Redback Widow II | Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. [9]

A Fractured House

I booked it to the lounge, pulling on my jacket as alarms blared. "What do you need me to do, sir?" I asked, ready to do what was required of me. "Start reaching out to your people underground. I need to know who was involved in this attack," he ordered.  I nodded, grabbing a tablet and pulling up my encrypted, heavily fortified e-mail that I used for contacts. A few hours later, I was pulled up to Coulson's office.

I had sent feelers out to my contacts but hadn't heard anything back yet. "Vincent Beckers is Julien's grandfather. We believed the HYDRA connection stayed very much alive," Simmons reported. "We found the travel records for Beckers and Whitehall, and..." Skye started. "They coincided at least a dozen times over the last five years," Trip finished. "That doesn't make sense," Fitz said.

"Yeah, why would HYDRA be targeting one of their own operatives?" Mack asked. "We've been played. Get May on the line. They need to reroute to our safe house in Bruges," Coulson realized. "Sir, May's team is en route," Trip reported. "Oh, no," I glanced up nervously, my hands curling into a fist. "Whitehall didn't just want to turn the world against us. He used Beckers as a prop to make our operatives believe his country would provide safe haven, but it's a trap. They'll be fish in a barrel,"

-

Men in heavily-armed gear marched down the hall, surrounding Ward as Coulson led them. My face hardened as he passed, my eyes glaring holes into him. "Asya..." he started. "If you ever try to hurt any one of us again, if you even dare to show your face, I will kill you. And I will enjoy it," I snarled. Afterward, I stormed off, going to the gym to take my anger out on a training dummy designed to withstand a Super Solider.

"You seem to have a lot of pent-up aggression," Mack observed, appearing in the doorway. "Oh, this is just the tip of the iceberg," I growled. "You wanna talk about it?" He asked. "If I gave you a glimpse of my past, you would high-tail it out of here so fast you would be a puff of smoke," I said. "I seriously doubt that," he said.

"You shouldn't," I snapped. "You know, talking about it helps lessen the anger," he said. "I've got a photo to spit profanities at, thanks," I said. The thudding of my fists against the leather hadn't ceased for an hour. One of the main things they taught us in the Red Room, besides killing mercilessly, was how to fight and to fight for a long time.

"Who's the photo of?" He asked. "Madame B. My old teacher and a woman straight out of hell," I said. "Is this going to be another Bobbi and Hunter situation?" He asked. "Well, unless one of them had a habit of kidnapping young Russian girls, dragging them to a facility, and forcing them to fight to the death, no," I said. "Wait, you were kidnapped?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"I wasn't the first, and I sure as hell won't be the last,"