The Shadow [a marvel fanfiction]

The Winter Soldier: Chapter Five

Marie picked at her nails and sighed. She stood upright and ran a hand through her hair. She needed to know what they were saying, what Pierce was asking and accusing, and was half-tempted to press her ear against the door. Natasha would have already figured out how to listen through the sound-proof walls.

"Agent Devnner!"

Son of a—

Rumlow walked briskly down the hall. He was still dressed in bulky tactical gear. His gun and handcuffs bounced dangerously by his side. Marie gave him a terse nod. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Anxiety bubbled within her that, when coupled with mounting frustration, never yielded anything good.

"Agent Rumlow."

His lips were twisted in a feral grin. The contrast between his white teeth and tan skin was unsettling rather than alluring. Marie's eyebrows dipped ever-so-slightly. His eyes were dark, and the excited glimmer in them sent a chill down her spine.

"Marie," he said, coming to a stop in front of her. The walls seemed to close in on them. It was difficult to breathe. She shifted backwards.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Pierce is-is questioning the Captain about Fury," she murmured. Her voice cracked at his name. She cleared her throat and looked away. She rubbed her hands along her sleeves, trying to wipe off the feeling of his blood gushing over her fingers. Her stomach turned.

"I was just going to get some water if you care to join me." His lips turned up at the corner and eased his shoulders back. He was trying to mimic a suave persona with a lop-sided smile. He came off like a deranged serial killer.

"I'm waiting for the-for the Captain," she said quickly. Rumlow edged closer to her.

"It's just down the hall," he insisted. Marie shook her head. The ding of the elevator sliced through the mounting intensity.

Two STRIKE members emerged and strode down the hall towards them. They nodded at Rumlow as they neared. Marie shuffled out of their way. One of them bumped their shoulder into her back. She stumbled into Rumlow, who latched onto her arms to steady her.

Her eyes widened and she sputtered. "A-Agent Rumlow—"

"Marie, you can call me Brock," he laughed. "There's no need to be so formal."

He moved them down the hall, following the path of the STRIKE members. Her right arm remained in his relaxed, but unrelenting grasp. She didn't know the layout of headquarters, but the tug in her gut told her that there were no water fountains ahead of them.

"I'm-I'm being professional," she muttered. She twisted slightly in his grip. His fingers tightened around her arm.

Her heart began to thrash against her ribcage. Her joints stiffened and locked as she resisted his hold. Marie dug her heels into the floor, trying to slow their quickening pace. His grip tightened again. His pupils were dilated. He was excited.

"Still, once you've been on a few missions, being professional isn't your first priority."

"Well it's mine," she spat. Marie yanked her arm out of his grip and took several large steps away from him. He laughed. The hollow sound bounced eerily off the walls. Another sharp chill prickled her spine. She moved farther away as his eyebrows subconsciously narrowed and betrayed his mounting frustration.

"Marie—"

"Have a-Have a good day, Agent Rumlow."

She spun on her heel and strode away from him. Her shoulders ached with tension and her hands shook from adrenaline. Her head throbbed with anger and fear. That was too close. Something was going on, and not a single person in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was being subtle about it.