Tragedy of Natalie Thomas-MCU

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Unknown location, Hydra facility.

He shifted nervously in his boots. Waiting outside a high-security door he picked at the Hydra symbol on his uniform. He was one of Hydra's few goons left, he was staring at the iron door, waiting for it to open. It was always about a 10 minute wait before he could speak to his bosses, but lately, since a team of "heroes" had started meddling with Hydra's great work he dreaded reporting. There were only a few bases still hidden around the globe, they had barely gotten started. But because of those stupid few months collecting resources S.H.I.E.L.D. had caught on too soon. The black uniform he wore had the Hydra symbol over his heart, black insulated gloves, black pants, and sturdy insulated boots. Standing in a dimly lit hallway that seemed to spread off infinitely in each direction his black clothing blended completely in with the surroundings. This illusion, however, was ruined by his sand colored skin.

The door was opened, he stood up a little straighter, he'd done this a million times before so he wasn't surprised when a new assistant asked for his ID.

"Robert Petrov, yes?" She asked. The assistants were changed at least once a month. He didn't know if it was for security reasons or because of the nature of his bosses, but he didn't really have the authority to ask.

"Yes. That's me." He handed over his ID. The woman who took it looked fairly new. Her dark brown skin a harsh contrast from his own. Their hair colors were the same though, a rich black. Her hair was more textured, she was definitely a different nationally from him. Hydra agents only had one thing in common, a hate for the superpowered privilege.

"Here you are." She said, handing his ID back to him.

"Thank you." He said, shaking off his nerves and stepping forward. He walked briskly down a short hallway, rehearsing his report the whole way. He stopped in front of yet another door, and knocked.

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It was hard running a future world power with someone you barely agreed with. But people with the same end goals tend to group together. So Lilith didn't really have any other options.

Her and her partner, Helmut Zemo, were sitting opposite from each other in the biggest room available, but it was still quite small. It would be a tough fight for two humans to go up against a team of mutants, so they were trying their best to avoid that option. But with the Avengers investigating that was getting harder and harder. A downside to this location was the bitter cold, but most of the base was underground, and already built, so that was only a minor inconvenience for her and Zemo.

Another of Lilith's base strategies was spreading out their resources so not everything was in the same place. That would admirably be more helpful if they had more resources... but Hydra had only been running for about a year and a half. If her plan of keeping their most powerful asset in the same US state as their opponent, or right under their nose, worked, they should be able to guarantee Hydra's survival with the help of her wits and Zemo's commanding skills.

Her and Zemo both preferred to meet with their agents two-on-one. It was easier to intimidate and maintain control over their volunteers if they felt outnumbered. The room was all weathered concrete besides a new heating vent, the door, and the seating. The only indication that the bosses of this organization were human was Zemo's coffee cup. Throughout the entire day she had pestered him to put it away, and that it was ruining their image, but he had refused.

He sipped from his red mug, and she had to, yet again, resist the urge to wrap her manicured hands around his neck.

They had nearly identical uniforms, black with a red Hydra symbol, but she felt like she wore it better. She had gotten her nails painted a blood red to match. Her and Zemo shared the same peach skin tone, but his hair was short and brown and hers was long, braided, and blonde. He was tougher looking then she was, but Lilith had learned to use her underwhelming stature to her advantage. The only sign she had been in close combat, even though she loved the adrenaline rush of working in the field, was a scar down her left palm she had gotten about seven months before. They looked about the same age too, middle forties.