Falling for the Enemy || Captain America || Book 1

Chapter 6: Arr Ya Ready Kids?

EDITED :)

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          Hello darkness my old friend. I've come to talk with you again...

          ... is what I would be singing if I wasn't so pissed off at myself for being captured.

          Mouth as dry as sandpaper. Bruises and pain decorating my body like a Jackson Pollock splatter painting. Cold metal cutting sharply into my wrists. Cuffs. I'm cuffed to a desk with disgustingly ugly handcuffs that seem to be restricting my powers. A small chain allows for my hands to reach as far as my own head, but that is it.

          I've been in enough interrogation rooms to immediately identify one when I wake up in one. Then again, most people who have watched a goddamn cop show know what a bloody interrogation room looks like. Nonetheless, my eyes sharply devour each detail within the room, from the scuff marks on the flooring where the table legs are to the small indents barely noticeable on the door handle. This room has definitely seen better days. It needs a makeover even more than SHIELD's engines do.

          Oops.

          Just as I begin to wonder how the rest of the HYDRA squad went – namely Sam instead of the other douche nozzles – my favourite pirate walks in.

          "Arr ya ready kids?"

          His movements come to a stop, the soft click of the door closing a thousand times louder in the impossibly quiet room. If looks could kill, I would be more than six feet under, I would be in hell.

          Eh well, Satan happens to be a good friend of mine so it ain't all bad.

          "You've been more trouble than you're worth." That natural 'no fucks given' tone is evident in Patchy the Pirate, attitude somehow weaving in with a monotone to produce the baritone leaving the Director of SHIELD's lips. "I have half a mind to lock you in a hole and throw away the hole."

          I frown at that. I didn't know Patchy cross-dressed as Amanda Waller.

          "That would be impractical, because not only can you not lock a hole, but the practice of throwing away a hole is rather impossible unless we're talking like, Swiss cheese holes. But I can't fit in a Swiss cheese hole, and even if I did, I could probably just eat my way out. Your logic does not compute."

          His trench coat flaps back as he brushes it to the side to sit down, clasping his hands in front of him and intimidatingly leaning forward to narrow that single eye on me. Creepy. "I'm sure you're more than familiar with the interrogation process Nightingale, so to start it off....state your name."

          I scoff. He damn well knows my name.

          "Nicky Fury."

          Pirate glare just intensified by 12%, but I barely notice it upon hearing a fairly muffled snicker from the viewing room through the one way glass. Probably the Tinman.

          "Last time I checked, that was my name."

          "What's your name?" I angelically ask, the epitome of innocence.

          "Nick Fury."

          "Yes?"

          His lip twitches, and not in amusement. Patience young grass hopper. It is a virtue. "Yes what?"