Not A Bad Thing || Captain America/Steve Rogers [COMPLETED/BEING EDITED]

Chapter 31: Wounds

As Nat, Steve, and I situated ourselves in yet another stolen van, Sam sat at a table right outside of the restaurant Agent Sitwell was eating lunch in. We used Nat's tech skills to call the corrupted agent's phone under the name of Andrew Pierce. 

I assumed the plan was working perfectly, considering the lack of bullets being shot. Man, I sure loved the temporary peace.

Before long, Sam pushed Sitwell through the car door. He hit the seat with a flop and looked up to see me with my sassy smile. 

"Jennings?" he spat. 

I shook my head at him. "Tsk, tsk. Sitwell, that's no way to talk to the woman who protected you."

As he opened his mouth to speak, Nat popped a piece of cloth into it. He attempted to shout in protest, but it was muffled and we couldn't possibly care any less. 

"Shut up," Steve demanded from the front seat. 

When he wouldn't do so, I took out a knife and twirled it around in my hand. It's the same tactic I used to scare Tony a couple of years back. It never failed me.

The ride to one of the city's skyscrapers wasn't very long. It was about five minutes. All we needed was a building tall and scary enough to carry out our plan. We weren't the types for physical torture, but psychological torture was something we were very much okay with. To an extent, of course. 

We parked in the building's back alleyway and forced Sitwell out of the car and into the elevator. When it got to the absolutely last floor, we stepped off and looked for the roof's access door. Sam disappeared before we entered the building and went to another skyscraper.

We turned a corner and conveniently ran into the door we were looking for.

"Here we go," I chirped, picking the lock. With a few turns of my wrist and several clicks later, the lock popped open. 

I opened the door for the other two and Steve shoved Sitwell through the door first. Poor Sitwell. He was totally unprepared for it and ended up rolling on the ground. In his nice suit, too.

"Tell me about Zola's algorithm," Steve ordered sternly, quickly walking toward the agent.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sitwell insisted. The pitter patter of his feet taking him backwards toward the edge and away from Steve was a beautiful sound.

Nat and and I were only a few steps behind Steve, but we still looked just as intimidating. I almost felt bad for him. Being angrily confronted by a super soldier and two of the world's best ex-assassins is something no one wants to go through.

"What were you doing in that room on the Lemurian Star? The one you wouldn't let me in because I didn't have the clearance?"

Sitwell frantically put on his white framed glasses. "Throwing up, I get seasick. I didn't want you knowing that," he stuttered.

"Cut the crap," I spat, taking out my switchblade. "You saw the damage I could do to men twice my size. How well do you think your tiny body would hold up? That room was a meeting room. Someone else came out with you. You can't lie your way through this."

The agent soon reached the concrete wall that ran around the perimeter of the roof. He let out a shaky breath as his legs hit the wall and nearly caused him to topple over the edge. 

Steve, of course, grabbed him by his suit and pulled him back toward us. He lifted him slightly off the ground and stared him in the eyes. 

"You wouldn't throw me off the edge. It's not your style, Rogers," teased Sitwell. He flashed a sly smirk, thinking he truly had Steve by the neck.