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- strike

The closer we get to our destination, the more the hallways seem to be over-run with heavily armed men.

We reach a decrepit looking room, and after flashing our badges to the guards, we're allowed to enter.

Inside, there are already researchers setting up equipment and taking readings. Michael is standing in the centre of the room, beside a shirtless man seated in a restraining chair. Judging by the metal arm, I think it's safe to say that he's our subject.

Michael looks up at our arrival and motions me over.

"Get some electrodes on him, and take an EEG reading for all the separate cortices, especially the motor cortex."

For the most part he seems to be behaving normally compared to this morning.

I retrieve the material and pull up a seat beside the subject's chair.

He watches me, his jaw set, an untrusting look in his eyes. His disheveled brown hair and stubble make him look wild, like a homeless man they just picked up off the street.

"Hi, I'm Elise." I introduce myself with a gentle smile, just like I do to all my subjects. "Do you mind if I take a few readings? I need to put some gel in your hair so that the electrodes will be able to read your brain signals."

"Elise. Just do it. There's no need to follow protocol." Michael snaps.

"Michael, it's my routine." I cast him a pointed glance, "Just let me do my job."

The subject looks between us in silence during our exchange, and I return my attention to him, softening my expression.

"Is that okay?" I give him a hopeful smile. He looks uncomfortable, like no one has ever asked him for permission before. He nods slightly.

I hear Michael's frustrated grunt, then the sound of his footsteps as he leaves the room. I know it's not good to get on his bad side, but I can't help but feel satisfied.

I gel the subject's hair and place the electrode cap on his head, then leave to wash my hands. When I return, he's still sitting almost completely still, the same blank expression on his face.

I sit down beside him, waiting for the technicians to finish wiring the equipment to the computers. My gaze is drawn to his metal arm. It's unmoving, his hand grasped firmly around the edge of the chair. I run my finger along it cautiously. When I glance up, I notice him watching me.

"Can you feel when something touches your arm?" My curiosity gets the better of me.

He just stares back, and I'm beginning to think he's not going to respond when he opens his mouth.

"No."

Well, at least it's something.

"Can you show me how you move your fingers?" I gesture to his hand.

He raises his arm from the chair, and clenches and unclenches his fist, moving his fingers to show me the articulation of the joints.

I'm astonished. It moves so naturally that you can hardly tell it's an artificial replacement. Except for the fact that, you know, it's metal.

"Does it feel like your other arm? I mean, do you just think about moving it, the same way?" I take his hand, turning it over to examine the detailed metalwork.

He doesn't seem to mind, but I guess he's finished answering my questions for the time being because he hasn't said a word in response.

"I wouldn't get so close to him, Elise. The last one got a broken nose, and I'd hate for a lovely girl to experience the same fate."

I look up at the sound of the familiar voice, and see Alexander Pierce enter the room.

Wonder if he's the reason the subject stopped responding to me.

Rumlow and another Strike team agent enter a moment later, carrying semi-automatic guns. They might be a reason too.

"He's been docile so far, Mr. Pierce." I smile back at him.

"Good. But I expect that's because he's been subdued on his trip from Russia." Pierce eyes the subject with the look of a man who got more than he'd bargained for.

"Do you mind stepping out for a while, Elise?" Pierce smiles at me suddenly. "I'll have them get you when we're done."

His tone doesn't really leave much room for arguments, so I smile back and head for the door.

I hold my breath as I pass Rumlow, but he doesn't react to my presence. Doesn't even look at me.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me. But at the same time, I don't want to accept that it does… because it makes me realize how much I want him to like me.