"What are strong men like yourselves doing?" A voice sounded through the dark alley. A woman appeared. Her voice held a slight British accent.
"Teaching some punks a lesson," the largest of the five bullies said gruffly. He eyed the woman hungrily...
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《《☆》》
The time in which Peggy Carter has been working for the SSR, Strategic Scientific Reserve, has not been what one would call fun. She was used as a secretarty rather than a federal agent. The men just used her to get coffee and to file reports.
When Howard Stark, an old friend, came asking to help prove his innocence of selling weapons to the enemy, Peggy didn't hesitate.
She used many of the gadgets Marlene had invented and loaned to her. She used the skills she had picked up over the years, and much more.
She infiltrated a dancing club without being seen and managed to avoid photographs of her face. She accidentally blew up Roxxon lab while trying to retrieve one of Howard's explosive inventions. She, unfortunately, lost all of the explosives in a lake nights following. She found all of Stark's inventions before they were confiscated by the SSR. She had also discovered that Howard Stark was keeping the last vile of Steve's blood a secret from her.
That didn't sit well, to say the least.
Just your typical Tuesday.
When she arrived at Headquarters, which sat over a telephone company, she found it bustling with movement.
"Daniel, what's going on?" Peggy asked perhaps her only work associate who ever showed her an ounce of respect.
His dark hair was combed neatly, and his eyes held a mix between worry and nervousness. His light gray suit was in perfect condition. Unfortunately, during the war, he was injured giving him a permanent limp, forcing him to walk with a crutch. This, however, didn't stop him from doing his job.
"Sasha Demidov's magic typewriter turned itself on all by itself," he answered.
The typewriter was one of the only useful pieces of evidence the SSR has gotten their hands on regarding the Howard Stark case.
"What did the message say?" she asked, as they made their way to the conference room.
"It's encoded," he answered. "We got a cryptographer up from Arlington Hall trying to crack it. He, uh, stinks at his job."
"It's clearly not a German cipher," the man said quickly, his voice was higher than Daniel's. "Or the Turning Method would work."
"What will work in your estimation?" Chief Dooley asked him. His dark hair showed extensive amounts of hair gell. Much like the other men, his suit was in top condition.
The man began to shuffle through his books again when Jack Thompson grabbed it from his grasp and threw it aside.
