Rumlow pulled up on the curb in the black SUV as his phone buzzed and yanked it out of his pocket. Ever the law abiding citizen. Mallory waited patiently, her feet resting comfortably on the dashboard in front of her, her black Converse slightly muddy from where Rumlow had attempted to push her reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln memorial. He frowned at his phone.
"What?" Mallory asked, dropping her feet from the dashboard with a thud. "What's wrong?" She had a horrible feeling that they were finally calling him to go on the mission he'd been telling her about. Of course he'd never actually revealed any details as even between the two HYDRA agents, it was still totally classified. Most of the details of Mallory's first and only venture into the field had still be kept from Rumlow much to his chagrin.
He pressed his lips together, looking apologetic. "Work. Fury's ready to send the STRIKE team in." He shrugged and sighed, putting the phone back into his pocket.
Mallory snuggled her head into the back rest of the car seat and smiled at him. "And here I thought we'd be spending the day together."
They'd had a lovely day so far. They'd driven around D.C and saw the sights, and walked along the streets to find cheaper coffee shops than the thousands of Starbucks that dominated the streets and demanded four dollars for a flavored latte. Rumlow had laughed at her jokes and held her hand and they'd found a bench to drink their coffee and people watch, making up stories about the civilians that trudged along the streets wrapped up in their own worlds. They'd been planning to go to dinner later on, or maybe get a takeout and walk home together and share a bottle of wine. Although she had knew of this impending call, she didn't realize it was going to be so soon and she was half serious when she spoke.
He seemed to know of her frustration. "Don't be like that Mal."
"I'm kidding!" Maybe. She rested her arm gently on his forearm and smiled at him as the sunlight streamed through the windows. "It's just what I have to go through being a HYDRA girl – you never appropriate me, you're never home..."
Rumlow laughed then restarted the engine. "I better get to the Bunker. You wanna lift home?"
Mallory looked out the window beside her; despite the few candyfloss like clouds that were slinking lazily over the skyline, the day was perfect. The sun was high in the sky casting rays of warmth over the runners that panted across the pavement and the families who held hands and licked at cones of ice creams and chatted amicably. She had been feeling so cooped up lately, with the stress of getting Pierce to allow her to see Sofia or the baby and limiting her sudden strikes of panic attacks that the invitation of fresh air and warm sunshine was too much to deny.
"No. I'll walk. It's a nice day."
"You sure?" Rumlow, despite the frown creasing his forehead and his leg shaking anxiously on the break indicating he wanted to get to work right now, was still concerned about her from her episode at the family dinner.
"Yeah." She lent over and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Don't get killed. You got nothing in your home I can legally take." She was half serious here as well. The slight tension had been eased and he threw his head back and laughed openly. She was glad to see the frown in his face was gone.
"Oh ye of little faith!" He said sarcastically as he began to get ready to leave the curb.
Mallory laughed with him getting out of the car, but leaning over the open window before he started winding it up. "I love you." She said, grinning. It was a still a thrill to say it.
"I love you too."
Mallory stepped back and watched as the car drove away, waving as he went by. Although she was sad about missing her day with him, she was also a tiny bit glad. It felt recently that Mallory had spent so much time with people; time in the lab with the surly Soldier attempting to not hate him, time with Pierce and trying not to notice how much he creeped her out, so much time with Rumlow and her parents. They meant well but they sometimes felt interfering, two dominate figures with contrasting opinions over every aspect of her life. Sometimes she just liked to be alone, to collect her thoughts, and reevaluate her stance and make decisions. Or sometimes she just liked to spend time allowing her mind to wander on trivial matters and chase trains of thought. Fighting the impulse to put her headphones in, to listen to Bowie over the sounds of nature– birds tweeting in the trees, the comforting noise of families laughing and talking in the distance, runners pounding the pavement hard and whistling past her – Mallory began her slow walk home in the sun.
It was getting a little colder and Mallory zipped her hoodie up halfway between her breasts; the zip tightened as it tried to climb higher. She had definitely been binge eating on her month off from the lab and gained a couple of pounds. Jeans that had fit comfortably now felt like a tiny bit tighter, her normal 32C bra was beginning to feel more like a D cup. Rumlow didn't have any complaints and neither did Mallory but she always felt more comfortable if her jeans didn't feel like they were slicing her in half when she sat down. All she'd eaten in her time away from the Bunker was takeout. Since her stature was small, weight was more noticeable on her, a one pound weight gain looking for like four. She resolved to maybe take up running again – the thought made her want to turn to the nearest pizza joint – or start eating less fat and more salads. Ugh. Maybe I should just turn vegetarian. A man with blonde hair and an impressively massive physique ran past her a blur of gray t-shirt and black bottoms, running with speed and athleticism which made her jealous. He was focused hard on beating the track but his mouth curled in a smile to her; she noticed he wasn't sweating a bit.
Turning the corner, Mallory noticed how the pavement was practically empty of people, apart from another single runner who was panting his way towards her following the same path as the blonde man. An attractive chap, the man looked her up and down once then smiled in a genuinely nice way despite the sweat that clung the gray t-shirt to his body. Mallory smiled back in a way of encouragement, as the man looked as if he wished to die. He passed her quickly, blowing her hair around her face. Mallory ran her hands through it and inspected the thick hairs, noticing knots and splits, deciding to book herself in for a trim as it was beginning to look dead. She'd meant to do it in her weeks off but had overlooked it.
The thrum of a loud engine made her look up. A sleek black car pulled up and parked illegally on the sidewalk. The woman inside, a pouty but beautiful redhead, didn't seem too bothered as she got out of the car, shutting the door with a slam and approached the nearest park bench, choosing to stand in front of it instead of sitting on it. She was dressed in tight black jeans and black calf length boots, her leather jacket glinting in the sunlight. How she was wearing such an ensemble in the heat was incredible. As she pulled out her phone to answer a phone call, a ticket inspector from across the road saw his chance and slunk over. Mallory swallowed any feeling of nervousness – the woman looked unapproachable and intimidating as she seemed to stand with authority and assurance, her huge lips pursed – and went up to her, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.
The woman whirled, her iron straight red hair flying with her. Her honey-colored lip glossed mouth parted in a 'O' shape, and a vague annoyance crossed her features. Mallory felt her palms sweat slightly and she found the woman vaguely familiar, like trying to identify an actor in a movie who you were sure you'd seen before in something else. Instead of asking the caller to wait as she dealt with it, her commanding and unnaturally deep voice barked to the receiver.
"I'll call you back, Clint." The phone found its way to her back pocket. "Yes?" Despite the annoyance on her face, her tone was less harsh then her hardened green eyes suggested.
Mallory found confidence with this and pointed to her car. "Sorry to bother you but there's a ticket inspector over there on your car." The woman followed her gaze and Mallory noticed a change within her. The look of annoyance vanished, replaced with shock and gratitude.
"Oh, fuck." She mused, as she raced to stop him. Mallory watched with interest as the woman pleaded with him, choosing to sit on the park bench the woman had been standing near. A pigeon swooping down to peck at bread crumbs caught her interest and as she watched it swallow and choke on the crumbs, the woman's face was beginning to annoy her. Why had been so familiar? Had she seen her before? Mallory racked her brains hard so by the time she tuned back into the conversation and decided to forget about it the man was crossing the road looking pleased with himself clutching a piece of paper and the woman was coming back towards her to probably recall the man who was on the phone. The car was still parked illegally on the road funnily enough.
"Hey I didn't say thanks." Mallory looked up and the woman stood above, smiling slightly at her.
"It's no problem. I'd hate to see someone get a ticket just for making a call." And then as the woman's features composed, the familiarity clicked. Scenes of the Chitauri invasion being broadcast on the news flicked in her mind, alongside the image of a female S.H.I.E.L.D agent with curly red hair kicking alien butt. How had she not recognized Natasha friggin' Romanoff? It was the straight hair definitely. The woman was practically the only alive idol she had left.
"Do you mind?" She pointed to the space on the bench beside her.
Mallory shook her head dumbly and Natasha smiled, sliding into the seat next to her and taking her phone out again to text someone. Mallory sat restlessly, wondering whether or not to broach the subject when Natasha spoke.
"I'll tell you, giving someone your number is a sure fire way to get you off a ticket."
Mallory smiled, forgetting her question. "Surely that compromises your feminist principles?"
Natasha shrugged. "Not really. The system is biased against me, so when it works in my favour I will exploit the crap out of it."
"Hm. I'll have to remember that next time I get a ticket."
"It works with speeding as well."
Mallory smiled then finally burst out. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to be… um… Natasha Romanoff would you?"
Natasha's smile became a tad fixed and she seemed to zone out, concentrating on her phone. "Uh yeah. I might be." Mallory suddenly felt awful.
"God, I shouldn't of said anything. Sorry. It's just… all male team… kinda rocks when you meet the only girl." Deciding to try and salvage the situation, Mallory added. "I wouldn't of mentioned it at all it's just we're sorta colleagues."
She tuned in suddenly and turned to look at her. "We are?" The surprise in her tone was definitely insulting but as Mallory wasn't exactly S.H.I.E.L.D type material in her flowery camisole and pink hoodie, she didn't exactly blame her.
"Yeah. Not in the cool firing-guns and secret-assignments department but hey it says S.H.I.E.L.D on the work title."
Natasha narrowed her eyes critically but seemed curious all the same. "I don't think I've ever seen you at the Triskelion."
"I don't work there. I'm off the HQ at the moment in a different department." I've never been on the HQ to be honest she added silently, knowing that even with the Black Widow she couldn't divulge details of her work.
Natasha smiled. "Shame. You seem too nice to be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Not many would've told me about the ticket inspector."
Mallory took this as a compliment and fell silent.
"You get out in the field much?" Natasha asked, sliding a little closer to Mallory on the bench, her arm perched on the backrest supporting her chin as she turned to face her. Mallory's smile faltered and she pressed her lips together, blocking the memories of the prison with images of the Soldier combat.
"Once. I can't talk about it and all but, it was awful." She confessed, finding herself comfortable saying it.
Natasha nodded knowingly. "It's not for everyone. My first outing – as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent – was pretty bad. You get used to it." Images of the Chitauri invasion flashed her mind and Mallory nodded. "Are you going back into the field?"
"No. Too much of a chicken, and really I'm not much use. I made Pierce write a no-field work clause into my contract."
"You deal directly with Pierce?" Natasha had swung her gaze completely over to her and shock filtered into her tone.
Mallory became a little speechless, afraid she had slipped up and revealed something she shouldn't of. "Um... yeah. He's my boss."
The Black Widow composed her features. "He's everybody's boss. Seems odd you have to contact with him." Natasha nodded to herself and felt silent, although it was comfortable.
Mallory shrugged to absolve the sudden feeling of prying. "Classified."
Natasha nodded, as if she knew what she meant. She turned to face the woman who she had admired for what felt like years, who was sitting close to her and smelling vaguely of some strong perfume and Dove soap. Feeling brave and wanting to continue the conversation, Mallory smiled at her.
"There's a coffee vendor down there. I'm choking."
"Come on then."
They stood, and Natasha grinned. "I never caught your name." It was clearly a question.
"Mallory. I'm Mallory."
"Nice to meet you Mallory." She turned back around and they fell into a slow and comfortable pace. The breeze was nice and Mallory found herself unzipping her jacket as a sweat broke out across her brow. She hoped Natasha hadn't noticed, wiping her sleeve across her forehead.
"So how long have you worked with S.H.I.E.L.D?"
"Couple of months." It had felt like the longest months of her life but also the shortest. It had been good and bad all rolled together in a nice pay package and all of the benefits of good healthcare.
"Do you like it?"
"It's okay. The irregular hours are a bit annoying though. I feel like I can never plan anything."
Natasha laughed. "How do you think I feel? My life has been on hold for ten years. What about yours?"
"Well, not on hold exactly. I find the workplace is a good place for meeting people."
Mallory found herself drifting on the shores of daydreaming about hazel eyes and American-Italian skin, and Natasha laughed. "What's his name?"
"His name is Brock? You might know him as Agent Rumlow." Natasha's eyebrow quirked, insinuating she did know who he was and she was impressed, insultingly. Mallory recoiled a little from her.
"What you think he's too good for me?" She was joking but also curious; he had spoken briefly of the woman who he had been with for four years, the girl called Ava but he hadn't mentioned anybody else in his dating past. Maybe Natasha would know more.
"No no! Not at all. It's just... I always saw Rumlow as a bachelor." Natasha nodded to herself. "Didn't expect to hear he was in a solid relationship at all."
"He's nice."
Natasha seemed to find this hilarious. "Well I just know him as sarky Agent Rumlow." Natasha shrugged. "I don't see him as a relationship sort of guy."
"He's alright." Mallory sniffed and Natasha swung her a disbelieving look. "Okay, so I might love him a little bit. But he's a pain in my ass."
Natasha smiled but there was something off about it as if she was lost on the shores of her own memory. To distract her, as she was beginning to frown as they approached the coffee stand, Mallory smiled. The vendor asked her what she wanted.
"Two coffees please."
"That'll be two dollars forty."
Mallory smiled and handed over the money. "Anyone special in your life?"
Natasha looked up from where she was rummaging in her pocket for the money she owed her and seemed a little stunned at the question. It was then Mallory noticed the gold necklace that rested in the hollow of her throat, the small pendant in the shape of an arrow. The image conjured up a picture of the archer who had been beside Natasha in the news images as they fought off the alien invasion.
"Not special in romantic terms. I don't keep many people close." She held out the coins as Mallory took the coffee from the vendor and handed hers to her. The warmth seeped through the cardboard holder and Mallory went to take a sip before deciding the steam was too hot to even dare.
"No, no it's on me. As a thank you."
"For what?"
"I don't know. Saving the world?" Mallory laughed. "Without the obvious cheesiness."
Natasha seemed a little stunned again, slowly putting the coins back in her pocket and clutching her coffee cup tightly as if she was afraid she would drop it. Her phone buzzed suddenly and laughing a little nervously, Natasha retrieved it out of her pocket and hesitated.
"Do you mind?" She asked, apologetic once more. Mallory shrugged and smiled, watching as she pressed the screen and had a short conversation with whoever was on the other end.
"I'm really sorry, I have to go pick a friend up." Mallory's smile widened. "It's been... nice. I'll see you soon. Maybe at work?"
Mallory nodded. "Hopefully. Have fun on your assignment." Mallory watched her walk down the street, a spring in her step, sipping from her coffee and texting somebody with one hand. Mallory watched her get in the sleek black car and drive past, her coffee cup in the holster, raising her hand through the window to wave at Mallory and smiling at her as she passed. Mallory waved back as the car circled back around the mall to pick her friend up near the park bit. She lingered on the sidewalk a moment longer, thinking about how strange but lovely her day had been and took a sip of her coffee, burning her mouth and cursing loudly on the street.
It was three days later and Mallory was in the lab, looking over the sheets she had picked up from David and running tests on the Soldier's glass coffin.
They were interesting articles indeed and as her hatred for the Soldier had diminished – but not completely vanished – her interest in the brainwashing science had increased. He had slept those three days, immobile and stony faced in cryo-sleep only occasionally his face would screw up and she'd notice him mouthing things to himself. The norm really. She skimmed the files, sipping a latte that David had bought her when he'd seen the state of her eyes. Rumlow was back from his mission as he'd been in frequent contact with her over phone and texts, but she hadn't seen him in the flesh as he'd been getting debriefed and set up for planning further missions in the future with Pierce over at the Triskelion. She missed his warmth and his smell although the break had been nice, giving her time to think and consider whether therapy for her post-assignment nightmare was necessary. Perhaps in time she'd learn to manage it. Natasha assurance that even she had experienced difficulty with her first mission had lessened the shame Mallory had felt for being so affected; if the Black Widow, a tough-as-nails agent had been affected on her first mission then Mallory's reaction was completely normal.
She was skimming most of the files, lost in the taste of her creamy latte and Rumlow when she came across a heading that interested her. MEMORY FRAGMENTATION the title boasted in a bold black font with a short explanation underneath it with diagrams of the brain. Putting her cup down, Mallory read to herself:
Memory fragmentation is a theory suggested, but never proved, by a co-developer of the brainwashing science. Zola put forward the theory to state that as the shocks the subject receives merely suppresses the subjects hippocampus memory storage abilities, in theory these memories can be recovered with application of a strong emotional sight, smell or sound that is spoken, played or showed to the subject. Although a widely accepted theory in the brainwashing field of science, the theory has never been proven or disproved by scientists.
Although it got her excited, it also left her feeling sad. She glanced at the Soldier's encased body within the coffin. If only she knew merely a hint about the man who he had been, Mallory probably could've tried to bring his memories back. She had often wondered who the man had been when he had signed up for the programme and she had often wondered what had motivated him to do. Nobody would want themselves to be a cold hearted killer, she mused, as she found herself drawn to his coffin.
Would he even want to be? The Soldier lay with his face toward her, his eyes shut concealing his cool eyes that could frighten and comfort her. She ran a hand across the lid, leaving a trail of fingerprints and alerted the computer to update Pierce's office about the Soldier's medical status so he'd know everything the moment he got back.
The rest of the files were mainly scientific mumbo-jumbo that was far too complex for Mallory – she was a doctor not a brainwashing scientist—to understood so halfway through a thesis written on the brainwashing science by a man named Arnim Zola, Mallory put the files down and pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the ongoing assault on her senses. She focused on the noise in the lab, the faint beeping of the coffin as it monitored the Soldier, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, her breathing.
She must've dozed off as amidst flashes of blood and a cold jail cell, Mallory was startled awake by the A.I. "Incoming call from Pierce. Accept?"
"What- oh yeah. Yes. Accept." She ran a hand through her hair and jumped down from the bench she was sitting on. Instead of Pierce however, Rumlow's face occupied the space upon the wall where the Soldier's vitals were usually displayed. Mallory felt a rush of love and breathed out, smiling happily at the sight of his face on the screen.
However Rumlow was all business. "Dr. Smith, Pierce and I are on our way to you right now. He says to run the protocol and wake the Soldier up for his arrival."
Mallory nodded. "Um, yeah of course. Hey Rumlow-"
But it was too late, as a click echoed across the lab indicating he'd hung up. Stung, Mallory took a moment to clear her head before calling for the computer to activate the protocol. In the distance, she could hear the thudding of STRIKE agents shoes against the tiled floors, the rustling of their fatigues as they marched and the loud voice of Pierce echoing throughout the halls, yelling at someone. Surely he couldn't of arrived that quickly? With no time to muse, Mallory sprung into action when the glass coffin's green glow disappeared and the doors clicked, air hissing as the Soldier was awoken.
"Look sharp. He's here." Mallory barked and the Soldier took a moment to hop down from the coffin and stretch his arms up to the sky, his pale arms flexing and tightening the muscles beneath his skin, his body rippling with each movement. As a taken woman, the Soldier certainly was pleasing to admire. With a haircut and a shave perhaps he could be handsome. Mallory shook her head to free it of unprofessional thoughts.
Pierce and Rumlow appeared first and their sights shocked Mallory into a meek silence. Both men were physically fine only Pierce's face was red and filled with anger, his shark-like eyes narrowed with ferocity as he centered his gaze on Mallory. On the other hand, Rumlow was placid and content with standing idle, his hands clasped together, his posture ramrod straight and a vacant expression that reminded her eerily of the Soldier's.
Pierce's gaze narrowed even more at Mallory. "Is he fit for fieldwork?" When she didn't answer in the millisecond he gave her, he yelled. "I said is he fit for fieldwork?!"
Mallory felt a slight terror pierce her and she exchanged a worried look with the Soldier, who had been staring straight ahead but upon feeling her eyes, turned his head and nodded a little encouragingly. Mallory swallowed tightly.
"Yes, sir." Her voice was small and weak, like a mouse. She hadn't checked him but it seemed of little consequence right now.
She had never pitted a man like Pierce to blow his lid like that. He seemed to her like a man who no matter how many of the odds stacked against him he would always be two, three even four steps ahead of his enemy. That was what probably had gotten him into this business. His entire visage suggested a man capable of the extreme of coldness towards others; a smile to the enemy but once their backs were turned he would compose his face to a mask of nothing and stab them without hesitation. Even Mallory's constant feeling that he reminded her of a shark, with those beady eyes that assessed everything you were doing.
Although not physically frightening due to his age and stature, there was something about Pierce that just terrified Mallory. Be it the cold eyes that showed no emotion, or the way he conducted business with an efficient manner especially in his type of business she wasn't sure. And watching this seemingly disconnected creature become filled with the spears of human rage was even more frightening because it confirmed everything she had previously denied; that although Pierce was capable of inhumane acts, he was at his center, as human as she was.
Pierce glared at Rumlow, who stared at the floor and avoided his bosses eyes. "Prep him. I'm going back to the Triskelion to try and sort this mess out."
Pierce left the room in a whirl, a tornado of anger and emotion that left Mallory and Rumlow and the Soldier in an awkward silence. Rumlow marched over to the cupboards in the corner to retrieve the Soldier's repaired gear, as Mallory drifted over to the Soldier and performed the mandatory mental tests.
"Put these on." He handed the Soldier's his clothes, for some reason unable to look at Mallory. "I'll be waiting to debrief you." That fact that he didn't look at her hurt her even more.
Mallory wanted to ask what had gotten Pierce so riled up and why Rumlow was being so distant but it didn't seem the time nor the place. She watched impassively as Rumlow strided from the room and as the Soldier stripped in front of, dressing in his armour. He fumbled with the straps of his jacket, until Mallory couldn't take it any more and slapped his hand away, doing it herself.
"Thanks." He said quietly.
Mallory made a noise that confirmed she had heard him and turned away to clear up the mess of files and latte cups on the desk. She heard the Soldier stride from the room, his chunky black boots banging against the tiled floor but when the steady stream of footfalls stopped, Mallory looked up to see he had stopped, turned and was staring at her.
"What?"
The Soldier looked her up and down, then turned from the room and left wordlessly. Weird. Such a weird man. Mallory cracked her knuckles and decided to return the files to David in the tech hall. The guards behind the door that guarded her in the lab were gone; were they still away on assignment with the Captain? No, she decided, remembering how Rumlow had been back for days. As she reached the main hall, the feelings of strangeness intensified. The hall was empty, all of the techs away to let their new equipment software be installed as they caught up with each other on their lunch break. The silence was deafening and unnerving, and she found herself suddenly nervous as she placed the borrowed folder on the workplace where she knew David was working. Her gaze found its way to Pierce's office, and without thinking of any security measures he might have, she found herself walking up the stairs to his office hesitantly. The door was open.
She opened it further on a curious impulse. Apart from a coffee cup and a single file lying on his desk haphazardly, the office was untouched and free from human contact. She swallowed nervously, feeling as if some unknown presence was watching her every move and recording her to Pierce could have her executed later. Ready to leave at any moment. But the file... a photograph lay peeking out of the corner of a beautiful woman with bright red hair and a skintight black uniform. Natasha. She was over to the file within seconds and had it in her hands; the front was marked with a scary CLASSIFIED stamp. Natasha's section of the folder had her name as Natalia, with her detailed history that Mallory felt was too impersonal to read and her statistics – height, weight, S.H.I.E.L.D database entry level, affiliations (KGB was marked under past and struck out with a handwritten pen, AVENGERS was written in a shaky capital), notable missions – alongside a small section marked with the words 'a threat?'.
At the bottom someone had written 'dangerous and clever, most definitely a threat'. A threat to who? HYDRA? But HYDRA were a sub-divison of S.H.I.E.L.D, why would they perceive their own agent as a threat? Confusion marked Mallory's face.
The next page was much the same, only instead of the beautiful redhead, the image of Captain America dominated the space. His stats were higher than Natasha's, and his notable missions page was easier to read as none were blacked out. Stuff in the forties, then a big gap as the mission underneath the storming of the HYDRA base was the Battle of New York. He was also perceived as a threat.
The next page was exactly the same as the first two, only Director Fury was the image. His missions were all blacked out, a secretive man in even his own database. He was also a threat. How could he be a threat to his own job? Shaking her head, Mallory put down the files and the breeze fluttered a small piece of paper she hadn't noticed resting atop the desk. Bending to pick it up, the small paper had obviously been in someone's pocket for a while as it was crumpled and it curled at the corners. Through the back she could see the hard impressions of the black ink on the other side, and when she turned it over somebody had handwritten something in a tight cursive:
Project INSIGHT under threat. Eliminate priority target with WS, then the rest.
AP
AP? The dots connected quicker then she'd imagined and formed the image of a man with glasses who resembled a shark. Alexander Pierce.
Her mind moved onto the next mystery; Project INSIGHT? What was that? And eliminate the targets? Did that mean the Soldier was going to kill Fury, Natasha and Steve? Who was the priority target?
What had they done to S.H.I.E.L.D to cause it's own sub-division to turn against it? The mission with Rumlow and the STRIKE team flashed through her mind. Perhaps the three had conspired against the STRIKE team and gone rogue for some reason. But who? What on earth would make the personification of patriotism turn his back on his country? Not to be harsh, but she found the reveal that Natasha had betrayed the state who had given her sanctuary less shocking. She was a spy after all and switching sides was easy to her. Judging from her past in the KGB and her defection to the US, it seemed almost logical that she would jump ship if the going got tough. And Fury... he was the head of a spy division after all. Maybe he'd been influenced and swayed to another political agenda. It seemed as if that sort of thing was easy these days.
Mallory returned the files were they were, feeling as if the eyes in the office had pressed a button and a STRIKE team were on their way to arrest her. As the stragglers from the lunch break made their way back to their desks, calling greetings as she passed, Mallory tried to stop shaking – down to a caffeine rush and fear—and headed back to the lab as casually as she could manage smiling and waving back.
The cold lab felt emptier than normal, and the walls seemed to expand outwards from her, leaving her isolated inside. Without the Soldier the lab always felt colder. The presence of another person even if they were in cryo-sleep was always a comforting one. She called for the A.I to run a few tests on the empty glass coffin, and waited for it finish with her mind mulling over the details of file.
Guilt consumed her. Stupid stupid stupid. There was probably cameras in his office, capturing her every move and once he found out, she'd be fired. Or killed more likely. Her father would be fired most likely as he was the one who had brought her into the industry. Idiot girl. Her fingernails drummed against the table; Project INSIGHT, WS, priority target... the names swirled and whirled in her head as if they were in a washing machine. Nothing made sense. She jumped down from the table and began marking her notepad with the words, writing them in a list to see if they made life any easier. Seeing the words in ink made it no clearer; with the letters facing toward her the mystery deepened.
There was a storm coming; she could taste the electricity buzzing in the air and was tense with apprehension and even excitement as the feeling of fear washed over her. What this storm would bring however, she had no idea.
Sampson Smith was always frightened when Pierce called him. Sometimes it happened in the dead of night, sometimes on a coffee run for his dear wife Julia. But whenever it did happen, Sampson felt a shooting pain through his chest and arm akin to a minor heart attack. It was never pleasant. So when his phone was aglow with the words 'Pierce' written in the blocky capital, Sampson took a moment to collect himself and allow the pain to diminish before sliding the green button across the screen and answering.
"Yes, sir?" There was no time for greetings in HYDRA.
Pierce got straight down to business, snapping like a shark with fury only there was still an element of control. "Fury has asked me to delay the project. I've called in the asset."
Sampson was pierced with cold fear. "Is that wise, sir? If Fury survives-" He never got the chance to finish.
"Do you doubt Barnes? He's never failed." Pierce let out a short laugh. "Since the hiring of your sweet daughter, Smith, the Soldier has never been in better shape. You were right, she's a good girl."
Sampson's throat tightened at the mention of his daughter, a lump forming in the back of his throat making it hard to swallow; what he had done to her over the past four months was despicable even by his standards. She had been lied to on a daily basis, about her work, about the Soldier. Thank God he'd never told her what HYDRA was when he'd told her the story of Steve Rogers. He remembered her ten year old smile of sadness and awe as she sat on his lap and listened intently to the tale of Steve Rogers and his Howling Commandos. If only she knew about the Soldier... who he was and what he had been and what he had done. She would quit for sure, wallowing in self-loathing and hatred of him for the rest of her life. But it wouldn't be a long one. Nobody quit HYDRA. The doctor who had previously occupied Mal's position, Dr. Harriet, had been executed when she'd quit, her body thrown in a deep river and passed off as suicide when some hikers found her.
"I know." His statement came out harsher then intended so he changed the subject before Pierce could challenge him. "Where is the Soldier now?"
"On his way to meet Fury en route. He's onto us, Sampson. I believe he hired Batroc and got that bitch to hack the files."
Sampson nodded gravely; he'd been thinking about this himself. "It makes sense. But how would he know?"
"Could be anything." Pierce's tone took a more conversational route. "When Stark was helping with the Chitauri disaster, he ran a programme and hacked into the database."
"But surely he would know-"
"Please, Sampson don't insult my intelligence. I wouldn't store anything as incriminating as that on the S.H.I.E.L.D database." Then he took on the tone of confession. "But I must admit, there will be some suspicious files in the database. Not enough to accuse us both, but enough to cause suspicion. Stark could've passed them onto Fury, or Fury could've found them himself."
Sampson paused long enough to watch Julie walk into the living room and smile at him, before taking the vase of flowers of their table and returning to the kitchen. "Then why hasn't Stark shown up?"
"Well he's been tied up hasn't he? You must've been following the news, Sampson."
Images of the Mandarin and his brief reign of terror over the American airways filtered into his head, alongside the news that followed that Tony Stark had blown up all his suits, removed the shrapnel from his heart and was in the process of rebuilding the Stark Tower, now re branded the Avengers Tower.
"Yes I have sir. So you think he's been too busy?"
Pierce sighed, long and hard over the phone. "Too busy to investigate fully. I think what he's done is put the files in the back of his database and that stupid A.I he built has notified him of the irregularities in the data. You know what Stark is like, he probably sent them over to Fury because he couldn't be bothered to look at them and deleted them from his database." Pierce laughed again. "Anyway even if he knows, it's not like he can do anything. Without the suits, Stark is an annoyance at best."
Sampson agreed with this; in his opinion Stark had blown up the only worthy thing about himself. "What about Barton? If he joins with Romanoff – which he will – surely we'll have a minor disaster on our hands?"
Pierce sighed. "Barton has been dealt with. I've used my contacts and gotten him sent in some banal mission in Afghanistan. By the time he's done, it'll be too late. From our research into the scepter, Barton possesses capabilities to be brainwashed again."
"So our main priorities at the moment are Fury, Rogers and Romanoff, sir?"
Pierce seemed to agree. "Yes. And Barnes will not fail us. I guarantee Fury will be dead by tomorrow."
As Pierce hung up and Sampson listened to the dialing tone, he saw the disapproving face of his daughter crop up in his minds eye.
Please forgive me Mallory.
A/N: Lengthy update, because I'm nice. I hit 100 followers! That is so amazing, you guys are awesome. Also, big thanks to everyone who wished me luck on my exams. It seems to be working so far. We begin the movie plot, and although she will be involved, I won't be doing the usual OC-thing where they conveniently witness every scene of the movie. The scenes from the movie which she is involved him will be for a reason.
Also good luck to everyone else who's taking exams. You can do it; don't stress yourselves out over them too much! My readers have to take care of themselves