The Shadow [a marvel fanfiction]

Civil War: Chapter Four

Somehow, they were transported from Bucharest to Berlin. Marie slipped in and out of consciousness. At some point, an oxygen mask was strapped to her face. She vaguely remembered hearing jet engines, or maybe they were helicopter blades. She had been strapped to a stretcher; three straps ran across her chest, hips and legs in addition to cuffing her to the bed. The pressure sent her into a panic each time she came to.

She must have thrown up at some point going by the acrid taste in her mouth. Bright lights flashed overhead, row after row nearly blinding her. In a small room under the eye of two female agents, she numbly stripped off her bloody clothes in exchange for a clean set. Grey sweatpants and a too-large shirt. No shoes, only her worn socks.

How she wound up in the interrogation room is unclear. Maybe she dragged her feet, stumbling half-conscious in the grip of several German agents; or perhaps she had been dragged, head rolling side to side in the grip of those agents. Regardless, she sat in a metal chair with a second pair of cuffs chaining her to the table.

Marie stared down at her hands. She breathed slow, measured breaths and didn't dare move. She wasn't seventeen anymore; there were less qualms about electrocuting an adult than a child, especially one associated with a criminal. The black cuffs were more advanced this time. They measured her body temperature with infrared sensors and any slight change delivered an electric shock; the greater the temperature change, the higher the voltage.

"So, you must be the infamous Marie Devnner."

The metal door opened and two people walked in. Marie's eyes flickered up. She recognized Sharon Carter instantly; the other man with the head of grey hair, she did not. Her gaze returned to her hands.

"Marie, this is Everett Ross. He's the Deputy Task Force Commander," Sharon introduced and sat in the seat across from her. Ross remained standing, hands tucked into his pockets and his head tilted back as he studied her.

Good cop and bad cop. Marie knew how to play this game. She studied it and practiced it and experienced it. She knew how she should handle this and yet... she was tired. This wasn't fair. Everything was wrong. She didn't want to fight this; she shouldn't have to fight this.

"What do you know about the Vienna bombing?"

Marie kept her expression blank and fixed her empty stare on the metal table. She had nothing to say to them. They were completely, wholly, unbelievably wrong.

"What were you and the Winter Soldier doing in Romania?" Ross asked, rocking back and forth on his heels.

He would be easy to take apart with little effort on her part. He was a sarcastic, hot-tempered narcissist. This clearly wasn't his area of expertise; he had little experience with real interrogations. To him, this was an ego-trip. He wanted answers and he wanted to be the one to get them.

Sharon, on the other hand, would be less inclined to throw a tantrum. She was intelligent and experienced, but she was empathetic. She knew Marie—they worked and fought together—but more importantly, she knew Steve very well. Marie was important to Steve. Sharon wouldn't press this interrogation past the breaking point; Marie doubted they would even toe that line.

All Marie needed to do was wait.

"Where were you this morning around 11am?"

"Did you and the Winter Soldier plan the bombing together?"

"Where did the materials come from?"

"How did you meet the Winter Soldier?"

"How long have you two been working together?"