It was early morning and Mallory took a sip of her coffee, standing by her kitchen table with her head buried in her tablet, reading all of the news articles she could find concerning the death of Oswick Owen.
Oswick Owen, entrepreneur and eccentric party boy, was found dead yesterday in what is suspected to be a suicide. Owen, 38, is believed to rammed his black SUV of a highway in Kuwait in an attempt to end his life. Owen was in the Middle Eastern country to conduct top secret business contracts with his Middle Eastern patrons.
Each news report had been highly disappointing; it seemed each major and even the minor news channels and websites she'd surfed had the same vague details to go upon. The location of his death, the highway, the country, the car were all the same but there was little that differed the remaining articles. Some more gossipy articles speculated about the reasons why Owen would commit suicide in such an extravagant way, citing reasons of his recent divorce or a string of exotic lovers who had threatened to go to the press over his ridiculous and potentially illegal activities. She'd accessed one report which told of a witness statement about another SUV, but when she'd tried to access it again the page was mysteriously not found.
But she was no closer to discovering anything the police hadn't. Mallory was a doctor, not a detective. This sort of thing required a keen eye for the detail and Mallory was tired from staying up half the night, tossing and turning through nightmares of a man with a cool stare and a metal arm. It felt so real, so natural to experience the same scene of the Soldier coming towards her. The whisper, that soft and low growl-like tone which she heard anytime the Soldier rose from his coffin, was branded on her like a scar that lingered even in her waking moments. It wasn't fair that the dream wouldn't leave the forefront of her mind in nighttime hours but in the daytime? Mallory had weariness beginning to set into her bones, and she took another sip of coffee, her face twisting as the bitter beans soaked into her fatigued limbs.
Her kitchen was quiet in the early morning, and cold. The only noise was her soft breath and the noise her tablet made when she used the keyboard, that electronic tap-tap-tap. A cold drought blew in from the open windows by her bed, and drifted through the apartment turning it colder then a freezer. Mallory was glad she had worn pajamas that night, and she brought her hands on the opposite upper forearms to rub them to some warmth.
Her phone lay beside her tablet, on silent but when the call came through the screen lit up. A picture of her mother and herself, taken a few years ago at a garden party flashed up alongside with the title of Mom. Mallory swallowed her coffee and pressed the green button to answer on the screen.
"Hello?"
Her mother was far too chirpy for the early morning. "Hello sweetie! I was calling to ask you something."
Smiling, Mallory hopped up on top of the kitchen bench and put her phone in the crook of her shoulder, leaning her head down to rest her ear against the speaker phone so she could pick up her coffee. "Okay. I'm comfy. Shoot."
"How was the date?"
Mallory's smile widened to a full blown grin and the feeling of tiredness vanished temporarily. "Great! It went great. We talked, we got sushi, we got a little drunk and... yeah it went great, we're going out again soon."
Mallory's mother could hear the smile in her voice and laughed down the phone.
"Well I'm happy you're happy. You coming for dinner tomorrow? I'm making lasagne." She added as an afterthought. "Hey you could bring Brock!"
Mallory went red, picturing Brock in his STRIKE fatigues with his rifle strapped onto his back sweating heavily under her mother's interrogation. "Um... I think he's at work. And yeah, I can tomorrow."
"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow at, say, six? Wear something nice!"
Mallory rolled her eyes. "Course. See you then. I love you."
"Bye. Love you too."
She clicked off. Mallory sat on the kitchen bench and felt the coldness of the bench suddenly seep into her thighs. She hopped down and chugged the rest of her coffee, making a vague noise of discontent and sticking her tongue out like a dog when the heat burned her mouth. Feeling like an idiot with her tongue lolling out of her mouth, Mallory switched her tablet off and walked into the bedroom, throwing her phone on the bed as she stripped to go and take a shower for a work.
Dressed in a light pink shirt and charcoal trousers, Mallory texted the armored car and was busy multitasking, strapping her heels on and peeing when the car beeped outside and they texted back. They were like a taxi service. Grinning, Mallory walked from the outside and into the car.
Another soldier instead of Rumlow stood in front of her; Mallory frowned.
"Where's Br- Agent Rumlow?"
The soldier glared at her. "He isn't here, Dr. Smith."
Mallory grew concerned and faltered on the sidewalk.
"Is he out on a mission?" The soldier's face tightened. "Is it classified? Please tell me, I need to know we're kind of dating." At least she thought they were. Even if he believed they weren't, he would still be her friend.
The soldier glanced around as if somebody was listening and nodded once. Mallory nodded back to him, offering a smile of gratitude and got into the car.
As she reached the building, she noticed a change in the Bunker's atmosphere. The technicians hurried and spoke in lower voices, and Pierce's office was determinedly empty. However the ghost of Pierce's authority seemed to linger upon the halls of the Bunker, and Mallory followed their lead of walking meekly and attempting to avoid talking. She smiled at the two guards who guarded the Soldier's home and let herself into the lab.
The Soldier was in cryo-sleep when she entered but when she'd settled, she called for the computer.
"Computer, activate protocol three-oh-four."
The green glow encased the coffin, and quickly loaded. As the coffin clicked and the doors expanded outwards, the Soldier awoke to a slight gasp. Concerned, Mallory walked over and lent over the coffin.
"Hey, you okay?"
The Soldier seemed momentarily confused at her presence, but seemed to remember her and Mallory stepped aside so he could clamber out of the box.
"Yes... bad dream that's all."
Mallory quickly ran through the usual protocols but her mind lingered on his words. The Soldier didn't stare at her as if she was an alien anymore, nor did he tense up when she touched him. He seemed to, not trust her exactly but be aware that Mallory genuinely didn't desire to hurt him. He was also aware that if she did, she wouldn't do much damage; Mallory was five foot four and weighed in at 137 pounds of mainly irregular visits to a spinning class, and too many microwaved dinners, and she was ill-trained in the art of combat. She had only the meager knowledge on how to fire a gun but most parents of government-agent fathers did. She'd been taught when she was younger, and had hated the weight of the gun in her hand and the illusion of power it had created. Her father had taught her to give her a feeling of empowerment but it had made the young Mallory feel ashamed of the fact that even in a life or death situation, she knew deep down she couldn't fire. Even if the other person was going to kill her if she didn't kill them, she knew her mind would conjure up images of the other person's devastated family if they were shot.
Guilt tripping herself was an art she had mastered over the years.
"How do you feel?"
The Soldier shrugged. "Fine."
"No hunger, sickness, dizziness?" He shook his head and Mallory pressed on. "So what did you mean? When you said you had a bad dream?"
The Soldier frowned at her and Mallory elaborated.
"Like what was it about?" Silence. Mallory turned her head and smiled encouragingly at him. "Come on. Give me something to work with here. You'll feel better if you talk about it."
The Soldier rubbed his facial hair awkwardly and avoided her eyes. The silent decision ticked over in his head and Mallory waited patiently.
"Falling mainly." He said, his voice no higher than a whisper. "I see myself falling as if I'm observing it from above."
Mallory nodded knowingly. "Fly on the wall. Go on."
"And I'm dressed differently and I look different. And I'm falling from this... I think it's a broken door or something that's been ripped from some big metal crate. I don't know, I'm not sure. And I'm falling through the air and it's so cold and it's snowing and sometimes it feels like I've fallen into an ice cold river."
It was the longest thing she'd ever heard him say and he spoke quickly, tripping over himself to get it out. Mallory allowed it to sink into her memory. Then:
"Do you ever hit the ground?"
The Soldier shook his head. "No I just keep falling."
"And what do you think it means? Do you think it's a memory or something?"
The Soldier shrugged again. "I don't know. I've never thought of it like that actually. I just sort of thought it was some sort of subconscious projection." He looked off into the distance. "If it is a memory then..."
That means your real memory might be trapped by the wipe. She wasn't sure how the memory wipe technology worked; she didn't know if it deleted the cortex of the brain that stored memories or it simply suppressed them, allowing them to decay in an archive of his mind, so to speak. The articles she had read focused on the effects of the subject who had been wiped – short term memory loss, difficulty of remembering day to day things, a glazed over look, easy to manipulate – and the effect of prolonged use on a subject - which generally caused permanent damage to their brains.
"Do you dream it often?" Protocol told her to immediately report it Pierce who'd have him booked for another wipe. But she was curious.
"I don't know. I don't know how long often counts." Mallory felt sadness well inside of her.
"As far back as you can remember."
The Soldier thought for a moment. "Yeah... I've had it a few times."
This was progress. She smiled to herself, making a note to research how the memory wipe technology actually affected the patient. She composed her face and made her tone as neutral as she could manage.
"In the meantime, let's just keep this conversation to ourselves."
The Soldier's blank face didn't change and he nodded once; a command was a command no matter where it came from. And then, unable to control herself, she blurted out;
"How did you kill Owen?"
The Soldier seemed startled. "Who?"
"Oswick Owen. The owner of that oil company. You killed him didn't you?" The Soldier paused then nodded once. "How?"
"Pierce told me to make it look like an accident." She had to make her brain kick past the current stream of why did you say that, he's going to tell Pierce! To work out what on earth he was implying.
"So you drove an SUV into him? And disposed of the evidence?"
The Soldier nodded. Mallory folded her arms across her chest, processing the information silently.
"I'm assuming HYDRA paid off the onlookers who saw your SUV?" He shrugged yet Mallory was sure she was right. Then, he stunned her.
"I didn't want to kill him." He said quietly, looking around as if someone was listening to their conversation. "He seemed... different."
Mallory had to work to shut her dropped jaw and try to conjure up some sort of appropriate sentiment but instead she said;
"Different how?"
"He was... defenseless. Most men I kill-" Mallory winced a little. "- have some expertise with a gun or a knife. This man didn't."
"Did you know who he was?" Mallory had stopped pretending to mess around with the computer and was seated next to the Soldier, her hands resting on the examination table. The Soldier shook his head and Mallory decided he deserved to know.
"His name was Oswick Owen. He was an American oil baron, a little weird but totally harmless." Mallory tucked a strand of wayward hair behind her ear. "Did Reznak say why he wanted him dead?"
The Soldier shook his head and concentrated hard, trying to remember. "Pierce just told me to kill him and make it look like an accident. I'd left when they were discussing business. I don't care about that sort of thing."
Mallory sighed, feeling the weariness from this morning slowly creeping up on her. Suppressing a yawn, Mallory hopped down from the examination table and went about her business, her mind unraveling the yarn of the Soldier, Mr Reznak and Oswick Owen.
As Mallory exited the Bunker's lift to the world above, the darkening sky, the cold air, she noticed a STRIKE agent striding towards her. As he came closer, she recognized the current thick facial hair, hazel eyes and dark Italian skin that metaphorically materialized from the fog.
"Rumlow!" She yelled delightedly, throwing her arms around the agent. "I thought you'd be away for days!"
She'd only known he was out on a mission this morning. Had his life been in danger? It didn't look like it had been in danger. He looked good. She held onto him breathing in his familiar and comforting scent; wood, musk and currently, sweat. Wrinkling her nose, she buried her face deeper into the crevice between the plain black t-shirt he wore and the bulletproof vest, found the skin that was sightly exposed and nuzzled it with the soft bud of her nose.
"Nah it was a quick drag and drop." They pulled apart but not completely, Rumlow's arms keeping a tight hold around Mallory's waist. "Classified of course."
"Of course." She repeated mockingly, leaning forwards to deepen their embrace with her mouth. Rumlow responded accordingly; he needed Listerine and a shower but he'd do for now. Any type of Rumlow was a good type of Rumlow.
"I want to take you out tonight." Rumlow announced, when the pulled apart. Mallory laughed, casting her mind back, trying to remember if she had anything on.
"Where?" As far as she could recall, her schedule was clear for a sexy and recently welcomed-home agent.
"The carnival's in town."
She recoiled a little, surprised. Rumlow was the last man on earth she'd suspect to have an affinity for funfairs. Mallory's let out a nervous laugh.
"Carnival? I haven't been to one of those for years." Her gaze turned hesitant. "Are you sure? We can just go get noodles somewhere or go see a movie-"
He kissed her to silence her and stunned her by pulling apart and winking, leaving Mallory a little thirsty for his mouth.
"Carnival?" He repeated, a little breathless. Mallory beamed, all aglow with the wonder of new found romance and pulled from Rumlow completely, heading to the armored car which was patiently waiting for them to finish.
Mallory turned and shot up the ok sign with her fingers. "Carnival!"
What does one wear to a carnival?
This question had lingered upon Mallory's mind since she had gotten home. After working through dresses, skirts, shorts, jeans and even at one point, dress pants, Mallory closed her eyes and pulled the first three things out of her closet. A leather miniskirt, a plum top and crisscrossed leggings were clutched in her fists. Where the fuck did I get a leather miniskirt from? Shaking her head, Mallory just settled for the first outfit she'd worn. So far the light blue dress imprinted with a pattern of white birds taking flight and the matching blue ballet flats were working well. A cardigan completed her slightly less sexy but more sweet look.
Rumlow, looking casual in jeans that hugged his slim hips and a shirt that sadly hid his impressive physique, had whistled when she'd approached the sidewalk silently this time and pulled her into his arms. From nowhere it seemed, he pulled another pink lily, this time in it's own pot. She took it and he put his arm around her, as they walked down the street towards the docks were the carnival was taking place.
"Another?" She touched the petals; instead of the waxy texture she expected her fingertips were met by plastic. "Plastic?"
"Yeah. So it'll never die." Rumlow looked a little abashed at his next statement. "Like us hopefully."
Mallory laughed awkwardly, shoving him playfully, attempting desperately to stay casual as her heart began to race. "Awwww! You're getting all sentimental on me."
Rumlow went bright red and Mallory stopped walking, pulled him to her, kissing him to show her appreciation in a way her words never could.
"But it's cute. You're cute."
"I'm not cute." Rumlow said defiantly. "I'm fierce." But his tone betrayed him, his voice like a whiny child being told they weren't allowed to do something. He made Mallory laugh again and they both continued down the docks, Mallory twirling the stem of the plastic lily in her hands.
As they approached the docks, the thicket of people heading towards them in a swarm increased. All ages and sizes had turned out to see the carnival and what a sight it was; visible from a distance, the carnival dominated the waterfront, stretching for what seemed like an age across the pier. Lights of all colours of the rainbow pulsed and twinkled and shone consistently in the darkening night, and the biggest lights illuminated the huge sign that stretched over the opening to the words of 'UNCLE TERRACE'S CARNIVAL OF FUN AND WONDERS'. Shouts of children and parents mingled and made the night alive with noise, colour and excitement an assault both ear-deafening and pleasant upon the senses. The rides weren't too big but there was a large Ferris wheel that twinkled and spun in the wind; lights adorned the gate and the sign and Mallory decided she wanted to go on that first. Dotted around were wooden, easy-to-disassemble stalls that offered the chance to win a small, big or giant stuffed animal in exchange for winning some game like shoot the ducks or whack a mole or something like that. Children ran across the pier chasing after rides and each other, teenagers dressed like adults smoked and passed metal flasks of what she assumed was alcohol around their group, adults laughed together and pointed towards rides in bouts of nostalgia. It was amazing to witness.
"Wow."
"Yeah." Rumlow seemed to be caught up in the same type of feeling as she was. "I didn't realize it was so big. There's only one thing I really want to go on, though."
"Let me guess." She was confident she could accurately guess. "Ferris wheel?"
He laughed and enclosed his hand with hers. "Ferris wheel."
They boarded the ride together, sitting comfortably on the bumpy leather seat and Rumlow draped his arm around Mallory. They conversed as the wheel moved its way around, but when it reached halfway, Mallory looked down and suddenly the world began to spin as the cart rocked gently beneath them.
"Oh God." Rumlow's face immediately turned to her, filled with concern. "I'd totally forgotten I didn't like heights."
Rumlow started laughing so hard at that statement that Mallory had to laugh along with him as her face reddened. As they reached the top of the wheel, the cart paused and swayed softly in the wind to the point where Mallory was clinging to Rumlow in fear of falling into the sea. As they swung back down the ground, Mallory was pale faced and laughing nervously as Rumlow described rather accurately how high they were from the floor and how much it would injure them if they'd fallen off.
"Shut up shut up shut up!" She repeated and further illustrate her anger, she pushed the laughing Rumlow into a fence when they reached the ground.
They weaved their way through the throng of thickening people as the day turned to night. As they walked, they stopped at random stalls and participated in the games. Rumlow was an ace at the shoot a duck game, firing so well the man behind the stall offered him a job. When he told Rumlow that he had beaten the record, Rumlow had lifted Mallory high like a trophy and laughed triumphantly in the night. The man let him have a pick of the various toys behind him; Rumlow let Mallory choose a small and compact stuffed duck.
At the accuracy game, with the balls and the different sized circles with points values underneath, Mallory excelled. Usually Mallory was a klutz, lost in her own world far too often to concentrate on the world around her but suddenly her game was on tonight. She scored a 450, and the women behind the stall whooped with laughter and handed Mallory the top prize, which in this game was a ginormous cuddly monkey with a puckered face and stripy fur. Mallory had gone to the toilet with it clutched under her arm. As she left she heard a small girl crying outside of the woman's toilets, and between sobs she learnt she had lost her own monkey. Her mother was attempting to console her but as the little girl saw Mallory's big monkey, her tears increased tenfold. Mallory surrendered the monkey without hesitancy and with a smile, and the little girls tears dried up.
"Are you sure? She'll chill in a minute." The mother had asked. Mallory had shrugged and smiled at them both.
"Sure. I don't need it. Have fun with it, kid."
The girl had smiled at her happily and skipped off into the sunset. Mallory located Rumlow near the magic show, and they watched it together, holding hands and whispering comments about the obvious wires and the naff clothes punctured with stifled laughter.
Rumlow financed them both a hotdog, and as he squirted mustard across the skin of his hotdog and chatted aimlessly about the carnival, Mallory found her thoughts back at the lab with the Soldier. She had left him in cryo-sleep and she was wondering what his admission of guilt really meant in the grand scheme of things. She hadn't known the Soldier before so she wasn't sure whether these feelings were normal for him. The solution to this problem came to her like the snap of her fingers; Dr. Harriet's notes. They had to be on the system somewhere, lingering in the realm of HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D's dusty archives.
"Mal!"
Rumlow's voice alerted her to the presence and she looked up, suddenly feeling the warmth of the hotdog in her hand and raising it to take a bite.
"You okay? You're thousands of miles away."
Mallory chewed and swallowed before answering. "Yeah I'm fine. Come on. Let's go on the beach."
Their walk took them down the steps of the pier, via the bin, and away from the noise and the family-fun atmosphere of the fair. The more adult settings were on the sand, as the tide washed across the shore at a comfortable distance and lapped quietly up the wooden posts of the pier. Both Mallory and Rumlow took their shoes off and walked across the sand at a slow pace, hands occasionally interlinking, having deep conversations about life and love. They settled in a spot perfect to watch the canvas of the night sky twinkle the stars against the vast and swift blackness of the ocean.
"Have you ever been married?" Mallory smoothed down her skirt and arranged their shoes and Rumlow's socks beside her.
Rumlow shook his head. "Nah. I did get close once. This girl back in the day... name of Ava. Together for four years."
Mallory nodded, impressed. "Wow. Do you mind me asking what happened?"
Rumlow shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "Work, if I'm honest. Spent too much time at the-" He raised his hands out of his pockets to slash the air with quotation marks. "-'office' and not enough time telling her she was my One and Only, my world etc."
He still sounds bitter. Mallory watched the shore and waited for him to retort the question.
"What about you? Ever been married or gotten super serious?"
Mallory cast her mind back but it didn't have to go that far. Her last boyfriend had been Liam, Liam Evans. He was her first serious boyfriend that had lasted more then a month and the only one who had actually made a damaging effect on her. He'd been a fellow aspiring doctor at her university, a handsome blonde man who'd hoodwinked young Mallory to the point where she couldn't go to to sleep without thinking about his face between her thighs. And eventually, Mallory had worked up the courage to ask him to a drink after work. And after that, they had became boyfriend and girlfriend.
For the majority of her adult life, Mallory had loved Liam as if he was merely an extension of her. Everywhere they went, people saw them as an inseparable duo. In the rare case that Mallory went somewhere without Liam, people would always ask "Where's Liam?". And she'd been happy.
Then she found out Liam had been cheating on her with her best friend of ten years, Danni. Liam had seduced Danni and they'd had sex multiple times, but the time Mallory caught them was on her birthday. The feeling of disgust at touching him, the recoil she felt whenever he tried to touch her and the complete utter and overwhelming feeling of shame and embarrassment that consumed her alienated her from Danni, Liam and all of their college friends.
"Yeah. Serious. We were together for a long time then he... well it didn't work out."
"I'm sorry."
"Nah. It taught me a lot of things if I'm honest." She glanced at him shyly. "It hurt though but if I could go back and change things, I wouldn't."
Rumlow made a face of respect. "That's a pretty brave thing to say. You don't look it, but you're quite smart."
Mallory was glad he had lifted the sudden tension from the air. "Was that a compliment?"
Rumlow laughed and took Mallory's hand. "Well... if I was gonna pay you a compliment I'd say you are simply really goddamn hot and beautiful and kind."
Mallory was blushing but she pretended she wasn't, tossing her hair and smiling into the distance. "That's one way to do it."
"There's also another way."
The mood had changed. Mallory's mouth was dry and she swallowed, thinking of all the possible meanings of his statement. However when he lent forwards and kissed her, tentatively, she knew there was only one meaning he could hope for. Mallory pulled him for another kiss and knew although it was their second date, she was ready for it.
"Yes." She breathed, against his handsome face. He smiled and suddenly flipped her on her back, his hand roaming on the softness of her thigh up to the sweet white lace of her underwear. As Rumlow tugged it down, Mallory saw stars and felt her nerves tingle with anticipation and excitement. It had been so long and fuck she was ready. His mouth was wet and warm and his stubble scratched the skin on her neck and Mallory felt nothing but the primal joy of pleasure and pain as she tugged the shirt out of his pants and pulled his belt from his hips.
She was ready.
Later as the sun set and the orgasm pulsed through her body and turned her groin into a shooting star and set fire to her senses, Mallory's weariness seemed to unclench in her bones and she relaxed against the sand, head resting against the grainy beach as she lifted her legs to tug her underwear up.
Rumlow did the same with his pants and they turned to look at each other, laughing with all of the self-consciousness and awkwardness of a recently copulated couple.
Which she supposed they were now.
At the same time the next day, Mallory was sitting in the less adult settings in the dining room of her parents house, sipping wine and cutting into a chocolate cake that oozed black sauce with a spoon. Her mother was having a non-stop narrative of the rudeness of the female shopkeeper when she'd visited her local store and Mallory wasn't listening, eyeing her father steadily over the bright bouquet.
The phone rang in the distance and Mallory's mother cut herself off. "Oh! That'll be Sandra I better answer it."
She clacked – she always wore heels in the house – from the dining room to the hallway and left Mallory alone with her father to chat to her friend from the neighborhood watch. Mallory's father was eating his cake, avoiding Mallory's inquisitive stare as she assessed him over the table.
"So..," Her dad said. "You're dating Rumlow?"
Mallory tilted her head at his tone, as it had sounded like criticism. "You don't approve?" Her father swallowed his cake and put down his fork, pushing the bowl away suddenly as if it had risen and gravely offended him.
"Yes, yes of course I approve. Brock's a good guy. I'm happy for you."
"You know him well?"
Her father wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Yes."
Mallory nodded and silence fell over the table. The question was readying itself to burst forth from Mallory's lips like a wild horse breaking to gallop and the urge to control herself out of respect for her family was decreasing. To distract herself, she glanced up at the ceiling and amused her by looking at the etched and intricate carvings of cherubs and angels playing harps that decorated the four corners of the ceiling.
"Who was he?"
"Brock? What the-"
Mallory narrowed her eyes. "I don't mean Brock, Dad. I mean him. Who was he before he was the Winter Soldier."
Her father looked as if Mallory had gotten up to spit in her father's eye. He glanced around the room and shushed her.
"You shut your damn mouth, missy. You signed an injunction." His voice was low as if they were discussing a little secret in the playground.
"You can discuss the secret with others in the programme, Pierce told me that-"
"Mallory!"
"-and I want to know. He is my patient after all."
Her father glanced up at the same carvings of cherubs and angels that she had been observing minutes ago, and his face contorted in an apologetic way. Realization dawned over Mallory like the sun of a new day; was the house bugged? Did the cherubs double as cameras?
For a man as old and portly as he was, he moved fast. Her dad was up and over at where she stood in seconds, grabbing her painfully by the arm to escort her outside. As they went, Mallory yelped and called out for her mother. Her father had never shown a violent streak before and Mallory became frightened as he dragged outside.
"Dad!" They exited the house through the glass doors and her father finally let go of her arm; the blood rush was a relief but painful at the same time. Mallory rubbed her arm, tears stinging in her eyes.
"I said shut up! They have eyes everywhere!" He gestured wildly to the air around them.
"I only asked-"
"Private and sensitive information concerning that project!" Her father advanced upon her as if he was about to hit her. Mallory shrunk into her frame and prepared herself for the blow that never came. "Unlike you, I have not forgotten that the programme is top secret. Few of us know about him, and even fewer have lived to tell the tale."
"What?"
"Dr. Harriet. She didn't quit. Pierce told me she quit but she was found dead in her apartment." He let the news sink in for a moment before continuing. "That's what they do, Mallory. You disappoint them, they will kill you."
Mallory knew HYDRA were capable of things like that but she'd never thought they'd do it to her. Mallory felt tears of embarrassment springing in her eyes; how could she not know they'd do that? Naive little girl. She eyed her father with new thoughts, thoughts of agents he had possibly ordered the kill on. Maybe he'd signed the order on Dr. Harriet himself.
"Tell me one thing though." She asked, deciding to capitalize on this opportunity. "Tell me how and why Reznak was allowed to hire a government funded black ops specialist."
Her father looked pained, running a hand through his face. Mallory suddenly realized how haggard he was looking recently. Pierce was stretching his workload too far and her father's health was buckling under the pressure. He regarded her disgustedly, but sighed in resolution.
"If I tell you, will you stop asking questions?" Mallory nodded. Her father sighed and continued the story with no further prompting.
"Reznak wanted Owen dead because he'd absorbed over half of the oil market. With the death of the CEO would dissolve the company and the stock shares would fall. Reznak would gain his business back and gain profit from his death."
Mallory nodded. "And what did Pierce get out of the agreement?"
"What do you think? Funding. Weapons. Training. Reznak was an oil baron, he had money. He funded the technology behind the Soldier's arm, his high-tech weaponry. Even some of the fucking STRIKE recruitment team come from Reznak's private army."
So it had been a simple exchange of goods. You can borrow our super secret assassin who's not supposed to be a gun for hire if you fund his weapons, armour and his task force that goes out on missions with him. Mallory could've laughed. Men. Rich white men with power. Ridiculous. And suspicious.
Mallory found it infuriating actually. The Soldier had been stabbed, he'd been harmed by the mission. And he'd told her that he didn't want to do it.
The mystery had not been solved. Merely deepened. Mallory watched her father disappear behind the sliding doors and head back into the kitchen. She felt shocked, but ready for whatever Monday would throw at her.
Of course, as she should have known, she was totally unprepared.