What If...? Rumlow Turned Against Hydra: Book One

10

The plane landed on time, no headaches, surprising him. He had traveled extensively all of his life, from a time early on when he'd been legitimately attached to a government, to later when he'd struck out on his own to be what he preferred to think of as an independent contractor. The line of work was basic intelligence gathering, selling secrets to the highest bidder, or he contracted to work for smaller governments or groups that did not have the money or infrastructure for their own intelligence organizations. He also was an assassin for such countries or groups, or occasionally for very wealthy individuals if they could be relied upon not to then turn on him. He trusted established networks, whether government or private more than individuals, especially very wealthy individuals who were often volatile, puerile and unable to see past their own over inflated egos. He had made a name for himself all over the world, both gaining more clients, along with the attention of those in authority who wanted to have him arrested or killed. He was good enough to maintain his freedom, truly convinced he would never want to work for anyone other than himself ever again.

He went by the name Huong. It wasn't the name he'd been given at birth; it was a name he found to be comfortable to use so it had stuck. He could assume almost any identity, was gifted with languages as well as accents allowing him access to almost anywhere in the world, in any capacity. He had been continuing in his profession - very successfully - when he'd been caught, though not by anyone he would have expected. Huong was someone who was never taken off guard, he planned for multiple contingencies every single time he did anything, even if he wasn't on a job. In his line of work, being taken by surprise could easily end up in death. He was naturally alert, able to exploit the weaknesses of human minds and established systems with ease. However, one day he'd been surprised so completely he had been unable to react.

He mused on that day as he waited to leave the plane. He had just landed in New York City, ostensibly from Paris, though that wasn't accurate. His current persona was of someone based in Europe, but he'd flown from Jakarta to Paris then to New York. The lack of travel headaches was only a surprise because such headaches were normal for anyone who traveled often, in airports, in unfamiliar cities, or just because someone was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The day he was thinking of was one that was different, life altering, and at the time a complete surprise.

He thought of that day in Singapore, walking casually down the street in between jobs, simply taking a day to himself, when he'd been surrounded by local police officers. None of them responded to his attempts at smooth talking them, and his one hint at a bribe had convinced him not to try again. He had been thinking furiously, unable to comprehend how he'd been lax enough to allow himself to be arrested. It was absurd. He had made sure never to break any local ordinances in any city he was in. He had not desired to be jailed for some violation of some stupid local law when he was an internationally wanted man.

Huong had gone meekly with the officers, hoping an opportunity to escape would present itself once he arrived at wherever they were taking him. He ended up in a police station, one of many throughout the city, where he was unceremoniously shoved into a holding cell. The officers left him there without explaining why he was there or giving him a clue as to what he could do to secure his release. The cell was unfortunately very secure, it would not be easy to break out of it, plus he had seen there were enough officers at the station to make it difficult for him to leave even if he could get out of the cell. He did worry – an unfamiliar state of mind for him – that they would transfer him to one of the notorious prisons in Singapore. Incarceration in Singapore was incredibly permanent, the prisons were almost impossible to escape.

He indulged in a few moments of self-pity as he sat on the uncomfortable bench in the cell. His illustrious, illegal career was soon to be over with a whimper rather than the shootout or assassination he'd always expected. It was humiliating that he did not have any chance to try and avoid it. He wondered how he had messed up so badly, or how someone he hadn't expected had betrayed him. After a few moments of consideration, he did not think there was anyone who could get to him so perfectly. His self-pity turned to bafflement at his predicament. It was too strange. Anyone after him wouldn't have bothered to put him in a local holding cell in a police station in Singapore, they would have killed him outright. His only hope would be to actually talk to someone in charge at the station, perhaps it was a case of mistaken identity, easy enough to clear up.