Secured Evidence Room, Task Force HQ, Berlin, German
"Guten abend, Frau Carter," Pierre Fischer smiled at her.
"Guten abend," she put a little extra bounce her step and sparkle into her eyes. Fischer's fondness for pretty blonds was well known - a little flirting now might pay big dividends later. "How are you on this… exciting evening?"
"Is it exciting, yes? The Winter Soldier and Captain America here, in our building!" There was a little extra lilt in his voice when he said Captain America. Was he one of Steve's fanboys? Oh. But this might be useful…. "He was special friends with your aunt, yes? Do you know him?"
"I do," she said, adding a little lilt of her own and a suggestive tilt of her shoulders. "In fact, I'm going upstairs to see him right now."
"Lucky girl!"
"Sadly, I'm only bringing him paperwork," she said, shrugging. "I need the receipt for his and Sam Wilson's equipment."
Fischer snorted, a small puff of derision that made his forelock flutter as he started to fiddle with the computer.
"Yes?" she prompted, leaning forward a little. Her quilted vest didn't show much cleavage but the movement was suggestive enough to add a little sweetener to the conversation.
"Oh, it's silly," he said, waving dismissively in a way that practically begged for further inquiry.
"It's been a long day," she said, coaxing him along. "I could use a little silly right now. Indulge me?"
He looked around, overtly furtive, and then leaned in, grinning. "Steve deserves better than Wilson. I just don't think Sam is right for our boy."
He was that kind of fan, Sharon thought. Of course, it made sense. He did love pretty blonds.
"I don't think he is, either. But I'm working on it," Sharon winked at him.
His eyes got huge and his face made a silent little O as he snatched the receipt off the printer.
"Thank you, Pierre," she took the paper from him. "I'll let you know how it goes."
"You had better!"
Reflexively, she put a little extra sway in her walk as she headed for the elevator, certain that he would appreciate the effort.
The doors to the elevator slid shut and Sharon let out a small sigh. In the fishbowl of HQ, the elevators were some of the only private spaces and she could almost feel the pressure of constant observation lifting off her skin - like stepping out of hot sun into cool shade. Her reflection was offset by the seam in the doors, as if she'd been sliced in half and the left side had started to slide off. She leaned right to get a better look at herself. She looked tired but so did everyone else on the Task Force. Still, she needed a break and soon. She had contingency plans within contingency plans, layered with decoys and false trails, all of them chasing the others' tails in her head as she weighed variables and risks, possibilities and probabilities. The effort of keeping them all balanced was starting to take a toll. She shouldn't risk adding another ball in the air but...
Pierre's crush on Steve opened a new and tantalizing opportunity - Sam Wilson.
Her mandate was, specifically, Steve. But if one was good, two was better. Steve remained a useful asset without his equipment, of course, thanks to the super-soldier serum. Without the EXO-7, Sam was just another retired vet and she could recruit those by the dozen. But if she could get the suit and recruit him and Steve…
Glancing down at the receipt, she let out a bark of laughter. Pierre really disliked like Wilson, didn't he?
As the echoes of her laugh faded in the tiny elevator, she sobered quickly, slotting her plans into place. Bob would forgive her for calling an on-the-spot amendment to the plan.
Only if she succeeded, of course.
The bell dinged and she squared her shoulders and stepped out back into the hot glare of scrutiny.
Damnit. Stark and Romanov were talking with The Greater Ross in the main room right next to the conference room she'd chosen. That was unfortunate. The Lesser Ross was in C&C yelling at Lulić. She would have to get in there, soon. But first she needed to scratch her little itch about Herr Doktor.
Steve and Wilson were watching him interview Barnes, with the sound turned off, of course.
"Here's the receipt for your equipment."
"Bird costume?" Sam yelped, outraged.
"Hey, I didn't write it," she glanced around. Too many people stood in hearing range for her comfort, but she couldn't think of any way to make them move. And she'd only tweaked the feed for this one conference room.
Steve was watching the monitor with single-minded focus, but when she clicked on the audio, he suddenly came to quivering attention. She could practically feel his muscles tense and his breathing quicken.
She could understand that. Here was a trained professional who might be able to tell him if Bucky was sane. With Peggy's demise, Bucky was his last thread to hold onto.
She worried, again, about his sanity if that thread snapped. What happened if you broke a good man?
Outside the conference room, Romanov turned her head slightly and Sharon felt all her muscles tighten. Could she hear the speakers? Had she noticed Sharon walking into the room? Would she think that Sharon had let Steve eavesdrop out of compassion? Did she think Sharon was befuddled by a pretty pair of eyes or some (admittedly impressive) biceps? Or would she divine Sharon's deeper motivation?
She was playing against a living legend, Sharon reminded herself. She was going to make mistakes. Remember to accept them, learn, adapt, move on. She turned her attention back to the interview.
Broussard was talking in that soothing tone that she associated with dog trainers and shrinks from movies. None of the actual mental health experts she'd dealt with over the years spoke like that. But, of course, she wasn't a terrorist suspect. Maybe they only used that tone on vicious German shepherds and brain-washed mass murderers.
Still, the anomaly added to her itch.
"Why did they release his photo?" Steve asked.
Sharon stared at him as the fog of her exhaustion lifted and all the things she'd been worrying about suddenly slotted together. Steve was still talking and she answered him on autopilot as they both came to the same conclusion at the same time.
"They wanted us to bring him here."
Of course, that's the moment that the lights went out.
Not just the lights, either. The constant subliminal white noise of a modern office, that teeth-itching hum that you learned to ignore, simply ceased. The sudden ringing silence was more terrifying than the unexpected dark.
The emergency lights didn't come up.
Well, that went pear-shaped much faster than she'd expected.
Possibilities unfurled in her mind, and she didn't like her chances in any of them. None of her people here geared up for a fight with an enhanced human. Whatever was coming, she needed real muscle.
"Sublevel five, east wing," she said to the prettiest muscle in Berlin. Steve took off, Wilson close on his heels.
Whether this was a break in or a break out, they needed to cover the exits. She followed the men out into the main room.
Romanov turned to her with a look like relief. "How many?"
"Roof, two side doors, main entrance. The main entrance is closest to the interrogation room."
"Tony and I will take the front," she looked over at the bedraggled and exhausted Stark. "Please tell me you brought a suit with you?"
"Yes, a nice silk three piece," he snarked. "I'm an unarmed noncombatant, remember?"
She let Romanov chivvy him down to the lobby and sprinted to her C&C room. The Lesser Ross was yelling at people to try to get the back-up generators running.
"It's an EMP," she snapped. "Nothing that wasn't shielded is going to work." You idiot.
"How do you know that?"
Sharon ignored him, snapping out orders to her team. "Comms are down. Lulić, you and Marconi go up to the roof and let them know that we're expecting hostiles, possibly from inside. Weber, I need you and Whittenborn to do the same for the side entrances. We put the big guns – Stark and Romanov – on the front, which is their most probably route. Okay folks, we've drilled this, you know what to do. Let's go."
Dropping headsets, her team scattered around the building, leaving nothing but spinning office chairs in their wake and Sharon took a moment to smile, deeply grateful for the members of her team. Ross just gaped at her as she turned heel and sprinted, bypassing the elevators (why hadn't the damned emergency generators kicked in yet?) and running down the stairs.
She was only halfway down before she heard the screaming start.
