his handshake was firm and domineering, so much so, she almost took it as a challenge; she was tempted to slip off the metal bracelet around her wrist and shake his hand again. "I must say I was utterly astonished when Nick told me about your survival and later discovery by the Avengers…. I had worked with your father quite a few times and his death was a great personal loss."
"Yes, it's been quite surprising for everyone," her solemn voice was incredibly fabricated, but neither he nor Nick Fury, who thought it would be a good idea to introduce the two, knew that.
"Drager's here on my request. I'm giving her my old office," Fury jumped into his explanation, "the one down the hall from yours. She'll be assisting our investigations into Hydra's networks, seeing as she has…. Experience."
"Any friend of yours, Nick, is a friend of mine," Pierce said jovially, but Bellona was watching his flashing eyes.
"Oh, trust me," Fury paced towards the door of Pierce's office, then turned and gestured for the girl to follow. "We're not friends."
Bellona nodded at Pierce, a fake smile plastered on her face, then followed Fury out, dropping the act and allowing disgust to filter through her features immediately upon departing the office.
"Play nice with Pierce," Fury ordered the appalled girl, eyeing her with his single good eye.
"I play nice with everybody," she argued, toying with her long braid in an almost threatening manner.
"Any fool could tell you immediately decided to despise him on sight," Fury snorted, "Alexander Pierce is one of the only people who might be trustworthy around here, so I suggest you reevaluate your opinion of him."
"I don't trust you so why should I value your opinion of someone else I don't trust," she arched an eyebrow as they came to a stop outside an empty office. Glass walls and door surrounded it, though their slight tint suggested they would darken upon a need for privacy. Fury slid a key card into the lock outside the door, which clicked open, allowing the pair entrance. He then handed the card to Bellona.
"He and myself are also the only people who have a key to this room, so don't do anything stupid or one of us will come and arrest you."
"I'd like to see you try," Bellona's smile was tauntingly sweet as she stepped into the room and surveyed it. Large, high-definition T.V.'s covered one wall, several dark leather couches faced them. Opposite these was a large, spacey desk, with several ultra thin monitors facing a single swivel chair. The first thing she did was sit in this chair, and test its swivel capacity. Finding it to her liking, she slowly turned in it and studied the room. She supposed it would do. It was modern, roomy, equipped with the latest technology — and she assumed this also meant various bugs and other camera and audio equipment designed to monitor her behavior.
"I take it you like it," Fury asked, walking over and flicking on the monitors. "We've given you access to all our leads on any potential underground Hydra bases, if you have any questions, ask Agent Romanoff. Don't bother me with it."
"Don't worry," her chair glided towards the keyboard, "I won't."
"And don't just mess around on the Wikipedia page you created for yourself."
Bellona's fingers dropped away from the keys, "how do you know about that?"
"Everybody knows about that," Fury said with a snort at her astonished expression. "Stark started doing the same thing. Edited his whole page as to how he's something ridiculous — playboy, genius, philanthropist — the usual."
"Well," the offended girl huffed, "I don't use it to boost my own ego."
"Whatever," Fury said disinterestedly, "just remember, you're here at my own invitation, I expect you to carry through with what you've been assigned."
"Filter out Hydra, yeah, yeah, I got that," she muttered, and pulled up her own Wikipedia page with a few clicks. She loved twenty-first century technology. Fury eyed the Drager girl for a moment before shaking his head and striding out. The door clicked shut behind him and Bellona looked up, watching his departure through the glass walls of the room. Then she turned around and stared directly at the wall behind her. There was a long, narrow lamp upon the wall, emitting a strong, sterile light throughout the room. Likely a camera or audio device hidden under it. Another would be near the couches, and one would be somewhere upon the desk, likely under it. She rolled her eyes and focused on the screen before her. Bellona had created a Wikipedia page for herself the year prior upon her discovery of the Internet. She used it to keep track of her life before Hydra. She had been delighted when some apparent old friends and classmates had stumbled upon it and began adding details, facts she couldn't remember, memories she didn't know she had. Tony Stark had spent quite a few hours adding a section on the Stark-Drager family history, how their parents were friends, how they had met, how apparently Bellona had begun bawling when three year-old Tony got to hold her as an infant when the two had first been introduced. That was in the "early life" section. The page only went until her late teenage years, because the world still believed Bellona Drager had perished in 1991.
After scrolling through the page for a bit — it was beginning to grow formidably long — Bellona turned to what she was actually supposed to be doing, according to Fury. He wanted the former Hydra weapon to run through all the data SHIELD had on Hydra; their allies, their undercover agents, their facilities, and see if she could add to the list, or cross off false leads. Only problem was, she didn't really know what Hydra had been up to the past twelve years or so while she was in cryo. In fact, Hydra essentially wasn't supposed to even exist anymore, believed to have been disbanded when Captain America sent their leader, the Red Skull, straight to hell. Besides all this, half of the intelligence she needed or wanted to view was encrypted and inaccessible to her. Evidently, she did not have the authority to access 99% of the files on the database. So she pulled out her untraceable cell phone, courtesy of Tony Stark, and called Natasha.
"Nat?" Bellona said when the Russian picked up without saying a word.
"Yes, Bella?" She asked with a slight sigh when she realized who was calling.
"Why don't I have access to half of the stuff Fury wants me to look over?"
"No one has access to half the stuff they probably should know," she said, with a slight edge to her tone. "So just do what you can with what you have."
"Okay, but like.… I want to know what all this is…." Bellona groaned, well aware any audio device was recording this conversation. "What's Project…. Nevermind, sorry I bothered you, gotta go." She hastily ended the call and stared at the screen before her. All of SHIELD's data seemed suspicious and at times, highly questionable. "Project Insight" was one of the largest files in the SHIELD database, yet it was virtually padlocked.
She put this thought out of her mind and turned to searching through any SHIELD files related to herself. Querying her first and last name turned up no interesting results, which was logical, seeing as Fury had stated that SHIELD was going to pretend that she had actually died in 1991. She did, however, come across a file on an unnamed individual with Hydra connections and "enhanced abilities." Other than that, the file was a dead end, leading nowhere and admitting no further information.
After a bit more browsing through the database, Bellona closed down the system and left the office, leaving it empty and locked. The key card in her pocket, she was infuriated that Pierce would have full access to the room whenever he wished, though, then again, knowing it was bugged with audio and visual equipment didn't make her feel any better. She would avoid it as much as she could. Fury be damned, she could do more research on Hydra with her own laptop that Tony had designed himself than in the Triskelion under SHIELD's constant oversight.
Muttering under her breath about how useless it was for her to even be in D.C. and how envious she was that Cap and Nat would get to go on all the fun missions while she would be stuck in the Triskelion under Fury's harsh gaze, she breezed through the halls leading towards the elevator, until she whipped around a corner and walked right into someone.
"Watch it!" Both her and whomever she had collided with snapped simultaneously, taking a few steps up and sizing up whoever it was.
There wasn't much for Brock Rumlow to size up. He doubted she even came up to his shoulders, but that didn't mean she wasn't one of the hottest pieces of ass he'd ever laid eyes on, and definitely able to give Black Widow a run for her money, at least in the looks department.
Rumlow thought he'd perfected the art of checking out a chick without their noticing it. Evidently, he hadn't.
"My face is here," she snapped, her voice sounding like an angry purr that somehow made her even more attractive.
"Yes it is," he replied immediately, shifting his eyes up to meet her own and freezing for a moment as he did so. Her eyes were so blue they initiated a double-take reaction from anyone, Rumlow being no exception.
"Are you going to get out of my way?" There was a sliver of a threat in her tone but Rumlow ignored it. She was tiny, and despite looking intensely athletic, he could probably break her entire arm by squeezing too hard. She had to get carded at bars all the time.
"Yeah I am," he announced, stepping to the side but then falling into pace beside her as she headed towards the elevator at the end of the hall.
"I thought you were going the other way," she seemed slightly miffed that he was accompanying her.
"Changed my mind," Rumlow said suavely, his eyes flicking over her long chestnut braid and lightweight army-inspired olive drab jacket that gave her a tactical, militant air. Her pace was swift and determined, though he had no trouble keeping up with her.
"Funny how that works," it was meant to be a jab but he took it as evidence that she was giving him her attention, which was exactly what he wanted.
"I haven't seen you around SHIELD before," he remarked casually, watching as her finger flashed out to call the elevator. He caught a glint of silver on her wrist before the sleeve of her jacket dropped back into place. "I'm Brock Rumlow. I head the STRIKE team."
"That's good to know." He would have called her a sarcastic bitch if he wasn't absolutely smitten already. There was a sort of simmering energy about her that was better than a fast-acting drug, stimulating him to want to remain in her presence.
"How long have you been in D.C.?" He queried as the elevator dinged its arrival and opened before them. She stalked into the glass lift, Rumlow following at her heels.
"Since the twenty-fifth," her reply was indifferent but it pinged against something that had been pushed to the back of his mind since he'd laid eyes on her — the reason he had come to Secretary Pierce's office floor in the first place. He was going to inform the Secretary about covert Hydra business; mainly that for several days, since the twenty-fifth in fact, the asset had become irrationally erratic and jumpy with seemingly no explanation, having killed one guard and seriously injured three others within the span of those five days. He didn't want to lose any more STRIKE agents to the asset's whims and wiles and was planning on complaining to Pierce in his usual arrogantly obsequious manner.
"You a new recruit?" SHIELD was always bringing in new people, those of exceptional talent that Nick Fury or another big name in the hierarchy had stumbled upon.
"Something like that, I suppose." The elevator doors closed and the two were silent for a moment, alone as the elevator began to descend levels. Rumlow watched the girl turn away from him and glance out over the city through the glass walls of the elevator; she gazed out at Washington D.C. as though she had been there once before, but only in a dream.
"Ever been to D.C. before?" Rumlow asked, anxious to keep the conversation going as he studied her intently; her cheekbones were high and sharp, giving her a slightly aristocratic appearance, but the eyes were her dominating feature.
"...Yes," her reply was slow in coming as a slight frown crossed her face. She turned back to him and stared as though she were looking straight through him towards the doors of the elevator behind him. "In 1987. And again in 1999."
Rumlow stared at her, disconcerted for a moment, because 1987 was twenty-seven years ago, and maybe the girl standing before him could pass for twenty-seven if she tried. He was tempted to ask how old she was, but decided against it; females usually did not like being asked their age except when the bartender asked to see their ID. And even then they would act all offended if the bartender doubted they were of legal drinking age, but Rumlow never understood that, wasn't it a compliment if the bartender asked for your ID? It meant you looked young? She must have seen the perplexion behind his eyes because she let out a dark laugh that sounded more haughty than amused.
"I'm older than I look," he wasn't entirely sure why her smirk sent involuntarily shivers tingling down his spine when the elevator dropped to a halt and the doors opened with a ding to reveal Captain America waiting patiently. The Cap's eyes flew first to Rumlow, whom he greeted with a nod, having met the STRIKE leader when he first arrived at SHIELD headquarters.
"Cap," Rumlow grumbled gutterly, growing slightly intrigued and slightly annoyed when the Captain's eyes flew towards the girl and he greeted her like they were best buds before instantly jumping into a conversation like he wasn't even present.
"Romanoff said you can bunk at her place tonight instead of mine, I know you're getting tired of me trying to figure out how to work the stove." Rumlow had no idea what just came out of the Captain's mouth; he glanced back and forth between the two of them and attempted to figure out what the hell their relationship was. And why was Agent Romanoff involved in this too? It made no sense. Who even was this girl that she could come from Pierce's floor then walk into Captain America like he was her roommate?
"I'll take her up on that, but only because I'm running out of sarcastic things to say when you do try to figure it out," the girl laughed and stepped out of the elevator to join the Captain, who nodded at Rumlow again before turning and leading the girl down the hall towards the main doors of the Triskelion.
"Hey, wait a minute," Rumlow called after the pair, his eyes glued to the girl in the OD green jacket. "I never caught your name."
Her lips curled upwards, half a smirk, half a grin, she flashed brilliant white teeth at him before responding. "Bellona Drager." It wasn't so much the name that made his mind freeze over into shock — everyone knew the name 'Drager' — but the look on her face when she uttered the two words; there was a subtle shift in the planes and angles of her face, making her look both threatening but hesitant, aggressive but compliant. It wasn't until later, when he reached the doors of Pierce's office that he realized why her expression had shocked him so. Something about the blank look in her blue eyes and the tightening of her jaw had reminded him, once again, of the reason he had been heading to Pierce's office in the first place.
She had reminded him of the asset.
