The Fox's Return

Sitwell Becomes The Rogers Siblings' Rag Doll

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The plan was simple and practically guaranteed success. Especially since Jasper Sitwell wasn't exactly . . . resilient to say the least. There was also the part where it was Marlene's plan. 

She took a page out of Jack Thompson's book. A book she always knew she'd use one day, but would never admit it, especially to his face. 

Marlene hacked into Jasper Sitwell's phone. She changed the caller ID to match that of Alexander Pierce while Sam stood on the other line. 

"Agent Sitwell," Sam said, his voice was heard through Marlene's laptop as she synced the call with her device. "How was Lunch? I hear the crab cakes here are delicious."

"Who is this?" Sitwell demanded decked out in a full dark grey suit. 

Marlene could practically see the beads of sweat rolling off of his bald head from where she sat on top of a building across the street. Beside her, Natasha had a long-range rifle aimed to kill. 

"The good-looking guy in the sunglasses," Sam answered. He wore a light green t-shirt and jeans covered by a black jacket. "Your ten o'clock."

Marlene's eyes watched through binoculars as Sitwell spun in the wrong direction. 

"You know," Nat teased without moving her gun in the slightest. "Sam is good-looking. You two could-"

"Nat, I swear on my Twizzlers if you try setting me up on another date, I will make you eat your own tongue," Marlene threatened. 

"Your other ten o'clock," Sam's voice cut through Natasha's chuckles. 

Sitwell spun around again. 

"There you go," Sam nodded, holding up his ice tea. 

"What do you want?" Sitwell asked with an expression that greatly reminded Marlene of a frog. 

"You're gonna go around the corner, to you right," Sam ordered. "There's a grey car, two spaces down. You and I are gonna take a ride."

"And why would I do that?" Sitwell challenged. 

Marlene motioned for Nat to turn on the spotter. 

"Because that tie looks really expensive, and I'd hate to mess it up," Sam pointed out. 

Sitwell looked down only to find a bright red dot poised over his blue tie. 

***

Natasha had gone down to meet Steve and Jasper Sitwell before taking the elevator to the top floor. From there, Steve basically shoved Sitwell all the way to the roof. Once the trio was met with the cool, breezy air, Steve had taken it upon himself to quite literally throw Sitwell ten feet. 

Sitwell scrambled to his feet quickly whilst stumbling into a figure. 

"Woah there, bud, I'm not interested," Marlene remarked, shoving Sitwell backward with a great amount of strength where he crashed into Steve. 

"Tell me about Zola's algorithm," Steve demanded in a tone that eliminated any chance of negotiation. 

"Never heard of it," Sitwell falsely denied, leading him to be shoved into the female Rogers again as she gradually moved towards the ledge. 

"Bullshit," Marlene called, pushing Sitwell full force into Steve's chest once more. 

Marlene's plan was simple. The plan was to rattle Sitwell, to make him feel like the mouse in a game surrounded by cats. To make him feel momentarily powerless. If he still didn't give up the information . . .well, Natasha hasn't kicked anyone from a roof in a while. 

"What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?" Steve demanded, grabbing Sitwell's coat harshly as he brought him to the building's edge. 

"I was throwing up, I got seasick," Sitwell countered. He nodded toward the building before continuing. "Is this little display meant to insinuate that you're gonna throw me off the roof? Because it's really not you style, Rogers."

"We both know who the more ruthless Rogers is, Sitwell," Marlene pointed out, flipping the small switchblade in her hand. "And she has no problem doing such a thing."

"You're right," Steve nodded with a fake smile, gently patting Sitwell on the shoulders. "It's not my style. It's hers."

Within a blink of an eye, Steve had stepped aside while Natasha thrust kicked Sitwell from the roof. 

"Oh, wait!" Natasha said nonchalantly while Sitwell's screams were heard. "What about that girl from accounting, Laura . . .?"

"Lillian," Steve nodded, bringing his hand across his face, pointing to his lip. "Lip piercing, right?"

"Yeah," Natasha verified as Steve stuffed his hand back into his pockets. "She's cute."

"Yeah . . . I'm not ready for that."

"She's not really your type," Marlene shrugged her shoulders while her hands were hidden away in her back pockets. 

"How would you know what my 'type' is?" Steve questioned. 

"Because I'm your sister," Marlene said deadpan. "Besides, she doesn't exactly it the personality you go for. You typically like someone who will take you out. Whether that be on a date or with a knife, you're not too picky."

Steve opened his mouth to object, but didn't. Whether he found that Marlene was right, or because he was interrupted we might never know. 

The sounds of Sitwell's screams grew louder as Sam emerged with his Wings of Steel, or, at least, that's what Marlene called them. He soared overhead before dropping the screaming Hydra Agent moments before landing himself. 

Steve, Natasha, and Marlene made their way towards Sitwell, who was still on the ground. They had barely reached him before he started talking. 

"Zola's algorithm is a program," he huffed. "For choosing Insight's targets!"

"What targets?" Steve questioned. 

"You! Your sister! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange," Sitwell listed, drawing himself up to his knees. "Anyone who's a threat to Hydra! Now, or in the future."

"The Future?" Steve furrowed his rows. "How could it know?"

"How could it not? The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught HYDRA how to read it," Sitwell laughed bitterly.

Steve, Marlene, and Natasha exchanged a curious look with each other. 

"Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e-mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores," Sitwell explained. "Zola's algorithm evaluates people's past to predict their future."

"What then?" Marlene asked him. 

"Oh, my God," Sitwell grumbled. "Pierce is gonna kill me."

Marlene swung her leg out, striking her foot with his nose, successfully drawing blood. 

"What then?" she demanded.

"Then the Insight Helicarriers scratch people off the list," Sitwell coughed. "A few million at a time."