LEGACY: a bucky barnes story

Chapter 9 - Disclosure

I tried to wriggle free from the S.T.R.I.K.E. agents' grip, but I received the butt of a rifle blasted against my temple for my efforts. Blood oozed about my hair, matting the strands it dribbled through. The throbbing of my temple pairs nicely with the looming headache from those stupid glasses.

Though stunned, the last thing I register before I'm slammed into the S.T.R.I.K.E. van are the mortified eyes of one Natasha Romanoff, sitting in the passenger seat of a truck. When our eyes met, the gravity of my capture surfaced: she and Steve were going to have to go on without me. My heart sank, but it hardly held a candle to what awaits me at S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury isn't here to save my ass.

With hands cuffed behind my back, I'm thrown into the S.T.R.I.K.E. van. Strapped with the most intimidating firearms I had ever seen, S.T.R.I.K.E. officers bookend me and Rumlow seats himself directly across from us.

"Tut, tut, tut, Coulson. Nick Fury would be so disappointed...Daddy'd be upset, too," Rumlow sneered.

"You shut the fuck up," I blindly bite back, then I'm struck with a solid backhand.

"How dare you speak to your superior like that!" Rumlow bellowed. "You're gonna regret that...fuckin' bitch."

Though my mind had already come up with seven different retorts—all of which would have probably earned me more than a severe backhand—I held my tongue.

The engine roared to life, and we sped away. My mind starts reeling with the anticipation of our arrival at the Triskelion.

...

"Agent Coulson, please, take a seat," Alexander Pierce gestures to the chair adjacent to him. I stumbled as a S.T.R.I.K.E. agent pushed me forward, then another uncuffed my wrists.

From what I can tell, we're not in his regular office. In fact, I don't really recognize any of my surroundings. Are we even at the Triskelion? I couldn't be sure. Just before the van doors had swung open, I was knocked out cold by that rifle-butt—this time against the base of my head. Rumlow apparently hadn't had his fill of beating me. Recollecting this, my hand gingerly slides through my hair.

Yep, just like I thought. A bump's already forming—thanks, jackass. Now I've got paired rifle-butt bumps, the base to match the temple!

I timidly pull the chair and slink down. I'm in deep shit as Alexander Pierce waves my file out in front of him. Leaning against the table with his hip, he starts to read.

"Let's see. Jennifer Judith Coulson—your grandmother's name, right? Judith? That's nice, they call you JJ growing up? Cute... ah, yes, did very well in your field ops assessment, not too bad on the firearms assessment either.

"That looks good, that looks pretty good... not exactly top of your class, but nowhere, nowhere on this file is there a precursor, any warning signs of a rogue agent. Tell me, Agent Coulson, just where did things go wrong?" He grinned threateningly; his hostile sneer apparent.

"Sir, I—"

"No. No thank you. I suddenly have no interest in your explanation—"

"But, sir—"

"And she interrupts her superiors, too! Outstanding, a remarkably crooked agent. Baffling, really."

"Disrespectful language toward her superiors, too, sir," Rumlow chimed in.