At the same exact moment, almost ten miles away in a tiny apartment in the city, Dr. Mallory Smith was installed on her couch watching a Game of Thrones marathon on HBO to catch up before the new season started.
Unemployed people have an advantage over employed people she reasoned; they have time to eat junk food during the day, they can drink at eleven o'clock in the morning (although in the company of others this generally raises eyebrows) and they can marathon seasons of television on TV and Netflix that they wouldn't normally have time to watch amongst work and friends. Mallory Smith was doing all three of these things – there was a bowl of warmed butter-drenched popcorn sitting in her lap, a glass of rum and coke positioned near her left foot and the TV was blaring the Game of Thrones theme as it launched into the next episode. She'd never seen it before. Work was so hectic as she'd been working ridiculous hours, that it denied her the pure pleasure of quality television but now she'd finally had the chance to catch up on the show she now could say she loved. The incest, the sex, the murder, the politics... it was a form of escapism that she'd been indulging in for what seemed like minutes but was in fact four hours into season three.
The phone was beside her but on silent in case anything exciting happened on Twitter or someone emailed her back from her thousands of job applications and all the lights were off in her small city apartment. Usually it was clean and neat, but today blankets were strewn around Mallory's frame and cushions supported her back from the horrible feel of the suede couch behind her. She was dressed in her version of pajamas, stripy shorts and her ex-boyfriends band t-shirt that she had kept, alongside a large cardigan her father had bought her. Feeling an ache in her butt, Mallory placed the bowl aside and drew her legs up, rearranging her position on the sofa so she was comfortable for the next episode. The theme tune began to draw to a close and the episode started.
In the dark however, a bright light caught her attention. Her phone, although on silent, was aglow from a phone call from her father. His face popped up on screen, taken at a family barbeque at her aunties house. Sighing, Mallory reluctantly stabbed the pause button on the remote and pressed the green symbol on the screen.
"Hello?"
Her father sounded breathless when he answered. "Hi sweetie, it's Dad. Listen I wanted to ask you something-"
Mallory interrupted, laughing. "Dad, I know it's you. Caller I.D, remember?"
She had explained it thousands of times, yet it seemed her dad had forgotten once again.
Her father laughed once, although it was short lived. "I wanted to ask you about work."
Straight down to business... so unlike her father. Usually he liked to chew the fat before he dove into the real stuff. Concerned, Mallory sat up and inadvertently knocked her rum and coke over on the wooden floor.
"Oh shit! Hey, Dad hold on, I gotta clean this up." Diving up, Mallory avoided the lethal mixture pooling on her floor and ran into the kitchen. She stuck the phone between her shoulder and head and grabbed a dishcloth.
"Sweetie, this is important-"
She didn't hear him. "One minute, I'll be right back."
She left the phone on the counter and switched the light on as she raced back into the living room. Her small, homely apartment was suddenly lit with a harsh yellow light, making the sofa seem a darker brown then it was. Her floors were wooden, and her walls were cream apart from the exposed brick wall that held the small fireplace filled with old logs that she never used. Her TV was the latest flat screen, a moving present from her parents alongside her Mac laptop, iPad fast internet connection and state of the art docking system which had a stereo in all of her rooms, which was a grand total of three. The living room was the biggest, as it also doubled as her bedroom. Up two steps and right at the back, bordered by a waist-sized wall was her double bed, fitted with cream sheets. Next to that was the desk which held her laptop and iPad and a stack of medical journals, half of which she had helped to author. The kitchen was a box, stuffy and impossible for two people to move in, the bathroom smaller still. She'd had to make do with no bath, just a shower and a sink and a toilet. It was a nice apartment, on the cheaper side in the city, just a little small and a little bare at the moment. Soon, she reasoned, soon she would fill it with relics of her life that would make her smile as she passed them reminding her of happier times. Soon.
But right now she was soaking up the stain on her wooden floor. The dishcloth absorbed the brownish liquid and she carried the sodden cloth back to the kitchen gingerly as if it was diseased, before picking up the phone again. Her father was yelling at her, from the small tinny voice that grew louder as she placed it back to her ear.
"Mallory! Are you there? Did you break up?"
It seemed he had not heard about her admission that he was on hold and Mallory couldn't be bothered to explain her clumsiness. "Yeah Dad. The connection is fine. What were you saying?"
She walked back into the living room and settled on the sofa, as her dad began to speak slowly as if he was talking to a child. She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, then remembered he couldn't see her over the line.
"Sweetie have you been offered any work? Been looking, applied anywhere?"
She laughed. "Dad, I was made redundant like yesterday. I was enjoying the spoils of unemployment. I have emailed my credientials around, though." Her gaze fell upon the popcorn and she reached over, scooped up a handful and stuffed it in her mouth.
"I have an interview arranged for you."
She choked. Instantly, Mallory began to cough and splutter up kernels and half-chewed white popcorn buds. Tears began to stream down her face, adding to her already smudged eyeliner and mascara.
"Mallory? Sweetie are you there-"
Mallory banged her chest and breathed deeply, trying to control herself. "Yeah – yeah Dad I'm here. An interview you said? Who with? Whereabouts?"
"With my workplace." He sounded nervous. "Well actually... anyway, can you be ready for the car in ten minutes?"
This was too fast for her mind to register. Literally five minutes ago she was getting ready enjoy more of her latest crush Jon Snow brood around the castle of the Nights Watch. Now she was being bombarded with interviews and cars and times. Too much information in a short amount of time, she reasoned, as her throat ached.
"What? Dad, I need details and explanations." Inwardly, she added because I've been drinking.
He sighed, attempting to keep himself calm. "This agency I work for needs this position filled now. My boss would like to interview you as soon as possible and because of the secretive nature of the job, we'll be sending a car to drive you to an undisclosed location. I'll ask again, when can you be ready for the car?"
She knew little of her father's work, only that he was high up in the spy agency S.H.I.E.L.D which had had a direct hand in the business in New York a year and a half ago. His missions were very secretive and the mere notion of having a job at the same workplace as her father was exciting to her curious side. However, her confused side prevailed.
"Dad, what position is it? You know I can't do spy work." The image of her in a catsuit attempting to tumble was amusing; Mallory was the most nonviolent person she knew, and also incredibly nonathletic. It had taken her years to shimmy up the rope in gym class, and she was pretty sure her running shoes had grown a special type of fungi from how long they'd been stuffed in the back of her wardrobe.
"Sweetie, it's a medicinal position." She heard a sharp crack and someone yelling at her father- was that the boss who was going to interview her? Well he sounds like a load of fun. "I can't say much more."
Mallory looked down at her butter-drenched t-shirt and for the first time in hours she could smell the stench of a person who hadn't washed or slept properly in a while. She rubbed her eyes and eyed the chewed popcorn which she'd spat out after she'd choked – it had landed in the popcorn bowl, a vision of disgust amongst food so heavenly it could make her cry on hormonal days. Suddenly her stomach churned and she looked away from the bowl. Appetite lost, she switched the TV off and felt a sudden burst of motivation to get her life back together.
"Yeah. I can come. Just give me an hour and a half to make myself look decent, okay?"
Her father sighed so audibly with relief she smiled at his voice. "Thank you, sweetie. The car will be there at 2pm sharp so be ready. I love you."
"Love you too. Any advice for the interview?"
There was a pause, and her father sucked in his breath before saying, "Don't mumble."
The phone clicked off suddenly, and Mallory felt the nerves kick in.
At 2pm sharp, as promised, a black SUV pulled up outside her apartment. Mallory, already sitting on the steps outside, stood up, smoothed down her skirt and looked on in alarm as a solider brandishing an assault rifle and combat boots strode towards her.
She had showered, shaved, straightened and scrubbed herself to a presentable state but suddenly, she felt overdressed. Her hair hung down her back in a straight uniformed line, the long tendrils of hair that usually danced in her vision restrained with pins. Mallory had spritzed herself with her expensive Christmas perfume that smelt faintly of flowers, and dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her shoes were an appropriate height, stacked heel so she could walk and her pantyhose was one of the few pairs which she hadn't laddered immediately after purchase. Her makeup was reapplied – the natural look and when she'd remembered she was going for an interview with S.H.I.E.L.D, she'd gave in to the impulse to apply heavy eyeliner with strong flicks to suggest she could also be a strong and bad ass woman like the infamous Black Widow whom was one of the few operative she knew was working for S.H.I.E.L.D – and she even she had to admit she looked pretty decent.
"Ma'am, please step into the car."
The soldier was generic looking, square jaw, cap and aviators. He wore black fatigues and an unreadable expression. Mallory was sure she wouldn't be able to recognize him if she ever saw him again, even face to face like this – he was indistinguishable amongst his similar looking comrades which she could see in the drivers seat of the vehicle. The only indication he was from S.H.I.E.L.D and not a thug was the familiar insignia and the letters that spelled out what the acronym actually stood for. Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. She didn't even know what that meant really.
"Can you tell me were we're going?"
The soldier just looked at her as if she was stupid. Mallory gave up and stepped into the back of the SUV. She was enclosed in darkness, the windows of the SUV blacked out on both sides. The drivers portion was the only window that she could see out of, but a screen rolled up from nowhere blocked the drivers view into the back seat. The generic S.H.I.E.L.D solider climbed in with her and sat too close for her liking. Uncomfortable, Mallory pulled out her phone and resisted the rebellious urge to start playing on Angry Birds with the volume up just to see what his reaction would be. Instead, she merely played with her hands like a child, and traced patterns on the window.
The drive was an hour judging from her phone clock. The soldier didn't answer any of Mallory's probing questions so she gave up. In the first twenty minutes he didn't seem to move at all so Mallory made him her next staring project to amuse herself. If he noticed her unruly gaze, he didn't seem to mind. Half an hour in, he turned his head and shifted in the seat. Forty minutes in he settled his gaze on Mallory and didn't remove it until five minutes later, after Mallory steadily ignored the itching his gaze gave her by glancing out of the black window as if she could see. As the fifty ninth minute passed, the car suddenly stopped. Someone knocked on the window and the soldier pressed his lips together, turning to Mallory almost guilty. It was nice to see an expression other than an absolute blank on his face.
"I'm sorry, Miss Smith to have to do this but you must now we're acting under your father's orders. Its for your own protection."
"What? What are you talking about-"
The soldier produced a black bag, akin to the one a hostage would be forced to wear by their captors before Mallory could yelp in surprise, he'd thrown it around her head like a lasso. Her world suddenly became dark, warm and stuffy.
"Hey! Get me out of this thing!" Cold metal cuffed her hands together and she was helped out of the car roughly by what she presumed was the soldier and the driver. She struggled all the way from the car to the door, unable to see a thing through the stitching of the black bag no matter how much she squinted or moved her head.
"HYDRA agent Franz." A male voice grunted. Mallory shifted and someone shook her roughly to stop her from struggling. HYDRA? What's HYDRA? I thought this was S.H.I.E.L.D...
"Access granted." A mechanical female voice answered, and Mallory was pulled into a room, where the doors slammed shut and something began to power up. She could feel the ground whizzing away beneath her and that same sense of gravity whipping away that she always felt in an elevator. This elevator was going down, deep down in the bunker of something to do with S.H.I.E.L.D or HYDRA. She was guessing HYDRA was an even secreter sub-division of the agency her dad worked for. Then again this was all guesswork. She wouldn't know until she was in that interview.
Mallory silenced herself and her curiosity and allowed herself to be plunged down for the ride. The mechanical voice suddenly announced they were in the 'Department X'. Frowning beneath her bag, the bag was yanked off her head to reveal a dark and gloomy place, yet her eyes still hurt as they readjusted with her surroundings. The cuffs around her wrist clicked as the agent darted behind her to free her and she saw her dad coming towards her.
Once she was free, her heels clacked aggressively as she strode towards him. "You absolute... bastard!" Forgetting she was in public, she shoved him with both hands and enough force to demonstrate her anger.
"Sweetie, I can explain-"
"That man had me in handcuffs! And by your orders?" She looked around. "What the hell is this place?"
Another voice answered from behind her. "This is Department X." And then he answered her next silent question as she spun to face him, "And I am Alexander Pierce."
Pierce was a very old man, dressed in an obviously expensive suit that stood out from the bland background because it was so colourful. His face was normal however; pale and wrinkled, with shark-like eyes that peered over his black glasses, a mouth set permanently to unkindly amusement and hair so obviously dyed it was clearly done by an amateur. Mallory, slightly shell-shocked at the sudden derailing of events, shook the hand he offered and stepped back, a little stunned at his interruption. His hand was dry and wrinkly and reminded her of a leather book, aged and filled with forgotten wisdom.
"You must have questions, Dr. Smith."
Mallory nodded dumbly. "A fair few."
Pierce glanced at her father, and back to Mallory. "Perhaps we can talk alone. Follow me Miss Smith."
With a final scathing glare to her father that indicated her conversation with him wasn't over, Mallory followed Pierce to his office. The office was an aptly sized glass room overlooking the large auditorium sized room where various men and women in white coats scurried like ants to perform tasks on large metal benches, with scientific looking instruments. As a doctor and former high school student that had despised Chemistry, she could recognize some of the instruments. Parts of an MRI scanner here, big glass tubes filled with bubbling liquids there. But most were unfamiliar; big ugly contraptions of wires and screens and technicians and scientists yelling at the inanimate objects and each other. She'd assumed that they'd look at her with curiousity but instead she noted downright hostility directed towards her. Nervous, she sped her pace to keep up with Pierce.
"Take a seat."
There was only one seat opposite his desk, and unlike Pierce's large and comfortable looking office chair, the white leather looked hard and uncomfortable. Mallory sat down and crossed her legs demurely, praying that she wasn't flashing her Wonder Woman underwear, a factor which would most surely lose her application of the job.
"Now Dr. Smith you are the only interviewee I have for this job. From what your father has said about you, we're expecting great things from you."
Mallory had had enough of the secrecy and lent forwards, frowning. "Look Mr Pierce I mean no disrespect but... I don't even know what job I'm applying for. So if you'd please-"
He talked over her as if she hadn't spoken, dismissively and arrogantly. "If you pass the interview, your job will be simple. You'll work irregular shifts but not long ones – three, four hours at the most. When you're needed for his treatment, you'll work as long as it takes to get the job done. Your pay packet will be double you received at your hospital, along with the usual benefits of a pension, health insurance etc. You'll receive armored vehicles driving you to and from here, round the clock security of your home and a clearance level four on all of S.H.I.E.L.D databases."
Stunned, Mallory lapsed into silence. He had rattled off her benefits like a checklist and the job was now officially too good to be true. Double what she'd received at the hospital and four hour shifts when she was called in? Something wasn't right here. They wanted something off her… like a kidney or her ovaries.
"I don't... I don't... Mr Pierce you still didn't tell me what I'll be doing."
He didn't like this. His back straightened and he clasped his hands together over the desk. The shark eyes deepened and suddenly Mallory was aware of every imperfection on her body, the scar on her wrist from where she'd broken her arm elongating, the brown in her hair dulling. The sudden feeling of inadequacy was overwhelming and she felt like he was holding her underwater, and the only way she'd be free to suck a lungful of the refreshing air was if she accepted to do whatever he said.
"Dr. Smith, for this job I have three requirements of you. One, an agreement to sign an injunction which legally prevents you from discussing any aspect of your work to anybody in a legal or informal status unless they have also signed an injunction or are participating in the same work. Two, ultimate and complete obedience and competency in every aspect of your work. And three... you address me as sir, and sir only."
Reeling from these demands, Mallory tried to gain power in the conversation. "So you can't tell me any details of the work unless I sign this injunction? Even before I've been denied or accepted from the job?"
Pierce smiled although the shark eyes remained. He was starting to creep her out. "Precisely."
Mallory swallowed and nodded once, the decision making itself. The job was too good to turn down, even if it had a weird boss. She had dealt with weird bosses before. "I'll sign it."
He produced a cardboard file and passed her a pen; she opened the file and signed her name on the dotted line after skimming through the legal stuff written in tiny print. Her signature seemed loopier then normal, the y curling around itself, the S double the size of the rest of her print. Her hand was shaking slightly. In one second, she had signed over her right to moan about her future job on Twitter like she had done at the hospital. It seemed a small price to pay, for healthcare and a ridiculous pay packet and short hours. She still didn't know what the job was but surely it couldn't be that bad? A feeling of dread enveloped her but she banished it away to smile at Pierce.
Pierce smiled, the shark eyes finally leaving to her relief. "Good. Now, follow me."
He lead her out of the office, back down the stairs and through the weaving throng of scientists and technicians. Mallory tried to avoid the eyes on her, sharp with judgment and hostility. She stumbled over a wire on the floor out of nerves and heard a hoot of laughter that burned her cheeks red. Pierce merely glanced behind at her and pushed open a set of double doors near the back away from the people.
Here they stood in an empty corridor, filled only with two armored guards outside a large metal door. Pierce led her down and opened an invisible panel near the door.
"Alexander Pierce."
"Voice recognized."
He pushed his eye towards the panel and a bright light shot out and seemed to scan his eye. "Retinal scan complete. Hello, sir."
Even the mechanical voice knew how to address him. That was pure power, Mallory mused, finding herself in a sudden feeling of admiration, when the A.I called you sir. The door clicked, the light above it flicked from red to green and Pierce led her into a cold room, filled with cold things.
It was a wide room, occupied only by a large jagged machine reminding her of a dentists chair, wires springing from it attached to complicated monitors. The seat of the chair was empty and to the left of the machine was a flat bed in the shape of a capsule, the curved glass cover attached to another menagerie of machines that beeped continuously, showing vitals and other important things. Inside the transparent bed was a man.
Mallory knew her jaw had dropped open.
Pierce answered her silent question. "This is the project we've been running since the last World War ended. Mallory Smith, meet the Winter Soldier, our perfect assassin."
"Assassin?" This was too much. The butter from the popcorn had made her delusional and combined with the headache from the rum she was hallucinating this entire thing. Her feet took her towards the glass coffin, where the male slept on. He looked dead but the monitors bleeped on so she knew he wasn't.
"HYDRA is a special sub-division of S.H.I.E.L.D. We deal with assassinating the world leaders, drug cartels, pirate lords and even sometimes rogue agents who will or have become a major problem and could or have caused the death of thousands. The dirty work in a nutshell." So she was right about the sub-division thing. "This man here-" Pierce rapped on the glass; the man did not stir. "- is responsible for keeping the peace around the world for the last seventy years or so."
Her mouth was most definitely open. He continued.
"The Winter Soldier programme has been in development since the end of the World War. After extensive research, we found the exact candidate who agreed to go through with the experimental procedure. The work is psychologically draining, so he agreed to undergo regular memory wipes to protect himself and us in the event of capture and eliminating any possibility of his betrayal."
"Memory wipes? I hadn't realized that technology was possible yet."
"It's been possible since 1945, Dr. Smith" He seemed to relish in her amazement and folded his arms. "Our man here should be the symbol of American freedom instead of the eagle. Unfortunately the work is secret so he doesn't get the recognition he so rightly deserves. But perhaps he can get the treatment he deserves."
He meant her. She folded her arms. "Why do you need me?"
"Between missions we keep him in cryo-sleep at his request, to keep him mentally and physically healthy between missions. We will need you to come in every day to run tests for three to four hours to assure he's in shape and healthy." He assessed her with that shark like look. "When we need him for a mission, you will be tasked to bring him out cryo-sleep, test his mental and physical aptitude and deem him fit for missions. When he comes home, you will repair any of his injuries, assist with the memory wipes and put him back to sleep. In a nutshell, Miss Smith, you will be the judge for whether our Soldier here gets to save lives or not. Without a person like you, the Winter Solider programme wouldn't be possible."
Mallory was stunned, then gestured to the machines. "I don't know anything about that kind of stuff."
"Its basic doctor examination work. The machines are simple – designed like televisions really, with preset tests to run and easy interface to modify your own tests. We'll show you how it all works."
Mallory then walked over to the glass coffin. Her eyes fell upon the man, and she felt that sympathy she always felt in the hospital for the sicker patients, the ones with no hope and she knew she so desperately wanted to help it.
"If you want the job Miss Smith, it's yours."
She walked over to him, and sighed. "But we didn't even run through the interview-"
"I'm a busy man, Miss Smith, I don't have time for interviews. Most people live and die in an unremarkable way, without making a difference to the world. You can avoid that, if you take this job. Nobody will know, but you will die with the sense of accomplishment only a few people in the world can achieve; the accomplishment of being a part of something bigger than yourself. Something… brilliant."
He had seen into her brain. His words were hypnotic, centered to make her sway to his way of thinking and she found herself thinking of every way in which he was right. He held out his wrinkled hand. She glanced between the glass coffin, and back at the man who had offered her an amazing job at a seemingly low price. She did want to be part of something brilliant. The decision had made itself really. She shook his hand and managed a grin.
"I can start Monday."
A/N: New chapter so soon! I should be asleep right now but I couldn't, not with this story floating in my head. Enjoy this longer chapter and enjoy getting to know Mallory!