UNKNOWN GUEST

#132 Return of The Witch

I pushed open the glass door, stepping into the room with a careful blend of ease and confidence.

"Mr. Secretary?" I said, raising my voice just enough to get their attention.

All three heads turned toward me. Ross raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a questioning smirk. I forced a smile and added with a slight tilt of my head, "Or, perhaps I should say... Mr. President?"

Ross's expression shifted immediately, satisfaction lighting up his face as he gave a small nod. "Jason Roberts. I remember you."

I nodded back, keeping my posture respectful. "That's an honor, sir. Actually, the press is going wild outside—they're eager to meet the imminent president of the United States."

Ross nodded, the weight of his shoulders easing as he accepted the praise. After a quick glance at the two standing beside him—Uncle Sam and the supposed Sharon Carter—he excused himself, striding past me and out the door. I watched him go, knowing it gave me a few precious moments alone with the imposter.

The second Ross left, Sam looked at me, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. I shot him a subtle glance, signaling him to wait. I could feel the tension thickening in the room, almost like a static charge that had yet to erupt. Turning to the woman who looked exactly like Sharon, I narrowed my eyes, trying to read her reaction.

Before I could open my mouth, she made a move to slip past us, her chin held high in dismissal. But I was faster. "Hang on," I said, my voice sharp, slicing through her indifference. "So, what is it? A synthetic mask or some kind of doppelgänger?"

She scoffed, her lips twisting into a contemptuous smile. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I glanced at Sam, who was now watching her closely, a flicker of realization beginning to dawn. "Sam," I said, "you have authority to arrest someone, right?"

Sam's eyes darted between the two of us, clearly thrown. "Yes, but... what's going on here?"

I exhaled, my mind racing as I pulled out the small earpiece, holding it up for them both to see. "Here. Last night, I planted a bug in Agent Carter's apartment."

The fake Sharon's eyes widened just a fraction, a slip that betrayed her mask of indifference. She tried to cover it, but the hint of fear was already there.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice low but laced with challenge.

She rolled her eyes, shrugging off the accusation. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Before I could press her further, a loud commotion broke out in the hallway—a rush of footsteps, shouts, and chaos echoed from the floors below. Then came the crash of something heavy slamming against walls, like a battering ram tearing through the building's foundation.

The entire room shook. The tremor beneath my feet felt alive, the floor trembling as if it were a creature waking from its slumber. The shaking intensified, walls groaning and cracking, as a terrifying realization sank in: the building was under attack.

"Sam, get down!" I shouted, instinctively grabbing his arm.

But there was no time. The ceiling above us gave a shriek as it splintered, sending cracks spiderwebbing down the walls. Dust and debris rained down, filling the air with grit as the shaking grew stronger, the sound of walls breaking and metal twisting screaming through the halls.

Sam lunged toward the door, but it was too late. The floor beneath us gave a sickening lurch, like the entire foundation was splitting in half. In a heartbeat, the ground dropped out from under us, and I felt myself plummeting.