A/N: Okay, so this is a bit of a longer chapter. And I apologize that I haven't uploaded in... well... forever. But here's chapter four! Enjoy!
A few minutes later…
Agent Coulson knocked on the door to the Director's office. The previous shouting match diminished immediately and there was a murmur that could barely be heard through the thick door.
Director Fury opened the door with a scowl and ushered us into the room. Agent Barton was leaning against a wall, refusing to look at anyone. Agent Coulson seemed unconcerned with the events that had just transpired, and I supposed he was used to hearing shouting matches behind the thick door.
"Here's the information Agent Barton collected," Director Fury said, handing me a zip disk. "Get to work, Agent Price."
I examined the zip disk in my hands for a minute. These were expensive, not to mention incompatible with nearly every computer I'd come across. But it would do the trick just fine with the upgrades I'd given my computer.
Giving one last reverent glance at the zip disk, I opened my computer and attacked the disk, hacking through the malware and defenses the information from the KGB tried to use.
I pulled open the first file and scrunched my eyebrows. These were all of my identification files. My birth certificate, drivers license, anything and everything the KGB could get their hands on. They even had a copy of my college transcript.
Nothing useful there except for the fact that they can hack the United State's systems, I thought wryly. I'd have to fix that later.
The next file held some details about my initial hack into S.H.I.E.L.D. How they got the information was beyond me. The KGB was efficient. And deadly, it seemed.
I opened the next file.
This went on for hours. I would scan the files, noting anything of importance while Director Fury, Agent Coulson, and Agent Barton argued in hushed voices in the corner. A few times one or more of them got up and left and came back.
I jumped when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Agent Barton stood just off my shoulder, holding a plate of food in one hand.
"You've been busy," he remarked, setting the plate down near my elbow and scanning my computer. "What have you got?"
"Something about a spider," I responded, absent-mindedly picking up a roll. "And a red room."
"Weird," Barton muttered, leaning over my head. I glanced up then stared determinedly at my computer. My face was heating up. He was way too close for comfort.
"Do you mind?" I hissed, flinging an arm behind me. "I can't focus when you're on top of me."
"Really," Barton responded.
"Don't get any ideas," I interrupted, glaring as Barton moved to my side.
"I was just saying-"
"Don't. I don't have time for this."
Barton mumbled something under his breath.
"What?" I asked, swiveling in my chair to face him.
"Nothing!" he replied, raising his hands in surrender and backing away. "I'll just go stand over there, minding my own business. Enjoy the food." With that, he retreated to the corner.
"What have you found?" Director Fury asked a few moments later. I sighed. At this rate, I would never figure out the connection.
"Like I told Agent Barton, the KGB keeps mentioning something about a black widow and a red room. They trained a spider in a room they painted red, I guess, but it doesn't make sense," I responded, pulling up the instances where it talked about either. "They want to send a poisonous spider after me, apparently."
"You're right, it doesn't make sense." Agent Coulson moved to join us. "But the red room part seems familiar somehow."
"Well done, Agent Price. Get some rest. Agent Coulson, get thinking about how you know this 'red room'. Agent Barton, go to the infirmary. Your head needs to get checked out," Director Fury said, directing his poignant glare at Barton. From what I could tell, he wasn't just referring to the blood.
Agent Barton grumbled, but left the room as I shut my computer down and ejected the zip disk. I stood and held the disk out to the Director.
"No. See what else you can find. Any other connections or motives would be greatly appreciated." Director Fury handed me the disk again and gently pushed me out the door. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Agent Coulson and I need to talk."
December 3, 1996 - S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ
Clint Barton was annoyed. That much, I could tell. He had barged into my work space, snapped at me to grab my computer, waited impatiently for me to do so, and dragged me down hallway after hallway.
Five and counting.
"Barton, what is going on?" I asked, stumbling slightly. Barton only paused slightly, his grip iron on my wrist.
"Not here," was his only response, as it had been for the past few minutes. I huffed.
The ground shook behind us.
"What was that?" I asked, turning to glance. A tug at my wrist sent me glaring at the agent. "Answer the question, Barton!"
Agent Barton only gazed ahead, moving even quicker. He flung a door open and shoved me towards a car.
"Get in." Finally, some variety. But he had pulled a gun from a hidden holster. I hesitated. "Get in!"
I was slightly startled when Agent Coulson ran up next to me and grabbed my arm.
"Director Fury is on his way. All S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel are evacuating," he spoke softly to me.
We walked at a brisk pace and Agent Coulson calmly opened a door for me, climbing in across from me only when I was secured.
Agent Barton and Director Fury rushed to the car a few seconds later.
"Move! Move! Move!" the Director shouted as Barton turned the engine on.
"Will someone tell me what's going on?" I asked, gazing around at the grim faces in the car.
"Just cover our tracks, Agent!" Director Fury replied as Barton sped out of HQ. I sighed and pulled my computer out of my pocket, turning it on with a flick of my wrist.
Agent Coulson watched me work silently, listening to me shriek softly whenever the car made a sharp turn.
I was sent tumbling after the latest turn and glared at the back of Barton's head as I hauled myself up.
"You could put a seatbelt on," Agent Coulson said mildly. I breathed deeply and did as he suggested. I had learned to trust Agent Coulson in the month or so I had been at S.H.I.E.L.D.
I was flicking through security cameras rapidly, erasing all footage of the black SUV when it happened.
One moment Agent Coulson and I were alone in the back of the SUV, the next another person had joined us, back doors of the SUV hanging wide open.
Agent Coulson cursed under his breath, aiming a handgun at the intruder. Director Fury turned in his seat and also aimed a gun at the intruder.
I had no weapon and could only stare as the shooting began. Agent Coulson unstrapped himself and ducked behind the rows of chairs, gesturing for me to do the same. I just sat there mutely.
Dumb choice, I know.
But I had noticed something. The bad guy wasn't shooting at me.
I scanned them covertly with my computer. The symbol on the shoulder of their uniform was… KGB. I paled.
They came for me.
I unstrapped myself from my seat and made to move beside Agent Coulson when a hand on my shoulder forced me to sit back down. The KGB agent had grabbed my shoulder and was using me as a shield.
Great. Just great.
A sudden turn had me gripping the seat to stay on it. The KGB agent wasn't so lucky and went flying into the other side of seats. Agent Coulson was quick on the uptake and soon there was a pool of blood surrounding the KGB agent.
Agent Coulson stood slowly, gun pointed at the agent while Director Fury watched his back. I just sat there, gripping my computer and my seat, my eyes never leaving the KGB agent.
Agent Coulson nudged the agent with his toe. They didn't move.
"Get the body out of here. They could have placed tracking on it," Director Fury said, holstering his gun. "Agent Price, check yourself for trackers."
Agent Coulson rolled the body out of the car once we came to a stop and closed the doors. I set my computer to scan myself and it found a tracking device on my shoulder where the agent had grabbed me. I pulled it off and held it in my palm.
"Don't just stare at it, Agent Price," Director Fury said, swiveling in his seat. "Destroy it."
Agent Coulson reached over and plucked it out of my hand, grinding it under his shoe before strapping himself back in.
December 5, 1996 - S.H.I.E.L.D. Hideout
I growled at my computer. We'd have to leave… again. It had taken me… two days? Yeah. Two days to find out that one of the non-malicious looking things was a tracking device. I had just finished disabling it and now we really, really needed to leave.
Tucking my computer in my hoodie, I stood and went to find Agent Coulson. Or Barton. Or Director Fury. Whichever I found first.
It turns out Barton was the first one I found. Or, he found me.
"Director wants a word with-"
"We need to evacuate," I said with a sigh. "They managed to plant a second tracking device on me in the van."
"Seriously?" Barton asked, running a hand down his face. "You're joking, right?"
"Unfortunately not. I just can't believe I missed it." I fought back the urge to groan as we turned and walked quickly towards the Director's room. "Normally these things are easy to pick up on, but they're getting trickier and trickier as time goes on. They planted a sticker on my computer that looks almost identical to one that I had on there and I didn't notice."
"Well, the details we're used to are the ones we forget to check," Barton said, frowning a bit as he turned to hold the door open for me. He grabbed my arm, stopping me. "Don't get too hung up on it. We're going to keep you safe."
Barton gave my arm a little squeeze before he released me, gesturing for me to go through the door. He closed the door behind us, pulling his sleeve back and talking into his wrist communicator as we went.
"We need immediate evac of all agents ASAP," I heard him say. "KGB planted a second device. I've got Price and we're on our way to you."
My head was reeling. I had missed something so simple as a sticker tracker. I was exhausted. I hadn't slept properly since the day before we'd been compromised.
Oh, confound it all.
The windows on my left were making it hard to see with all of the glare. The road outside was busy and the sidewalks were full. Perhaps it wasn't smart to take this way to the Director's office, but it was the fastest way.
"Price!" Barton called, stopping and peering outside. His hand went to the gun at his waist. "Get down."
I stopped in my tracks and looked back at him. Was there-
"Down!" he shouted, drawing the gun and shooting the window and whoever was out there.
Bullets flew overhead as I dropped, right where my head had been. The glass shattered, raining down on me. When it settled, I rolled towards the window, cursing under my breath as my hands got some of the pieces stuck in them.
Barton crawled toward me, grabbing my arm and helping me stand. We ran crouched towards the nearest doorway, Barton occasionally shooting behind us as KGB agents broke through the windows.
"Can't they just leave us alone for five minutes? I need to sleep sometime," I sighed, leaning my head against the doorway.
"Take this," Barton said, thrusting something into my hands. I hissed as the glass dug deeper into my hands, but Barton only spared me a small glance before leaning out and shooting one of the agents.
It was a gun. My eyes widened and the breath caught in my throat. No way was he asking me to-
"It's just to defend yourself," Barton said lowly, keeping his eyes locked forward, over my head. He peered around the wall and ducked back around as bullets went whizzing by. "In case something happens."
"Don't," I muttered. "I barely know how to hold a gun. You might as well be signing your death sentence handing this to me."
"We'll have to fix that, assuming we both make it out of here alive," Barton said, sending a small smirk my way.
"How about no," I said, shaking my head.
"We can argue about this later," Barton said, shooting blindly to his left as an agent came into his peripheral vision. The agent went down and Barton pushed me further into the room, bolting the door behind us. "We're pinned down by fire here, Director. We can't get to you."
I let the gun Barton had handed me hang loose in one of my hands while the other went to cover my face. This was a mess. This was all a mess.
If anyone had told me that seven months ago, I'd have hacked into one of the most secure agencies in the world, be recruited as one of their members, be hunted down by Russians, and be locked in a room with a good assassin while being targeted by the Russians, I would never have believed them.
"This is worse than that bank robbery," I muttered. Barton glanced at me.
"You know, you never told me about that," he said, pushing me behind a desk, turning the lights off and joining me.
"It's not that interesting of a story. The doctors said that I had a concussion and that my memories of the incident would return eventually." I shrugged, looking uncomfortably at the gun in my hands. "That was shortly after I hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. Apparently what happened was I and some of the other hostages were just sitting there when the cops came to break us out. I was running and got shot. Hit my head. The memories never returned so I'm going off what others have told me."
"I'm sorry," Barton said, frowning.
"It isn't your fault, Barton." I leaned my head back and sighed. "I just have a habit of getting in trouble. It's a good thing I moved out for college. My parents would have probably been caught up in something if I'd stayed behind."
The KGB agents were trying to break down the door. Barton rocked back on his heels, gripping the top of the desk and peering over it as the door shuddered.
A few gunshots later, and everything was silent.
There was a knock on the door.
"Agent Barton, Agent Price?" I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. It was Agent Coulson.
"Come on," Barton murmured, helping me up. We strode toward the door, unlocking it, though Barton still held his gun tightly until we had confirmed that it was Agent Coulson.
"Good to see you're both alright," Agent Coulson said with a strained smile. "We're in the process of evacuating everyone. If you'll both follow me."
A few hours later...
I rubbed my eyes, trying - and failing - not to yawn. I was pouring over the file the KGB had on me… again. How they'd even gotten this information was beyond me, but something wasn't adding up.
I looked at my high school and college transcripts and diplomas. They just didn't look right, but I couldn't put my finger on why that was.
"Pretty sure I took all of those classes," I muttered, scrolling through once again. The credit hours added up, the classes added up, but…
A knock on the door made me jump, eyes blinking blearily.
"You good, Price?" Barton asked, closing the door softly behind him. He pulled over one of the chairs from the new hideout.
"Haven't slept well since the first evacuation," I murmured, staring back at the holographic screen and frowning at it.
"Then you should get some sleep," Barton said, reaching across for my computer. I slapped his hands away, leaning forward on the desk with my head in my hands.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I have so many questions and very few answers," I replied, sitting back up and scrolling through my transcripts again. "Why does the KGB have all of this information on me? Why do they want me dead so badly? And why do these transcripts not feel right?"
"Well, I don't have any of the answers, but would you like me to take a look at the transcripts?" Barton asked, moving his chair closer. I leaned back, sighing.
"Sure."
Barton's eyes flicked back and forth over the transcripts, a concentrated frown appearing. His mouth moved silently as he read the lines, checking for any errors.
A few minutes later, he was done.
"Well, everything appears to be in order," he said, scratching his neck as he leaned back. "But if you say something's not right then something isn't right."
"But what?" I asked, rubbing my temples.
"Maybe we should look up the schools, double check everything there?" Barton suggested, leaning on the desk.
That wasn't a half-bad idea. I quickly pulled up my high school's website. The school looked slightly different than I remembered.
"Hey, pull up your graduating yearbook," Barton said, cracking a smile. I rolled my eyes, but complied.
"Why, want blackmail?" I asked, scrolling through the digital copy I had hacked. I got to my class and scrolled through slowly.
Owens, Jacob.
Porter, Alice.
Richards, Sally.
No Price, Melissa.
"What?" I breathed, scrolling through again. They hadn't forgotten me, had they?
"Okay, that's weird," I heard Barton mutter. I saw him sit up from the corner of my eyes. "Check your college. You graduated with honors, right?"
"Yeah," I muttered, already pulling up the website. I'd be on the notable alumni list.
Again, no Price, Melissa.
"This is starting to freak me out," Barton said, standing and pacing behind me. "Is there anything else you can check?"
I paused, thinking. I didn't exist on my high school or college's records except for my transcripts and diplomas. Those documents could…
"They were faked," I murmured, going to google. I typed my name in and pressed enter.
Nothing. No news stories, no mentions of my achievements. No biography. Nothing on the dark web. Absolutely nothing.
"So you just… don't exist on the internet?" Barton asked, leaning on the desk next to me as we stared at the screen. "That doesn't make sense. I know it's possible to erase people, but surely not every trace, right? And why would you do that?"
"I don't know," I replied, hands frozen on my lap. "I don't remember deleting myself from the internet. And I'm not sure why I would."
In one last act of desperation, I looked up my parents.
Obituary - Doctors Curtis and Samantha Price, January 5, 1981.
"What?" I breathed out, staring numbly at the link before me. "No. No, that's impossible. My parents are alive. They live in New Jersey. They aren't… they can't be…. This says they… fifteen years ago? No, no that doesn't make sense."
Barton glanced at me, concerned. I held my face in my hands while Barton read the obituary out loud.
"Doctors Curtis and Samantha Price were found murdered in their home in New Jersey on January 4, 1981. Their neighbor, Anna Smith, had been watching their daughter, Melissa, while the two were on a business trip. They returned from the trip on January 3, and Anna returned home. The cops were called the next night by a frantic Ms. Smith, who had returned to the Price house to return one of Melissa's toys. Ms. Smith found both Curtis and Samantha dead in the house with multiple bullet wounds. The house had been torn apart as well. Seven year old Melissa has been missing since the murder, and the police are searching for any signs of the child."
I shook my head, unable to stop the tears. Mom and Dad were dead? Had been dead for fifteen years? I was a missing person? This… this just wasn't possible.
December 6, 1996 - S.H.I.E.L.D. Hideout, undisclosed location
"It just doesn't make sense!" I heard Barton protest. I peered around the doorway, hesitant to enter. "The only record that exists with her on it that wasn't in the file the KGB had was in an obituary!"
"You're right, Agent Barton, it doesn't make sense. Which means that Miss Price-"
"Agent," Barton interrupted, stopping just out of my line of sight. "She's an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. now."
"If you'll let me continue," Director Fury said, his chair scraping back on the floor as he stood. "Agent Price is either lying to us, hiding something, or is completely innocent. The only trouble is finding out which it is."
A voice cleared their throat from behind me. I jumped, turning to see Agent Coulson frowning at me apologetically. Barton and Director Fury approached from the doorway.
"Well, well, well. Seems now's as good a time as ever," Director Fury muttered. "This way please, Agent Price. We have a few questions for you."
December 12, 1996 - S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, New York City, New York
Clint ran a hand down his face, staring at Price's computer. She hadn't been lying when they first met. Only she was able to use it unless she gave someone else authorization.
And it was proving to be a real pain in the neck.
Director Fury had arrested Price and held her for questioning for the past six days. And Price hadn't cracked which was both impressive and infuriating. Either she was one of the best spies in the world… or she really didn't know anything.
Clint wanted to believe that it was the latter. His gut told him she didn't know anything. But the rational part of his brain, the part that had been trained to kill, told him it just wasn't possible.
How do you not know that your parents were murdered when you were seven? How do you not know that you've been missing for fifteen years? How do you not remember high school or college or a bank robbery?
How was it that up until Price hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D., they didn't know she'd existed?
And then there was the matter of the KGB. Agent Coulson had pulled in a few favors with one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founding members, Peggy Carter. The hints about a black widow and a red room had turned out to be the assassin that the KGB was going to send after Price. Unfortunately, with Price currently being held for questioning, no one had been able to figure out the identity of the current Black Widow.
And no one knew why the KGB was so eager to get their hands on Price. Or kill her.
It appeared that Price had no concrete memories up until the night she had gone missing and no other real memories until after the bank robbery that had landed her in the hospital. Even that had no records, but one of Price's former neighbors had mentioned that she had had severe food poisoning a few days after and had to be admitted to a different hospital.
Clint didn't know what to do, he really didn't. Director Fury and Agent Coulson had put him in charge of cracking the case - or the computer - and it was proving to be an absolute failure.
Clint groaned, resisting the urge to just chuck the stupid computer across the room. Breaking it wouldn't do him any good. And he wasn't allowed to see Price since he'd befriended her in the time she'd been at S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint thought it was stupid, that he'd have an advantage in getting her to talk, but Director Fury didn't want to take any risks.
It was all starting to sound like what Director Keller had wanted to do when they'd first established that Price was a threat.
Clint's gut twisted at that. He had killed people, yes, but as far as they knew, Price was innocent. And S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't kill innocents.
Not yet, a voice said. Not yet, they don't.
"Barton?" Agent Coulson's voice was a godsend, taking him away from his thoughts. "Any luck?"
"She wasn't lying," Clint said, picking the computer up and waving it around, keeping his back turned to the older agent. "Only she is able to access it unless she gives you authority. And I doubt she'd do that while she's imprisoned."
Agent Coulson sighed and pulled up a chair beside Clint. He lowered the computer, turning it over in his hands.
"It's been six days," Clint said lowly. "Six days. Either she's the best agent in the world or she really doesn't know anything. And I'm inclined to believe she doesn't know anything. But how she doesn't know, I don't know."
"I agree," Agent Coulson said, surprising Clint. He'd expected him to side with Director Fury. Clint looked over. "Melissa Price really doesn't know anything. But not by choice."
"What do you mean?" Clint sat back in his chair, completely confused.
"She's been trained as a spy and has been given fake memories and a fake past, as far as we can tell. The things she remembers clearly are before she went missing and after the bank robbery," Agent Coulson said slowly. "We think we have an idea as to who trained her."
Clint paused, the gravity of the words sinking in.
"The KGB. Crap."
A/N: Well, two attempted assassinations/kidnappings in one chapter, a big plot/past reveal, and our little S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is in for some fun surprises! Hope it wasn't too thick of a plot or a repeat, but the KGB sure is interested in little miss Agent Melissa Price. Oh no, oh no, oh no! :D
