Secretive - Bucky Barnes

28 || Tricky

[Nova]
My eyelids threaten to close automatically a few times on my way to the internship. With a huge lack of sleep, due to programming and when I finally finished, helping James through the night, calming him down from his nightmares, it has been half past three in the morning when I fell asleep. I only got three and a half hours, already ate a bread with butter and cheese at least during my drive to avoid turning into the grinch again.

In the parking lot, excitement spread through my veins for the very first time that day, waking me up like an alarm I did not set. How am I supposed to put my plan into action? It is not like Tony voluntarily let me visit his bureau. In the cellar. With a button in the elevator reacting to finger print. At least, that is where I suspect it to be, from all the information I collected during the last few days and weeks. There are, still, no tags on the elevator buttons.

In my fantasy, it all seems so easy. But there only needs to be one small thing to go wrong, and I am in need of explanation to not entirely damage my reputation. And the one of my university with it.

Plus, it would be pretty obvious if someone discovered me deleting data.

Sighing, I step out of the driver's side, careful to keep my handbag closed so no camera is able to catch a glance into it. After closing the door and locking the car, I walk to the glass-walled lift again, getting upwards metre by metre. I swallow deeply before the doors finally open automatically, blinking slowly to get my nerves together, and push away the tiredness that fights with the adrenaline.

Let us begin.

Acting never has been something I was bad at. Everyone seems to be content with me, as always is the way it should be. Even Misses Scott seems to have caught a better day; I saw her putting a cube of sugar into her coffee.

Today, it is not that full in the office. Sam is visiting his sister in Delacroix, Wanda is off sightseeing Washington D.C., and Peter does not come that often anyways. It is only Tony, Natasha and Steve in here, the latter fully recovered of his wounds by now. Banner hides in some lab somewhere in the building, busying himself with anything, not being a threat.

The first break has ended almost an hour ago, and I kept track with the problem Tony is indicating on a huge screen. We are back in one of the numerous conference rooms, lights turned on since the grey blanket of clouds outside on the sky reduce the brightness. The table is square and white, with grey metal stilts, getting hit now and then with Tony's in nervousness wiping foot. »I don't get where our mistake has been. I'd be faster letting a Babbage Difference Engine run through it than searching by myself. Maybe I should let Happy do this.«

Natasha's left eyebrow raises upwards, but she says nothing. Steve also keeps his mouth shut, and the three of them continue their research.

It is about the accident yesterday, where they all have been injured. Natasha still has white linen wind up around her upper arm, grimly watching the security cameras over and over again, definitely unsatisfied with her performance. Steve watches the screen grimly as well, wrinkles in between his eyebrows.

They have been doing it for two hours, while I secretly recorded every word Tony said. No one seems to notice the little item in between the armband of the back of my watch and my skin, and how I click it whenever his mouth opens beneath the table.

Besides, I already figured it out. Thanks to my studies and my interest in the psyche of people, criminals especially, and to tons of fantasy books - but most importantly: my own experiences -, I know their mistake for one and a half hours. Usually, I would not open my mouth about it; firstly, though very improbable, I could be wrong, secondly, I could adulterate the result of my university's task, and thirdly, I do not know if they would listen to me. Lastly, if I came up with it straight forward, and Tony and the others only had an idea of who I am, the movement across the ocean has been for nothing.