April 20th, 2003; Sugarcreek, Ohio…
Agent Phil Coulson tapped his sunglasses on his knee as the junior agent drove them into Sugarcreek. Fury had called him the day before, assigning him to investigate the assassination of a federal witness. He'd called it 'suspicious', which warranted S.H.I.E.L.D.'s involvement. If Nick Fury called something suspicious, then it was. Coulson had known him long enough to tell the man had a freakish sixth sense when it came to identifying threats.
They pulled up to the gas station, which by now was a swarm of activity. At least a dozen FBI agents and Marshals stood inside or outside yellow crime scene tape. Coulson put on his sunglasses, and his partner frowned. "Sir, why do you put those on if you're just going to take them off in a minute?"
"Everyone expects the government spook to wear sunglasses all the time," he replied. "I like to think taking them off makes me more approachable. Plus it looks cool."
His partner snorted, and they stepped out.
One of the FBI agents moved to stop them as they approached the tape. "I'm sorry, sir, you can't go any further. This is an active crime scene."
"That's alright," Coulson said. He took out his badge and flashed it. "Agent Phil Coulson. I'm with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. This is my partner, Junior Agent Cho."
The FBI agent blinked. "Huh. I've heard about you guys. Isn't this sort of thing a little below your paygrade?"
Coulson gave him a friendly smile and took off his sunglasses. "You wouldn't be saying that if you saw my paystubs. We make a habit of looking into any illegal activity that might involve…unusual circumstances. Never know if we'll run into some kind of supervillain."
"Okay, come on in I guess." The agent lifted the tape, and Coulson and Cho stepped through.
"So, walk me through what happened."
Checking his clipboard, the agent said, "11:39pm on the 18th, three US Marshals made a rest stop at this station. They were escorting a federal witness back to Pennsylvania, and he needed to use the john. One of 'em took the guy into the bathroom, while the others gassed up the car. Everything's hunky dory so far. 11:48pm, the station's security camera gets disabled."
"The attendant didn't notice?" Agent Cho asked.
"Nope. Kid's only seventeen, not really in a 'make smart choices' phase of life."
Coulson looked up at the empty camera mount. "What took out the camera?"
"Throwing knife."
"Seriously?" The agent nodded, and Coulson gave a long whistle. "That's a pretty accurate throw. And from a good distance, if they weren't close enough to be in view. What about the Marshals?"
They came to the car as crime scene technicians looked it over. "After taking out the camera, the assailant moved in for hand-to-hand. Medics found the first guy with some kind of dart in his neck, laced with a paralytic. Second guy wasn't so lucky. Suffered a bruise to his solar plexus, followed by severe blunt force trauma to the face that knocked his lights out."
Coulson looked over the scene, noting the dent in the car hood. "Hood?"
"Hood," the agent confirmed. "We figure the assailant stunned him with a hit to his chest, then smashed his face into the car."
"Ouch."
April 18th, 2003…
Another car drove past, ignoring her.
Ellen sighed. People around these parts must not trust hitchhikers. Dropping her outstretched thumb, she kept walking along the side of the road. She wore a plaid jacket over her shirt, jeans, and a knitted cap over her bun. Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she breathed in the fresh air. Trees towered all around her, while the road stretched far into the horizon. Ellen had never been to Ohio before. It would've been nice to spend some time sightseeing.
Hearing a vehicle approaching, she turned and saw a blue pickup truck. Not expecting much, she held out her thumb and waited. To her mild surprise, it came to a stop on the side of the road. She walked up to the passenger door as the window lowered. The driver, a middle-aged man dressed in denim and a worn baseball cap, asked, "Where you heading?"
"Just trying to get north. Could I get a ride?" she asked, affecting a Southern twang to her voice.
The man thought about it, then said, "Sure, no problem. Hop in."
"Thanks, mister. You are a life-saver!" Ellen opened the door and got inside.
As they drove down the road, he said, "The closest town to the north is Sugarcreek. I'm heading to Pittsburgh, but I can drop you off in town and you can find your way from there."
"That'd do just fine." Ellen gave him a friendly smile, despite her desire to gag from the stench of cigarette smoke.
"What's your name?"
"Rosalind. What's yours?"
"Hank."
"Nice to meet you, Hank."
"Same to you, ma'am. Say, what brings you out to these parts, if'n you don't mind me asking? You don't have people who could drive you? Or a car?"
Ellen leaned her head against the headrest, balancing a foot on the dash. "Oh, just…" She shook her head, feigning reluctance to talk about a sensitive subject. "I felt like getting away. The last few years I've been stuck in this routine, y'know? Day after day of the same thing. I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to get away. See more of the world. Does that sound crazy?"
Hank shook his head. "Not at all. It's good to travel, get some food for the soul."
They continued to make small-talk the rest of the way. Ellen stared out the window at the passing trees and farmers' fields. Taskmaster's words the day before echoed in her mind. "Normally we'd just drop you near the target for expediency's sake. But this will be a test of your ability to blend in. The best assassins are never the most famous; if you do your job right, no one will ever know you were there. You need to be able to blend into your environment."
Half an hour later, they reached the charming little village of Sugarcreek. Hank dropped her off near an intersection. Ellen thanked him, then –after asking around– managed to book a room in a local inn. Shutting the blinds and locking the door, she swept the room for bugs or anything suspicious. Nothing.
Unzipping her backpack, she shook it and dumped its contents onto the bed. No guns, since she wanted to stay under the radar. A gunshot in a small town like this would draw too much attention. Ellen changed into the black catsuit and leather gloves. She then equipped the various knives, throwing darts, and other weapons she'd brought. It'd be dark soon, and her target should be coming into town.
She checked the handheld GPS scanner. All government vehicles came equipped with locators, and HYDRA agents had provided the signal of her target to Taskmaster, who'd given it to her. Sitting on the bed, Ellen watched the red dot as it slowly approached Sugarcreek. Her target was an accountant for a prominent firm, recently found guilty of embezzling large sums of money. Much of those funds had been funneled into HYDRA's coffers. He'd fled the authorities, but later got caught in Indiana. In exchange for a reduced sentence, he agreed to testify everything he knew about his secret employers. To preserve HYDRA's secrecy, he had to be eliminated.
Their mole in the US Marshals Service learned that the target and his escort would be stopping in Sugarcreek on their way back to Pennsylvania.
Finally, the red dot stopped at a gas station in town. Putting the scanner away, Ellen shoved her backpack under the bed, then quickly slipped on her jacket and jeans over the catsuit. Peeking through the blinds to make sure no one was around, she slipped out the door. To any passersby, she'd appear just like the normal woman she pretended to be.
Under cover of night, she weaved her way through alleys and empty streets. Fortunately almost everyone slept at this hour. Creeping around the corner of a house, she laid eyes on the gas station, the only vehicle present a black Sedan. Two men in Marshal jackets stood next to it, one of them refilling the tank. The third one must have been with the target in the bathroom. She took off her jacket and jeans, stuffing them behind a dumpster, then pulled down the hooded cowl that would hide her face. She almost felt like a Ninja out of a Kung Fu movie.
Staying in the shadows, Ellen hurried across the street, finding cover behind a bush. She spotted only a single security camera mounted over the front door of the station. Drawing a thin knife, she threw it at the camera. It pierced the lens, destroying it.
Now for the hard part.
Emerging from behind the bush, she sprinted towards the two Marshals. Drawing a throwing dart from her belt, Ellen hurled it at the man working the pump. It pierced his neck, and he stiffened. The dart had been dipped in a powerful paralytic agent, and the man collapsed. His partner, flinching in surprise, started drawing his gun as he turned to face her. Ellen slid across the hood of the car and kicked the gun out of his hand. She then blocked his reflexive haymaker, open-palm struck his chin to stagger him, punched him in the chest, then grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face into the hood of the car. He slid to the ground, unconscious. Ellen didn't envy him when he eventually woke up; concussions were a bitch to deal with.
With time a factor, she opened the car and checked it for anything belonging to the target. The last thing she needed was to complete the objective only to miss an incriminating hard drive or tape recorder. After a thorough search, she found nothing. They must have planned all the recordings and interrogations for later.
April 20th…
"Then we come to the interesting stuff," the agent said, ushering them over to the gas station's bathroom. "First responders found the third Marshal just inside. He'd suffered lacerations to his right arm and left inner thigh. Knife was laced with poison, causing localized tissue necrosis and quite a bit of pain."
Coulson winced. "Did you ID the poison?"
"Snake venom, belonging to the…" The agent flipped a page, then read, "Calloselasma rhodostoma. Malayan Pit Viper. Actually one of the less venomous species, as death is quite rare. I actually got off the phone with the hospital ten minutes ago, and they say the Marshal will make a full recovery."
"So, not enough to kill him, but enough to debilitate."
"That was our assessment. And now for the sole fatality." The agent gestured to the open bathroom stall. Coulson and Cho both stopped and wrinkled their noses. The victim died while emptying his bowels, leaving an incredible smell to be discovered. One look was all one needed to know he didn't die a natural death. Coulson squinted as he noticed the angry red injection mark on the man's neck. "No knife?"
"Nope. Garden variety syringe. Looks like whoever did this brought special tools to get rid of this guy."
"And let me guess: more snake venom?" Coulson asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Dendroaspis polylepis. Black Mamba, which happens to be one of the most venomous snakes in the world. This poor bastard received a dose large enough to kill thirty people. He was DOA long before the first responders got here."
Coulson shook his head at the sight. "Remind me never to go out like this," he said to Agent Cho.
"What, injected with snake venom in a bathroom stall?"
"Exactly. It's just so…undignified."
April 18th…
Circling around to the side, she came to the men's bathroom. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard faint voices. Two men, one giving the other curt orders. The third Marshal and the target. Stepping back so the door would open away from her, Ellen pounded a fist on it. The voices quieted, then the first one called, "Nash, is that you?" A moment, then, "Pete?"
Ellen pounded her fist again. This time, she heard footsteps. Drawing a dagger laced with snake venom, she crouched and readied herself. The door opened, and she kept quiet as a spectre.
"Nash?" the Marshal asked, this time in a whisper. He was alert, ready for danger. Not ready for her.
She kicked the door, knocking the Marshal into the wall. It stunned him just enough for her to close in and slice his right arm with the dagger. He dropped his gun in response, and tried to counter-attack. She ducked below his strike and sliced him in the thigh. He grunted. Ellen drove her shoulder into his chest and forced him back into the bathroom. She hit him with a spinning roundhouse kick, smashing her heel into the side of his head and knocking him out cold.
"Hello?" a man called, voice high-pitched in fear.
Sheathing the dagger, Ellen stepped over the Marshal and walked over to the locked stall door. She wrinkled her nose at the smell; gas station bathrooms really were that nasty, no matter where you went. Kicking the door open, she came face to face with her target: pale, mid-thirties, mustache, generous paunch, and sweat-slicked brow. His pants were around his ankles, and handcuffs bound his wrists.
"Oh, God!" he squealed, holding his hands up as if praying for mercy to a vengeful deity.
Ellen cocked her head, staring down at her target. "What did you tell them, Gary?"
"Nothing!" Gary Carmichael replied. "Nothing at all. I-I never mentioned names, accounts, names…I really didn't know anything to begin with. Everything went through anonymous emails and pseudonyms. S-So there's n-no point in doing whatever you're gonna do. No reason at all. I'm just going to keep my…mouth…shut…"
He slowed down as he saw her reach into her belt and take out a syringe containing 300mg of Black Mamba venom. "If you'd kept your mouth shut to begin with, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Please, please don't do this." Gary started crying and whimpering as sheer terror set in.
Ellen thought back to her first loyalty test three weeks prior. Her inability to execute the bound stranger, and the subsequent first meeting with the Winter Soldier, left a lasting impression. Each time afterwards, Taskmaster brought her into the empty judge's chambers and told her to execute another bound, bagged prisoner. She never knew their names, or why they'd been taken. Taskmaster only told her they were 'her targets'.
The second time she tried the test, she couldn't do it. The Winter Soldier broke her nose.
"I could just forget about all of this," Gary said.
The third time she tried the test, she couldn't do it. The Winter Soldier held her head in ice water until she nearly drowned.
"You've made your point."
The fourth time she tried the test, she couldn't do it. The Winter Soldier suffocated her with a plastic bag until she passed out.
"I'll just go away, hide and never come back. You'll never hear from me again."
The fifth time she tried the test, she shot the prisoner between the eyes before Taskmaster finished giving the order. She just wanted the pain to stop. Then they made her do it again, and again, and again. Every time it became that much easier to pull the trigger, that much quicker for her to walk away afterwards. She often went to bed wondering if the training made it easier for her to kill. Maybe she'd always been a killer deep down, and now it came to the surface.
"You're right, Gary," Ellen said. "We'll never hear from you again. No one will." Before he could beg one more time, she jammed the needle into his neck and injected every last drop of the venom. Taking a step back, she watched as his body seized, then started violently convulsing. A fraction of the venom would have killed him within seven hours or so. The large amount she'd brought would kill him much faster. Gary's eyes rolled back into his head, and he struggled for breath. Half a minute later, he stilled, slumping against the back of the toilet.
She pressed her fingers against his neck. No pulse. She waited a few more seconds just to be sure. Gary Carmichael would never be a problem again. HYDRA's secrecy was assured. Putting the syringe back in her belt, Ellen walked out of the bathroom and snuck away from the gas station. Grabbing her jacket and jeans hidden behind the dumpster, she put them on and pulled the hooded cowl back.
Calmly walking back to her room at the inn, she changed out of her catsuit, stuffing it and her weapons into her backpack. After a quick shower, she laid down on the bed and slept.
A few hours later, well before the sun rose, Ellen changed into a white tank top and denim shorts that ended just above her knees. In lieu of her knitted cap, she let her hair hang down loose. Slinging her backpack over both shoulders, she left the inn and started walking along the road, back the way she'd come. Changing a few items of clothing and how she kept her hair would make Ellen appear to be an entirely different person to any observer. Quite useful when blending in.
An hour after leaving town, she managed to flag down a grey SUV. The driver, a woman around Ellen's age, asked, "Do you need a ride, hon?"
She smiled and replied without an accent, " That would be so great, thanks!"
After catching a ride from three different vehicles and walking the last forty miles back to the abandoned town, Ellen met Taskmaster in the high school gym. Rumlow stood beside him, which made her want to gag. Outwardly, she maintained stoic calm as the two of them stared at her.
"Mission completed," she reported.
"So it is," Taskmaster said. "But you only incapacitated the target's escort instead of neutralizing them. Why?"
She shrugged, unsurprised that she'd been observed the whole time. "Didn't see any advantage to it. Besides, they never saw my face, and killing three federal agents would draw way more attention."
He stared at her, and she couldn't get a read through his skull mask. "Hm," was all he said before turning around and walking away.
April 19th…
Tony stood beside Rumlow as they examined the footage they'd taken from Sugarcreek. Several different monitors showed feeds from the gas station and motel. "I knew it," Rumlow said, shaking his head. "She's weak. She doesn't have what it takes."
"Someone who's 'weak' doesn't cross state lines to murder someone taking a dump in a gas station bathroom," Tony pointed out.
"Just take a look! She left those Marshals alive when killing them would've been so much easier. There are no prisoners with HYDRA, only–"
"Only order," Tony finished, exasperated. "I know. You say that every chance you get. But you're not seeing the bigger picture here: she finished the mission undetected and without any unnecessary bloodshed."
Rumlow scoffed. "Never expected you to be squeamish."
"I'm a professional. I don't kill unless I have to, or I'm paid to. But I know your secret, Rumlow. You're an animal. You pretend to be some sort of freedom fighter working to make the world a better place, but deep down you're just a killer. You enjoy putting people in the ground and seeing the light leave their eyes. You want to know what I saw when Pierce reported in?"
Rumlow's jaw clenched. He didn't look capable of intelligent speech due to his rage. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the footage from when their student returned.
"She didn't blink, or shake, or fidget. Solid as a rock. You know what that tells me? She's mastered her emotions, and she's acting like a true professional."
"You like her, is that it?"
"I like her more than I'll ever like you. Besides, as her teacher, I can't help it if I'm proud of my star pupil. So yeah, I say she gets a pass. And since I'm responsible for her training, you can't say jack about it." He wouldn't say as much to Rumlow, but Pierce had grown on him these past few months. When he looked at her, he saw a determination he hadn't seen in anyone else. No matter how hard he made it for her, or how many times she got knocked down, she always kept going. And despite a mediocre start, she'd steadily grown into the deadliest fighter he'd ever trained.
She impressed him every day, but more than that, she truly did make him proud.
Rumlow growled in annoyance. He didn't care about her progress, only about being right. "Fine. I'll tell the Secretary. I'm sure he'll be pleased his precious little girl gets approval from Discount Skeletor."
Tony shook his head. "Don't quit your day job, asshole."
April 20th…
Coulson turned to the FBI agent and shook his hand, "Thanks for your cooperation; I'll make a note of it in my report."
"Thanks. Uh, you guys aren't gonna take this over?"
"I don't see the need at this juncture. If that changes, we'll keep your agency in the loop. For now, all we can do is keep an eye out for whoever did this, and why they wanted an accountant dead so much. We'll see ourselves out." With that, he and Agent Cho left the bathroom. As they walked back to their car, he dialed a number on his phone. After entering his access code, the machine transferred him.
"Analytics, this is Senior Supervisor Waltham," a bored-yet-professional voice greeted.
"This is Coulson. I want you to open a file on a possible person of interest. Put in a link to an active FBI investigation in Sugarcreek, Ohio: murder of a federal witness. POI is unknown at this time, but they have tactical training, and they seem to prefer coating their weapons in poison, specifically snake venom."
"Understood," the supervisor replied, the faint sound of a keyboard typing in the background. "File designation?"
"Call it…" Coulson turned to Agent Cho. "What do you think?"
The junior agent pressed his lips together in thought. "How about 'Viper'?"
Coulson nodded. "That should work." Speaking into the phone, he said, "File designation: Viper."
2004…
Despite Rumlow's irritation at the fact she spared the three US Marshals, Taskmaster gave Ellen a full pass. After all, she had eliminated the target without being seen or caught.
She spent another year training under Taskmaster, who periodically left for weeks at a time. During those weeks, she practiced on her own, not wanting to dull her skills. Rumlow dropped by whenever he could find the time away from his cover at S.H.I.E.L.D. While continuing to master martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, her various instructors had her focus on weapons and gadgets. Whole days were spent running through obstacle courses, shooting targets with countless pistols, rifles, shotguns, and even large ordnance like grenade launchers. Then came the lessons on infiltration and hacking.
The world post-9/11 was ever-changing, marked by increased paranoia and intrigue. The pace of technological development became feverish as corporations and nations endeavoured to be at the top of the pyramid. Ellen learned the ins and outs of physical vaults like in banks or facilities like NORAD, digital databases, and seemingly everything ever made. Sometimes it all made her cross-eyed, but she soldiered on and, like everything else, learned to adapt.
Then, in the winter of 2004, her father paid another visit.
"From what I've been hearing," he said, pacing around her as she stood at attention in the gym, "you've really outdone yourself, sweetheart. I knew you had it in you."
She smiled, basking in the praise. "Thanks, dad."
"You might just be one of the best-trained operatives HYDRA has ever seen."
Rumlow rolled his eyes in contempt as he leaned against the wall. Though Taskmaster's face was hidden behind his skull mask, she sensed he approved.
"But there comes a time when training has to end," her father continued. "And I think that time has come. HYDRA always has need of someone with your skills out in the world, making a difference."
She tried not to let her excitement show too much. "You mean…I'm finally getting an assignment?" The mission to Sugarcreek had been nothing more than practice. This was the real deal. Her chance to make the world a better place.
He nodded. "The first step is to integrate you into S.H.I.E.L.D. Most of HYDRA's operatives are embedded inside the organization. It allows us unfettered access to top-tier technology and intelligence, not to mention the opportunity to know our enemy's plans as they make them."
"So I'll be working under Nick Fury," Ellen said soberly.
"That's right." He stopped pacing and looked her in the eyes. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"No," she replied, maybe a bit too quickly. She'd known Fury half her life, and though she would never admit it to her father or the others, the prospect of tricking him did make her feel guilty. But her work would make a difference, so she did her best to smother that feeling. "It's just going to be tough, lying to the director of the world's largest intelligence agency."
"There will be difficulties," he said, touching her shoulder. "But you won't be seeing Nick all the time. And I have confidence in your skills."
She smiled. "Thanks."
"Hail HYDRA."
"Hail HYDRA!" Ellen and all the others present –minus Taskmaster– echoed.
Afterwards, Ellen continued to bask in her father's praise. She strolled out onto the street, mulling over the possibilities of her being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
Up ahead, she saw a black SUV parked in front of the high school. A pair of agents hauled out cases and travel bags over to Taskmaster, who loaded them into the back. Curious, Ellen made her way over. "Need a hand?" she asked.
"Nope."
"So I guess this is it, then? You're leaving for good?"
He nodded. "My contract's done. Your old man wired my last payment."
Ellen glanced up at the sky, remembering the sight of his Quinjet taking off half an hour earlier. "Is this the part where you say you taught me everything you know and I have to learn the rest on my own?"
Taskmaster chuckled. "I never said I taught you everything I knew. Gotta keep some secrets."
"I just…" She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I wanted to say thank you. For everything you did. The others showed me plenty, but you were the one to help me unlock my potential. You helped me master myself in a way I never thought I could."
He heaved the final case into the back of the SUV, then paused. "You're welcome," he said quietly. Then, "For what it's worth, you were a good student. Reminds me of the old saying: "When the student is ready…"
"The teacher will appear," Ellen finished. "Mask of Zorro, right?"
"Fantastic movie. I was thinking of Lao Tzu, however. He goes on to say, "When the student is truly ready…the teacher will disappear". This world is a shitty, scary, unfair place, but you're no longer ruled by fear. You're in control of your life. My job is done."
Ellen smiled at the words of wisdom, and the praise.
Taskmaster shut the back door, then stepped around so they stood face to face. Or, in her case, face to chest plate. After spending so much time together, she didn't find the skull mask and armour as intimidating. "Listen, kid, I never thought I'd admit it, but I like you. I think you've got what it takes to do whatever you set your mind to. Lord knows you're stubborn enough." She snorted, and he added in a low voice, "Just be careful, okay?"
She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"
"Groups like HYDRA do a good job roping people in with speeches about unity and affecting change and all that stuff. But when the chips are down, you have to ask yourself if the group will devote themselves to you the same amount you're devoted to them. Don't get swallowed into the collective. Remember to think for yourself, and why you're doing this."
Ellen opened her mouth to reply, but one of the agents approached from the school's front doors. Without a word, he got into the driver's seat.
"I hope everything works out," Taskmaster said, opening the passenger door. "It's been fun." He sat down and closed the door.
Ellen watched the SUV drive away, her mentor's words hanging in the air around her. She had her reasons for going through with all this. Good ones. Still, she couldn't help but think of that conversation for the rest of the day.
For reference on Taskmaster's armour, check out his appearance in Marvel's Spider-Man (PS4). Cool, tactical, and a nice homage to the classic skull mask from the comics.
Also, I originally had Coulson's scene all in one towards the end. But after a second look, I decided it felt too boring and summary-like for the preceding sequence. So I thought I'd chop it up and present it in a non-linear way. Hopefully the format wasn't too confusing!