Unexpected

Breaking the Bars

To any of the other agents in the Triskelion, the rest of my work day after the brawl between the infamous Black Widow and I seemed pretty normal. I poured over my computer screen and a set of thick dictionaries in other languages, took my lunch break with Captain America, the Widow, and the Strike Unit, and otherwise kept to myself, diligently going through the documents and phone calls being assigned to me.

They didn't know what was really going on inside me, the demons of my past and how the determination born from my realization after Nat and my fight had dropped and risen as the hours ticked by. I was afraid to face that loathsome scumbag again. Flashes of his hands roaming my body, of the hungry greed in his eyes, and how blank he had been while being my glowing turquoise-eyed, mind-controlled servant repeated themselves of their own accord as I answered emails and typed up translations. I was afraid how I'd react being face-to face with him. How would I respond? Would I run away again? No. No more running away. I'd face him. Would I be mad? Scared? Would I have another breakdown right there in front of his cell?

I didn't let it show though. I acted as I normally did, working steadily until the number of agents in the Triskelion started dwindling as they left for the night. The building was never truly abandoned, but I would be patient until most of them had left. If I responded poorly, I didn't want them to see, and if I backed out... no, I wouldn't back out.

Natasha had kept her word. During lunch she hadn't brought up a thing, though I suspected that she probably knew what I would be attempting. She did, however, fulfill one request I asked of her after our match. She seemed amused, yet solemn about it, saying that it would be no problem at all.

Finally leaving my office behind I made my way down the levels into the underground holding cells where the criminals Romanoff had brought with her along with others for different cases were being kept. From my understanding we even had solitary confinement cells down there, but my clearance wasn't anywhere near high enough to allow me near those. I just hoped that I'd be allowed to reach Ed's.

The elevator doors swung open and I barely heard the ding of them as they did so over the rushing blood in my ears. My hands still hadn't stopped shaking, not really. I clenched them into fists, holding them at my sides. Stay calm. I needed to be cool and collected when I confronted him.

"Agent Copper." I announced to the guards who were standing in front of the locked hall of containment cells, my words even and steady, my head held up, and my back straight. The hairs on the back of my neck were damp from nervous sweat, but they didn't need to know that. Trying to appear professional, I held out my identification card, "I'm requesting entrance."

"Under what business?" One asked while the other scanned my card.

I couldn't just tell them it was personal business. "I was part of the interrogation of several new prisoners. I have some... some unfinished business with one of them before I can move on with his confinement here."

It wasn't really a lie at all. Everything I'd said was true. I watched the agent who was scanning my I.D. card apprehensively. Would my clearance be high enough? I didn't actually have orders to come down here, so I really had no clue if I'd be allowed in. I mean, why would they let just any agent go wandering through the containment cells? My request would most assuredly be rejected, but I had to try anyways. After a second or two the scanner beeped and the guard handed it back to me. "Your clearance only allows ten minute visits."

"That'll be more than enough, I'm sure." I muttered nodding my head, trying to appear as if I had not been arguing with myself wondering if I'd be allowed in, like I had not had a worry in my head about the matter. The pair proceeded to do a quick check over me, making sure that I had no metal on me by waving the mechanical wands over me. After they checked my silver device, which they seemed to think was just some sort of fancy pen, they were satisfied.