November, 2012; Amazon Rainforest…
"Secure channel 4," Ellen spoke into her earpiece.
"4 secure," Rumlow said.
The Quinjet shook as it soared above the clouds to maintain cover from any spotters on the ground. After a week of training, they were finally being sent on their first mission with Captain America. Rumlow's team was seated on the left side of the hold, Ellen's team on the right. Everyone performed final checks on their weapons and gear. Meanwhile, the legend himself stood by the monitor near the cockpit, looking over the satellite feeds of the terrain.
He wore the same uniform he'd worn during the Battle of New York, with a few minor alterations. The original had been a bit…loud, with bright colours and a style right out of the old comics from the '40s. The Triskelion quartermaster had coloured the fabric a dark midnight blue which would perform better for stealth ops; he'd also loosened the suit to allow for the addition of armour padding . The result looked more tactical than the suit he'd become famous for, but there was always room for improvement.
"Coming up on drop zone," the pilot called. "ETA: 60 seconds."
Captain America –or Cap, as Ellen started to think of him– put on his helmet and walked between the teams over to the boarding ramp. His shield was strapped across his back like a tortoise shell. "Intel says the hostiles won't be concentrated at the south end of the compound, but we shouldn't make any assumptions. These are dangerous people, and they won't show any restraint. Be ready for anything. Take non-lethal action if you can, but if it comes down to it, do what you have to. Watch each other's backs, take care of each other, and I promise we'll all get home."
Ellen, having finished securing her parachute, sat back and smiled. "Wow, that was great," she said. "Did you work on that, or was it off the cuff?"
"Are you kidding?" Rumlow asked. "This guy's probably got a whole catalogue of speeches memorized."
Everyone chuckled, and Cap looked down at the floor with a bashful smirk.
"20 seconds," the pilot called as the overhead lighting darkened.
Ellen stood up and pressed the green button on the bulkhead that lowered the boarding ramp. As both teams lined up beside each other, she bumped Cap on the shoulder. "Seriously, it was a good speech."
"Thanks," he said, winds howling as the clouds stretched below them.
The light by the ramp flashed red, signalling they'd reached the drop zone. Ellen, Rumlow, and the S.T.R.I.K.E. teams lowered their night vision goggles into place. Cap didn't bother, and she guessed enhanced night vision was one of many benefits of the super soldier serum. He went first, running down and leaping off the ramp. Ellen and Rumlow followed a second later.
Before joining HYDRA, she'd been afraid of heights. Waterslides had terrified her more than the prospect of getting eaten by aliens or freezing to death. But her years of training and conditioning had beaten any childish fears out of her. And since she'd graduated from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, jumping out of aircraft had rapidly become one of her favourite things. Nothing else could quite compare to the sheer thrill of plummeting through the sky like a bird of prey, wind rushing through your hair, the whole world laid out beneath you like a target.
Counting to fifteen, Ellen opened her parachute. It billowed out, unfurling and catching the wind. With a sudden jerk, she transitioned from falling to gently descending. The compound they'd been sent to raid was nestled against the slope of a mountain. Security and patrols were extensive at the front, but intel had calculated a high probability that the rear wouldn't be all that secure. They most likely believed that no one would, or could, ever descend a mountain to get to them.
Which is why Ellen and the others were airdropping in via High Altitude High Open manoeuvre.
Breaking through the clouds, she saw the mountain overhead, its jagged slopes and cliffs covered by a thick layer of vegetation. Checking the GPS unit on her wrist, she angled herself in the proper direction, following Cap's lead. Her night vision goggles gave her a good view of everything, whereas the terrorists would be at a disadvantage. Ellen and Rumlow had chosen tonight for the raid due to the new moon overhead. The terrorists would have to rely on their floodlights to see. And that made for a very tempting target.
Cresting over the mountaintop, she saw the compound below. A trio of large, squat buildings surrounded by a perimeter wall and manned by at least thirty men with automatic weapons. Ellen pulled down on her toggles, causing her to descend at a sharper angle.
As they neared the target, a jeep drove towards the main building. It came to a sudden stop, and Ellen realized the men driving must have spotted them. Just as she reached for her M4, however, she paused. Cap disconnected his harness and plummeted down almost 100 feet. She watched, wide-eyed, as he drew his shield. Somersaulting, he landed on the front of the jeep and smashed his shield nearly all the way into the engine block. The force of the impact flipped the jeep up like a cartoon rake, catapulting the two men in the air before they crashed into a wall.
Ellen blinked, mouth hanging open at the sight. She'd seen what he did in New York on television, but seeing him in person was something entirely different. He didn't fight like a man; he fought like a demigod able to crush mortals beneath his boot.
Drawing her M4, she aimed at the nearest floodlight on the wall. Some of the terrorists were roused by the destruction of the jeep, so they had to act quickly. A three-round burst destroyed the light, and the others were taken out by Rumlow and the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E. members. Absent light, the compound became bathed in darkness as Ellen and her team landed on the east side while Rumlow landed on the west. Cap hurled his shield, which bounced off a wall and knocked three men to the ground like a pinball. Ellen smirked, then told her team, "Move out!"
In the end, they secured the compound in less than twenty minutes.
Triskelion…
With every last terrorist in custody and the compound secured, they'd managed to take out a major distributor of guns and other contraband. Ellen felt nothing but pride, since they'd made the world just a bit safer by their actions. The overall mood in the Quinjet was celebratory on their way back to D.C., though she noticed Cap seemed quiet. He smiled and seemed to share the others' enthusiasm, but otherwise said nothing and spent most of the flight staring at a bulkhead.
Returning to the Triskelion, everyone made their way to the armoury. Techs had spent the last few days constructing a specialized equipment locker for Cap's gear, with a plinth which would support his shield. Ellen and the others secured their carbines and sidearms in the weapons locker, then stripped out of their vests and tactical gear. Not a single one of them had been injured on the mission, and morale was high. With the world's first super soldier leading them, things were looking good.
"Hey Cap," Rumlow said, tying his runners, "a bunch of us are heading out for drinks. Want to come with?"
Cap seemed to consider it, then shook his head. "No, that's okay. Maybe next time."
Rumlow nodded, then looked at her. "Pierce?"
She zipped up her black jacket. "Thanks, but I was just going to stay in tonight. Watch a movie." In truth, neither of them had ever shared a drink in the last decade. She'd be more inclined to slip poison into his bourbon than spend any personal time with him.
"Your loss," he said amicably.
Ellen followed him and the others out, glancing at Cap who lingered behind. The image stuck in her head on the walk back to the elevator, and she stopped. Something about him felt off ever since they left the Amazon. It itched in the back of her brain, and deciding not to ignore it, she turned around and headed back into the armoury.
Cap was still there, dressed in a brown leather jacket and tight-fitting jeans that emphasized his physique. He sat on one of the benches, staring into the distance with his forehead scrunched. The image reminded Ellen of a dog separated from its owner, lost and confused. After a few seconds, he took notice and looked over at her.
She offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I can…I can go, if you want."
"No, that's okay," he said. "I just…Never mind."
She took a few steps closer. "Is it…something you want to talk about?"
Cap gave a rueful smirk. "It's that obvious, is it?"
"I hope I'm not overstepping, but as someone who was in therapy, I think I can recognize when someone's having a hard time." Sitting on the bench across from him, she added, "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I can leave you alone if that's what you want."
He sat there, silent and still. She didn't say anything else, knowing he'd speak when he felt ready. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "It's just…I feel, I guess, out of place? Everywhere I look, something's different. People, places. I went off to fight a war, and by the time I got back, the world had moved on. Now I'm back in these familiar places, New York, D.C., and I feel like a complete stranger."
Ellen nodded. She knew his story, war hero frozen in the Arctic for nearly seven decades, but she hadn't taken the time to consider the ramifications for Cap himself. To suddenly be awake so far into the future, everything and everyone you knew gone forever…She couldn't imagine how that must feel.
"Today felt good," he said, crossing his arms. "Getting back into the field, making a difference. After New York, the government had me doing these ridiculous educational videos for students. Gym classes, science classes, detention. Reminded me of those USO tours I did before I fought in the war. That's part of the reason I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., to feel like what I did made a difference. But everything else just feels strange. I don't know what to do with myself after the missions are done." He snorted. "Last night, I, uh…tried to order a pizza on this phone/tablet thing. I don't know what I touched, but somehow I ended up watching this weird music video. What was it called again? 'Gangland Style'?"
A surprised chortle escaped Ellen's lips, and she had to cover her mouth. Catching her breath, she said, "Actually, it's called 'Gangnam Style'."
"Huh. Well, it was certainly interesting. And weird."
"Congratulations, Captain Rogers. You now know all there is to know about the internet: it's whatever weird and random stuff gets the most views." They shared a chuckle at the statement, and it seemed to put him at ease a bit. A moment later, she asked, "Have you thought about trying to catch up with everything you've missed? Or at least catch the highlights?"
He nodded. "I've thought about it. Trouble is, I have no idea where to start. It's all so much."
"Understandable." Something clicked in her mind, and she added, "I might have an idea." Standing up, she stepped over to her locker. Opening it, she reached into the top compartment and took out a purple journal. The same one Nick Fury gave her at her father's party nineteen years ago in Tokyo. Sitting back down, she held it up for Cap to see. "I got this from a good friend a long time ago. Back then, I was…I had a lot going on. Stuff weighing on my mind. This helped me make sense of things. If I wrote down my thoughts, then they weren't all jumbled in my head." She flipped through the pages, stopping at a doodle she'd made after a particularly boring science class. "And occasionally I drew masterpieces like this."
She turned the journal around to show Cap. Considering her lack of any artistic ability, the drawing of her twelve year-old self as a Dragon wasn't half bad. He smiled at the image, and she closed the journal. "Reminds me of a sketchbook I kept. Bucky always said I had a knack for it."
"Maybe you just need something to write down your thoughts," she suggested. "If they're on paper, then it's something real you can focus on."
He seemed to consider it. "I might take you up on that. Thank you."
Ellen smiled. "If you ever want to talk, I'm all ears." Putting the journal back in her locker, she walked out of the armoury and left him with his thoughts.
March, 2013; Triskelion…
After eight weeks of near-constant deployments around the world, the S.T.R.I.K.E. teams were finally given a few days to recuperate. Despite that, Fury told them to 'be available' in case an emergency call came in.
Changing into a loose tank top and sweat pants, Ellen followed everyone into the gym. While Rumlow, Rollins, and the others started hitting each other, she wrapped tape around her hands and tied her hair into a ponytail. Since they needed to be on hand, everyone decided to blow off steam with sparring and exercise.
She spotted Cap entering with a bag in one hand and a punching bag slung over his shoulder. He noticed her and gave a nod. She waved, unable to help her chuckle at the sight. He made heavy lifting look effortless. On their last mission, he'd actually managed to flip over the truck their target tried to escape in. Bare-handed. It was easy to see how, Ellen thought as she took a sip from her water bottle. His workout clothes hid nothing about his impressive physique, and she couldn't stop herself from imagining–
"Pierce!" Rumlow called, snapping her out of her trance. She blinked and looked over at him. "You just gonna sit there, or are we planning to participate sometime today?"
Setting down her water bottle, she stood and stepped onto the mats. "Okay, I'm coming. Jesus." Her harmless appreciation broken, she felt frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Ellen and Rumlow took position across from each other, entering ready stances. The power dynamic between them had changed since those days in the abandoned mining town. Instead of a scared young woman at the mercy of a vicious bully, she was now an experienced, battle-hardened fighter with dozens of successful missions and assassinations under her belt.
Cracking her neck, she made the first move.
They traded blows like trench fighters in World War I trading bullets, holding nothing back. Rumlow had the strength advantage, and Ellen had to admit he also fought with speed. But he couldn't move as fast as she could. Ducking underneath a jab aimed at her throat, she landed an uppercut that connected with his jaw. He took a step back, momentarily stunned. Grabbing his outstretched arm, she crouched low and pulled hard as she could, flipping him onto the mats. If it were just them present, Ellen would have kept going until she'd drawn blood. But with Cap in the room, she backed off and let Rumlow recover.
He silently glared at her, but didn't say anything as he moved on to sparring with Rollins. He, too, had to reign in his usual bloodthirstiness.
She looked over at Cap, who focused on hitting the punching bag. His strikes were precise, powerful. Over the last few months, she'd seen his punches warp metal and crack bones. But taking note of his stance, his routine, she noticed something else. He fought exclusively as a boxer, relying on simple one-two combos and the versatility of his shield to win a fight. Since coming out of the ice, he must not have studied any of the martial arts forms that had been developed after World War II.
"Hey, Cap!" she called. "Care to go a few rounds?"
He paused, not a single drop of sweat showing after his exertions. Glancing at the punching bag, he nodded. "Sure. Can't hurt." Running a hand through his brown hair, he stepped onto the mats and joined her. "So, just a simple sparring match?"
Placing a hand on one hip, she replied, "Actually, I thought I'd start showing you some more modern techniques. Interested?"
"That depends," he said. "How much is this going to hurt?"
Ellen tapped a finger on her lip, looking up at the ceiling. "Hm…Not much."
"And somehow, I have my doubts."
"Well, we won't know until we try, right?" Lowering her centre of gravity, she held up her fists and stood with one foot forward to present a smaller target. He entered a ready stance, then gave a single nod. Ellen came at him with quick, staccato strikes meant to keep him on the defensive. Being as thin and short as she was, her fighting style relied less on power than on speed. Against a powerhouse like Steve Rogers, her strategy called for moving around him and hitting vulnerable areas. Unfortunately, the serum had also made him inhumanly fast, so she had her work cut out for her.
Landing a punch to his gut, she barely managed to avoid his retaliatory one-two punch. She felt the gust of air as his fists missed her face, her heart racing. Fighting a simple sparring match took everything she had. And based on what he could do, he was definitely holding back.
Ellen aimed a spinning kick at his side. He caught her leg and tossed her onto the mats. She stood, then launched a fresh salvo. His defense, while simple, felt like a concrete wall in terms of endurance. Switching gears, Ellen feinted a punch at Cap's head. He brought up his arms to block, creating an opening. With lightning quickness, she struck out with her foot and kicked him in the shin. It offset his stance slightly, but enough to disrupt his footing.
Cap threw a jab at her, and she hopped back to avoid it. Then, she jumped into a somersault, kicked him in the face, and landed with her back to him.
Brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she turned around to regard him. Cap rubbed his jaw, a look of surprise etched on his face. "That was impressive."
"Thanks. Care to take a break?"
He shook his head, and she spotted a slight smile. He was enjoying this. "No. I can do this all day."
"I got no plans."
They sparred with each other for the better part of the morning. Despite her early victory, Ellen had no illusions about the power dynamic between them. If he wanted to, Cap could knock her out with a backhand or throw her across the room and through a wall. But he restrained himself, showing an incredible amount of willpower and control that no ordinary person could match. In their subsequent matches, she lost nine times out of ten, but she didn't mind. Absent the hubris of men like Rumlow or Strucker or Zola, she allowed herself to just have fun.
Cap took to her lessons like an eagle took to the air. Krav Maga, Judo, Muay Thai, every style seemed to match his deadly combination of overwhelming speed and power. It wouldn't take him long to master them, and when he did, he'd be the deadliest fighter on Earth.
At a certain point, the others stopped what they were doing to watch her and Cap fight. A couple times she thought she saw Rumlow taking bets. By now, even the greenest S.T.R.I.K.E. agents knew to bet on her when it came to close quarters combat. But then again, Cap was in a category all his own. Sidestepping a jab, Ellen caught his wrist, used her other arm to push his shoulder down, then wrapped her legs around his and brought him down with a scissor sweep. Some of the others cheered, and she smirked in victory. Then Cap did something wholly unexpected.
She had him in an armbar, hands on his wrist and legs on his arm. With hardly an effort, he pried one of her legs off and reached over. Before Ellen knew what happened, Cap was rolling forward. He pulled her on top of him, then kicked her across the mats.
Astounded and dazed by the manoeuvre, she had just enough time to roll sideways to avoid Cap's follow up punch. She put her hands over her head in a kip up and flipped onto her feet. When he came at her next, she aimed a kick at his stomach. Cap dodged it, then ducked low before moving behind her. Wrapping his muscular arms around her waist, he lifted her up in a suplex and smashed her into the mats. All the air drove out of her lungs at once, and by the time she took a deep breath, Cap had moved on top of her and pinned her to the floor.
Chuckling, Ellen tapped on the mat, signalling the end of the bout.
A chorus of cheers and dissatisfied grunts rang from the onlookers, and money rapidly changed hands as people collected their bets or lost their money. Panting from the intense match, Ellen said, "That was great. Actually, scratch that. You were amazing."
Cap smiled, sweat gleaming on his brow. The fact that he exerted his superior body enough to sweat gave her no small amount of pride. He rose to his feet and held out a hand. "Thanks. You were pretty great, yourself."
She took his hand, letting him hoist her up. The physical contact sent an electric jolt through her body, and she shivered. His grip felt tight and strong, but also gentle and reserved. Coming down from the adrenaline of the fight, they held each other's gaze for several seconds. Ellen couldn't look away, drawn in by his soulful eyes. They had seen the horrors of the bloodiest war in history and the threat of an alien horde nearly wiping out humanity. And yet, Ellen saw such compassion in those eyes, such honour and heroism that it left her in awe.
Finally coming back to the moment, she saw the S.T.R.I.K.E. teams leaving the gym and heading for the showers. Clearing her throat, she shook Cap's hand and said, "Let me know if you want more practice."
He nodded. "I might just take you up on that."
June, 2013; Cartagena, Colombia…
"Target is on the move! Heading up the northwest stairwell."
"Copy," Ellen spoke into her earpiece. "Moving to intercept." She gestured down the hall, and her team hurried towards the stairwell. They'd been sent to capture Francisco Zaragoza, a former army colonel and one of Colombia's biggest drug lords, for interrogation. His operations were estimated to generate billions of US dollars every year. According to S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence, much of that wealth was being used to fund the Ten Rings and other terrorist groups around the globe.
Ellen and Team 2 moved at a brisk pace through the upper floor of the palatial residence. A door ahead of them opened, and one of Zaragoza's men came stumbling out with his pants half pulled up and a gun in his hand. He must have been emptying his bowels when the shooting started. Agent Samuels put a bullet between his eyes.
Rounding a corner, they came within sight of the stairwell entrance. Seconds later, a middle-aged man burst into the hallway. Ellen recognized the beard and scar across the left eyebrow from Zaragoza's picture in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s watch list. She and her team took aim, but he ducked into the adjacent hallway as he started shooting with the Uzi in his hand. Agent Samuels grunted as one of the bullets caught him in the shoulder, and he collapsed onto the floor.
Ellen growled. Looking at the injured man, she asked, "How bad is it?"
"I'm good, ma'am," he replied. Blood began pooling underneath his shoulder. "Just won't be able to do my curls anytime soon."
She smirked. "Michelsen, stay with him. The rest of you, with me." Heading in the direction Zaragoza went, she tapped her earpiece and said, "We have a man down, non-critical. Target spotted heading towards the south mezzanine. In pursuit." Peering around the corner, she saw the drug lord almost at the far end of the hall. Snarling, he sprayed bullets at her with his Uzi, forcing her to take cover. As soon as the shooting stopped, she leaned to the right and shot him in the leg. He stumbled, blood leaking from the hole in his calf. "Move up!" she barked to her team. They ran down the hall, following the trail of blood into the mezzanine.
Zaragoza had made it down the stairs onto the lower floor by the time they caught up. One of his men met them on the balcony, screaming and firing his shotgun. Just then, the glass ceiling shattered as Cap dropped from above like an avenging angel, landing on the man and knocking him out cold. He turned to look at Zaragoza, then threw his shield. It hit the drug lord in the chest, knocking him to the floor. The shield had been painted with darker, more muted colours for stealth ops.
Zaragoza aimed his Uzi at Cap, but from out of view came a tiny disc that stuck to his gun hand. It arced with electricity, and he cried out as the weapon fell from his grip. Ellen and Cap looked over and saw Black Widow standing by the far door. She looked up at them with a smirk.
Tapping her earpiece, Ellen said, "Target secure."
After finishing their sweep of the residence, they escorted their prisoner –secured with zip ties and duct tape over his mouth– back to the Quinjet. Once the boarding ramp closed, they were in the air and heading back to D.C.
"That was a neat trick, Romanoff," Ellen said, sitting across from the redhead.
"Thanks."
"How the hell did you get into the mezzanine from outside? I thought you were all the way back at the east wing securing the garage?"
Crossing one leg over her knee, Romanoff replied, "Securing the garage didn't take that long. Once I heard your call about a man down, I figured it'd be best if someone cut the target off before he could make it outside."
"Doesn't explain how you made it across the building so quick," Jack Rollins pointed out.
She flashed him a cocky smirk. "That's easy: I fired a grappler into the upper wall and used it to run across the wall from balcony to balcony. After that, it was a simple matter of sliding down the nearest pillar and running around to the mezzanine."
Ellen nodded. "Impressive. Must be nice, having all those fancy tools to help you out."
"Maybe one day you can find out."
"Maybe." The thought of one-upping the Widow herself made Ellen smile. One day. For the moment, she leaned back in her seat and relaxed. Cap, who had thus far been speaking to Fury through the cockpit communicator, stepped into the hold and sat beside Romanoff. The redhead whispered something into his ear, and he chuckled. Ellen watched them interact, noting the camaraderie the two had. She supposed fighting side by side to stop an apocalyptic alien invasion would forge a strong bond. Despite that logical understanding, a part of her couldn't help but be jealous of how close they were.
Cap seemed to take notice of her stare, and nodded to her. "That was good work today."
She nodded in return. "Thanks. It was a group effort, really."
"A team is only as strong as the people in it," he countered.
"I'll try to remember that." Glancing out the cockpit window at the waters of the Caribbean Sea, she asked, "How are you settling into your new apartment?"
"Fine," Cap replied hesitantly. "I think I'm finally getting used to the place. The bed's a little too soft for my liking."
Romanoff added, "I keep trying to give him decorating tips, but that's never really been my thing."
Ellen nodded. "Having a place of your own is a big step. Have you done any sightseeing since you moved in?"
He shook his head. "Apart from getting rides to the Triskelion, I haven't done all that much exploring."
Sensing an opportunity, Ellen, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, said, "Well, if you wanted, I could show you around sometime. We could even grab a few drinks along the way. If-if that's okay." The moment the words escaped her lips, she felt the blood drain from her face. 'What the hell was that?' she thought, sudden palpitations hammering in her chest. She'd sounded like a goddamned teenager just now.
He sat back, appearing to think about it.
'Please say yes.'
The moments passed, slow and torturous. She could practically feel the sneers on the faces of Rumlow and the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E. members. She dug her fingers into the bottom of her Kevlar vest to keep them from shaking. Facing armed insurgents, drug cartels, and all manner of private security contractors had barely fazed her. Now, the prospect of Cap answering a question nearly made her sweat.
Finally, mercifully, he broke the silence and spoke. "Yeah, sure."
Keeping her composure, she smiled and said, "Okay, cool. What day works for you?"
"How about Saturday?" he asked. "Stark is having Banner, Thor, and the rest of us at his tower for some kind of get-together tomorrow evening."
"I believe he referred to it as 'the blowout of the decade'," Romanoff said with air quotes.
Finding her mouth dry all of a sudden, Ellen cleared her throat and said, "Saturday it is, then. We can meet at my place, say around eight o'clock?"
"Sounds good."
Washington, D.C…
After a morning spent processing Zaragoza into the interrogators' custody, checking on Samuels' injuries, and debriefing with Fury, Ellen was more than happy to depart the Triskelion for lunch. Driving through the busy D.C. motorways, she put the top down of her paternal grandfather's cascade green 1965 Ford Mustang convertible. It had been his pride and joy for decades, and after his death, her father gave it to her as a 25th birthday present.
Ellen sighed as she rested an elbow on the open window, feeling the wind in her hair. The restaurant wasn't far, and six minutes later she found herself a parking spot and headed inside. The interior featured polished hardwood floors, muted overhead lighting, and calming classical music playing on overhead speakers. Spotting her father sitting in a booth at the far corner, she walked between the packed tables to join him.
He smiled upon noticing her, and she kissed him on the forehead before sitting across from him. "Hey, dad."
"Hi sweetheart."
A waiter walked over and asked, "May I get you something to drink, ma'am?"
"Rum and coke, please."
"Certainly."
The man walked away, and her father gave a slight smile. "Your mother's favourite."
Ellen gave a bashful smile.
"That was good work in Colombia. It shouldn't take long to get Zaragoza to talk." He took a sip from his wineglass. "We should be able to skim a good portion of his cartel's money once S.H.I.E.L.D. confiscates it. I assume our usual assets are prepared?"
She nodded. "The regular assortment of car washes and salons will be ready to launder the money. I also took ownership of a few bars and restaurants to give us more revenue streams, including this lovely establishment. The rest will go through shell companies."
Having control of Echidna Capital Management was a huge boon to HYDRA's efforts. As an investment firm, it possessed majority shares in several corporations, some of which ran service businesses. Any major cash flows that HYDRA took were funneled into these businesses, some spanning the country. In turn, the legitimate revenues went to the owners, which eventually went to Ellen and the board of directors. Drug money, proceeds from stolen art, wire transfers, everything became taxable dollars that she and her father could use to further HYDRA's interests without drawing any undue attention.
"That's excellent," he said. "That money will go a long way towards funding Project Insight."
Ellen sat forward, a gleam in her eye. "How long until it's up and running?"
"Construction on the Helicarriers should be complete by next year. Meanwhile, Zola's making more and more progress on his algorithm every day. Soon enough, we'll have the means of ensuring global freedom. Hard to believe we're finally seeing the finish line, isn't it?"
"Yeah, a little. Thank God for the Chitauri; without them, the World Security Council wouldn't have given us carte blanche to deal with new threats."
He smiled just as the waiter brought her drink. They placed their orders, then waited until they were alone. "So," he said, leaning back, "how is America's favourite son?"
Taking a sip of her drink, Ellen replied, "Honestly, he's…he's pretty amazing. All the stories, all the old war footage I saw as a kid, none of it does any justice. Sometimes it feels like the rest of us are playing catch-up while he completes the mission by himself."
Her father smirked. "That doesn't sound surprising. How's he been adjusting? Must be quite a shock, waking up in a different century."
"He's having a hard time," Ellen agreed. "He hides it well, and on missions he's completely focused."
"But?"
"But then after the mission, he gets really quiet. Sometimes I'll catch him staring into space when he thinks no one's looking. It's like he doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not fighting. He even told me after our first mission together that he feels like a stranger in all these familiar places. There's a part of him that's lost, and it'll take time for him to get comfortable living in this time."
He nodded, opening his mouth to speak but pausing when the waiter brought their food. Ellen's stomach rumbled as the tantalizing scent of arrabbiata sauce wafted up to her nostrils. Waiting until they were alone again, they started eating. "Captain America is very important, as I'm sure you're aware," her father said after taking a bite of his chicken cacciatore. "He's a symbol, an inspiration to millions. Moving forward, we need to keep a close watch on him and prepare for any and all eventualities."
"Are we talking about any…permanent solutions?" Ellen asked hesitantly. She hoped they weren't going in the direction she sensed.
He shook his head. "No, of course not. If anything, I'm open to the possibility of recruiting him. If we could manage to convince him of the good work we're doing, the righteousness of our cause, that would be a significant boon."
She relaxed a little. "Yeah, it would be."
"Until then, we just have to make sure he's focused on the mission at hand. Your unit is the best possible place for him to be. I want you to keep an eye on him. Offer a sympathetic ear. That way, if he has any major reservations, we'll know before he does anything rash."
Ellen couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face. "Actually, I may have already…asked him out for drinks on Saturday."
His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really?"
"It's just a friendly outing," she explained. "He hasn't gotten out of his apartment much, and I thought I'd show him around town. No biggy."
"Well, it sounds like everything's in hand, then. Pretty soon you'll be the one making all the big decisions."
"That won't be for a long time, dad. I'm pretty sure you'll outlive us all."
They clinked glasses, then ate the rest of their meal in a good mood.
Friday came and went, mostly spent filling paperwork and evaluations at the Triskelion. All the boring parts of being a spy that movies never bothered showing. Then came Saturday, and Ellen spent the better part of the afternoon cleaning and organizing her apartment.
Between her busy schedule and double life, she'd let the place fall into a chaotic storm she somehow navigated every morning and night. This would be the first time company came, and the last thing she needed was to leave the impression she lived like a slob. So the unwashed dishes, pile of dirty laundry, and stack of Blu Rays scattered around like shrapnel after an explosion needed to go away.
After a couple hours madly scrambling, Ellen stopped to take a look around. Not bad. Presentable, almost. By the time she finished showering and blow-drying her hair, a knock came from her door.
Fighting the butterflies dancing in her stomach, she took a deep breath and opened the door to reveal Cap standing there. He wore a blue jacket over a white shirt and jeans, looking perfect as always. "Come on in," she said, putting on a welcoming smile.
"Thanks." He stepped inside, taking a look around. "This is a nice apartment."
"I really haven't had any time to clean," she said, stepping over to the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Water, juice, milk?"
"Juice is fine." He took a second look around, then asked, "Are those movie posters?"
Pouring a glass of orange juice, Ellen glanced at the walls. She'd almost entirely covered them with posters. "Yeah," she said with a chuckle. "I'm kind of a Sci-Fi nut."
Cap took the offered glass with a nod. "Reminds me of when I was a kid. Bucky, uh…my best friend and I went to the movies whenever we could. Sometimes we even snuck in when we didn't have enough cash to buy a ticket."
She gave him a mock look of scandalous shock. "My, my. Steven Rogers, paragon of honour and justice, rule-breaking delinquent?"
They both chuckled. "I guess I did make a few mistakes. I'm sure you have some good stories from your childhood."
Ellen poured herself a glass of milk. "Eh, not really." At his look of slight confusion, she elaborated, "I wasn't what you'd call an 'active' child. I was born six weeks early, small enough to fit in my dad's hand. I had all kinds of breathing problems, compromised immune system, all that fun stuff."
"I'm sorry," Cap offered.
She smiled at the kind words. "I had half a dozen surgeries before my fifth birthday. When I wasn't staying in the hospital, I was stuck at home. Didn't really leave that much time for classic shenanigans or playtimes other kids had." Gesturing to the posters, she added, "Fiction was my escape, a chance to forget about my problems. I may not have gotten out that much, but what I did have was a big-ass library and the best VHS collection this side of the Smithsonian."
Cap snorted.
Ellen took a moment to look him in the eye. "Actually, that's one of the reasons I idolized you as a kid. Not because of the serum –which, if I'm being honest, is still really cool– but because I saw a lot of myself in you. You were this scrawny kid from Brooklyn that didn't let health problems or bullies keep you down. Kind of made it easier for me as a scrawny kid with health problems and bullies. You showed me what it meant to be brave, and to never let anyone take away your spirit."
They went silent for several moments, the memories weighing on Ellen's shoulders.
"Anyway," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Sorry, rambling."
"No, that's okay," he said. "I don't mind."
"And you are very sweet for saying that. Is there anything you wanted to talk about?"
He fingered his empty glass for a moment, then said, "Actually, there is." He reached into his pocket and took out a small notebook. "I thought about what you said after our first mission. Bought this to keep track of what I need to learn about the decades I missed."
"That's a great idea!" Ellen said. "Have you written anything down yet?"
"Not yet. Tony and Bruce made some suggestions, but I wasn't sure what order I should use."
She nodded. "How about chronological? That way you can see the general progression society took. Fascinating stuff like how we went from listening to radios to watching cat videos all day long."
Cap took out a pen and opened to the first page. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Ellen looked up at the ceiling. "Chronological…chronological…Ooh! Write down 'I Love Lucy'."
"Okay," he said, jotting the name down. "And what is that?"
"It's a television show from the '50s, what's known as a sitcom. Situational comedy. That was my mom's favourite show when she was a girl. We used to watch it together. What else…? We should probably focus on the big stuff." Snapping her fingers, she said, "Write down 'Moon Landing'."
After writing it, he asked, "Did we actually send a person to the moon?"
"Yes, despite what those dumbass conspiracy theorists will tell you."
Cap shook his head in amazement. "The moon. My mom saw A Trip to the Moon in the theatre. She said it was the most incredible thing she'd ever seen. To think we actually did it."
Ellen smiled. "It was one of the most powerful events in history. But I guess it says something about us that we only worked so hard to get into space due to the Cold War."
"I've read up a little on that. After everything the world went through in the war, you'd think we could've all put aside our differences."
"I'm sorry. I wish that were true. We're all just lucky no one decided to push the wrong button, or none of us would be here."
He looked down at the notebook. "I should probably add something about that here."
"Put down 'Berlin Wall'. Between going up and down, it kind of gives you a good glimpse of how the Cold War played out."
Over the next few minutes, they brainstormed more items to add to the growing list. Steve Jobs, Pisco, Thai Food, even Nirvana made the cut. Of course, Ellen would have been remiss not to mention Star Wars. Of all the fictional series Cap needed to know about, that was the most important.
"And while we're at it, you might as well add 'Star Trek'."
He creased his brow. "Wars? Trek? What's the difference?"
Ellen shrugged. "One is about lightsabers, magic, and robots fighting across the galaxy. The other is about technobabble and speeches about morality. They're both good, but I'm partial to Star Wars myself. I'm a sucker for epic fight scenes and a sweeping soundtrack."
"Noted," he said, sounding bemused at the description. In that moment, she swore to show him Star Wars and make him love it. Nodding at the collection of events and people they'd assembled, Cap closed the notebook and put it back in his pocket. "Thanks for your help. I appreciate it."
"No problem."
"So, is there anywhere specific you wanted to go?" he asked.
"Actually," she said, "before we go out I thought it'd be prudent to disguise you. Just a little."
"A disguise?"
"Nothing drastic." She walked over to her closet and rifled through the top shelf. "But tonight is all about having fun and relaxing, and we can't do that if we're fighting off crowds of people following after Captain America. Even dressed like that, you're kind of…" She gave him a once-over. "Recognizable." Other words had come to mind, but she managed to control herself. Finding what she was looking for, she took the ballcap and handed it to Cap, who looked at it dubiously.
"Are you sure this'll be enough?" he asked, putting it on.
Ellen tapped her chin with her forefinger. "Hm. Do you have any sunglasses?"
In response, he reached into his jacket pocket, took out a pair of Ray-ban's, then put them on. "How about this?"
She nodded. "Yeah, that's perfect."
"I don't quite see how a hat and sunglasses will hide who I am."
"You'd be amazed how little it actually takes to hide who you are," Ellen said as she led him out her front door.
With everything going on in the world, I'm reminded of just how valuable fiction can be in our lives. It can offer an escape from reality, remind us about who and what's most important.
Stay safe, everyone. Stay strong.