Stark Tower…
The Quinjet touched down in the street, which had been swept clean for them to land on. The tower's helicopter pad on the roof had been too heavily damaged for them to use. As the engines powered down, Ellen hit the button to lower the boarding ramp. She and Rumlow led the four S.T.R.I.K.E. teams down the ramp and onto the street. Since the fighting was over, they hadn't bothered putting on their tactical gear. She'd tied her hair into a tight bun and wore her standard-issue jacket over a grey T-shirt and cargo pants, while Rumlow decided to wear his usual black shirt and pants.
As they crossed the street towards the tower entrance, Ellen looked around. Seeing the damage on the news and seeing it in person were two different things. Whole buildings had been leveled, while others had extensive gouges and broken roofs. Some fires still burned off in the distance. Emergency crews would likely be busy for weeks.
Everywhere she looked reminded her of that terrible day eleven years ago. The day Al-Qaeda decided to murder her mother and countless others. New York looked then what it looked like now: broken and scarred. She pursed her lips, secretly furious she hadn't had the chance to make those alien bastards pay for what they did.
Her earpiece beeped, and she tapped it. "Pierce."
"Are you on-site?" her father asked.
"Yeah, we're walking up to the front doors right now."
"Good. I've sent word to Rogers and his team that you'll be arriving to take custody of Loki's Scepter. That is your priority."
Ellen nodded as two of her team opened the doors for them. "Understood. What about the Tesseract?"
"Stark and the others are proving remarkably resistant. Apparently they're set on giving it to the alien called Thor," he said, sounding a little agitated. She frowned. The Tesseract had been their property for decades, and now they stood poised to unlock its potential like never before. They couldn't just let Tony Stark and his friends take it way from them. "I'm on my way to deal with this personally. You and your unit focus on the Scepter. With luck, we'll have it and the Tesseract where they belong."
"Don't worry, dad. I won't let you down."
"I know you won't. See you soon," he said before ending the call.
The lobby appeared intact, absent the damage on the roof and top floors. Waiting just inside the doors, dressed in a fine grey suit, was Jasper Sitwell, one of her father's most important lieutenants. He would be there to 'officially' take custody of the Scepter from the Avengers, even though Ellen outranked him in the HYDRA pecking order. "Agents," he greeted with a curt nod.
"Nice of you to join us, Sitwell," Ellen said. "Happy to get out of the office and stretch your legs?"
His expression remained fixed and deadpan. "Ecstatic," he said dryly as he fell in step with them.
A few Stark Industries employees either sat or paced around the lobby, though they all made sure to give Ellen and the others a wide berth. Reaching the elevators, they gathered in front of the one marked 'executive access'. When Rumlow hit the call button, however, the panel went from blue to red. He tried again, with the same result, causing him to growl in frustration.
"I'm sorry, but you do not have access to that," a strange, synthetic voice said. Ellen looked around, but didn't see anyone else.
"Who said that?" Rumlow asked.
"Apologies. My name is J.A.R.V.I.S. I am a simulated intelligence that oversees all of Mr. Stark's digital security and infrastructure."
"We need to get up to the top floor."
"Of course, Agent Rumlow. But Mr. Stark has requested the use of this elevator for himself and his team. I'm afraid you will have to use the secondary elevator that accesses the executive wing."
Rumlow sneered, but before he could say anything, Ellen asked, "And where might that be?"
"On the third floor. Take the stairs to your left, then proceed down the hall and make two rights."
"Thank you."
"You're quite welcome, Agent Pierce."
After giving her an annoyed look, Rumlow turned to the others and said, "Team 4, get back to the Quinjet and prep for takeoff. Teams 2 and 3, you'll stay by the elevator door and keep it secured. The rest of you are coming with me."
Taking the stairs, they eventually came to the elevator door. Ellen joined Sitwell, Rumlow, and the rest of Team 1. The clear glass running along the back of the elevator offered a stunning view of the city, marred by the recent battle damage, as well as the helicopters and boats swarming like insects around their hive. After a silent ride all the way up to the 93rd floor, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
They stepped out into the penthouse, which had seen much better days. Broken windows, smashed flooring, and scorch marks on the walls and ceiling. Ellen spotted Loki in durable handcuffs, noting the slicked-back hair, ivory skin, and grandiose green robes with golden armour. He definitely had the look of an egomaniacal conqueror. Standing around him were the six Avengers, each bearing some minor wound or damage to their uniforms but otherwise in good health. The most eye-catching of them all was the Hulk, who loomed over everyone as a colossal mountain of muscle ready to pop someone's head like a grape.
Sitwell nodded to Romanoff, who held the scepter. "We can take that off your hands."
"By all means," the redhead said with a smile, handing it over as Rumlow opened the long case they'd use to transport it. Sitwell admired it, gently running his finger along the metal of the sharpened tip. The blue gem it contained was certainly beautiful, its ethereal glow catching the eye. Ellen stared at it, unable to look away. Something seemed to whisper to her, but she couldn't make out the words.
"Careful with that thing," Romanoff warned, snapping her out of her trance. She shook her head, blinking. What was that?
Barton, who'd poured himself and the former Russian assassin a drink, added, "Yeah, unless you want your mind erased. And not in a fun way."
"We promise to be careful," Rumlow said.
Ellen smirked. "We like to think we've seen our fair share of weird. But today has been a lot of firsts for everyone." She caught Romanoff's eye, and gave a welcoming nod. "Romanoff."
"Pierce," the redhead returned, raising her drink.
"Been a while." She felt tempted to add 'since I gave the order that ran you off that cliff in Odessa,' just to see the look on her face. But that was what fantasies were for. So, for the moment, she maintained a professional if friendly aura.
"I hear you set a new record at the Triskelion sparring gym," Romanoff said, sipping her drink.
Ellen shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal. Just me letting off some steam with a few of the newer agents." Those agents had, in fact, been loudly proclaiming Black Widow was the greatest fighter in all of S.H.I.E.L.D. history. Wanting to dispute that claim, Ellen had challenged them all to a friendly match. Apparently their fractures were almost healed.
Barton snorted. "The way I hear, it was seven on one."
"I wasn't counting."
Gulping down the rest of her drink, Romanoff said, "One of these days I'd like to see what you've got for myself. I keep hearing how impressive your skills are."
"I think I remember hearing people say that about you. Maybe…"
Ellen's next words died on her lips as a star-spangled uniform hurried past her. "On my way down to coordinate search and rescue." That was him. Captain America. Seeing him in the flesh, her heart skipped a beat. He'd taken his helmet off, exposing his short-cut brown hair and beautiful blue eyes. The uniform, which she'd considered garish on television, was molded to his body in such a way that it highlighted his impressive physique. The way he carried himself, head held high and shoulders squared, the confidence and surety. It all left her breathless. Here was a man she'd admired since childhood, a man who's face she'd seen countless times on banners and museum exhibits and the poster she always kept in her room.
Loki said something beside her and flashed green, but she ignored it. Staring at the shrinking form of the world's greatest superhero, her eyes drifted down to his well-formed derriere, tight fabric emphasizing it for the world to see. She was only human, after all.
"Pierce!" Rumlow's voice rang in her ear, followed by snapping fingers.
Ellen blinked, then looked over at him.
"We got what we came for. Move out."
"Oh, right," she said, following him and the others back into the elevator. Stark checked the Tesseract before closing the silver briefcase and heading into the main elevator with the other Avengers. With any luck, her father would retrieve it, and HYDRA would have possession of two powerful alien artifacts.
The doors closed, and they began their descent. Sitwell took out his phone and dialed a number, then handed it to Ellen. Taking it, she held it to her ear. "Hey dad," she said when he picked up. "Evidence secure. We're en route to Doctor List."
"Any complications?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "No hitches at all. We should be in the lobby in the next few minutes."
"See you soon. I love you."
"Love you. Bye." Ending the call, she handed Sitwell's phone back to him. An uncomfortable silence fell on the group, and she felt the others glancing at her with condescending smirks on their faces. "If any of you have any smartass remarks, keep them to yourselves. I've got half a dozen syringes full of venom that'll kill you in minutes and make it look like a heart attack."
Casting surreptitious glances at Rumlow and the others, she saw their eyes fixed forward and lips pursed. She allowed herself a small smirk. Allies in the cause they all might have been, most of her fellow HYDRA agents were complete assholes. It felt good to put them in their place.
The elevator soon dinged, and the doors opened. Rejoining Teams 2 and 3, they made their way back down. The door leading to the lobby was now a pile of splinters, looking like a battering ram had busted it open. Towards the front doors stood her father and over a dozen agents, all of them looking rattled.
"What happened?" Ellen asked as they walked over to the other group. "Where's the Tesseract?"
Her father tugged at his shirt collar, a scowl on his face. "Stark didn't feel inclined to hand it or his prisoner over."
"But you wouldn't just let him walk away, unless…" Thinking it over, she arrived at the most likely possibility. "Let me guess, the Hulk made a rather compelling argument?"
He nodded. "Came barreling out that door a minute before you did, yelling about stairs. None of us felt inclined to become stains on the floor, so we had no choice but to let them go." Seeing the case in Rumlow's hand, his anger shrank a little. "Well, at least we have one of the objectives. Better something than nothing, I guess." Ellen walked beside him as he headed out the door, the other agents and S.T.R.I.K.E. teams forming a barrier around them.
"So, you think Strucker and List can do anything with that?" she asked, jerking her thumb to indicate the scepter.
"List is the foremost scientist we've got. If anyone can crack its secrets, I'd bet on him." As they approached the Quinjet, he looked at Rumlow and said, "Take your unit back to the Triskelion. Then I want Ellen to take the scepter to Sokovia."
The other man frowned. "Sir, with all due respect–"
"This isn't a debate. It's an order. If you have any grievances, I'd love to hear them." They stopped at the foot of the ramp, her father looking at Rumlow with an iron stare. The latter shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes.
"I just thought," he said, jaw clenched as he ground his teeth, "I'd be the one to deliver the scepter."
"You're a valuable agent, Rumlow. No one doubts that. But at the end of the day, I trust my daughter to carry out the mission more than any of you. And that, gentlemen," he said, glancing at everyone else, "is a fact you all have to get used to. So, once you arrive at the Triskelion, Ellen will take the scepter. Have I made myself clear?"
Rumlow breathed heavily through his nose. "Yes, sir," he bit out, shoving the case into Ellen's waiting hands before storming into the Quinjet's hold.
"I won't let you down," she promised, kissing her father on the cheek.
He gave her a slight smile. "You never do."
After the miraculous conclusion to the battle –which, Tony hated to admit, was due to Iron Man's efforts– S.H.I.E.L.D. and the federal government moved in to start organizing the response and cleanup. Of course, the government were the ones who decided to nuke the goddamned city as Option A, but who bothered keeping track?
He'd managed to defend the subway station from the odd alien attack, keeping guard for hours with some on-duty cops. After that, he and his family –along with all the others who had taken shelter there– were guided to a crisis response centre in Central Park. Hundreds of people flooded in, either shellshocked or suffering injuries from the chaos.
Since he'd come into direct contact with the aliens, he was forced to go through the most extensive decontamination ever devised. Clothes sheared off and burned, a round of UV light, skin nearly scrubbed off with brushes and scalding water, the works. After that, they drew several vials of blood and injected him with enough immune boosters to cure a herd of wild horses. It left him feeling violated, loopy, and irritated all at once.
Finished with the procedures and given a clean bill of health, he put on the plain clothes given to him and returned to his family.
A nurse had looked at his mother's head wound and given Samantha a once-over. Fortunately both were fine, just exhausted after their harrowing taste of the apocalypse. Tony sat next to his mother as she laid on a stretcher, holding her hand as Samantha sat in his lap. None of them said a word, still processing the events of the last few hours. After so much carnage and death in his home, Tony relished the quiet, uneventful silence.
Everyone else in the tent remained silent, families doing their best to comfort each other. An elderly couple held trembling hands, while a Hispanic woman spoke gently to her four sons. Sitting beside Tony were a dark-haired woman and her daughter, who looked to be around Samantha's age. The girl rested her head against the woman's shoulder, crying.
Samantha noticed, too, and looked up at him. "Why is she sad?"
He regarded the pair with a sigh. "They lived in a building close to where the aliens came out," he explained, trying to put it as gently as he could. "She lost her father before they made it out to the street."
"That's so sad," she said.
He nodded, patting her shoulder. "Yes it is, baby girl. Yes it is."
After a few more minutes of silence, Samantha hopped down from his lap. She walked over to a bin of food and, grabbing a protein bar, approached the grieving pair. "Here you go," she said, holding the bar out.
The woman gave a weary smile, accepting it. "Thank you."
"I'm sorry about your dad," Samantha told the girl. "I'm Samantha Masters. What's your name?"
The girl sniffled, wiping her eyes with her shirt sleeve. "M-My name's Kate. Kate Bishop."
Tony watched his daughter converse with the other girl, amazed by the compassion she showed in trying to comfort her. His mother squeezed his hand, and they shared proud smiles. Samantha really was one of a kind. She and Kate talked for a while, passing the time. The latter almost seemed better, if only because of the distraction from her pain.
Eventually, the tent flap opened as Maria came rushing in. She panted, as if she'd run all the way from the Helicarrier to the camp. A few healing cuts and scrapes across her face and hands suggested she and Fury had been in a fight recently. The moment she laid eyes on Samantha, she relaxed and smiled, breathing a sigh of relief.
Samantha's eyes lit up. "Mom!" She ran to Maria, who scooped her up and held her tight.
"Oh honey, oh thank God!" she said breathlessly, laughing with joy and kissing their daughter on the cheek. Tony smiled.
"You should have seen dad. He was amazing!"
Maria then looked at him, her expression weary but delighted. "Thank you," she said. Their encounters since the divorce had been cordial and distant, mostly fleeting comments of 'how are you?' and 'I'll see you next week.' But in that moment, the emotion and gratitude in her eyes reminded him of the good old days. Whatever they felt about each other, they were united in their love of Samantha.
Tony gave her a single nod, then replied, "Just doing my job."
May 6th, 2012; Novi Grad, Sokovia…
"Superheroes? In New York? Give me a break," a kindly old man with glasses and a mustache said to the news crew interviewing him. Ellen swiped on her tablet, pulling up another channel. In the wake of the Battle of New York, as people were starting to call it, the Avengers' popularity had exploded. For the first time since Tony Stark revealed himself as Iron Man, the world had extraordinary heroes that saved them from annihilation.
She leaned forward in her seat in the Quinjet's hold, watching the continuing coverage. Amid the memorials and cleanup, people showed their appreciation in different ways. Men had their beards shaved to resemble Iron Man's or got tattoos of Captain America's shield, people held banners depicting the heroes and their now iconic uniforms, and children gathered around the city to replicate the Avengers' various poses and moves. The events of the previous day had burned a deep, abiding love in the hearts and minds of the human race.
On some level, Ellen felt a little jealous. She'd devoted her life to changing the world, saving it from itself as part of HYDRA's continued mission. She'd assassinated dictators and drug runners, dismantled crime rings, rescued countless dozens, and so much more. There would never be parades or tattoos or costumes made in her honour. No one would celebrate her or name their pets after her. She'd probably live and die without anyone knowing her name or the impact of everything she'd done.
Maybe that was the point, Ellen thought, leaning back in her seat. Heroes got to soak up all the love and affection and public awareness, leaving her and her allies room to operate in anonymity. Her years with HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. taught her that true progress came from acting in the shadows.
The communicator in the cockpit crackled, and a voice said, "Unidentified aircraft, you have entered restricted airspace. State your identity and purpose here."
The pilot reached over and responded. "Echidna Base, this is Quinjet Wyvern-7, inbound from Triskelion. I have Madame Hydra onboard with priority package for Baron Strucker."
A moment, then, "Understood, Wyvern-7. You've been expected. You are cleared to land on pad 2."
As the Quinjet closed in on Strucker's research base, HYDRA's primary headquarters in Europe, Ellen looked down at the case beside her. After retrieving Loki's Scepter from the Avengers in New York, she and the S.T.R.I.K.E. teams flew back to the Triskelion. From there, Ellen had boarded a separate Quinjet with the scepter and flown straight to Sokovia. After nearly eleven hours of flight time, she felt eager to walk on solid ground again.
They approached the base and landed soon after. The boarding ramp lowered, and Ellen breathed in the crisp Balkan air as she disembarked, case in hand. Strucker had chosen an old medieval fortress to serve as his base, near the Sokovian capital of Novi Grad. Pad 2, as it turned out, was a converted courtyard. The wooden stables had been replaced with floodlights connected to thick power cables as well as crates of weapons and supplies. HYDRA operatives patrolled along the defensive walls with assault rifles while technicians moved across the stones of the courtyard.
A blonde man with a cleft lip approached her, amiable smile on his face. "Madame Hydra, it is my great honour to escort you," he said with a formal bow.
Ellen blinked, unused to seeing such etiquette. "Uh, yeah. Nice to be here. I must say, the work you've done here is…impressive."
"We've been working non-stop to modernize and secure this place," the agent said, turning on his heel and guiding her through an arched passageway. Inside, Ellen saw men moving crates and laying cables across the hallways. They passed by an old barracks which looked like a burgeoning command centre complete with next-gen computer stations and hi-speed signal routers.
Descending into the fortress' bowels, they entered a dungeon where the cells were being retrofitted with titanium walls and reinforced glass doors. Ellen remembered seeing a requisition order Strucker sent her father several months prior for the designs to the containment cell meant for Bruce Banner. The cell Fury had used to hold Loki. That glass was among the strongest materials on Earth, built to withstand the Hulk's colossal strength. Who could Strucker put in these cells that would require such measures?
Noticing her look, the agent guiding her said, "Herr Strucker plans to house future volunteers in these cells for the duration of Dr. List's experiments."
"Volunteers?" Ellen asked.
"Yes. Sokovia's people have suffered for countless generations. Their country is on the brink of collapse, and the people are starving and angry. HYDRA is perfectly placed to provide them with stability, unity. Strength."
Leaving the dungeon behind, they passed by four heavily armed guards and entered a large laboratory. Pieces of scientific equipment were scattered around, men and women in lab coats setting up different stations or cataloguing samples. In the centre of the room stood a handsome man in a military-style uniform, monocle over his right eye. He spoke with an older man dressed in a dark lab coat with grey hair and sharp eyes.
"Herr Strucker," the agent called. "May I present Madame Hydra."
Strucker turned to regard her with a tight, wolfish smile. "Welcome, Agent Pierce, to our humble facility. What do you think of it?"
Taking another look around the lab, Ellen replied, "It looks like our money is being put to good use." He smirked, and she added, "You'll be glad to know I come bearing gifts." Hefting the case, she placed it on a nearby table and opened it for inspection.
Strucker and List stepped beside her, their eyes transfixed by the weapon. Despite their different skillsets, both men were scientists at heart, sharing a fascination with technology and research that could push the boundaries of modern science. More than anyone else, they were HYDRA's resident 'mad scientists'. Doctor List, with all the gentleness of a mother handling a newborn babe, picked up the scepter for closer inspection. "Beautiful," he whispered, admiring the blue gem it contained.
"You have our sincerest thanks for this," Strucker said.
"What are your plans for it?" Ellen asked.
List gave an uneasy look at Strucker, who nonetheless nodded. "This weapon, based on all accounts, is capable of projecting massive amounts of energy which originates from this gem. It fires destructive beams, yes, but I am more interested in its ability to manipulate the mind."
"According to the mission reports, Loki used it to enslave anyone he touched with it."
"I believe it interacts with a subject's neural network at a cellular level, overwriting the pathways to make them subservient. If my theories are correct, then I believe I can manipulate the energy into rewriting a subject's physiology in a myriad number of ways."
"Hm," Ellen said. "So you want to give people superpowers?"
"Essentially, yes," Strucker replied. "The work we do here will outstrip anything else HYDRA has accomplished before. The Winter Soldiers will seem like playground toys compared to what we can achieve."
Ellen nodded, then frowned. "Wait, did you say Winter Soldiers?"
Strucker and List shared a quick glance, then the former gave her a polite smile and said, "My mistake. A slip of the tongue, as you Americans say. My point is that, if successful, our test subjects will become the most powerful assets HYDRA will ever have. Johann Schmidt once tried to pursue something similar when he had possession of the Tesseract in the 1940s, though he never got that far. What did he call it? 'The power of the gods'?"
"Something like that. I would hope, Baron Strucker, that our methods and goals be more…enlightened than those of a Nazi officer."
Another smile. "Of course, as you say. You wouldn't happen to know if we can acquire more of this alien technology, perchance?"
"Yes, actually," she replied. "Stark is making a joint deal with the government. They're establishing a department solely responsible for cleanup of sites like New York after Avengers involvement. The Department of Damage Control, if I recall. I've already seen to it that our people will be among the staff. Once they're up and running, we should have access to any and all advanced technology in the future. We might even be able to get you one of the dead Leviathans."
Strucker smiled, his monocle glinting in the light. "Magnificent."
"I thought you'd be pleased to hear that."
"Well, I don't wish to monopolize any more of your time, as I'm sure you have many important duties to attend to. In the meantime, know that you have performed a most important function that will benefit all of us. Our thanks, Madame Hydra." He gave her a formal bow, hand over his heart.
"Your welcome," Ellen said, her tone neutral. She felt a sudden, instant, and even immediate desire to get the hell out of this Frankenstein lab. "Hail HYDRA," she added, walking towards the lab entrance.
"Hail HYDRA," Strucker echoed behind her.
The walk back to the landing pad was considerably quicker, and she eagerly hopped up the ramp and into the Quinjet's hold. "Are we refueled?" she asked the pilot.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Get us in the air." Sitting down, she strapped herself in as the boarding ramp closed. They then rose high above the fortress and flew to the west, leaving it behind. Ellen leaned back and closed her eyes, the conversation with one of HYDRA's heads leaving her rattled. The way he spoke, the glint in his eye when discussing subjecting human subjects to untested alien technology. It left her with a distinct unease. For all his claims they wouldn't resemble anything Red Skull performed in the 30s and 40s, a small part of her doubted the man's sincerity.
July, 2012; New York City…
Grabbing the bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat, Ellen stepped out of her car. Grey clouds stretched across the sky, obscuring the sunlight. 'Figures,' she thought. The weather echoed her emotions just like in a Shakespeare play.
The walk through the cemetery was just as silent as all the other times. She trod carefully on the freshly cut grass, passing by the resting places of so many other people. Ellen glanced at the different headstones and inscriptions along the way, reading peoples' names and birthdates. What had they been like in life? What were their stories? Had they known happiness, or were their lives cut short? So many graves all around her, so many people in their eternal rest.
On some level, she envied them for having that: the chance to sleep, the end of all pain.
Her mother's grave looked well-maintained, and the previous bouquet of flowers had died since her last visit. The inscription read 'Susan Rosalind Pierce, Beloved Daughter, Wife, and Mother'. Below it was an image of a majestic swan, wings folded as it floated on water. They'd been her mother's favourite animal.
Ellen replaced the dead flowers with the new ones, then sat down in front of the headstone. The grass felt wet and cold from recent rain, but she didn't care. Crossing her legs, she smiled and said, "Hi, mom. I, uh…I added some carnations this time. I thought you might like them. Dad says 'hi'. He wanted to come, but he's too busy with work. I guess overseeing the security of the free world is harder than it sounds."
She gave a weak chuckle at her joke, already feeling tears threatening to rise.
Clearing her throat, Ellen said, "I miss you. I could…I could really use your advice right now. After you were gone, the choices I made…" She tilted her head back, staring up at the cloudy sky. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I still do, but lately…I don't know. Every night when I go to sleep, all I see are the ghosts. They're asking if they deserved to die, and I don't have an answer."
Ellen sniffled, and wet, hot tears started running down her cheeks. Off in the distance, thunderclouds rumbled.
"Most days I feel this…this weight on my shoulders, every consequence of my actions. It's crushing me, and I can hardly breathe, and I just want it to stop, but I can't…" She took a shuddering breath, running a hand through her long hair. The silence of the cemetery felt overwhelming, smothering. In the absence of sound, the ghosts of her victims cried out in her mind, raging against their fates. Ellen had to talk to avoid hearing all that pain. "I keep thinking of that time you took me to the Captain America exhibit. If I'm being honest, I haven't really been happy since that day. Everything else has been…some degree of pain and suffering."
She sighed, closing her eyes. Her mother's death had left a hole in her soul, one that had yet to be filled. In the wake of love and loss came grief and fatigue. Not a day went by when she didn't feel tired in her bones. The only thing that kept her moving was HYDRA's continued goal of bringing stability to the human race.
This was the mission.
Opening her eyes, Ellen smiled and said, "I miss you, mom." Rising to her feet, she kissed the headstone. "If you ever look down and see me, I hope…I hope you can forgive me for the things I have to do." Walking away, she expected to feel lighter, freer. Admitting the feelings she kept bottled up every day should have lightened her burdens. Instead, she felt even more crushed by the sheer weight of her actions. Remorse ate her insides like a parasite lodged in her body, unable to be removed.
Reaching for her car keys, Ellen stopped when she noticed the nearby bushes rustling. Doing her best to appear casual, she reached into her jacket sleeve where she kept a hidden stiletto at all times. She stared hard at the bushes, waiting to see someone or something moving. Noticing a fringe of dark colour, maybe from a piece of clothing, she took a step forward.
"What–"
After several minutes, nothing happened except for a chill breeze that shook the trees. Must have been the wind, then. Nothing more.
Without another look, Ellen got back in her car and drove off, leaving the cemetery behind.
October, 2012; Triskelion…
"Okay, let's run it again!" Ellen called. She stood on a raised platform in the S.T.R.I.K.E. training facility, overlooking the course. Consisting of metal panels that rose from the floor in dozens of configurations, the facility was tenderly known by the elite unit as 'The Labyrinth'. She typed a command into the panel in front of her, and the panels retracted before rising in a new pattern to simulate a building interior.
S.T.R.I.K.E. team 2 gathered by the entrance. Ellen had finally been promoted to team leader, since Agent Rodriguez had taken shrapnel to the neck during an operation in Myanmar. She was now, in essence, second-in-command over the entire unit. Officially, at least.
Unofficially, every man and woman here answered to her.
The overall makeup of the S.T.R.I.K.E. unit had changed in the last few months. In the wake of their excellent success rate, and in response to ever-increasing and formidable threats, Fury had decided to restructure them. Instead of operating in teams consisting of two, six-person, squads, they now operated in teams of six with two fireteams of three people. The result was a more precise, surgical task force capable of responding to multiple threats. Aiding them were several new toys from R&D acting as greater force-multipliers. In addition to training her squad's tactical ability, Ellen also wanted to test out their new tech.
Her team stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind the red line on the floor. "Okay, this is now optimized for Scenario Alpha-5," she called down to the six agents. "There is a high-value hostage somewhere in this building. Your objective is simple: locate the hostage and safely extract them for rescue while eliminating the hostiles. However, there is a catch. A bomb has been rigged to detonate in the next eight minutes. Since this is not a populated area, it isn't essential to disarm the device. Your call. The only requirement is to get the hostage to safety. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am!" they said in unison.
"Good. Setting the timer now." She tapped a button on the panel, and one of the large monitors high on the far wall displayed the time. 8:00. 7:59. 7:58. "Attack pattern Delta. Go!"
Like arrows loosed from a bow, they readied their M4A1s and filed into the Labyrinth. After clearing the first room, both fireteams split and began moving through the course. For the purposes of this exercise, the members of Team 4 had graciously agreed to serve as the targets while the leader served as the hostage. Ellen observed her team performing well, moving like precision instruments. Some targets they took down with the paint rounds used for training, and some they took down with the unit's new taser rods. Potent tools, the rods delivered electric shocks that could instantly debilitate a full-grown man at first touch.
Team 2 had theirs dialed down to the lowest setting, so anyone they knocked out would be conscious after a minute.
Hearing footsteps behind her, Ellen would have turned if she didn't recognize the sound and gait. Rumlow appeared beside her and leaned on the platform railing. "Something I can do for you?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the course.
He shook his head. "Just wanted to check on your progress. Fury wants us up and running in the next forty eight hours."
"Why do you think I booked all the training time I could?"
Rumlow nodded.
Ellen glanced over at him, and her eyes caught the fresh bandage around his right thumb. "What happened to you?" she asked.
He looked at the thumb with a scowl on his face. "Neighbor's dog. Yappy little bitch came at me out of nowhere. Tried to go for my privates."
She snorted. "Too bad. We could use a Soprano in the unit choir."
"Y'know what? Go fuck yourself."
"You first."
He growled and turned to storm off, then stopped. "Heads up, Fury's here."
Ellen turned around and saw the trench coat-clad director entering the armoury. She tapped a red button on the corner of the panel, and a loud buzzer sounded. Her team halted, as did the agents playing targets, and the timer on the wall disappeared. "That's all for today. We'll start tomorrow at 06:00." The panels all slid into the floor, leaving a flat emptiness as all the agents filed into the adjacent armoury.
When Ellen turned around to properly address Fury, she stopped, as if a brick wall had slammed into her. The director hadn't come alone, and his guest followed him inside several steps behind. He wore jeans and a plaid shirt under a brown leather jacket. Otherwise normal, average. Except the man was anything but average.
He was Captain America.
"Just the two people I wanted to see," Fury said as he approached. Ellen and Rumlow stood at attention, saluting him. "I'm sure my companion needs no introductions." Turning to face the super soldier, he said, "Captain Rogers, I'd like you to meet Brock Rumlow, S.T.R.I.K.E. unit commander."
The captain extended a hand, which Rumlow shook. "Agent, a pleasure."
"Likewise, Captain. If I may say so, it's a true honour to meet you in person. Your service has been nothing short of an example to all of us." Ellen would have gagged if the other two men weren't present. Compared to the vast majority of HYDRA agents, Rumlow had an inborn gift for making bullshit smell sweeter than honey.
Fury then gestured to her. "And this is Ellen Pierce, second team leader and youngest S.T.R.I.K.E. recruit."
"Captain," Ellen greeted, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure. I just want to say thank you for everything you did in New York."
"Ma'am," he replied with a warm smile, nodding to her. When he shook her hand, she felt a shiver pass through her entire body, along with a not-unpleasant tingling sensation. His handshake was firm, yet gentle.
"So," Rumlow said, "what's the occasion?"
Crossing his arms, Fury explained, "Captain Rogers has chosen to enter the fold and become a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Considering his service record and capabilities, I've foregone the standard testing requirements and given him Level 6 clearance."
"Congratulations," Ellen said. "Welcome to the family."
"Thanks," he said quietly. This was a man with super strength, reflexes, and healing. A physical god. And yet, he comported himself like a humble new kid in a classroom. A far cry from the legend who helped win World War II and lead the Avengers against an alien invasion.
"He'll be best put to use with the S.T.R.I.K.E. unit," Fury continued. "You two will still be in charge of the teams, but Captain Rogers will be taking point on the missions."
"Sounds perfect," Rumlow said with a faux-sincere smile.
"I want you and your agents to start training with him ASAP, with the expectation you'll be running ops by next week. I'll come by periodically to check in."
Ellen nodded. Looking at Captain America, she said, "Well, our next training session is tomorrow at 06:00. Does that sound good?"
He gave her another nod. "I'll be here."
Fury then guided him out of the armoury, leaving a powerful silence in their wake. Ellen and Rumlow shared a look, and he left without saying another word. She stood in place, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Captain America. Captain freaking America! Here, with them, becoming a part of their unit to train and run missions with. It was everything her fifteen year-old self had ever fantasized about.
And then her excitement came crashing down with the sober realization of her new reality. She and her teammates, HYDRA infiltrators to a one, were about to be joined by the greatest soldier in history. A man who destroyed the earlier incarnation of their organization, as well as being the inspiration for the founding of S.H.I.E.L.D. in the first place.
Her life was about to get a lot more interesting.
If I had a dollar for every time something in the Disney + shows (characters, events, etc.) fit perfectly within this story, I'd have…a lot more dollars. I had no plans for Kate's inclusion for the longest time. But when I went back to these earlier chapters to edit for posting, I suddenly thought of how she could be mentioned. Taskmaster and his family surviving the ground-level chaos of the battle? Kate and her mom surviving the ground-level chaos of the battle, too? Sure, why not have them meet?
I may or may not write a sequel to this story from Phase 4 onwards. We'll see. If I do, stuff like this gets to be a seed planted early enough for story material later on. Then I can claim it was all part of a long-term, brilliant plan. Fake it till you make it, I guess, lol.
Also, the infiltration of Damage Control made the most sense to me. How else would HYDRA acquire all that Chitauri tech (including a freaking LEVIATHAN) while Damage Control and the government were doing the same thing? Vulture's crew only bothers taking small, portable stuff like blasters and machinery.
Shanarchy (Chapter 14): Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. The brainwashing thing is a perfect example of something I added well after I wrote these chapters. I read about how Madame Hydra in the comics often gets controlled/manipulated by others, and I decided to throw it in. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Shanarchy (Chapter 13): I tried to set up the situation in a specific way. At that point in her life, she was an emotionally damaged, grieving young woman fresh from the trauma of killing someone, in a room with three different sociopaths who were grooming her to join them. Much like how real-life cults manipulate disadvantaged people into joining with promises of family/purpose. One of those sociopaths is her father, who she trusts without question. A lot of it has to do with proving herself, but she also wants to make her father proud of her. Admittedly, her joining HYDRA is the central crux of the story, so it had to happen either way.
Please review and favourite if you're enjoying so far! Really great stuff to come that I can't wait to share with you guys.