MALICIOUS, hydra

04. MADMEN

Hudson Turner had ended his first exchange with Alina with a promise to see her again. 

However, weeks passed, Alina recovered from her apparent suicide attempt, and she didn't see him again. She still wasn't sure where she was or what she had gotten herself into, but she did know that she felt exponentially better than she had in the past several months. For the first time in her young life, she had picked up an interest in boxing and working out. She half attributed it to the fact that the rehabilitation program she'd joined focused heavily on combat training. She wasn't entirely sure the reason for this, but she was enjoying it.

In the nearly three months that she had been there, Alina had extrapolated that it was some kind of underground facility that housed a lot of people. At least hundreds, but maybe more. A lot of the people she crossed paths with in locker rooms, training spaces, and the cafeteria had a military air about them. She wasn't sure if any of them had actually served. She didn't do a whole lot of talking, except with a man named Brock Rumlow, who had been assigned to oversee her recovery and strength training.

Right. Left. Right, right. Left. Right. Left, left.

Panting, Alina stepped back from the punching bag when a familiar silhouette stood outlined the doorway of the dimly-lit training room.

"Sorry," she said and wiped an arm across her sweaty forehead. "It's late. Am I being loud?"

"Not at all," Brock said. He stepped out of the shadow of the hallway, hands tucked in the back pockets of his jeans. "It's actually perfect that you're awake. There's someone I want you to meet. That is, if you're feeling up for it."

"Not really," Alina said with a chuckle. She motioned down at herself, wearing nothing but leggings and a sports bra. A sheen of sweat covered her body. "Is there time for a shower? Or maybe sleep?"

"If you want to wait for the morning, that's fine. He's free now. I thought you might be interested." Brock shrugged. "There's no need to be concerned about appearances. Director Pierce is aware of your hard work here and would hardly be deterred by a little sweat."

His eyes seemed to drag across every inch of Alina's bare skin. She shivered and crossed her arms, only in part because of Brock's lingering eyes.

"Pierce." She shook her head and took a step back. "I recognize that name. That's a S.H.I.E.L.D. name."

"In a way, yes." Brock tossed her a towel and jerked his head toward the door. "Walk with me."

Hesitantly, Alina complied.

"Alexander Pierce was the Secretary of Defense. That's hardly where you'd know the name from. He's also a high-ranking S.H.I.EL.D. Agent on the World Security Council, appointed by Fury himself."

"You called him Director Pierce," Alina said.

She was still hesitant when it came to new information like this. She trailed a few steps behind Brock, still wiping sweat from her body.

"Yes." Brock took a sharp left turn down another hallway, swiped his badge at a door, and kept moving. "You could say he's my boss."

Alina slowed her pace as they approached the end of a corridor. It was starting to feel like this was the catch she had been looking for the day Hudson Turner broke her out of the hospital. Things had been going relatively well. She'd been supplied food, clothing, training, and human connection if she desired it. Standing at the end of a clearance-locked corridor with Brock Rumlow was the last place she had wanted to be.

"I promise you, this isn't S.H.I.E.L.D., not in the way you think of it. I know you must be thinking that it feels incredibly similar, but we're doing something different here. It's important that you meet the man behind it." Brock pushed open the door into an empty conference room. Alina had been expecting something terrifying, but the experience had proven to be relatively anticlimactic up to that point. "He's just coming back now, said he'll meet us here."