"Ready?"

"Not at all."

Clint closed his eyes, already flinching and bracing his body for what I was about to try. The irony wasn't lost on me that our roles were reversed from a few months ago. Except I wasn't shooting arrows at him.

Natasha promised me ages ago to show me how to do her very cool thigh choke hold movement. Since she wasn't here, I'd mentioned it to Clint while we were warming up this morning. He'd stupidly said he knew how to do it and could show me. Except he wasn't expecting me to agree right there and then. After running through the basics and doing it in slow motion, I was about to start it at full speed. Clint looked like he was regretting it very heavily right now.

"I promise I won't break your neck," I said, stalling for time. I had no idea if I was going to pull this off or not. Or if I could actually keep that promise.

"Just fucking do it," Clint's voice came out very strained. "May as well get this over with."

The bitter tone wasn't lost on me. While he hadn't said anything, Clint came into the gym sullen and silent this morning. His sparring was sloppy and all over the place, I'd put him on the matts 3 times so far before we started working on this move. I'd never been able to put him down that many times in one day. Even I could tell he and Laura were fighting again. I was smart enough not to ask though. Clint would talk if he wanted to. It'd be like pulling teeth if he didn't.

I rolled my neck before launching myself at Clint. I kneed him in the stomach, hard enough to make him double over. It was very satisfying to hear the whoosh of breath leave his body as my knee connected. As Clint bent over, I hooked my left leg up over his shoulder and pushed myself off with the right leg. For a second, I thought I was about to completely nail the movement. But I'd pushed off with my right leg too hard. I went completely over Clint's head and slid down his back, landing on the matts with a groan of pain.

"Dumb ass," Clint chided, turning around to look at me. If it was another other day he would have been laughing, but today I was only met with a raised eyebrow. "Try it again. It's a push, not a launch. You don't have that much weight on you to push off the ground."

"Shut up," I grumbled, pushing myself up. "And let me try again."

Clint's shrugged and turned around, waiting for me to get in position again. He stood there, arms by his side looking relaxed and ready. Instead of asking, I went straight into the movement. This time I managed to get both my legs up, but I was shifted to the left too much. I was so over balanced and about to be flat on my ass again. Clint quickly grabbed both of my thighs, holding me in place on his shoulders with far too much ease, saving us both from an ungraceful tumble.

"You know, if someone walked in on us this would look very suspicious," I smirked down at Clint. It did look very suspicious with me sitting on his shoulders and my crotch nearly in his face. It's a good thing we were comfortable with each other, otherwise this could have been awkward.

"Yeah I'm the envy of many men right now, I've been between both yours and Natasha's thighs," Clint smirked back. His grip shifted suddenly, making me feel like he was about to do something which was going to hurt. Instead of letting him get away with it, I gripped my thighs around his neck as hard as I could and twisted my body. Clint grunted in surprise right as we both crashed to the ground, me still wrapped around his neck. We both lay there breathing heavily for a few seconds before Clint spoke first.

"Nice," Clint said, landing a stinging smack on my ass. "Damn woman, have you been hitting the leg machines again?"

"Sure have," I sad, feeling very proud of myself for taking Clint down and him noticing my new leg strength. It'd been helping a lot with the lingering stiffness from my stab wound. I untangled myself from him, climbing back to my feet. Clint was still on the ground, so I offered my hand to him. "Ready to try again?"

"God no," Clint grumbled, but took my hand anyway. I hauled him back onto his feet and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. He sighed heavily, before squaring his shoulders and falling back into his previous relaxed stance. "But I'll let you beat me up a little bit more anyway, cuz I'm nice like that."

"I'll pay for breakfast," I promised with a little grin. "Ready?"

This went on for another hour. We were both drenched in sweat and I was covered in bruises by the time I dragged myself into the showers. I just couldn't get the move right, I'd either over balance myself or not put enough power behind everything to pull Clint down. It was early days yet though. In a few weeks of solid practice, I should be able to pull it off. It was funny thinking back to those first days in SHIELD when I couldn't even land a punch on Rollins. While I still couldn't beat Clint on his good days, I was holding my own very well.

The locker room was busy, as usual for this time of the morning. I managed to get into the showers with minimal interruptions. Some mornings I felt like I spent at least an hour talking, whether it was one of the Bravo boys, or someone I didn't know that well. There was always someone wanting to pull me up for a chat about something. As I stepped into the showers, I blew out a sigh of relief. I was meant to be going to some senate hearing with Coulson this morning. I didn't need to get into his bad books by running late for it. Plus I was meant to be meeting up with Greg for lunch. The thought made a small smile tug at my lips.

Nothing happened except for dinner and watching the first Die Hard. It had just been a nice quiet night with a good conversation. It was no different from Clint coming over for dinner. It was so good to talk to someone normal and not involved in SHIELD. It was relaxing and grounding, something I really needed. Greg asked last night if we could catch lunch today. He only had a lecture on this morning and a rare afternoon and night free to himself. I had no idea where we were going but I was looking forward to it.

I was nearly finished in the shower when I heard the door open. Standing on tip toes, I peered over the top of the cubicle door to see who it was. Sometimes Clint used the showers in here when the guys one was busy. Everyone else was banned from being in here. Seeing Rumlow standing there looking back at me was a surprise.

"No, you can't join me," I snorted and turned back to rinsing the suds off. I'd procrastinated enough that if I didn't get out and get dressed in the next few minutes, I was going to be late.

"Like I'd want to, you seem to forget I'm a boobs man and you definitely don't have any," Rumlow quipped back. His smart ass comment made me laugh. He wasn't wrong there. "I need your help on something."

"And it couldn't wait until I was finished?" I rolled my eyes fighting back the heavy sigh that wanted to escape. Ever since I helped Rumlow with finding forms that day I'd suddenly become his go to person for anything technical. There was a tablet tucked under his arm, so no doubt he'd managed to do something stupid like erase everything off it.

"Not really," Rumlow's voice turned serious. "If you can help me with this, we're leaving in 5 minutes. I've already cleared it with Coulson that you don't have to go to the Stark hearing."

"The what?" I asked, turning off the shower. Rumlow definitely had my interest now.

"The senate hearing you were going to," Rumlow explained with a slight tone of exasperation. "Is about Tony Stark handing over his Iron Man suit. I thought you knew that? Don't you watch the news?"

"Not really," I shrugged unapologetically as I wrapped a towel around myself before stepping out into the bathroom. "I just do and go where I'm told."

"That's debatable," Rumlow chuckled as he handed me the tablet. "Tell me what you think about this."

There was a video on the screen. I tapped the play button and cocked my head to the side as it began to play. A man was sitting handcuffed to a table while someone off screen was firing rapid questions at him in German. The handcuffed man yawned and looked at his interrogator in boredom before replying back in what sounded like babble. I frowned at the screen, sliding it back to listen to his reply again. As the words came out of his mouth it was a random mixture of Icelandic and German all being thrown together. He wasn't say anything useful at all, it was just a mix of random phrases thrown together. I played it back a few times, just to be sure I was correct in what I was hearing. Judging by the smirk on his face, this guy knew he was pissing off his interrogator. In fact, he was enjoying it. The nonsense Icelandic he was blending with the German made it seem like he was saying something important.

"You speak German and Icelandic," Rumlow said once I stopped playing the video. "I need you to translate for me while I interrogate him. He doesn't speak English and from what we can tell, he doesn't speak anything other than Icelandic and German either."

"Sure," I nodded, feeling my heart sink a little. No doubt this guy was on another continent. There goes my lunch with Greg. If that senate hearing was about Stark, there goes my chance of seeing Pepper again as well. "Where are we going?"

"Egypt," Rumlow confirmed my previous thought. "We leave as soon as you're dressed. It's a secure location. So no phones, computers or anything electronic. Grab what you have here as a change of clothes."

And no time to tell anyone I'd be gone for a few days. I wouldn't be allowed to communicate with the outside world as of this second.

"Did you have plans?" Rumlow asked. I looked at him in question, to which he shrugged. "Your face kind of fell, but you look excited to be going."

"Yeah I was meant to be going to lunch," I shrugged. Damn my lack of a poker face. "No biggie. He'll understand."

"You can send him a text before you go," Rumlow gave me a small smile. "I'm not that much of a heartless bastard to leave your date in the lurch. God knows the woman I do it to hate me for it."

"Thanks Brock," I chuckled, feeling better instantly. "Now get the fuck out so I can get dressed."

Rumlow gave me a smart little salute before turning on his heel and leaving. I had a business suit ready to wear this morning which was hanging up. There was no way I was flying all the way to Egypt in it. Thankfully I had a clean change of what I usually wore in the field. I could take the suit and get changed if I really had to. I was dressed and ready to go in a minute flat. I quickly typed out an apology to Greg about not making it to lunch today and I'd let him know when I got back. Clint was nowhere to be seen. He'd find out from Coulson in about 20 minutes anyway. I put my phone back in my locker and a few other things that I didn't need, before walking out to find Rumlow. He was waiting across the hall for me, talking to his 2nd in charge. I hung back while Rumlow finished giving him a rundown of everything that needed to be done over the next few days. It wasn't a long list. The conversation wrapped up quickly and 30 minutes later, I was levelling the Quinjet off at cruising altitude. Since it was just Rumlow and I, he sat in the co-pilot seat, book in hand and seemingly oblivious to the world around him. It took me about 2 minutes to get bored and Rumlow had the perfect target sitting in his hand to be teased about.

"Seriously, you're only up to reading The Goblet of Fire?"

"Fuck off," Rumlow didn't even look up from his book. "It's not like I get heaps of spare time to read. But I'm determine to finish the books before the next movie come out. So be quiet and let me read."

I sighed noisily to see if I could irritate him. It didn't work. Rumlow just kept his nose stuck in the book, reading like I wasn't there. I was bored already. It was a long ass flight to the coordinations I was given in Egypt. Without my usual entertainment of my phone or laptop, I had nothing to do for the next 10 hours.

"I have Lord of the Rings in my bag as well," Rumlow seemed to take pity on me. Either that or he didn't want to deal with my shit. He still didn't look up from his book though. "That I have finished and you're welcome to borrow it."

I'd already read it, but it was better than sitting here picking my fingernails for 10 hours straight. I hadn't done a long haul flight for so long, I'd forgotten how fucking boring it could be. I was very grateful for autopilot and Rumlow's battered copy of Lord of the Rings. I was a quarter into The Two Towers before we landed in our undisclosed location. It was little more than a patch of concrete to put the Quinjet on and a 3 story building which looked like it was being held together with bailing twine and duct tape. There was nothing but desert all around us for miles. The blast of hot air was like stepping out into an oven. The mid morning sun beat down on my exposed skin, making it feel like I was roasting in seconds while I fumbled for the button to cloak the Quinjet. I was so out of practice, it took me a full minute to find it.

"Come on," Rumlow hitched his bag over his shoulder, tilting his head in the direction of the building. "You've done an interrogation before haven't you?"

"Nope," I shook my head, following him towards the building. There hadn't been any opportunities for me to be with Natasha or Clint if they had to interrogate someone. It was one field I was severely lacking in.

"Really?" Rumlow's step faltered as glanced at me. "Fuck it. Well, heres your crash course. I'll ask the questions. You translate them and the answers for me. Don't ask me any questions about what I'm doing. Don't faint or puke. Got it?"

"Got it."

I really didn't want to know the details of why I'd faint or puke. But since we were in Egypt, a country where the rules on torture were pretty lax, I could make a good guess. Whoever this guy was must have pissed off SHIELD in a big way.

Despite the derelict appearance on the outside, the house was in surprisingly good condition on the inside. The blast of air conditioning after the door opened was very welcome. The room with a TV and a few chairs off to me side looked a lot more luxurious than I anticipated. I could hear water running somewhere from inside the house. So running water and electricity were definitely a bonus out here. Someone had done a very good job of disguising the house to make it look ready to fall apart. Stepping into the hallway, we were greeted by a male agent. He looked a few years older than me and was very unhappy judging by the angry scowl on his face.

"Rumlow," he nodded tightly before his eyes glanced over me like I wasn't standing there. "You know I could have done this myself. I don't need your help."

"I'm just following orders Pete," Rumlow apologised with a tight smile that looked more like a grimace. "I'm not trying to stand on anyone's toes here."

"Yet you're bringing me the biggest arrogant fucker in the agency," Pete scowled even more. "When's he going to be here? We don't have all fucking week to get this information out of this guy."

"What?" the confusion was clear on Rumlow's face. I'm sure my face looked exactly the same. Were we meant to pick someone else up on the way and Rumlow forgot to mention it? "Who's he?" "Jared Lyngley?" Pete blew out an angry breath. "We were told Agent Lyngley is coming to translate. I thought he was still grounded for blowing up half of Pripyat. But I guess there's a bonus to your mother working in HR and being Fury's favourite pet spy. You get to do whatever the fuck you want without consequences."

Oh, ouch. Someone obviously didn't like Jared. Rumlow looked ready to smack Pete in the face for being so rude. Although Rumlow and Jared weren't best of friends, there was a definite respect between the two of them.

"Sadly, he's in New York getting his fucked up ankle put back together," I said politely trying to diffuse the situation. Jared had left for New York the day after Greg and I had our chilli dog night. "I think you'll find that I'm Agent Lyngley as well, Kari actually."

I stuck my hand out to shake with Pete. He only looked at me with disdain and ignored my outstretched hand.

"The asshole is in his box with Brittany Spears blasting for the next 8 hours," Pete turned his attention to Rumlow. "So you can do whatever you want until he's ready to come out."

"Then get him out," Rumlow was looking more pissed off with every passing second. "We're on a timetable here."

"If I pull him out early it isn't going to help," Pete snapped. His face was turning a brilliant shade of red in his anger. "You can wait."

"No," Rumlow stood his ground, crossing his arms. I could see his muscles flexing under his tight shirt like he was trying to stop himself punching Pete in the face. "I have orders. I don't give a fuck what you think about them. If you really want, you can call Agent Hand and deal with her."

I could see the muscles in Pete's jaw working back and forth as he grit his teeth. I'd never spoken to or met Victoria Hand. But from all accounts she was a hard ass bitch and no one questioned her orders. Or if they did, they found themselves in a very remote location doing a very shitty mission.

"Has she even done an interrogation before?" Pete jerked his head in my direction. "Last thing I want if you taking a rookie in there and fucking up all the good work I've already done."

"She is standing right here and can hear you," I snapped at Pete before Rumlow could jump to my defence. Good god, this agent was an arrogant piece of shit. "And she has a name. It's Kari Lyngley, part of STRIKE Team Delta. I work with Black Widow and Hawkeye, so get out of my fucking way before I beat your stupid ass for wasting my time with irrelevant questions."

"Or what Princess?" Pete didn't back down at my rant. "You gonna go crying to your Mommy about another agent giving you trouble? Or just go crying to your fuck toy Hawkeye, cuz we all know you sucking his cock is the only reason you got the position you have."

I really wish people could get creative when it came to insulting me. I'd heard that little petty insult plenty of times before.

"Its Natasha I'm sleeping with actually," I heaved a bored sigh, lifting my eyebrow at Pete. "Sometimes we let Barton watch, but he's not allowed to touch. Get your facts right before you start flinging shit at someone else."

Rumlow sounded like he nearly choked on his own tongue at what I'd just said. Pete stood there, openly glaring at me for what felt like an entire minute. His face was getting redder with every passing second. I expected to see steam start coming out of his ears.

"Interrogation room is down there," Pete's words were slow and strained through his gritted teeth when he finally spoke. He pointed down the hallway. "Code for the door is 8892. Do not fuck up the good work I've just done, or I will be ringing Agent Hand and it'll be you who doesn't like the consequences."

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes and made sure he saw it. "Fuck off then, you aren't needed here anymore."

I inwardly cringed at my complete lack of filter today. I must have hit my head during training this morning and just flipped the filter switch off completely. Or Clint and I swapped filters somewhere along the way. I normally wasn't this brash. Or brave. The surge of adrenaline that came from it felt really good though.

Pete stormed off without any word to either of us. He went up the stairs and a few seconds later the slam of a door echoed through the house.

"Nice work," Rumlow chuckled. He raised his fist and I happily bumped my own fist against his. "Lets go fish the idiot out of his box."

And save his eardrums from being assaulted with Brittany Spears. While I hadn't ever been in an interrogation, I'd heard the tricks of the trade from Natasha, Clint and Jared. Clint was very fond of locking people in confined spaces and blasting them with trashy music. Sensory overload and sleep deprivation together could turn a lot of people into a blubbering mess. But Natasha and Jared were both fond of going straight to breaking fingers and ripping out nails. It had more instantaneous results in most cases.

I followed Rumlow and hung back while he got the interrogation room opened. It was exactly like you'd expect from one. A boring room, all grey with a table and chairs in the middle. Besides a door leading to what I presumed was an extension and where the more creative interrogation techniques took place, there was nothing else.

"Have a seat, I'll go get him," Rumlow said, cracking his neck as he walked to the connecting door. I didn't really have a choice or anything else to do. So I plonked my ass down in one of the empty chairs, sprawling as I sat down. I should have gotten a coffee before we started this. It would have given me something to do besides sit here and pick at my fingernails.

Thankfully Rumlow didn't take long. In a few minutes he was dragging the same person I'd seen on the video hours ago across the room. Rumlow roughly shoved him down into the chair and with the ease of years of practice had his handcuffed chained to the table. The chain was long enough to let him scratch his nose. The first thing to hit me was the smell of him. Days of sweat and shitting in his own pants nearly made me gag. But I kept a straight face, well, what I hoped to be a straight face. Dirty blonde hair and a handsome scowling face looked at both of us with an air of utter defiance. I guess some sensory overload hadn't improved his mood at all.

"Dante Gunnarson," Rumlow started, as he settled in the chair next to me. "I'm Agent Rumlow and this is Agent Lyngley. We're here to have a chat."

"Oh for fuck sake," Dante muttered in his strangely accented German. He didn't even bother to try and cover rolling his eyes. "Here we go, lets play good cop and bad cop."

"Hardly," I replied back in German. I was slower than him, but I could still get my tongue around the heavy words. Why did it have to by German? It really wasn't my strong language at all. "Believe me when I say I'm the bad cop, but he's your worst nightmare."

"No sweetheart, you're just the bait and a pretty prize if I behave nicely," Dante sneered at me in Icelandic. "Not that any of you idiots can understand me. It's so funny to flip between languages and watch you all sit there and scratch your heads."

"Oh but that's where I come in," I smiled sweetly, easily flipping to my stronger Icelandic. "See, I'm your translator and unluckily for you I speak both the languages you love to flip between. So no more bullshit ramblings about nothing in Icelandic for you"

Rumlow was watching me out of the corner of his eye. We'd had a few brief chats during our reading breaks on the trip here. I told him I wouldn't translate everything, just the important things. There was no need for him to know all the minor details.

Dante sat back in the chair as much as his cuffs allowed him, giving me a sullen look. I didn't miss the flicker of fear cross his face. He would have known the game was up and shit was about to get really serious for him.

"So," Rumlow said pleasantly with a creepy smile that would my blood run cold if I was on the receiving end of it. "We can do this the hard way or the really hard way. What's it going to be?"

I repeated the question in Icelandic rapidly. The sullen look on Dante's face quickly turned into a sneer and a very unamused laugh.

"Or what? You'll put me back in that box with an American whore singing for 8 hours straight? I'd rather that than sitting here listening to you try and prod information out of me."

"He said he's happy for you to rip out all his nails and break some fingers," I said to Rumlow, trying to mirror the smile on his face. "Apparently he likes Brittany Spears enough to listen to her for another 8 hours so that's no fun anymore."

"Music to my ears," Rumlow laughed as he got up. He clapped his hand on my shoulder. "Give me a minute. I need to get some toys."

Dante said nothing as Rumlow left the room, but his eyes tracked his every movement. As soon as the door slammed shut, his bored stare turned to me. I ignored him, taking my hair out of the messy ponytail it'd been in and twisting up into a bun. If things were about to get messy, I didn't want to deal with trying to get blood out of my hair.

"Typical woman, always worried about her hair," Dante sniffed. He'd stuck to Icelandic this time much to my relief. His cold stare roved over my body openly. I'd stripped down to my tank top while I was flying and hadn't bothered to put my shirt back on. "SHIELD could have sent someone who was better to look at than you before I get my fingernails pulled out, or whatever you're going to do next."

"I believe he's more of a fan of water boarding," I said, not backing from returning the stare. The Icelandic flowed smoothly on my tongue. It was actually good to practice it with a native speaker. Not just use it for random swearing and muttering under my breath when I didn't want anyone to know what I was saying. "And like you can talk. You've been sitting in your own shit and piss listening to Brittany Spears for the last 2 days. At least I've had a shower and eaten."

"Fuck you," Dante snarled at me. Obviously I'd hit a nerve there. "Fuck SHIELD. You can't make me talk."

Despite the tough talk, Dante was beginning to sweat. I could see the perspiration beading along his forehead. I'd be nervous too if I was in his shoes. I'd heard stories about Rumlow's interrogation techniques. He was brutal and borderline sadistic in his methods. But he got the job done, usually very quickly too. I didn't know the full story behind Dante or what he was involved in, but it sounded like time was of the essence here. SHIELD had definitely gone for a big gun for this one.

"Suit yourself," I shrugged casually. "Don't expect any sympathy from me when he's done with you."

"Fuck off," Dante said sullenly, switching back to German. I didn't blame him, swearing in German could be very satisfying. "Nothing you can do will scare me."

Challenge accepted. Clint and Natasha would be so proud for what I was about to do. I gave him another bored glance before concentrating on the bare skin of his forearm. The sweat now glistening on his skin made it a perfect target for me. It wasn't hard to ice the sweat on his arm over, enough to sting like hell on the bare skin but not enough to do any damage.

The effect was instant. With a shout, Dante tried to get up and rip his arm away from the table. He jerked violently, struggling against the handcuffs to get away from me. Unfortunately for him, he jerked so hard even I heard the snap of his wrist dislocating. There was a long pause of utter silence as we both stared at the deformed wrist. Dante's face turned a brilliant shade of red, then purple as he tried to contain his emotion. Sweat was pouring off his face, he was biting his lip so hard a trickle of blood started to run down his chin. His wrist lay limply on the table looking very misshapen. The smell or urine and fresh shit didn't go unnoticed by me either. I'd scared him enough that he'd pissed and shit himself. The rank odour of his freshly soiled pants made my eyes water and stomach churn. Inwardly I wanted to throw up, but I kept my own stoic expression firmly plastered on my face.

"I bet that didn't tickle," I said, leaning back in my chair trying to ignore the churning feeling in my stomach. His wrist looked terrible and he would have been in agony. I felt a little bit bad about scaring him so much. If it was my wrist I would have been a blubbering mess.

"Fucking mutant scum," Dante snarled at me, falling back to Icelandic. His words were choked and very forced. The line of colourful threats he started to spew at me erased the mild feelings of guilt pretty quickly.

"Wow, he sounds angry," Rumlow's voice made me turn. I hadn't heard him open the door. He was holding a bucket and a what looked like a tool roll. If Rumlow noticed the dislocated wrist, he didn't say anything about it.

"He said nothing could scare him, I took it up as a challenge," I said with a shrug. "I froze the sweat on his arm and it apparently scared him enough to dislocate his wrist trying to get away from me."

Dante had gone silent again, his eyes darting between Rumlow and I like he was trying to follow our conversation. Rumlow mentioned he spoke very minimal English. So not knowing what we were saying would be adding to his growing terror.

"Smells like you made him shit his pants too," Rumlow chuckled darkly. "Good work. I'm going to yank his head back and give him a little lesson on manners. Then we'll see if he wants to talk. Ready?"

Nope. I definitely wasn't ready, but I nodded anyway. Rumlow moved a lot faster than I'd ever seen him and had Dante's hair in his fist within seconds. With a hard yank, that would have definitely torn out some hair, Rumlow had Dante's head tilted back at an uncomfortable angle. Dante grunted in protest, but made no effort to beg. It would have been useless anyway.

"Tell him this is for mouthing off at you." Rumlow's face had turned completely expressionless. "And then hand me that cloth in the bucket. Feel free to make it as cold as possible."

"Because you're being an asshole," I flipped back to Icelandic. "Rumlow is going to have fun with you first. Then we'll have a proper chat."

"Cunt." The expletive in English was surprising, but I'd expected something along those lines. I really hated that word. Especially if it was being thrown at me. Rumlow tightened the grip on Dante's hair, making him hiss in pain.

"That's not a nice word," Rumlow chastised him. I didn't bother repeating it for Dante. He'd get the message, lack of english or not. Rumlow held his hand out, making me jump up from my seat quickly and sticking my hand in the bucket. It was full of water, ready for Dante's waterboarding session. While splashing around for the cloth, I left little trails of ice through the water. I made the water so cold my hand was numb by the time I got the cloth out and handed it to Rumlow.

He didn't flinch as I handed him the near frozen piece of fabric. But Dante did when Rumlow covered his mouth and nose with it. He struggled against his handcuffs and Rumlow's iron grip, but to no avail.

"Jug." Rumlow held his hand out. I fished out the large jug in the bucket, making sure I didn't spill any as I handed it over. "So, this is how we waterboard someone for maximum terror."

Rumlow slowly started to pour the water over the cloth on Dante's face. It was little more than a trickle, but Dante started to thrash instantly.

"The slower you go, the more sensation of drowning happens and draws out over a long time," Rumlow explained. His tone was more like he was giving a classroom lecture on baking cookies than waterboarding. "You make sure their chest is higher than the head so they can still expel the water, but the sensation of drowning is still there."

"Brutal." I inwardly flinched at the sight in front of me. I never knew a human could make the noises Dante was currently making. The gurgle of him slowly suffocating under the cloth, the groans of distress and choking sounds as his body expelled the liquid back out of his lungs. It made my already queasy stomach contract even further.

"Very effective though" Rumlow continued the stream of water on Dante's face, completely oblivious to his struggles. "If he doesn't play nice when I finish doing this, I'll get you to hold your hand over his mouth next round."

I nodded tightly. I really hoped Dante was a bit of a pussy and decided to cooperate quickly. I really didn't want to hold my hand over his mouth. It felt like forever before the jug ran out, but it wouldn't have been more than a minute. Rumlow handed the jug back to me before yanking the cloth off Dante's face and pushing him forward. Dante gasped and vomited in his own lap. I could see his entire body trembling uncontrollably as he sat there struggling to breath while vomiting.

"Are you ready to answer our questions?" I asked in Icelandic once Dante stopped vomiting all over himself. The sullen glare was the only response from him. In an instant, Rumlow jerked his head back again and the cloth went back over his face. I could see the cloth moving up and down rapidly over Dante's mouth in his panicked breathing.

"Round 2," Rumlow said cheerfully, holding his hand out for the jug. "Hold his mouth this time. That really fucks them up when it goes up their nose."

I obediently filled the jug back up and handed it over. Pushing down my squeamishness, I clamped my hand over Dante's mouth. He thrashed his head from side to side, trying to throw me off. He couldn't move enough due to Rumlow's tight grip to dislodged my hand. Just as Rumlow went to start tipping the water again, Dante managed to bite my hand through the cloth. It was barely a pinch thanks to the cloth muffling his teeth. But it made me jerk back in surprise and release his mouth. I grabbed my hand to inspect for any damage, but there was none.

"Did he just bite you?" Rumlow looked to me in surprise at my sudden movement. I nodded, scowling down at Dante. Rumlow released the grip on his hair. "Slap him, hard. Tell him next time you'll start pulling out this teeth. Don't yell, smile and say it calmly."

I did as Rumlow told me. My open hand landed on Dante's cheek with a satisfying crack, whipping his head in the opposite direction. Any traces of sympathy I felt for him had quickly vanished the second I felt his teeth touch my palm. I grabbed his face, yanking it back around to face me.

"Next time I'll rip your fucking teeth out," I said, plastering a sweet smile on my face as I spoke with deliberate slowness in Icelandic. "With my bare hands."

Rumlow didn't give Dante a chance to respond. He yanked his head back again and motioned for me to put my hand back over his mouth. This time as soon as my hand touched the fabric, Rumlow was pouring the water up his nose. If I thought Dante was thrashing violently before, it was nothing like the struggle he put up now. I had a hard time keeping my hand over his mouth. Even Rumlow lost grip of his hair twice. Despite the thrashing, Rumlow managed to draw the trickle of water out even further than last time.

"Let go," Rumlow instructed as the last few drops came out of the jug. I quickly snatched my hand away just as Rumlow pushed Dante's head forward again, ripping the cloth away as he went. He put a little too much effort into the push and Dante's head connected with the table with a loud thump. Dante didn't seem to care, he was too busy sounding like he was choking on his own vomit to notice the pool of blood appearing on the table. I had to turn away this time. I couldn't deal with the sight of vomit and blood mixing together.

"Kari." Rumlow's tone was warning enough for me. I needed to suck it up and turn around. I cleared my throat and quickly rubbed my face before turning around. Dante was still retching, but nothing was coming out of his body now. It was just his body convulsing and shaking uncontrollably.

"Ask him if he's ready to talk now," Rumlow said, standing back with his arms crossed. "Because I can do this all day. If he decides to cooperate, I'll even feed him and give him some clean clothes."

"Do you feel more talkative now?" I parroted back in Icelandic. I used the most soothing tone I could manage. "If you answer some questions for us, it will all stop. There'll be food, a shower and clean clothes waiting if you cooperate."

"Wasting your time here sweetheart," Dante said through wheezing breaths. His Icelandic was barely understandable. He turned his head and spat in my direction. It missed me by a mile, but his intent was clear. "My secrets are going the grave."

"He said he'd love another round with you Rumlow," I translated, shaking my head. I had to give it to Dante, he was a tough fucker. When I did my SERE training back in the Air Force, the instructors said most people will be a mess after one round of waterboarding. Let alone two.

"Coming right up," Rumlow said cheerfully, moving back into position and grabbing Dante's hair again. "Make it really cold this time."

I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat and did as I was told. The water was near freezing this time, a few chips of ice floated around in the jug as Rumlow splashed it over Dante's face again. This time he didn't take the cloth off when he was done, he just motioned for me to refill the jug and kept going. I did as I was told, growing increasingly more uncomfortable with every round.

By the time the bucket of water was finished, Dante still wasn't speaking. There weren't even any snide remarks when I asked him questions. No promises seemed to work on him. All I got was a sullen stare and a firmly set jaw. It felt like we'd been going at it for hours. I was tired, my shoulders and neck ached from standing for so long. I was too queasy to think about food, but I could desperately use a caffeine hit.

"Fuck it, he can go back in his box for a few hours." Rumlow threw the jug back in the bucket in disgust. "Pick a really annoying song for him to listen to while we rack out."

"How about that Barney the Dinosaur song?" I suggested. Lila had gone through a Barney phase a few months ago. If I ever had to hear a purpose dinosaur singing 'I love you, you love me' again I'd shoot myself in the head. Someone else should share in the misery I'd gone through.

"Sounds good to me," Rumlow grinned, looking far too pleased with my song choice. I was beginning to think there was a slightly sadistic side to Rumlow that I never, ever wanted to be on. "Come help me then we'll grab something to eat."

Dante didn't struggle at all as Rumlow uncuffed him from the table. He was pretty lifeless as Rumlow dragged him into the other room. This room had a few more things in it. A lockable box was against one wall. There were various types of restraints hanging from the roof, as well as some on the walls. An impressive whip, rope and handcuff collection littered the room in various spots. It almost made the room look like a BDSM dungeon.

"In you go," Rumlow's cheery voice made me snap my attention back to the task at hand. He lifted Dante's barely conscious body into the box. Dante was quite tall, so he was very crammed in the tiny box. Rumlow made no attempt to rearrange him into a more comfortable position. He simply slammed the lid shut and put in a 4 pin code. The box locked with a metallic click and the faint whirl of something mechanic started up. It was like a computer booting up. A second later, a screen popped up with a keyboard.

"And here you go, some Barney the Dinosaur singing for the next 8 hours," Rumlow chuckled as he slowly tapped on the keyboard while speaking. "Built in MP3 player and speakers in the box for sensory overloading. Best invention ever."

"Ah." I couldn't think of anything intelligent to say to Rumlow's explanation. It was kind of clever, in a very fucked up way.

"Come on, I'll cook us something to eat and then we can get some sleep." Rumlow turned around once he was finished and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. He studied my face for a few seconds, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "You look a bit green, you ok?"

"Yeah, fine," I lied, forcing a smile onto my face. "God it's been a long day though."

I really wasn't feeling fine. I felt like I needed to go and bathe myself in bleach after what I just put another human being through. Killing someone was easier than what Dante had just been through. The only good part of these last few hours was me freezing the sweat on his arm.

"Liar." Rumlow gave me a mildly exasperated look. "I know its gristly, but you did good in there. A lot of guys don't make it through their first interrogation without puking."

"Still not sure that isn't going to happen," I admitted, wrinkling my nose as my stomach clenched uncomfortably again. My earlier bravado was long gone. "I want to scrub a few layers of skin off with some bleach."

"Put some food in your stomach first, then at least you'll have something to throw up," Rumlow's wisdom sounded like it was coming from personal experience. "Come on, I'll cook you my famous carbonara. You can't pass that up."

Rumlow slung his arm around my shoulders and gave me a brief squeeze. His words weren't very comforting, but I allowed myself to be led into the kitchen and pushed down into the chair while he got busy. It was very weird to see him go from the guy he was in the interrogation room back to the guy I knew, laughing and joking about life. He even managed to find us some beer. It was some foreign crap but it went down a lot better than I thought it would. The kitchen was small, but stocked well enough for Rumlow to find everything he needed to cook for us.

The carbonara was the best I'd ever had in my life, even if I couldn't finish it all. It would have been perfect with some garlic bread, but we weren't that lucky to have any bread on hand. Still, I felt a lot more human after some food and a beer. After cleaning up the kitchen we inspected the house a little further. There were a few bedrooms upstairs, all with ensures attached to them. I claimed the first one I came across and despite still wanting to douse myself in bleach, I stripped off and collapsed into bed. I was out like a light within seconds.

I slept fitfully, vivid nightmares constantly jolting me awake. It was exhausting to fall asleep, only to be woken up soon after from something. It was everything all blended together. Pripyat, Riley's death, my fucked up mission in Afghanistan and this interrogation in one mash up of blurred events. My brain would not let me have any kind of restful sleep. I was cranky and exhausted when Rumlow knocked on my door a few hours later, needing me to come back to the interrogation room. Pete being present this time didn't help my mood either. He said nothing to me and I was happy to ignore him.

No matter what Rumlow and Pete did to him, Dante remained tight lipped throughout the very aggressive interrogation session. All of Dante's fingers were dislocated by the end of it and he'd lost his clothes privileges thanks to his sealed lips. Rumlow left him tied up in a kneeling position and turned the air conditioner down to near freezing in the room.

"He'll talk eventually," Rumlow said cheerfully as he cooked another batch of pasta for all of us. "They always do."

The cycle continued on what felt like endless time. The windows here shielded us from the outside world. We could only go outside for emergencies, so we didn't break cover about it being an abandoned building. After what I thought was the first few days I soon lost track of how long we'd been here. There were some basic uniforms in the closet of my bedroom so at least I didn't have to worry about washing except for my bra. It was painfully boring. Wake up, translate if he was talking, sit in a corner if he wasn't. Eat and then sleep again. Besides a few books, the entertainment options were limited to your own imagination and the few DVD's on hand. No Internet. The only electricity we had running was for lights, air conditioning and the basic appliances. Even the radio and satellite phones to call SHIELD was run on batteries.

We were in the room I'd now dubbed the dungeon. Calling it a BDSM room felt wrong on so many levels. People enjoyed BDSM play, or so I heard. This was not a room where anyone enjoyed themselves. I was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall staring at Dante who was currently tied so he was standing up. Rumlow and Pete were both circling him, not saying anything but slapping him at random intervals. Everything was so random, there was no pattern to it. They would both feint a hit too, making Dante openly cringe any time either of them got too close. But his lips remained shut. In fact, he hadn't spoken in the last 2 sessions at all.

Dante's body was a mess of bruises from the beatings over the last few days. He looked and smelt terrible. But I was nearly immune to the stench coming off him now. No one had bothered to reset his fingers and his right shoulder had been dislocated as well. We all admired him for how tough he was. But SHIELD was getting impatient. They needed to know the information only Dante knew, and they needed it now. Why they just couldn't send us some truth serum I would never know. This could have been over in a few minutes. Instead we had to resort to torture and even that wasn't working.

"All we need is a name Dante," I repeated for the 1033rd time in Icelandic. We'd given up on wanting information. Right now all Rumlow needed was a name for his buyer of whatever he was dealing in. "A name and this all stops."

I didn't even get his customary sullen look anymore. Dante simply stared straight ahead at the wall. I sighed irritably, looking at his bare legs and feet. Rumlow hadn't started breaking his toes yet. It made me wonder if that was going to be next on the agenda. I was so bored and tired. I wasn't sleeping well here at all. The nightmares were plaguing me every single time I shut my eyes. While I'd become immune to the stench of Dante, the interrogation techniques Rumlow and Pete used were still making me feel sick. I hadn't thrown up, but the feeling of wanting to dunk myself in bleach every time I left these rooms hadn't diminished. So much for how cocky I felt coming into this. Right now I felt disgusting for standing by and watching this being done to another human. But orders were orders. No matter if I agreed with them or not. I just had to be tough and do my job.

Dante was sweating so much that even the tops of his feet were shiny. The room was freezing again so it was the stress of the torture doing it. In my boredom I concentrated on his toes feeling the moisture pooling around them. Maybe freezing his feet over, just enough to sting again, would get him to react a little bit. I reached out with my power, the ice easily forming on his toes and quickly winding its way up his ankles thanks to his sweaty skin.

"Whoa, what the…." Pete was cut off by Dante screaming. It was so loud and unexpected all 3 of us jumped.

"Ophelia Sarkissia," the name tumbled out of Dante's mouth. I was so surprised to hear him speak, I lost concentration of my power and the ice turned into a puddle at his feet. Dante heaved a few heavy breaths, looking utterly defeated. He added in a much quieter voice in Icelandic. "That's my buyer."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Rumlow's voice turned kind. He quickly undid the ties holding Dante up, gently supporting him to the ground instead of letting him drop. "Come on, lets get you cleaned up and fed. The doctor will be here to attend to your injuries within the hour."

Pete was gone out of the door as soon as the name was dropped. So it was just Rumlow and I getting Dante into the more comfortable holding cell. It had a bathroom, a bed and clean change of clothes. Pure luxury considering Dante had been living in a box smaller than himself for the last god knows how long. As we got him into the room, he collapsed onto the bed pulling himself into a ball. It was like seeing a dam break. As soon as he touched the soft mattress he began to sob uncontrollably. Gone was the cocky and sullen man I walked in on. Right now he looked utterly broken as his body wracked with the great heaving sobs coming from him. He'd been through hell however long I'd been here. I actually felt a little sorry for him. What SHIELD did with him now wasn't going to be fun for him either. He'd probably spend the rest of his life in the Fridge. I couldn't help but look back at the broken man as we left the room.

"He doesn't even deserve you looking back at him Kari," Rumlow said to me firmly as we started to walk away. "If the tables were turned that piece of shit would have raped you, tortured you and then sold you off to the highest bidder. He doesn't deserve an ounce of pity or sympathy from you."

"No, I know," I fumbled to find the right words to say. There really wasn't anything I could say. I didn't like seeing someone tortured. I wouldn't forget the sound of Dante being waterboarded anytime soon. I felt like I was never going to be clean again by taking part in it. But I also knew that this guy was the worst of the worst to send Rumlow in. There were hundreds of trained interrogators and other field agents who could have done this job. But Rumlow was one of the best. He didn't brag about it but everyone in STRIKE knew the stories. He could get information out of anyone but he was only sent in to crack the really bad ones. I never, ever, wanted to be on that side of him.

"Come on, lets get on the radio and hopefully we can head back to civilisation as soon as the clean up crew arrives," Rumlow said, his tone back to carefree and light. He slung an arm around my shoulder and gave me a brief hug. "You did good. It's messy and the shit really fucks with your moral compass. But you did good despite all that. That trick about icing over his legs was perfect, can't believe I didn't think of it myself."

"We might have been home earlier if one of us did," I said dryly, feeling a little comforted by Rumlow's words. "I'm dying for some junk food."

"You and me both sister. Go pack up your shit and I'll get in touch with base." Rumlow chuckled lightly releasing his grip on my shoulders. He gave me a little shove in the direction of the stairs. "You good to fly if we can leave right away?"

"Give me a coffee and we're good to go" I was exhausted, but I could definitely manage to stay awake long enough to get us in the air and let the autopilot take over until we got back into US airspace.

"I'll make a pot to go," Rumlow looked very relieved at my answer.

I didn't need to be told twice. I bounced up the stairs and threw the few things I had here back in my bag. I couldn't wait for civilisation. I wanted cheeseburgers and chocolate. I wanted to binge watch Netflix and surf the internet looking at videos of cats until 3am simply because I could. Since I had fuck all here, I went into Rumlow's room and threw his stuff in his bag as well. He'd brought less than I had so I was done in 5 minutes and heading back down the stairs.

I didn't expect from Rumlow to have his foot in the bottom step, holding one of the satellite phones in his hand. We both jumped as each others sudden appearances.

"Coulson on the line for you," Rumlow explained, holding out the satellite phone. "New orders."

"They better fucking be in civilisation with internet and McDonalds," I muttered as I went down the stairs to grab the phone. Rumlow laughed quietly at my snarky tone before handing the phone over. It was strangely exciting to be hearing someone else's voice as I put the bulky phone to my ear. "Hey Coulson."

"Hey Kari," Coulson sounded tired and happy all at the same time. I smiled at hearing his voice. "Change of plans for you. Once the new crew get there, they'll drop you at Cairo International Airport. Your passport and tickets are waiting there for you."

"Umm, sure?" I frowned at the sudden change of plans. "Where am I going?"

"To Malibu. You and I are baby sitting Tony Stark. You may have missed a thing or two over the last 2 weeks."

Aww fuck it. There goes my peace and quiet back in civilisation.

Authors Note

I'm on a roll with fairly regular updates this month! So, this turned into a monstrosity I wasn't expecting. But I hope you all enjoy it. I love Kari slowly getting the confidence to deal with everything she gets into. While she doesn't agree with whats happening, she can tough it out enough to get her job done.

I also started a new story, called Shatter Me, if anyone wants to jump over and read that too. I'm planning on trying to update both of these on alternative weeks. But, as always we'll see how that goes.

As always, thank you so much for your support! Whether you lurk or review every single chapter, I love that you're just reading and enjoying my story enough to stick with me.

Until next time!