The bullet hits the target dead-on. The next one is just shy of the mark, but it doesn't really matter. That would kill someone just the same.
As I'm in the midst of admiring his marksmanship, he turns around, lowering his shotgun.
"Stop." His voice is low, barely audible.
I glance around, but there's no one in the firing range but us.
"Stop what?" I look at him blankly. I wasn't doing anything.
"Stop trying to get close to me." He seems frustrated.
I open my mouth to point out that I've just been sitting here, then close it when I realize that he doesn't mean getting physically closer to him.
He closes the distance between us until he's standing just a foot away from the ledge I'm sitting on.
"Why aren't you afraid of me? I could hurt you." He scowls, his grip tightening on the shotgun.
"I trust you." I shrug.
"Stop trusting me." He raises the gun at me, and I find myself staring down the barrel, trying to keep a straight face. When he pulls the trigger, nothing happens. No bullet. And I'm still alive.
By the way he's glaring at me, I know he's trying to comprehend why I wasn't afraid of his bluff.
"You used six bullets on that target already, and you didn't reload. I was watch—"
"Stop trusting me." He interrupts, sounding like a broken record. "When you trust people, you get hurt."
I gaze at him silently, trying not to imagine what unfortunate circumstances could have occurred in his life to lead to his adoption of that belief.
He turns his back to me and paces to the ammunition storage locker, and I hop down from the ledge, making my way to the door.
"That's not always true." I call back, pausing in the threshold. He continues reloading his weapon. Not so much as a glance back.
I leave the shooting range and make my way across the training facility, entering the examination room. Dr. Jones looks up as I head for the door to the hall.
"Elise! You're free this afternoon, right? Could you do me a favour and number those boxes for me?" She smiles hopefully at me, pointing to a large stack of small white boxes piled in the corner of the room.
"Sure." I shrug. She hands me a black marker and picks up her clipboard.
"I'm just going to head out for a few minutes to get some files from the mail room. I'll be back in a bit." She smiles, her frizzy orange hair bouncing as she tilts her head. Then she turns and leaves, and I'm alone.
The silence makes it difficult to escape my over-active imagination. Who was the subject before he became The Asset? Does he have a family? What's his real name?
I don't think even he knows, so I doubt that I'll ever know.
And I'd be fine with not knowing, if he didn't look so damaged and pitiful all the time. I should just give up.
"Are you a full time assistant for Dr. Jones now?" Rumlow's voice gives me a start, and I turn to see him standing in the doorway of the examination room.
"No, I just help her out sometimes when I have off-time." I explain, returning my attention to my task.
"Where is she? I've got a physical scheduled."
I wonder if Dr. Jones specifically asked me for my help knowing Rumlow would be coming in just now.
"She stepped out to grab some files." I glance at him. He's already removed his suspenders and is in the process of taking off his shirt.
"Do you really intend to strip right here?" I joke, averting my gaze to the unlabelled boxes.
"Thought you'd enjoy it." He chuckles.
I'm not gonna lie, I do appreciate the glimpse I got of his well-defined chest and abs, but I don't dare to look again. Have to maintain my composure somehow.
"Why are you being so shy, Elise?" I'm aware of his footsteps coming closer as he crosses the room, coming to a stop just behind me. I continue to label the boxes, refusing to give him any special attention. We're at work, after all.
"I'm not shy." I reply, keeping my tone as casual as possible.
"Are you worried that Michael will walk in?" His warm breath caresses my neck as his arms wrap around me, his body pressing against mine. The marker I'm holding slips on the label as I write a four, and though I quickly correct myself, he's noticed that his tactics are getting to me.
"I ran into him on the way here. Asked him if he's seen you. Looked like he was about to tear a hole right through me. Kind of a strange guy." He continues, amusement evident in his voice.
"You talk about Michael a lot," I smile, angling my head slightly away from him. "Are you jealous, Brock?"
"Do I have a reason to be jealous, Elise?"
I gently release myself from his grasp and turn to face him, only to find myself being pulled back into his embrace, his grip tighter than before.
Damn it, Rumlow, we're at work. Anyone could walk in.
"Do I?" He leans forward until our faces are just a few centimetres apart, a provocative smirk on his lips. I feel my heart rate quickening.
"No, you don't." I admit, yielding a smile, "Now let go, before Dr. Jones shows up."
"Too late. Geez, I leave you two alone for 5 minutes and you're already glued to each other." Dr. Jones marches into the examination room, clipboard in hand.
I feel the heat rise to my ears as I quickly push away from Rumlow. He doesn't look the least bit phased by Dr. Jones' intrusion. I resent him for it, because unlike him, I feel like dying of embarrassment right now.
"I thought you left the rookie in charge of my physical." He chuckles, seating himself at the examination table.
"I think not. I had to retrieve your files. Elise is doing me a grand favour by labelling those supply boxes. I need to get everything sorted by this evening, but I'm booked with Strike team physicals all afternoon." She sighs, rubbing her temples.
"Well, let's make this quick then." Brock's eyes flicker towards me as a small smile plays on his lips. "I've got things to do too."