Third in the Timeline series |
After being told she was the infamous Agent 4, that every S.H.I.E.L.D agent thought was a rumour, Clara decides to get back in the field. Her old boss, and presumed dead, Phil Coulson guides her as she reunites with ol...
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It was oddly easy to find a secluded place to land the quinjet inside the government facility where Sam, Steve and Bucky were being held. They landed on the roof, out of sight. All of the entrances were strangely unguarded. In fact, everything seemed deserted. Clara double and triple checked the coordinates and made sure she had come to the right entrance to the containment unit where Bucky would be. Everything was correct but seemed so wrong.
Clara walked across the compound with a false air of confidence, striding with her head held up to the entrance to the unit. Just as she approached, as if on cue, a heavily armed government agent appeared in the doorway. He held up an intimidating looking, bulky gun and had a clipboard slung under one arm. He squared off the door completely, forcing Clara to stop abruptly in front of him.
"Name?" He asked.
"Ms Lewis." She responded casually, "I'm here to give your 'patient' an evaluation." She said, stressing 'patient' sarcastically. "You needed a psychiatrist." Clara prompted when the guard still hadn't moved. He looked her up and down and flipped over the clipboard.
"We already have a psychiatrist, ma'am. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He enforced, clutching his gun tighter to his chest.
"There must be some mistake!" Clara protested as innocently as she good. "Let me see that." She said, reaching forward to take the clipboard. Instinctively, the guard stepped back and raised his gun level with Clara's face. She took a few staggering steps backwards, slowly raising her arms in surrender. Perhaps he would take pity on her.
No such luck. Gun still raised, he advanced towards her. Clara sighed and rolled her eyes. There was no point negotiating with government agents. She slowly lowered her arms until she was standing straight again. Clara had continued to back off but the agent had stopped. Clara took a deep breath and executed her plan of action. She lowered herself, steadying her balance and extending her leg out in a quick jab, hitting the agent square in the chest. It stunned him, took him off guard long enough for him to lower his gun for a split second. Clara leant into the kick, bouncing forward and swinging her fist up to meet the agents skull in a bone crunching punch. He crumpled to the ground and, for good measure, Clara stomped on his wrist and knocked the gun away. The agent lay immobilised on the floor, leaving Clara free to grab his gun and enter the facility.
"Heather, I need you to do me a favour." Clara announced through their ear pieces as she cautiously crept through the corridors.
"What now?"
"They already have a psychiatrist. My cover's blown. I need you to find out who it is." Clara whispered. Footsteps a short distance in front of her made her stop dead in her tracks. She crouched low and hid in the shadows as a man in a sweater and glasses walked past. He was holding a red book to his chest as he walked into the containment unit. That must be the psychiatrist...but who is he?
"How am I supposed to do that?" Heather's voice over the ear piece broke the silence.
"I left the system open on the jet's monitor, all you have to do is navigate until you find it. Easy as pie." Clara explained as she slowly got up and made her way over to the door.
"Oh sure, for a trained S.H.I.E.L.D agent maybe." Heather grumbled, "I'll try. Don't get your hopes up."
Clara stood on her toes and peered into the room through the small circular windows in the doors. There he was. Her Bucky, or the other Bucky? She supposed this psychiatrist was going to find out. The everything would be okay.
"Clara. I've found him. His name's Theo Broussard. There's no way you'll pas for him, he's considerably larger than you...you know, outwards. Oh and look at that receding hairline!"
"What are you talking about? I've just seen him. He's probably thinner than I am and has a full head of hair." Clara insisted, she could see him through the window. This man certainly had no receding hairline. "Are you sure you found the right guy?"
"Positive. If this Theo Broussard isn't here, then there's no psychiatrist."
Clara, still peering through the window on her tiptoes, rummaged around in her pockets to pull out her phone. Through the grimy glass window, she managed to get a half decent photo of this 'psychiatrist'.
"Heather, I've sent you a photo of the guy that's here doing the evaluation. I need you to run face recognition. Find out who this guy is."
"How do I do that?"
"There is literally a button that says 'scan facial recognition'!" Clara said, almost forgetting she needed to whisper. "You remind me so much of your grandmother." She mumbled, "She had real trouble using that camera..."
Through the windows Clara could see Bucky. He was twisting and lurching against his restraints. The 'psychiatrist' was reading aloud from that book as he walked around the containment unit. Something wasn't right. A loud thundering of footsteps resonated through the corridor behind her. Clara jumped but expertly turned around, pulling a gun from her thigh holster.
"Clara." Heather announced over the ear piece.
"Now's not a good time, Heather." Clara hissed as her breath hitched in her throat. The footsteps gave way to shadows which were peeking around the corridor corner, only a matter of meters away from her. She held the gun up, her finger itching over the trigger.
A sigh escaped her mouth as the now slightly less spangly blue outfit appeared.
"Steve!"
"Clara, this guy." Heather continued, "He's not on any government files. Whoever this guy is, I don't think he's meant to be here."
Right on cue, there came a violent crash from inside the containment unit then deadly silence. Clara caught Steve's eye and knew they were both thinking the same thing.
