Veronica Barnes: Trained to Kill

XVIII.

Date: 1/16/2017
Location: New York City Police Department, Queens Village

          Veronica tapped her foot impatiently on the cement floor, her hands cuffed behind her back. The door to the interrogation room creaked open, MJ walking out followed by the police chief. She looked at Veronica sympathetically before the officer nodded at Veronica to stand up. She did as told and made her way into the interrogation room, taking a seat on the hard, metal chair.

"So, Veronica," the chief spoke, "I'm officer Zachary Palmer."

She nodded at him, Palmer sitting across from her at the table. "Nice to meet you, Officer Palmer."

"Likewise." He looked down at his note pad, eyes scanning the lines. "You're quite the mystery, Miss Barnes."

She smiled. "What's wrong with a little mystery?"

He looked into her eyes. "I actually happen to quite like the mysterious ones. Now, you gonna tell me what happened in the park?"

A sigh escaped the girl, her shoulders rising and falling with her body. "What's it gonna do? You have me convicted as an assassin. I'm not getting out anyway. I'm 17, you'll keep me in juvie until I'm 18 and send me to federal prison, or you'll just send me straight there despite my age."

"Yeah, but telling the whole story will weaken the case," he informed her. "Give the press some sympathy on you."

"I don't want people to sympathize over me," she spoke, her voice flat, showing no emotion.

She watched as Palmer placed the notebook on the table, opening it silently as he used a pen to scribble in words. She looked at the cover, confused as to why it was making her angry and scared. Her brain flashed between Palmer and the soldiers at HYDRA. She remembered their words when she had first arrived at the facility; when she hadn't trusted them yet, or fell to their torture and brainwashing. "Can you...can you put away the notebook please?" she spoke in a softer voice than before, looking away from Palmer.

He looked up at her before closing the cover and placing it back down in the pocket of a bag. "Why don't you like the notebook?"

She shrugged. "Just not a fan of your mysteriousness."

"I thought you said you liked mystery?"

"I do, just not when that mystery involves me."

Palmer let out a sigh. "So you're going to tell me nothing about you, Veronica Barnes? We don't have your family records, where you're from, when your birthday is, or even who your parents are."

"Russia," she told him. "I was born in Russia, raised in Russia, and am a Russian-American. My birthday? It was yesterday...well about three hours ago. And my parents? Black Widow and The Winter Soldier, the affiliated assassins with the Avengers."

He slanted his eyes at her in confusion. "Your parents are Avengers?"

"My mom is an Avenger, my dad is Captain America's best friend. Fought with them in Berlin, at an airport."

He nodded. "Right. So are you an Avenger, then?"

"Hmm," she thought. "More like honorary Avenger. They call me when they need help with a mission, but that's about it."

"So, if I were to call, say, Tony Stark and ask him who you were, he'd know you?"

"Yep," Veronica grinned. "Go ahead and call him. He'll come get me out."

"So you aren't going to tell me anything about you?"

She tapped her foot on the ground. "I'll tell you, sure. But see, I don't have to tell you anything. Because by then I'll either be bailed out by Tony Stark, or be hauled off to prison by the federal police."

Palmer thought for a second. "What if you tell me what your story is in exchange for a lesser sentence?"

"All do respect, officer Palmer, but you don't want to know my stupid sob-story," she told him. "Now, we can either just sit here and stare at each other, or I get my phone call."

He sighed and stood up before walking over to her side of the table and grabbing her under the arm, escorting her out of the room. As she stood in the hall, she looked at the surroundings of the room. Outside people banged on windows, holding up signs with variations of either "FREE THE GUARDIAN ANGEL!" or "ARREST THAT BITCH!" and nothing in between. Veronica moved her eyes over to the chairs where MJ and Ned sat beside each other, holding their belongings in their arms. Veronica gave them a small sad smile before Palmer pulled her away into another room, sitting her down in a chair and pulling a phone over to her.

"You get one call in privacy," he told her. "Everything is recorded. When you're done, call for me or knock on the table."

She nodded her head, Palmer leaving and shutting the door. She picked up the phone, dialing in Tony Stark's number

"Hello?" a females voice on the other side of the phone asked.

"Hi, my name is Veronica Barnes," she told her. "Is Tony Stark available. I-I really need him."

"Yes, hold on one second." There was some clattering in the background as the female voice screamed "TONY!" at the top of her lungs.

"WHAT, PEPPER?!" he yelled back.

"SOME GIRL NAMED VERONICA BARNES IS CALLING YOU! IT SOUNDS URGENT!"

There was more clattering, and the phone was picked up again. "Veronica?" Tony's voice asked.

Veronica smiled a relieved grin. "Mr. Stark I really need your help," she spoke quickly, voice cracking. "I'm at the-the NYPD office in Queens and Peter was r-rushed to the hospital. Can...Can you come help me, please?"

"Were you arrested?" Tony asked, his voice concerned.

She swallowed. "I was trying to save my friends and they arrested me. I-I killed three people Mr. Stark-"

"Hang in there, kid," he told her. "I'm on my way right now, okay?"

She nodded even though he couldn't see her. "Thank you, Mr. Stark," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'll see you soon," he told her before hanging up.

She took a second, taking deep breaths as she sat the phone down. Desperately, she wiped the tears off of her face, struggling in her handcuffs before she banged on the table with her right fist.

The door opened, revealing Palmer, who walked back over to her and grabbed her under the arm. "You'll be in a holding cell until we get a guardian down here."

She nodded her head, too afraid that if she were to talk she'd cry, and she had been taught that in this situation you don't cry.