The Choices of Staff Members of Hydra

15

PURPOSE AND PLACE

He tried to think of when things had changed for him. It had seemed to hit him one day as he sat waiting for a target to arrive, casually holding the gun that would end yet another life. But he knew that moment had only been the final straw, what truly broke the camel's back; it hadn't been the moment everything changed in his outlook. He could not pinpoint when the changes began or how they became cemented in his psyche. He had always been loyal, if not a true believer in the grand vision that he'd been told about in glowing terms by others who had been the true believers. He had been too cynical all of his life, the one who thought anyone with any true beliefs was not only a sucker, but probably insane. They still had his loyalty, not because they made him into one of their born again converts, only because they had given him what he'd always wanted: a purpose in life.

When he had been approached by Hydra, he'd been a clerk in a grocery store, wearing the apron and starched shirt, smiling emptily at customers all day long, not actively dissatisfied, just in a perpetual state of utter boredom. He mechanically helped the people who came in to shop, made change, stocked shelves, then went home to his small apartment, ate a meal, went to bed, occasionally interacted with people who called themselves friends and family then got up the next morning to do it all over again. He knew he should count himself lucky to have people in his life who cared about him, to have enough money to cover the bills, but he may as well have been the walking dead for all he could feel anything. The sheer pointlessness of his existence was constant in the back of his mind.

In spite of this, he was not suicidal, he had no desire to end the pointless existence. He had no tendency toward violence - that he knew of. He also had no ability to try and dig himself out of the hole he found himself in. He had no idea how to go about it, with no connections that could help and few skills he remained stuck, forever as far as he could see. He had no higher education, though he was well read, in books he could escape from the meaningless life he lived. He had no inkling that he had been watched constantly and quietly until they made their move to contact him.

He was at home on that fateful day in 1949, reading as he waited for the hours to pass before he could go to bed and actually fall asleep when someone knocked on the door. He opened the door and saw a woman standing in the doorway, which was odd enough, but it was how well dressed she was. She was so put together she would not have been out of place in areas of the highest fashion and income. She was not very attractive, her features were average at best, but her confidence, the way she wore those expensive clothes as if they were her right, the eyes that took in everything while revealing nothing of her thoughts all made him stare at her, feeling intimidated. He slowly became aware he was also becoming aroused.

"Mr. Lansborn?" The woman asked, her voice as smoothly confident as her appearance.

"Yes," he said quickly, aware of how shabby he looked by comparison.

"I need to speak with you. May I come in?"

He wanted to say that his apartment was nowhere she would ever want to be, but all he could do was stand aside and gesture for her to enter. "Please have a seat, if you want, ma'am."

To his surprise, she sat on the threadbare couch, looking unconcerned with the poor surroundings. His apartment was not bad, it was clean, the building quiet and safe, in a good area, but he had the bare minimum of everything. He had just enough furniture for his needs, he had never seen fit to decorate with anything, there were no pictures of family, no items that would point to a particular taste in anything. There were only books, some on bookshelves, others stacked along the walls when he ran out of space on the shelves. Everything else was spare and spartan. He had never been self-conscious about how he lived; until the woman sat on the ugly and uncomfortable couch he didn't care enough about to replace, and he realized how lacking the apartment really was. She needed to be in surroundings that befitted who she was, or at least who she seemed to be.