I stand behind Steve and Natasha as we knock on Sam Wilson's door. He's the only person we can turn to right now considering that everyone is out to get us.
I'm still angry at stupid Dr. Zola, well, his computer brain at least. I wish I could bring him back to life just to kill him all over again. Just so I can watch the live drain from his eyes and give him what he deserves for hurting not only me, but Bucky too.
"Hey, man," Sam says as he opens the door.
I pop my head between Steve and Nat to get my two cents in. "Correction, Nat and I are women."
Sam chuckles slightly at my correction before turning to Steve as the Popsicle speaks. "I'm sorry about this. We need a place to lay low."
"Everyone we know is trying to kill us," Nat states.
I nod in agreement. "Couldn't have said it better myself."
"Not everyone," Sam says as he opens the door for us to come in.
()()()
After taking a shower in one of the guest bedroom's bathroom, I stand in front of a floor length mirror that sits against the wall. In the forest green tank top I'm wearing, I can see the bullet scar on my right shoulder.
No matter how hard I try, I can never remember where or who it's from. I can't help but figure it's from Hydra meaning that it's just another reminder of who I became because of them.
"You'll be relieved to know that that scar wasn't from Hydra," Steve pops up out of nowhere to stand behind me. I guess he snuck up on me when I was deep in thought. "I doubt you'll feel any better to know it was from a Nazi solider."
I sigh deeply. "Better than having another reminder of who they made me become."
Steve immediately lays a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, you're not that person anymore."
I shake my head. "No, I'll always be that person. It's always going to be there. It's never gonna go away. It's like a scar. It never goes away."
"You're different. You're better," Steve retorts.
I smile slightly at the reflection of us in the mirror. Two best friends taking on the world. One is missing, but we'll get him back eventually. Bucky's not too far gone.
"I made breakfast," Sam pops his head through the door. "If you guys...eat that sort of thing."
I knit my eyebrows in fake confusion before breaking out my Thor accent, "What kind of abomination is this 'breakfast?'"
This makes Steve laugh extremely hard, which makes me smile at how I made the poor innocent muffin feel slighty better about the situation at hand.
We head to the kitchen to see Natasha already there. I grab a plate and pile it high with eggs, bacon, sausage, and other goodies Sam has made us. He sure went all out.
Once I sit myself down at the table ready to eat, Nat and Steve have already started talking. "So, the question is: who in SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?"
Instead of using a fork and spoon like a normal person, I use my telekinesis to float the food from the plate to my mouth. Sam stares at me with appraising eyes. He probably wishes he could do the same thing.
"Pierce," Steve says. I nod in agreement, not being able to talk since my mouth is stuffed with food.
"Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world," Nat states.
Steve shakes his head. "But he's not working alone, Zola's algorithm was on the Lemurian Star."
"So was Jasper Sitwell," I comment as I throw a piece of bacon in my mouth and chew.
"So, the real question is: how do the three most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?" Steve asks.
Sam plops a file in front of Steve. "The answer is you don't."
"What's that?" I ask with a mouthful of food.
"Call it a resume," Sam comments.
Nat picks up a picture of Sam with his para-rescue team. "Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you."
She then turns to Steve and I. "You two didn't say he was a para-rescue."
Steve looks at the photo that Natasha holds in her hands that I have yet to see. He points to something on the picture and asks, "Is that Riley?"
"Yeah," Sam answers.
Natasha looks over at Sam. "I heard they couldn't bring him in the choppers because of RPGs. What did you use, a stealth chute?"
Sam hands holds out the file to Steve. "No. These."
Steve reads the file and looks back up at Sam. "I thought you said you're a pilot."
"I never said pilot," Sam says with the shake of his head.
"Woah, I wanna see," I exclaim like a small child. Being the impatient woman I am, I simply float the file over to me.
I read over the "Falcon" file and look up with my eyes wide. "Dude, this is awesome."
A huge smile appears on the man's face as he hears the compliment.
Steve looks over at Sam. "I can't ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason."
I nod in agreement before Sam speaks up. "Dude, Captain America and Aftermath need my help. There's no better reason to get back in."
"Where can we get our hands on one of these things?" Steve asks.
"The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall," Sam responds.
I shrug as I hand the file back to Steve. "Shouldn't be a problem."
()()()
I look over at Sam through my dark tinted sunglasses as we sit at a table outside of a restaurant. "Ready?"
"Yep," he says before pulling out the phone to call Sitwell. He dials the number and waits for the man to answer. I stare over at the suited up man standing on the stairs as he answers his phone.
"Yes sir," I hear Sitwell say through the phone.
"Agent Sitwell, how was lunch? I hear the crab cakes here are delicious," Sam comments making me chuckle hysterically.
Sitwell looks around franticly. "Who is this?"
"The good looking man and woman, your ten o'clock," Sam informs. Sitwell looks in the wrong direction. "Your other ten o'clock."
Sitwell turns around to see us. I mockingly wave at the man as Sam says, "There you go."
"What do you want?" Sitwell demands through the phone.
"You're gonna go around the corner to your right. There's a gray car three spaces on. We're gonna take a ride," Sam states.
"And why would I do that?"
I grab the phone from Sam. "Because that tie looks really expensive, and I'd hate to mess it up."
Sitwell looks down at the red laser on his chest from the gun Natasha is aiming at him off a roof.
()()()
Steve throws Sitwell across the rooftop with Nat and I following behind him.
"Tell us about Zola's algorithm," I demand as I inch closer towards Sitwell.
"Never heard of it," Sitwell says with a smug look on his face.
I scoff. "Yeah, and I haven't killed 343 people. We both know that neither of those things are true."
"What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?" Steve interrogates.
"I was throwing up. I got seasick," Sitwell retorts.
Steve pushes Sitwell to the edge of the rooftop. Sitwell smiles. "Is this little display meant to insinuate that you're gonna throw me off the roof? Because it's not really your style, Rogers."
"You're right. It's ours," I state before lifting the man slightly off the ground. I look over at Natasha. "Would you like to do the honors?"
"It'd be my pleasure," Nat states before kicking the man off the roof. She then turns to Steve. "Oh, wait. What about that girl from accounting, Laura?"
"Lillian. Lip piercing, right?" Steve asks.
"Yeah. She's cute," Nat comments.
Steve shakes his head, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, I'm not ready for that."
Sam flies up with Sitwell and throws him onto the roof. Steve, Nat, and I stalk towards Sitwell as he puts his hands in the air signaling surrender.
"Zola's algorithm is a program...for choosing Insight's targets!"
I look over at Steve. Project Insight.
"What targets?" Steve questions.
"You, A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city. Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future," Sitwell elaborates.
Of course I'm not on the list. They can't lose their valuable and dangerous puppet.
"The future? How could it know?" Steve questions.
"How could it not? The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught HYDRA how to read it," Sitwell begins. "Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e-mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores. Zola's algorithm evaluates peoples' past to predict their future."
"And what then?" Steve asks.
"Oh, my God. Pierce is gonna kill me," Sitwell panics.
In anger, I grab the man by the collar of his shirt and growl, "What then?"
"Then the Insight Helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few millions at a time."
I drop the man on the floor and turn to Steve worryingly.
What do you know? It's up to us to save the world for the third time.
