Helicopters thundered through the night sky, their propellers drowning out all other sounds.
Voss was seated by the window, his hands bound in front of him with plastic restraints. Artoria and Aqua sat on either side, secured the same way.
Tom and Jerry were confined to a special pet carrier. Inside, they played their roles well—Tom sprawled lazily while Jerry curled up on his belly, pretending to be asleep.
Opposite them sat Brock Rumlow, watching his "captives" carefully. Something about the group nagged at him. Logically, anyone abducted in the dead of night should show fear, anger, or despair. Yet the young man before him looked… calm. Too calm.
"You don't seem scared," Rumlow tested.
Voss turned his head, wearing a look of mild confusion. "Scared of what? You won't kill me until I've seen Pierce."
Rumlow narrowed his eyes. "And how do you know we won't kill you?"
"If you wanted me dead, you'd have done it back at the apartment," Voss replied with a shrug. "The fact you're dragging me along means I'm still useful."
"Useful?" Rumlow frowned.
"For example—my novels?" Voss said as if thinking aloud.
Rumlow raised a brow.
"Honestly, I don't know why the government would care about a few sci-fi books," Voss continued smoothly. "But since Mr. Pierce wants to meet me, I'm happy to cooperate."
Rumlow's guard went up. "How do you know Pierce is interested in you?"
"Guessed," Voss smiled. "Captain Steve came to see me the day before yesterday. Said S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking at my novels. Now here you are, escorting me. Who else but the top brass would bother with that?"
It sounded reasonable enough, though Rumlow still felt something didn't add up.
He switched focus. "Your roommates are interesting. Where are they from?"
"Artoria's British," Voss answered without hesitation. Then he paused before adding, "And Aqua's… Russian."
Aqua nearly jumped in outrage. Russian? I'm a goddess, not some vodka-swilling mortal! But she remembered Voss's warning to keep quiet, and forced herself to sit still.
"They look good," Rumlow pressed.
"Of course. They're international students," Voss said smoothly. "Artoria studies history at Columbia, Aqua's in the performing arts program at NYU."
Aqua perked up at that. "Performing arts" actually fit her self-image quite well. A goddess was the life of the party, after all.
Rumlow eyed her bright blue hair. "She does look like an art student."
"Right?" Voss grinned. "She's especially… expressive after a few drinks."
Aqua shot him a glare. Expressive? I was dazzling them with divine charm!
Rumlow's gaze shifted to the pet cage. "Strange pair. A cat and a mouse living peacefully?"
"Oh, they're special breeds," Voss said, spinning another tale.
"Tom's a genetically modified lab cat with a calm temperament. Jerry came from a pet shop—some rare strain."
Inside the cage, Tom rolled his eyes. Mild-tempered? Really? I'm putting on an act here.
"Genetically modified?" Rumlow leaned forward. "Which lab?"
"Uh…" Voss stalled. "Not sure. A friend gave him to me—said Tom was rejected from some biotech experiment."
Thin excuse, but Rumlow didn't press. Their orders were simple: deliver Voss to Pierce. Everything else could be sorted out later.
The helicopter pressed on. Soon the glowing skyline of Washington appeared on the horizon. Voss stared out the window, quietly running the timeline in his head.
If the story of Captain America: The Winter Soldier held true, Steve should already know the truth about Hydra. Project Insight was due to launch tomorrow. The clock was ticking.
"Can I ask a question?" Voss broke the silence.
"What?" Rumlow replied.
"What exactly does Pierce want with me? I'm just a science-fiction writer. Hardly seems worth the trouble."
"You'll find out when you meet him," Rumlow said curtly.
"Fair enough." Voss nodded. "So, we're going to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters?"
"Yes. The Triskelion."
Voss's heart leapt. Perfect—just where he needed to be.
"The Triskelion?" He put on an eager grin. "I've always wanted to see it! The most advanced intelligence HQ in the world, right?"
Rumlow studied him, baffled. Was this guy truly naive—or playing dumb?
"Don't you find it odd?" Rumlow probed. "Why would S.H.I.E.L.D. be interested in a sci-fi writer?"
"Maybe my Hydra stories are too realistic," Voss replied innocently.
"Realistic?"
"Sure. I wrote about Hydra infiltrating governments, brainwashing agents, scheming to rule the world. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks those ideas make good counter-terrorism references?"
Rumlow's expression hardened. If Voss had really written such things, they'd need to comb through every word.
"Where can I find your novels?" Rumlow asked.
"At the publisher's. Only one volume's out, though," Voss said casually. "Research takes time. Updates are slow."
Artoria, silent at his side, was impressed by her Master's flawless lies. He could win an Oscar with that performance.
Aqua, however, was wriggling with impatience. Staying quiet was torture for her.
"Don't be nervous," Voss murmured to her. "Pierce probably just wants to know where I get my ideas. Nothing dangerous."
Rumlow smirked inwardly. If only you knew.
The helicopter began to descend. Washington's city lights sharpened, and the Triskelion rose into view, its glass and steel gleaming like a sword driven into the earth.
"Almost there," Rumlow checked his watch. "Four in the morning. Pierce is waiting."
"That early?" Voss feigned surprise. "Must be important."
"More important than you can imagine," Rumlow said darkly.
The helicopter touched down on the rooftop helipad. The roar of blades faded as black-clad S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stepped forward to receive them.
"Out," Rumlow ordered.
Voss climbed down into the cool Washington night, the wind brushing his face. He glanced up at the looming tower, thinking: Steve, I hope you're ready.
Artoria and Aqua followed, and the cage with Tom and Jerry was carried off by another agent. Everything went smoothly—too smoothly.
"Pierce is waiting in his office," Rumlow said as he led the way. "The others will be shown to guest rooms."
"Wait." Voss stopped. "I want my roommates with me. They get nervous in strange places."
Rumlow hesitated.
"Please," Voss pressed, wearing a look of earnest concern. "They'll be scared if we're separated."
Rumlow exhaled and finally nodded. "Fine. But no disturbances."
"Of course," Voss said. "We'll behave."
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside. As the lift began its slow descent, Voss braced himself. The real game was about to begin.