"Damn it, damn it!" the professor began, hands banging against the table. The coffee that had been sitting in front of him for the past couple of hours, close to the edge of the table now.
The old man who ran the shop upstairs always brought him down a cup of coffee at 6:00 pm to help him push through the rest of the workload. He unbuttoned the cuffs around his wrists and pushed back his sleeves, rolling them up his forearm.
He rubbed at his temples, a migraine beginning to form in the back of his head. In front of him lay files of names he wouldn't remember the next day, and would most likely find their way in the recycling bin in the next hour.
He had flipped through most of them, not bothering to read further into cases he deemed "unnecessary" or "unimportant" until he fell upon the case file of Y/N Gray.
At first she had just seemed like one of the ordinary files they received on a daily basis. She fit the profile of almost everyone he had read about. The thing that had intrigued him was her updated file.
19 years of age, living in New York with her "mother" until earlier that month when she had passed, that was labelled a 'heart attack' as H.Y.D.R.A loved to use to cover up anything they didn't feel they should bother explaining even when it involved agents of their own.
Underneath her standard information of where she lived, and what she did for a living they listed her as important. He turned to his computer typing her name into the system to see if they had any more information on file surrounding her.
The tapping of his fingers against the keyboard was the only sound you could hear, besides the small clock that sat on the wall in front of the door of the box office that was located underneath a tea restaurant on Greene Avenue.
He never used the clock on his desk, it was only there as a decoration— one of the very few he had. He had a watch that his father had given him placed upon his wrist. It was given to him as a gift when he had first started his job. A way of saying 'thanks for finally doing something with your life so we can have our basement back'. It wasn't said directly, but the meaning was implied.
A deep sound came from his computer and when he looked at the screen he saw a big 'X' on the screen followed by the word 'Access Denied'.
He didn't have the right clearance to search the file so his research was cut short.
He spent most of his days there, researching and filing away past cases and failed experiments. His most recent had been involving the first subject of the Winter Soldier Program and since his escape, Daniel Violet had set his case aside. Y/N was the daughter of former S.H.I.E.L.D agent Augustus Gray and Anastasia Eir (Anastasia being the name she chose upon returning to earth).
Violet had been keeping an eye on Augustus since meeting Eir. Their daughter Y/N, had been born with healing herself, a source of self preservation her mother had wanted to see blossom into something more. The professor assumed that Y/N's power would mature and grow as she got older, as most did.
Y/N had been in and out of hospitals as a young child, but she would never remember those visits. She wasn't mean't to. She was mean't to forget, she wasn't even supposed to be alive, but she was.
And now they needed to find a way to get what they needed back. They had almost succeeded a couple months back when the Winter Soldier had taken her hostage and then let her go.
Fools.
He took his circular glasses from his face and placed them on his desk, his head in his palms. The dark curls of his hair falling onto the back of his hands as he looked down at his computer once more.
He'd been there for the past 12 hours, as he did on most days. This day in particular had been draining. Full of dead ends on the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier, the whereabouts of Y/N are still to be determined. He had been lead on false trails, and he was ready to clock out for the day.
His phone began to ring, the movement vibrating through the wood, and he let it. He had the mindset that if it was important they would call again, and if they didn't, it wasn't worthy of his time. He turned off his computer, stacking the piles of files from least to most important. Placing both hands on his desk he pushed his chair out, and stood.
He grabbed his jacket from off the sad coat rack that was one winter jacket away from falling off, but until then it would just have to do. Placing it over his shoulders he flicked the switch of the light and locked up.
This had been his routine since he'd begun and he had found a way to always insure that he followed that routine. That was how he got his work done, and that's how he was the most efficient.
Walking up the concrete stairs at the back of the restaurant, he was greeted by the cool breeze that began to help the aching in his head clear. He pulled out the keys from his pocket and unlocked his door to his car and stepped inside.
He placed the keys into the ignition and turned once, the car rumbled to a start before it stopped. He tried again, and each time the car failed to start.
"Come on." he began, the annoyance clear in his tone. He slammed his hands against the wheel once after he knew there was no chance of it starting, "Piece of shit." he mumbled opening the door once more and stepping out.
"Anything else you'd like to throw at me today?" he yelled to the sky. He looked down shaking his head as he began the long trek to his apartment on Spring St. Cars drove past him on the street, he side stepped multiple puddles trying to avoid mud stains on his only good pair of slacks.
His phone buzzed once more in his pocket, and as usual he let it. Then it rang again and he pulled it out staring at number before he realized it belonged to Doctor. Arnim Zola, but it was impossible since he was dead.
"Yes," he began as he pressed the green answer button.
"Professor Violet?" came a man's voice.
"Yes?"
"I am Doctor. Arnim Zola, I'm sure you were not expecting this call as I am dead, but that is false news. We'll save that conversation for another time as I am in need of your assistance."
Well, he's just straight to the point.
The voice sounded almost robotic through the phone, and he pulled it away from his ear to check to see if he had the wrong number.
"What can I do for you?" he asked skeptically, unsure what he was getting himself into.
"Dr. Broussard, as I'm sure you may know was involved with the killing of Agent A, and let the Winter Soldier get away as well as Y/N Gray. I need you to find her and retrieve what I need from her and terminate her. I'll be sending the files over to your office tomorrow."
"What—" before he could finish his sentence the phone disconnected, and the number was erased so he couldn't call back.
He stood in the street for a moment contemplating what he would do and how he would do it. How he would somehow find a way to get the clearance he needed to search deeper into Gray's files and find out what she had been up to the past couple of weeks.
He continued his way to his apartment, thinking.
He couldn't decline the offer because in a way it was apart of his job. He needed the extra cash and this was how he made his living. He had a degree in computer science and was an english major in high school. He had been moving around the city trying to find anyone that could needed his work, but they had all declined due to his 'lack of experience.'
He hadn't taken it well and one day, an email had popped up on his computer and he'd been offered the job. He didn't know why and he didn't bother asking questions because he was desperate.
And desperate times called for desperate measures.
He walked past the old bakery he had first applied for as a part time job when he was still a student, but had only worked there a couple of weeks before he was fired.
He thought back to the task at hand.
Y/N's father was a way he could draw her out, he just needed to send the right message and get it to the right people, but that didn't mean she would take the bait.
They were estranged, and she was in hiding. The last they had seen each other as themselves was the night Agent A was killed and they hadn't seen each other since. He needed to find a way to lure her out, and the only other way he knew how was finding the Winter Soldier or just using his looks.
If he could find a way to contact Augustus again he could get him to use the mask once more and disguise himself as Sergeant Barnes and then get her to come out. The only problem would be if the real Barnes showed up, then she would know or if he was in contact with her now they needed to remove him from the equation.
He smiled to himself as he looked to the door of his apartment. The glow from the street light illuminating the golden numbers nailed to the door.
He had a lot of work to do and was eager for what tomorrow would bring him. He was ready for this, or as much as someone could be.
He flipped the keys in his pocked once, as he began to laugh manically.
"I'm coming for you, Y/N."