On The Edge. | Steve Rogers.

two.

2012, present day.
Boston, MA.

Issac had been fast asleep when there was a loud banging at his door. He thought nothing of it at first, tired eyes blinking before he rolled over and faced the wall instead. After a moment they shot open once again, eyebrows furrowing as he lifted his head to listen. The banging came not from his front door, but his bedroom door. He didn't live with anyone, his apartment was a one bedroom with a single attached bathroom, and a weird kitchen-living room combination. It wasn't over the top or huge, but it was all he needed. Regardless, that didn't answer his question. Who the hell was in his house, and how did they get in exactly?

He forced himself to get up from his comfortable mattress without a sound, knowing where to step in his bedroom to avoid the creaky floorboards. His body ached all over as he was still recovering from his latest assignment that had gone horribly and painfully awry. Put in simplest terms, he was caught on the wrong end of an explosion and was on his last few days of a three week involuntary medical leave.

He sighed heavily, reaching for the Beretta he kept tucked underneath his pillow for emergency purposes. Holding it behind his back, he carefully crept towards the door, bare feet barely making a sound.  He paused momentarily, listening before turning the lock and pulling the door open.
Surprisingly  but unsurprisingly, Coulson stood there, dressed in his usual suit and tie with a pleasant smile on his face. He almost wanted to punch him. Almost.

"Sorry, did we wake you?"

His gaze shifted to the shorter female beside him, who looked more than pleased with herself as she glanced downwards appreciatively. He followed her gaze, only now remembering that all he slept in the night before was a pair of loose basketball shorts.
To prove a point, he shut the door in their face rather harshly, opening it a few minutes later, teeth brushed, shirt on, and reasonably more awake than earlier.

"What do you want?" he asked, shuffling towards his kitchen area to put coffee on. He didn't care who the chick was or if Phil was his superior, it was incredibly rude of them to disturb him before his first coffee of the day.

"Barton's been compromised." Coulson's voice rang out through the silence of his living room.
Issac frowned, glancing over at his boss, more or less, as he pressed the button to start the pot. In all his years of working for S.H.I.E.L.D, he'd seen many unpredictable things. None of them had been on his closest, most capable colleagues being 'compromised' however.

"Okay..." he nodded slowly, processing the information and opening the cabinet above him to fish out three mugs. "What else? If it was just Clint you wouldn't need to call me in before my medical leave was up."

"What do you know about the tesseract?" The redhead spoke this time, arms folded over her chest as she looked at him curiously. He took another glance at her. She was incredibly beautiful, he couldn't help but think. Pierxing, sharp blue eyes studying his actions carefully. Despite her posture looking relaxed, he could tell she had her guard up. He looked away, focusing on the coffee machine instead.

"The space cube? Close to nothing." He mumbled, watchin the coffee slowly steep into the pot. "I know it's old, and it's powerful. That's about it."

"It's been stolen." The girl spoke again, glancing at the mugs he placed on the counter. "Three sugars, black."

Issac wordlessly dumped three spoons of sugar into one of the mugs, a bit of milk into the second one, and a splash of cream and two sugars into the third.

"By who?" He frowned. If someone managed to break through S.H.I.E.L.D's defenses, they weren't just any normal person. "Was it that guy from space who paid a visit a few years ago?" he asked, referring to the incident in New Mexico a while back.