[It's easy for Ava to slip into the Residential building in the middle of the night. She hasn't really been back since she was staying here herself, and that had ended in fire and ashes. She doesn't know quite what she's doing here, except that she needs answers and actually talking to him seems to just end in verbal games she can't quite spin to her favor.
So she's here, because that's something she knows how to do. Creeping around in the dead of night is very much where her talents lie. She doesn't quite know if he'll have anything useful, but maybe there's something physical, tactile.
She's slipping through the kitchen, when there's a sound from the hallway, and she slips silent into shadows of the corner of the room, behind the table. She's very good, trained well and then sharpened; just another silent shadow in the dim light.]
[The postal service needed some serious intervention, what with a file crossing his desk at the Prometheus Labs that had no place actually being there. He had figured out quickly that it had come due to references to laboratory experiences when he flipped through briskly. It wasn't until he saw many references to a name he had encountered more than once since his stay had begun that he realized that this file would be coming to his own personal living area until he could analyze the contents.
As was his usual routine, he enjoyed the quiet of the night hours and each time just after midnight, he gathered up a few choice reading materials, slipped into a pair of slippers and wandered his way down to the communal kitchen. It was always relatively well-stocked, but the state of the place was for anyone's guess as some residents clearly hadn't been taught how to clean up after themselves.
Still, pushing open the door, he wandered in to a darkened kitchen and flipped on the light. It was in relatively good state of affairs tonight, and he padded to one of a few refrigerators to root around for some milk, his staple. He set the file on the counter as he grabbed a glass and filled it half full.
Then he leaned over the file and flipped it open, shuffling through the thick assortment of papers. Slowly his eyes rose from it and his eyebrows drew together. That wasn't right.]
[The light brightens and the shadows don't disappear but it does steal most of them away, leaving her watching him from the corner, still mostly in shadows, save for a few stray bars of light. She considers slipping out the door, but there are interesting angles here -- she'd expected it to be one of his roommates, but no, it was her target.
She's good at slipping away in plain sight, at knowing how peoples' eyes move and being where they don't focus. But, well. She's hardly the only person with that particular skillset that Pierce has dealt with. She watches him as he gets the milk from the fridge, doesn't look at her. He has a file, and that sparks her interest. Could just be something with his job, but, it could be something else. Her gaze isn't particularly heavy, but it is there, as she slinks in the shadows at the edges.
She shifts slightly, still silent as she watches him. She doesn't give herself away, but she doesn't run, either. Waits to see if he'll notice her. This is cutting away the almost-civil conversations she keeps running from, but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe the answers come once she cuts away the pretense.]
[Lights on certainly never actually equals seeing everything that might be hidden. He had seen far too many agents able to disappear from plain sight, using objects to their advantage to draw the eye to miss the details of disappearing. He was also rather used to certain elements simply coming to exist in his proximity to receive orders, though he normally was the one to call in the scene in question. Not always, but often enough that he wasn't always surprised when they appeared.
He might not be able to pick out when someone was hiding, but he had enough awareness of his surroundings to understand when there was a distinct possibility that he wasn't alone. His eyes flicked around to each of the shadows that were still present in the room, trying to pick out details but unable. He had only a small handful of people that knew of him that may choose to hide, or perhaps his arrival had simply startled someone he hadn't even met into hiding.
Either way, he slowly returned to his glass of milk and flipped into the file. He scanned through a few pages, picking out key words and key names first, pondering that information as he came to rest a hand on his cheek and went into a sort of quick deep thought, bringing together the pieces that he knew but hadn't had time to invest much time into.]
Ivan, you scoundrel... [He shook his head as he remembered distinctly the technology surrounding OPUS when it came to SHIELD. The success had been proven, but its uses had not bee fully explored.]
[She'd intended to just watch, to trace around the edges of what he could follow and see if she could figure out what he was looking at, maybe steal it if he was too sloppy. But there's that name-- common a Russian name as you could get, but Ivan would always mean one man to her, and it was enough to tug her in small steps so she wasn't as clearly hidden, standing on that border between light and shadow, the chaiscuro pattern of bars of muted shadow from the streetlights that shined through the blinds falling against her sillhouette as she watched him. She's not dressed in her SHIELD uniform or overt spy gear, but she does wear dark, muted tones,
Silence was easier, better, but that name was a soft spot, when she was only too aware of just what it could mean. The answer to the question she'd been trying to pull from conversations that were too polite. How much did he know? Was he like the people who didn't remember her? Or did words like OPUS project actually mean something to him? She wasn't sure that the feeling of not being quite so alone was worth it. What it would mean.]
Who's Ivan?
[As if she doesn't know, as if the meaning of it doesn't hum in her fingertips. A low murmur, like it's a continuation of a conversation and not a whisper in the dark. Her eyes are bright blue, but flat and quiet, intent.]
[Now that she wasn't trying quite so hard to hide from his senses, Pierce became aware of Ava. He didn't lift his eyes from what he was reading, instead continuing to flip through a few more pages, much of it blacked out, but he knew policy well enough to understand that it had everything to do with clearance level. His own had been high enough to literally read everything, and he had enough experience blacking out files to understand what information could potentially be hidden. This was her file, and likely didn't even know it.
Yet, her actually speaking caused his head to rise from what he was reading and drop the pages to lay flat again in the stack that they were. He raised an eyebrow at her, picking her out of the shadows she was half blended in, and he had to wonder if she was here to watch him sleep or if it had been a coincidence that she were no. He didn't believe that spies made much of coincidences unfortunately.
He gestured to the fridge behind him.] Would you like some milk? There's plenty cooled. [He pointedly took a sip from his own glass, returning to the file in front of him and again starting to flip through the pages. As if it were far more interesting than her presence.]
Ivan is a rather common Russian name; I'm sure you already know that though. Apparently, the Ivan mentioned here is a rather ingenious fellow. Quite good reading at midnight. Is there something that I can help you with, or are you simply passing through, Miss Orlova?
[She probably would have, had he been sleeping when she'd slipped in. Silently rifled through his things, and debated the risk versus benefit of trying to murder him in his sleep while watching him, but probably eventually decided against it. But instead, they're talking in the kitchen, as he drinks milk and reads a file, and somehow despite knowing she'd win any physical confrontation, she feels out of her element.
He gestures to the fridge, and she's quiet, just watches him despite the offer of milk. It feels strange and wrong in a way she can't put her finger on and she just waits until it passes, until he gets to the point she cares about, what she wants to know. He opens as she knew he would- and she shrugs it off amicably enough. She watches his fingers as he flips through the pages, and takes a breath.]
Thought I'd stop by. [She doesn't bother lying. She's not good enough at it to bother, not with someone that had hid so much from people like Natasha and Fury. She says it like it's not strange to stop by at midnight, slipping through the shadows of the communal kitchen. As if she hasn't ended up all but running away ever time they talk.] So, Ivan- is he someone you work with here, or did you know his projects from back home?
[She watches him, her eyes staying sharp, picking up whatever he gives away. Not that she expects it to be much, but there's at least a name on the air, something that could mean nothing at all, or the one that had made her life crumble time and again.]
[He would not have enjoyed watching him sleep; Pierce was a light sleeper, particularly when he wanted his naps. It made sleeping in loud places where gun shots and bombs could go off at night very inconvenient. He certainly enjoyed absolute darkness and quiet for when he wanted to recharge his mental batteries, but he had learned through years of crying children, random phone calls in the night that sometimes fewer hours of sleep were just a normal reality.
He still wouldn't have been happy to be spied on at night. That was his quiet time, but that was neither here nor there. That she didn't move off to help herself to a drink from the fridge was not at all surprising; so few spies took him up on that offer and that was sad. Good hospitality was falling by the wayside and no one seemed to appreciate that.]
An odd time to be stopping by and in such an odd place, since I know you don't live on this communal housing floor. If you wanted to know the colour of my pajamas, you could have just asked. [His eyes flicked up to study her, though he had already surmised that she had come here to poke around his business. He was pleased that she didn't bother to try to lie; it was such a waste of their time.] Oh, I don't have an Ivan in my department, though I am sure one is about these parts what with all the coming and going of new people. I had heard of his project back where I'm from, but I am afraid that, until now, I haven't had time to dedicate to his exploits.
[That she continued to ask questions about Ivan piqued his interest. Obviously, based on the file, she knew this particular Ivan, but as he had said, it was a common name.] You obviously know an Ivan. Would you like to talk about him?
[It's not really an answer or a denial, but it can be read that way. Really, it's just filling the space with things that aren't answers or lies, a way to distract. Because the truth is that while this might be worlds closer to what she needed to hear, it put her in a vulnerable position. Because these were things that mattered, things that were too close to who and what she was. Their conversations before had been games, but this was the one that mattered.
The words he voices hit her hard, and though she covers it well, he can probably catch the knife of it in her eyes as she watches him. That he knew about Ivan's project. It's possible it could be someone else, of course, but it's hard to get the details she needs without giving things away. But it's enough for her to think that it might be worth the risk. Just how much did he know about her? About a girl that was also a weapon, kept off-record for years, trained and locked away from the real world.]
Perhaps. But I'm more interested in what you know. What's this project you think was so interesting?
[Not that she thinks it'll be so easy; he's going to make her give something away for it. She just doesn't know what.]
[He pointed that out casually, putting meaning in the fact that she was here in this building again despite no longer living here. It overturned the idea that she might be in this communal kitchen for innocent reasons. Her ability to distract was alright, but it was clear Ava was also keeping things on the straight and narrow. She wasn't lying to him. He could needle her about it, but why? They both knew her truth of appearance.
He picked up his glass and took a sip from it, seemingly unperturbed by the continued line of questioning. He wondered if she was frightened, if what was in this file or perhaps in his head was dangerous to her position. It wasn't as if he had words to control her, after all. He had words and nothing more; what power they had were yet to be seen.
However, he was watching her, studying her reaction as they pushed back and forth gentle, playing a game of verbal cat and mouse.]
Of course you are. As a once Director of SHIELD, I had high clearance to review considerable information. I imagine your own history may have crossed my desk, since I do enjoy seeing the young fresh faces of those being trained at the Academy.
[He folded his hands over the file again, obscuring it casually.]
What project are you so worried that I may know about, Miss Orlova? Why should I confirm or deny what you yourself don't have the guts to ask me directly about?
[At this point, he wondered if she would take a firm stance or back off and flee.]
[He doesn't need her to confirm that, so she doesn't. Not now; not since the fire. Since she realized how dangerous it was to put herself in the middle of that many people. Actually tried to ask for help. She wasn't here for any reason except for this one, trying to piece together what he knew, and just how treacherous it made things.
She tries not to flinch when he mentions that her history might have crossed his desk. It's a possibility she can't entirely discount. Was it just when they managed to put her in the Academy? What about before? His hands obscure the folder he'd been reading, but for the moment she allows him that, and watches his face, his eyes, his expression. He still doesn't seem cruel, and maybe that's the worst lie of it all. Maybe it isn't.
He presses her, and she knows it's more a tactic than anything, giving him a weak point, or something to focus on, what she cared about. What scared her. But she doesn't back down, doesn't run this time -- this isn't the same sensation, those moments where it feels like he's crawling under her skin, where he's too nice and she doesn't entirely know how to handle it.]
Alright. [She smiles, but it's a sharp thing, wolfish and blade-edged, slight figure shifting to lean against the edge of the table as she watches him.] What do you know about Ivan Somodorov? Is that clear enough, Director?
[Alexander hadn't determined how dangerous he was to consider her, though since her continual trailing attempts, he certainly had began to comb back for all information that he could find on her. There was that interesting fire, but there seemed to be no reason for her to cause it. As far as he could tell, there were not enemies that required a reaction so... violent and that put so many people at risk. She was definitely smarter than that.
What he had gathered was that she considered him dangerous and that whatever he might knew could affect her. Even now - especially now - her persistence meant that she couldn't be certain of his intentions or what he might know of her or any others that might be like her. Was she special? Anyone with Black Widow training was considered special, and SHIELD didn't just keep those operatives laying around for no reason. And all indications were that she knew and potentially had associated with Romanoff.
He nodded his head when she took a stand against him, didn't retreat as she normally did. He picked his tactic immediately in the face of that, folding his fingers together. Not a threat, the stance reflected.]
Not much. He's a high level Red Room teacher, and he is the one that gives out the Black Widow title. He's known to be quite vicious. I believe Miss Romanoff is rather familiar with him. [That wasn't all he knew, of course. It was an honest answer though.] Is he the one that trained you as well, Miss Orlova?
[He folds his hands together, and there's something about the way it seems like he's not a threat that crawls on her skin. Because she knows that he is, knows that he's dangerous, not just potentially to her, but to the other people that she cares about.
Her life was a tangled skein, and she doesn't know what pieces connect where. She knows that Pierce could have answers, but she doesn't know for sure. Not until he actually answers the question, and there are facts there that makes her pulse spike and her skin chill. Not from the temperature, but from fractured memories, hurt and cold.
She's sure that he knows more, pieces that he's not saying, but so is she. But it's truth, he gets it right and that's chilling, even if there's a traitorous comfort to it, too. Someone who knows what she is, the terrors that shaped her. She debates, quiet for a moment, as she watches him.]
Only for a couple years. Before they moved me to DC. [She'd already told him a version of that story, but spoken in half-truths. Not the pieces that mattered. Stillness, watching him, trying to pick up the details, the things they weren't saying.]
Do you know about his program? [She doesn't mention it by name. Wants to see what he'll give her if she doesn't show her hand too clearly, or at least not all at once.]
[She was going to fight him, he could tell. Not physically - not yet anyway - but for the answers that she thought would fill in either blanks or lift some kind of terrible truth of her own past. He wondered how many people living knew where she came from, how she came to be or who had been associated with her. How isolating that must have been...
He continued to hold his stance and watched her, though he paused in their little conversation to down the rest of the milk from his glass. There was no point letting it go to waste after all and room temperature milk was of no comfort to him. It was time that allowed her to debate, to make her next move.]
You mean before you were placed in the SHIELD Academy for further training? That is curious, isn't it? Jumping from the Red Room under this man you're asking me about to SHIELD. I wonder why that happened. [It was a leading statement of course; he might not actually know the answer, but he was now curious enough that he would delve very deep indeed in this file to find out. Now he wanted to know more than ever exactly who he was dealing with.]
The Red Room? That I am, unfortunately, aware of. [Of OPUS, he spoke nothing of. To him, that was highly classified information that HYDRA was looking more deeply into.] The KGB are a highly effective force to reckon with, but they always seem to play their hands very carefully. Especially where they put their agents....
[Ava fought everyone, really. It was in her blood, almost. She'd even come close to fighting James, and she'd punched Natasha, and the danger of her powers with her nightmares came from the fact that she wanted to tear them down. Fighting was the only way she really knew how to live; in the concept of it, even when it wasn't literally punching whatever stood in her way. But he was right, of course-- it was isolating. Something pulling her down around the edges, even if she pretended that it didn't.
He downs his milk, and she's already trying to figure out where to push this. When every question she asks gives something away, and he doesn't give her as much as she likes, she has to choose carefully. Make sure she doesn't run out of chips when there are still hands left to play. This isn't her strong suit, but she's pushing it anyway. Which everyone would probably tell her is an awful idea, but she's already in too deep.
She almost corrects him about the Academy, but his words are leading, and she doesn't want to let him be the one setting the pace here. But it feels like a blind gamble trying to gauge which is more telling. Her SHIELD training that happened in a place with no name; she called it 7B from the number on her door, or asking about the program that had shattered so much of her life. But she takes a breath and tries to see where this goes.]
It certainly is. Do you know the answer? I only know parts of it, but not the ones that matter.
[It's true enough, although she downplays what she does know a little bit, the truth is that she doesn't know enough. She knows the shape of it, but not how the threads of her life were wound and tangled on all the wrong edges. She lets the subject of the Red Room hang for a moment - since it wasn't really the project she'd meant.]
[Pierce actually waited for her to correct him, to turn the information - true and false - on its head in order for her to lead him to better information instead. It was obvious that she was after particular information herself, but she wasn't not yet adept at getting it without giving so much of her own history and motivations away in the process.
Of course, because he was benefiting, he wasn't about to do more than lead and see where it came to a sudden stop. She would either play the entire hand that she had tonight, or she would consider the risk of further questioning not worth the benefits and withdraw as she always tended to. Today was at least different in that the information she was seeking was forcing her to stand up and engage on a more personal level, since it involved her past.]
The shift of personnel for training purposes is something I'm aware of, but the motivation for placement is something I delegate to others suited to the role. What parts are you aware of, hmm?
[That she knew some of her placement was curious enough to question. He suspected that those assigned to gathering information, personnel involved in both the Red Room and SHIELD were likely actually HYDRA agents. So there was more to her than Red Room training he thought.]
[He knew. The name meant something to him, he'd been able to draw the right connections, and that kept her from running because there were pieces here that she'd been striving to put together for years. He was also more tolerable when he wasn't pretending to be nice, like some kindly parental figure she'd never had. The truth was that kindness in general made her uncomfortable, and especially from someone she knew had hurt people, it was even harder to tolerate.
He doesn't really give her anything, and she watches him hawkishly for a few beats. Trading something for nothing is a bad deal, but her options are pretty slim. Either breaking down the idea of this being a conversation and trying to opt for something more qid pro quo, but she doesn't think that would be even, either, or giving him a sliver and seeing if he bites. So she gives him a piece, something small, which she's gambling that he probably already knows, and decides to see what he does with it.]
I know that there were certain elements of SHIELD that were complicit. That at least in some cases missions were setup, intended as some kind of handoff.
[She doesn't actually ask about the connection to HYDRA, not yet, but it lingers there in the air. She knows, clearly, what organization they're really talking about here. What she doesn't know is just how deep that goes and how wound up they are in her; she can only guess.]
[When it came to negotiations for information, Pierce was very serious and knew which tone to take. He had been a negotiator for years, but he had also spent a lifetime combing for information and planting the seeds of it where he needed. There were situations where niceties had no place, and this was definitely one of them. If she wanted answers, she would have to verbally fight him for them, and the power struggle was often the most entertaining part.
He was convinced that he knew more than she did, which in his mind made him also convinced that he had the upper hand. Since he had neither confirmed any of her suspicions about him and certainly made it his prerogative not to act out at all, his actions couldn't be used against him in some slander campaign.
He seemed to understand that she was putting a piece out there as a gambling chip, a small detail to lead him to opening up a bit more of what he knew. She was a smart girl; he'd give her that.]
Miss Orlova, do you understand the phrase: lose the battle but win the war? Some missions have to be setup to lead to new information coming to light. Many of our agents are in deep cover; other agents act as the Fist to smack down plots against our nation; still others need to act one way but be something completely different at their core.
[Slowly he lifted his arms to close the file, shuffling the papers together in it neatly and shifting back in his seat. Like he was preparing to rise and perhaps leave altogether.]
SHIELD needs to give sometimes in order to take. There are elements in our world which are too dangerous to be left in enemy hands. Sometimes those elements even come over to our side with convincing. Why you ended up where you did could have been a battle or it could have been part of the war.
[They both were of the opinion that he knew more than she did, so she knows that he has the upper hand here. He's less committed and he has more cards to play with, and that means she has to be careful. She doesn't know how much he knows, so either underplaying or overplaying her hand is less than ideal. She has to find a careful line without knowing where it is. Which is much easier when it's physical and not with words.]
Of course I understand the phrase. And in some cases, you're correct. You make sacrifices for a better position, it's basic tactics.
[She doesn't flinch when he shuffles the papers into the file, shifts in his seat like he might leave. She wants to handcuff him, but she's playing nice. She hasn't threatened him, she hasn't tried to see if she can punch the answers out of him. Admittedly, it's mostly because given what she knows about him- even if it's not enough- it makes her think such base attempts wont work. To be fair, they didn't really work on her, either.]
But when you say such elements come over to your side-- just which side are you talking about?
[She's quiet for a moment, but there was something to the words, that weight. She doesn't expect him to confirm it, but she knows. She's trying not to give him anything unless he gives her something in return, so she pushes, instead of giving, even when she half wants to sell her story just for the right answers, but she knows it's dangerous. Because Ivan had had an army with flat eyes, robots that looked like orphans her own age behind sniper's scopes, and she knows somewhere that it could have been her.
Both James and Bucky had asked her if there had been triggers and both times the only answer she'd had was I don't know, and that's something she can't afford to lead him to if he doesn't already know.]
I would like to hear of the cases you know about where that doesn't hold true in the grand scale. Governments, after all, are expected to have a long game.
[She held her ground when he knew that he could up and leave, but all he did was rise from his seat, tucked the file under his arm carefully so there was no chance in losing it as he grabbed his glass to take it over to the sink for a quick wash and rinse. The file settled on the counter next to him while he washed up.]
The side of national interests where I'm invested, of course. Defectors are the playing chip that most intelligent agencies are hoping for. They are also potentially dangerous as double agents.
[Pierce had lived a life of neither confirming or denying being any more or less than a patriot, that he was serving the people who he had committed himself to. There was no reason to ever speak plainly to one whose own affiliations were not clear, maybe not even to her at this point. She could be many things, or she could be none of them, and so far, he hadn't actually been able to determine what she actually believed.
He turned back to face her, leaning on the counter but remaining relaxed and casual, as if this were just another midnight conversation for him.]
Tell me, what is it you're looking for tonight? We've spoken of Ivan. We've spoken of tactics. We've spoken of you. I wonder if the subject you are hedging towards will confirm or deny how much of a threat you really are to those around you.
But even in the long game sometimes sacrifices are still just losses.
[She watches him as he moves, and she takes a few steps in closer. Not particularly threatening, at least not overtly. More like being drawn in, he steps back and she moves to keep the distance and yet ends up closer than before as he leans back against the counter and she stands across from him with a slight tilt of her head.
She hadn't expected him to confirm it, but the wording says what she needed it to. It was sly, almost coy, but enough that he knew that she knew. It didn't need to include a story about being in the Academy when HYDRA stopped hiding. Didn't need to tell him about the five years she'd been trained by SHIELD operatives that maybe weren't (she still didn't know for sure).
But he presses back, too. His next questions aren't quite so easy and she exhales softly as she tries to figure out, almost half-amused. He is good at this, and it almost takes her by surprise in quiet ways. Not that Natasha wasn't, but she always understood that. Let them underestimate you, feed them either honey or vinegar. Pierce was blade-sharp. She'd almost admire it if not for who he was. As it is, it vaguely makes her want to punch him.
He's pressing her again; and he's shockingly good at asking for information without actually giving her anything. She's noticed that, but this is a question she can't slide through without giving him something, not if she still keeps playing the game, at least. But those words cut and twist and there's a brief flicker in her eyes of something that she shoves down.]
You asked me that question before. It's almost like you didn't believe my answer.
[She's quiet for a moment, tries to let go of that tension, the way his words twisted under her skin. She'd lied to him, then. Lied because there was no other answer she could bring herself to give.]
As for what I want-- I was curious how much you knew. For most people Ivan doesn't mean anything more than a particularly common Russian name.
[She shrugs it off like it's nothing, gives it to him only because she thinks it isn't, but there is something in the fact of being so isolated from everything that shaped her. That no one understands any of it. Least of all Natasha.]
Some sacrifices are testing the defenses for future attack. They are considered acceptable casualties. A government needs to be concerned for the many over the few.
[They both knew that though, knew that there were soldiers and then there were the special ones that had more time, resources and gifts invested in them. They were pieces that were played more precisely on the merits and strengths of the one in question. Spying was much like that, placing the mole where they were most useful, where their strengths were at their peak and siphoning back the information provided.
Their back and forth was not vicious yet; they were still at the point of feeling out the terrain and judging the potential for losses rather than actually playing poker with information. What he might say could be taken as confirmation, but he still would not actually verbally confirm. It was easier to put it on the sly, to pass it off as a way the words were read if anyone asked. It was his insurance policy that she might think she knew him, but he doubted she yet understood how dangerous he could be.
He wondered if she realized that asking the same question in different ways was a common tactic of interrogation to figure out if someone was lying. Likely. She was smart. He wasn't bothering to veil the question either, simply spearing her with it to see if she would jump. It was a blunt way of doing it, but he wasn't about to show her all of his tricks just yet, not when he had managed to draw her closer physically.]
Perhaps I'm more curious if you believe the answer. After all, belief is a powerful tool.
[He noted that she was tense and trying not to be. He continued his casual leaning, right as rain. His expression was attentive and open, welcoming her to tell him anything that she wanted to.]
I'm a little bit more in the know to the high positions of enemies of the United States. Ivan is a person of interest but not so easy to keep tabs on, as I'm sure you can imagine.
[He's right that she understands that. She was special. Natasha was special. Alexei hadn't been. Some sort of failed experiment, but he'd been special to her, but that hadn't mattered to Ivan. Too caught up in his New World Order and this idea that she was important in some way she never understood.
This conversation is easier than it should be. She's had more bladed, contentious talks with Natasha. This wasn't friendly, but the blades were still sheathed, they were still working out the size of the battlefield and how deep they would cut. He was very careful with how he spoke, moreso than she knew how to be, but she was trying to work with this, since it was the only angle that she had.
She didn't really understand the threat that he was. To Bucky, yes, and if given a platform of power, but not like this. In the middle of the night, in a lonely kitchen, with nothing but his words. There, she maybe underestimated him, even knowing he was HYDRA. She didn't have Natasha's grasp on how everything had actually come crumbling down, not exactly -- she'd been buried in her own kind of chaos. She hums softly, thoughtfully, watching him. She tries not to, but there's something about that open attentiveness, and it does tug at something, makes her eye flicker for a moment.]
Maybe. People worth believing in are hard to come by. And in some people it pushes them off an edge, fanatics that can't see the world around them.
[By which she's actually talking about Ivan; although it could be a jab at Pierce, that would be a little too simplistic. With Ivan she knew very specifically what his delusions were-- his so-called key to the future, the idea that Natasha wouldn't put a bullet through his skull. She would like to avoid talking about whether she's a danger or not, but the truth is that is almost more telling.]
I believe that people trained like I've been aren't safe. But that's not the same thing as dangerous.
[Not quite a lie, but she very specifically avoids talking about herself in specific.]
[He figured that some of her argument was based purely on emotional investment, but she had to understand that players in this game were generally a number to those of the higher station. She hadn't been there at the top making the decision, giving the order, accepting the losses; likely, she was on the ground suffering with all the other young men and woman who were deployed in some form or another to complete a task that the government deemed necessary. Emotion played on her level, not always on his.
Pierce knew that their blades were sheathed, and that's exactly where he wanted them to be. In this way, he was negotiating with her, pressing her to see things from his point of view, opening her eyes little-by-little to a world that she might not have considered but might fit well into in time. In testing her, finding out what she believe and who she knew, he could herd her to find reason to serve a greater cause for them. Clearly she was useful if Ivan had gone to the trouble to not only train her some years but objectively move her over to the US. If a man as cunning as Ivan had decided that, Alexander was definitely interested to the whys and hows.
He nodded his head as she made her position clear. He leaned a little further on the counter, making his understanding clear in his expression.]
But you believe in some people. You've found people worth putting faith into, yes? [A beat as he immediately switched tracks to not give her time to truly consider.] Some people in positions of power only see the end goal, not the casualties in between getting to it. It's a sad state of our world.
[He understood where the dig was meant to fall, and he now was extremely curious of her dealings with Ivan. She might be more willing to talk over Romanoff, and that sort of information was way more useful to him. Ivan had projects of interest to HYDRA, for HYDRA, but there had been other matters in the way of getting their hands on it easily.]
I believe that people trained like you have an opportunity to turn that training over to a cause worth believing in. What that is, of course, is up to you and others likes you. The problem is that you've been so messed up internally that it might be difficult to know what is worth believing in. My suggestion is protecting those who you have put faith in as a start.
[She understands the objective angle, even if she doesn't- she's always emotional- but she knows that not every piece survives the battle. But there had been a decision there that she still didn't quite understand. They'd been outnumbered; Alexei shouldn't have been the only casualty. But he was. Like a statement, a letter to Ava and Natasha that years later she still didn't know how to read.
She fits in more to his side of things than she even consciously recognizes. They might not have overtly raised her on the mantra of hail hydra, but her lessons had been tilted for years, that reminder of order being worth the price. Pierce seizes on that point about there being people she does believe in, and her lips thin a little as she looks up at him. There's that understanding, and she listens. She wanted to keep her friends as far off the table as she could, even knowing most of them would insert themselves into this or were already involved.]
Not many. [She doesn't deny it, half carried away as he changes tacks, and it's that eerie rhythm. Almost familiar.] The tragedy is when people in positions of power don't see the cost. Fighting for the world isn't wrong, even when that means sacrifices.
[There's something personal there, someone that's had to make hard choices. It's clear that some part of her knows those are the wrong words to say to someone like him, but they're all that she has, something she knows too well. She wants to tell him that whatever point he's trying to make here that he's wrong, but she doesn't have the words for it. She feels like she's playing into his hand, but doesn't quite know how to stop it.
She shifts a little, but doesn't back away, still standing there as he leans against the counter, and she watches him. He talks about protecting people and she sharpens a little, blades still sheathed, but there's a very clear affirmation to that, as much as that implication still hurts; that she failed. But still, Ava would do whatever was necessary to protect the people she cared about. Part of the reason she hasn't punched him yet is that she doesn't want to push him to feel threatened. Like he needs James.]
About a year and half ago they put me in the Academy and I thought I had. I wanted to protect the world. But I guess it's not that simple. But protecting people is.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
In the kitchen; after he gets her file
So she's here, because that's something she knows how to do. Creeping around in the dead of night is very much where her talents lie. She doesn't quite know if he'll have anything useful, but maybe there's something physical, tactile.
She's slipping through the kitchen, when there's a sound from the hallway, and she slips silent into shadows of the corner of the room, behind the table. She's very good, trained well and then sharpened; just another silent shadow in the dim light.]
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As was his usual routine, he enjoyed the quiet of the night hours and each time just after midnight, he gathered up a few choice reading materials, slipped into a pair of slippers and wandered his way down to the communal kitchen. It was always relatively well-stocked, but the state of the place was for anyone's guess as some residents clearly hadn't been taught how to clean up after themselves.
Still, pushing open the door, he wandered in to a darkened kitchen and flipped on the light. It was in relatively good state of affairs tonight, and he padded to one of a few refrigerators to root around for some milk, his staple. He set the file on the counter as he grabbed a glass and filled it half full.
Then he leaned over the file and flipped it open, shuffling through the thick assortment of papers. Slowly his eyes rose from it and his eyebrows drew together. That wasn't right.]
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She's good at slipping away in plain sight, at knowing how peoples' eyes move and being where they don't focus. But, well. She's hardly the only person with that particular skillset that Pierce has dealt with. She watches him as he gets the milk from the fridge, doesn't look at her. He has a file, and that sparks her interest. Could just be something with his job, but, it could be something else. Her gaze isn't particularly heavy, but it is there, as she slinks in the shadows at the edges.
She shifts slightly, still silent as she watches him. She doesn't give herself away, but she doesn't run, either. Waits to see if he'll notice her. This is cutting away the almost-civil conversations she keeps running from, but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe the answers come once she cuts away the pretense.]
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He might not be able to pick out when someone was hiding, but he had enough awareness of his surroundings to understand when there was a distinct possibility that he wasn't alone. His eyes flicked around to each of the shadows that were still present in the room, trying to pick out details but unable. He had only a small handful of people that knew of him that may choose to hide, or perhaps his arrival had simply startled someone he hadn't even met into hiding.
Either way, he slowly returned to his glass of milk and flipped into the file. He scanned through a few pages, picking out key words and key names first, pondering that information as he came to rest a hand on his cheek and went into a sort of quick deep thought, bringing together the pieces that he knew but hadn't had time to invest much time into.]
Ivan, you scoundrel... [He shook his head as he remembered distinctly the technology surrounding OPUS when it came to SHIELD. The success had been proven, but its uses had not bee fully explored.]
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Silence was easier, better, but that name was a soft spot, when she was only too aware of just what it could mean. The answer to the question she'd been trying to pull from conversations that were too polite. How much did he know? Was he like the people who didn't remember her? Or did words like OPUS project actually mean something to him? She wasn't sure that the feeling of not being quite so alone was worth it. What it would mean.]
Who's Ivan?
[As if she doesn't know, as if the meaning of it doesn't hum in her fingertips. A low murmur, like it's a continuation of a conversation and not a whisper in the dark. Her eyes are bright blue, but flat and quiet, intent.]
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Yet, her actually speaking caused his head to rise from what he was reading and drop the pages to lay flat again in the stack that they were. He raised an eyebrow at her, picking her out of the shadows she was half blended in, and he had to wonder if she was here to watch him sleep or if it had been a coincidence that she were no. He didn't believe that spies made much of coincidences unfortunately.
He gestured to the fridge behind him.] Would you like some milk? There's plenty cooled. [He pointedly took a sip from his own glass, returning to the file in front of him and again starting to flip through the pages. As if it were far more interesting than her presence.]
Ivan is a rather common Russian name; I'm sure you already know that though. Apparently, the Ivan mentioned here is a rather ingenious fellow. Quite good reading at midnight. Is there something that I can help you with, or are you simply passing through, Miss Orlova?
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He gestures to the fridge, and she's quiet, just watches him despite the offer of milk. It feels strange and wrong in a way she can't put her finger on and she just waits until it passes, until he gets to the point she cares about, what she wants to know. He opens as she knew he would- and she shrugs it off amicably enough. She watches his fingers as he flips through the pages, and takes a breath.]
Thought I'd stop by. [She doesn't bother lying. She's not good enough at it to bother, not with someone that had hid so much from people like Natasha and Fury. She says it like it's not strange to stop by at midnight, slipping through the shadows of the communal kitchen. As if she hasn't ended up all but running away ever time they talk.] So, Ivan- is he someone you work with here, or did you know his projects from back home?
[She watches him, her eyes staying sharp, picking up whatever he gives away. Not that she expects it to be much, but there's at least a name on the air, something that could mean nothing at all, or the one that had made her life crumble time and again.]
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He still wouldn't have been happy to be spied on at night. That was his quiet time, but that was neither here nor there. That she didn't move off to help herself to a drink from the fridge was not at all surprising; so few spies took him up on that offer and that was sad. Good hospitality was falling by the wayside and no one seemed to appreciate that.]
An odd time to be stopping by and in such an odd place, since I know you don't live on this communal housing floor. If you wanted to know the colour of my pajamas, you could have just asked. [His eyes flicked up to study her, though he had already surmised that she had come here to poke around his business. He was pleased that she didn't bother to try to lie; it was such a waste of their time.] Oh, I don't have an Ivan in my department, though I am sure one is about these parts what with all the coming and going of new people. I had heard of his project back where I'm from, but I am afraid that, until now, I haven't had time to dedicate to his exploits.
[That she continued to ask questions about Ivan piqued his interest. Obviously, based on the file, she knew this particular Ivan, but as he had said, it was a common name.] You obviously know an Ivan. Would you like to talk about him?
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[It's not really an answer or a denial, but it can be read that way. Really, it's just filling the space with things that aren't answers or lies, a way to distract. Because the truth is that while this might be worlds closer to what she needed to hear, it put her in a vulnerable position. Because these were things that mattered, things that were too close to who and what she was. Their conversations before had been games, but this was the one that mattered.
The words he voices hit her hard, and though she covers it well, he can probably catch the knife of it in her eyes as she watches him. That he knew about Ivan's project. It's possible it could be someone else, of course, but it's hard to get the details she needs without giving things away. But it's enough for her to think that it might be worth the risk. Just how much did he know about her? About a girl that was also a weapon, kept off-record for years, trained and locked away from the real world.]
Perhaps. But I'm more interested in what you know. What's this project you think was so interesting?
[Not that she thinks it'll be so easy; he's going to make her give something away for it. She just doesn't know what.]
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[He pointed that out casually, putting meaning in the fact that she was here in this building again despite no longer living here. It overturned the idea that she might be in this communal kitchen for innocent reasons. Her ability to distract was alright, but it was clear Ava was also keeping things on the straight and narrow. She wasn't lying to him. He could needle her about it, but why? They both knew her truth of appearance.
He picked up his glass and took a sip from it, seemingly unperturbed by the continued line of questioning. He wondered if she was frightened, if what was in this file or perhaps in his head was dangerous to her position. It wasn't as if he had words to control her, after all. He had words and nothing more; what power they had were yet to be seen.
However, he was watching her, studying her reaction as they pushed back and forth gentle, playing a game of verbal cat and mouse.]
Of course you are. As a once Director of SHIELD, I had high clearance to review considerable information. I imagine your own history may have crossed my desk, since I do enjoy seeing the young fresh faces of those being trained at the Academy.
[He folded his hands over the file again, obscuring it casually.]
What project are you so worried that I may know about, Miss Orlova? Why should I confirm or deny what you yourself don't have the guts to ask me directly about?
[At this point, he wondered if she would take a firm stance or back off and flee.]
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She tries not to flinch when he mentions that her history might have crossed his desk. It's a possibility she can't entirely discount. Was it just when they managed to put her in the Academy? What about before? His hands obscure the folder he'd been reading, but for the moment she allows him that, and watches his face, his eyes, his expression. He still doesn't seem cruel, and maybe that's the worst lie of it all. Maybe it isn't.
He presses her, and she knows it's more a tactic than anything, giving him a weak point, or something to focus on, what she cared about. What scared her. But she doesn't back down, doesn't run this time -- this isn't the same sensation, those moments where it feels like he's crawling under her skin, where he's too nice and she doesn't entirely know how to handle it.]
Alright. [She smiles, but it's a sharp thing, wolfish and blade-edged, slight figure shifting to lean against the edge of the table as she watches him.] What do you know about Ivan Somodorov? Is that clear enough, Director?
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What he had gathered was that she considered him dangerous and that whatever he might knew could affect her. Even now - especially now - her persistence meant that she couldn't be certain of his intentions or what he might know of her or any others that might be like her. Was she special? Anyone with Black Widow training was considered special, and SHIELD didn't just keep those operatives laying around for no reason. And all indications were that she knew and potentially had associated with Romanoff.
He nodded his head when she took a stand against him, didn't retreat as she normally did. He picked his tactic immediately in the face of that, folding his fingers together. Not a threat, the stance reflected.]
Not much. He's a high level Red Room teacher, and he is the one that gives out the Black Widow title. He's known to be quite vicious. I believe Miss Romanoff is rather familiar with him. [That wasn't all he knew, of course. It was an honest answer though.] Is he the one that trained you as well, Miss Orlova?
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Her life was a tangled skein, and she doesn't know what pieces connect where. She knows that Pierce could have answers, but she doesn't know for sure. Not until he actually answers the question, and there are facts there that makes her pulse spike and her skin chill. Not from the temperature, but from fractured memories, hurt and cold.
She's sure that he knows more, pieces that he's not saying, but so is she. But it's truth, he gets it right and that's chilling, even if there's a traitorous comfort to it, too. Someone who knows what she is, the terrors that shaped her. She debates, quiet for a moment, as she watches him.]
Only for a couple years. Before they moved me to DC. [She'd already told him a version of that story, but spoken in half-truths. Not the pieces that mattered. Stillness, watching him, trying to pick up the details, the things they weren't saying.]
Do you know about his program? [She doesn't mention it by name. Wants to see what he'll give her if she doesn't show her hand too clearly, or at least not all at once.]
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He continued to hold his stance and watched her, though he paused in their little conversation to down the rest of the milk from his glass. There was no point letting it go to waste after all and room temperature milk was of no comfort to him. It was time that allowed her to debate, to make her next move.]
You mean before you were placed in the SHIELD Academy for further training? That is curious, isn't it? Jumping from the Red Room under this man you're asking me about to SHIELD. I wonder why that happened. [It was a leading statement of course; he might not actually know the answer, but he was now curious enough that he would delve very deep indeed in this file to find out. Now he wanted to know more than ever exactly who he was dealing with.]
The Red Room? That I am, unfortunately, aware of. [Of OPUS, he spoke nothing of. To him, that was highly classified information that HYDRA was looking more deeply into.] The KGB are a highly effective force to reckon with, but they always seem to play their hands very carefully. Especially where they put their agents....
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He downs his milk, and she's already trying to figure out where to push this. When every question she asks gives something away, and he doesn't give her as much as she likes, she has to choose carefully. Make sure she doesn't run out of chips when there are still hands left to play. This isn't her strong suit, but she's pushing it anyway. Which everyone would probably tell her is an awful idea, but she's already in too deep.
She almost corrects him about the Academy, but his words are leading, and she doesn't want to let him be the one setting the pace here. But it feels like a blind gamble trying to gauge which is more telling. Her SHIELD training that happened in a place with no name; she called it 7B from the number on her door, or asking about the program that had shattered so much of her life. But she takes a breath and tries to see where this goes.]
It certainly is. Do you know the answer? I only know parts of it, but not the ones that matter.
[It's true enough, although she downplays what she does know a little bit, the truth is that she doesn't know enough. She knows the shape of it, but not how the threads of her life were wound and tangled on all the wrong edges. She lets the subject of the Red Room hang for a moment - since it wasn't really the project she'd meant.]
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Of course, because he was benefiting, he wasn't about to do more than lead and see where it came to a sudden stop. She would either play the entire hand that she had tonight, or she would consider the risk of further questioning not worth the benefits and withdraw as she always tended to. Today was at least different in that the information she was seeking was forcing her to stand up and engage on a more personal level, since it involved her past.]
The shift of personnel for training purposes is something I'm aware of, but the motivation for placement is something I delegate to others suited to the role. What parts are you aware of, hmm?
[That she knew some of her placement was curious enough to question. He suspected that those assigned to gathering information, personnel involved in both the Red Room and SHIELD were likely actually HYDRA agents. So there was more to her than Red Room training he thought.]
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He doesn't really give her anything, and she watches him hawkishly for a few beats. Trading something for nothing is a bad deal, but her options are pretty slim. Either breaking down the idea of this being a conversation and trying to opt for something more qid pro quo, but she doesn't think that would be even, either, or giving him a sliver and seeing if he bites. So she gives him a piece, something small, which she's gambling that he probably already knows, and decides to see what he does with it.]
I know that there were certain elements of SHIELD that were complicit. That at least in some cases missions were setup, intended as some kind of handoff.
[She doesn't actually ask about the connection to HYDRA, not yet, but it lingers there in the air. She knows, clearly, what organization they're really talking about here. What she doesn't know is just how deep that goes and how wound up they are in her; she can only guess.]
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He was convinced that he knew more than she did, which in his mind made him also convinced that he had the upper hand. Since he had neither confirmed any of her suspicions about him and certainly made it his prerogative not to act out at all, his actions couldn't be used against him in some slander campaign.
He seemed to understand that she was putting a piece out there as a gambling chip, a small detail to lead him to opening up a bit more of what he knew. She was a smart girl; he'd give her that.]
Miss Orlova, do you understand the phrase: lose the battle but win the war? Some missions have to be setup to lead to new information coming to light. Many of our agents are in deep cover; other agents act as the Fist to smack down plots against our nation; still others need to act one way but be something completely different at their core.
[Slowly he lifted his arms to close the file, shuffling the papers together in it neatly and shifting back in his seat. Like he was preparing to rise and perhaps leave altogether.]
SHIELD needs to give sometimes in order to take. There are elements in our world which are too dangerous to be left in enemy hands. Sometimes those elements even come over to our side with convincing. Why you ended up where you did could have been a battle or it could have been part of the war.
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Of course I understand the phrase. And in some cases, you're correct. You make sacrifices for a better position, it's basic tactics.
[She doesn't flinch when he shuffles the papers into the file, shifts in his seat like he might leave. She wants to handcuff him, but she's playing nice. She hasn't threatened him, she hasn't tried to see if she can punch the answers out of him. Admittedly, it's mostly because given what she knows about him- even if it's not enough- it makes her think such base attempts wont work. To be fair, they didn't really work on her, either.]
But when you say such elements come over to your side-- just which side are you talking about?
[She's quiet for a moment, but there was something to the words, that weight. She doesn't expect him to confirm it, but she knows. She's trying not to give him anything unless he gives her something in return, so she pushes, instead of giving, even when she half wants to sell her story just for the right answers, but she knows it's dangerous. Because Ivan had had an army with flat eyes, robots that looked like orphans her own age behind sniper's scopes, and she knows somewhere that it could have been her.
Both James and Bucky had asked her if there had been triggers and both times the only answer she'd had was I don't know, and that's something she can't afford to lead him to if he doesn't already know.]
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[She held her ground when he knew that he could up and leave, but all he did was rise from his seat, tucked the file under his arm carefully so there was no chance in losing it as he grabbed his glass to take it over to the sink for a quick wash and rinse. The file settled on the counter next to him while he washed up.]
The side of national interests where I'm invested, of course. Defectors are the playing chip that most intelligent agencies are hoping for. They are also potentially dangerous as double agents.
[Pierce had lived a life of neither confirming or denying being any more or less than a patriot, that he was serving the people who he had committed himself to. There was no reason to ever speak plainly to one whose own affiliations were not clear, maybe not even to her at this point. She could be many things, or she could be none of them, and so far, he hadn't actually been able to determine what she actually believed.
He turned back to face her, leaning on the counter but remaining relaxed and casual, as if this were just another midnight conversation for him.]
Tell me, what is it you're looking for tonight? We've spoken of Ivan. We've spoken of tactics. We've spoken of you. I wonder if the subject you are hedging towards will confirm or deny how much of a threat you really are to those around you.
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[She watches him as he moves, and she takes a few steps in closer. Not particularly threatening, at least not overtly. More like being drawn in, he steps back and she moves to keep the distance and yet ends up closer than before as he leans back against the counter and she stands across from him with a slight tilt of her head.
She hadn't expected him to confirm it, but the wording says what she needed it to. It was sly, almost coy, but enough that he knew that she knew. It didn't need to include a story about being in the Academy when HYDRA stopped hiding. Didn't need to tell him about the five years she'd been trained by SHIELD operatives that maybe weren't (she still didn't know for sure).
But he presses back, too. His next questions aren't quite so easy and she exhales softly as she tries to figure out, almost half-amused. He is good at this, and it almost takes her by surprise in quiet ways. Not that Natasha wasn't, but she always understood that. Let them underestimate you, feed them either honey or vinegar. Pierce was blade-sharp. She'd almost admire it if not for who he was. As it is, it vaguely makes her want to punch him.
He's pressing her again; and he's shockingly good at asking for information without actually giving her anything. She's noticed that, but this is a question she can't slide through without giving him something, not if she still keeps playing the game, at least. But those words cut and twist and there's a brief flicker in her eyes of something that she shoves down.]
You asked me that question before. It's almost like you didn't believe my answer.
[She's quiet for a moment, tries to let go of that tension, the way his words twisted under her skin. She'd lied to him, then. Lied because there was no other answer she could bring herself to give.]
As for what I want-- I was curious how much you knew. For most people Ivan doesn't mean anything more than a particularly common Russian name.
[She shrugs it off like it's nothing, gives it to him only because she thinks it isn't, but there is something in the fact of being so isolated from everything that shaped her. That no one understands any of it. Least of all Natasha.]
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[They both knew that though, knew that there were soldiers and then there were the special ones that had more time, resources and gifts invested in them. They were pieces that were played more precisely on the merits and strengths of the one in question. Spying was much like that, placing the mole where they were most useful, where their strengths were at their peak and siphoning back the information provided.
Their back and forth was not vicious yet; they were still at the point of feeling out the terrain and judging the potential for losses rather than actually playing poker with information. What he might say could be taken as confirmation, but he still would not actually verbally confirm. It was easier to put it on the sly, to pass it off as a way the words were read if anyone asked. It was his insurance policy that she might think she knew him, but he doubted she yet understood how dangerous he could be.
He wondered if she realized that asking the same question in different ways was a common tactic of interrogation to figure out if someone was lying. Likely. She was smart. He wasn't bothering to veil the question either, simply spearing her with it to see if she would jump. It was a blunt way of doing it, but he wasn't about to show her all of his tricks just yet, not when he had managed to draw her closer physically.]
Perhaps I'm more curious if you believe the answer. After all, belief is a powerful tool.
[He noted that she was tense and trying not to be. He continued his casual leaning, right as rain. His expression was attentive and open, welcoming her to tell him anything that she wanted to.]
I'm a little bit more in the know to the high positions of enemies of the United States. Ivan is a person of interest but not so easy to keep tabs on, as I'm sure you can imagine.
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This conversation is easier than it should be. She's had more bladed, contentious talks with Natasha. This wasn't friendly, but the blades were still sheathed, they were still working out the size of the battlefield and how deep they would cut. He was very careful with how he spoke, moreso than she knew how to be, but she was trying to work with this, since it was the only angle that she had.
She didn't really understand the threat that he was. To Bucky, yes, and if given a platform of power, but not like this. In the middle of the night, in a lonely kitchen, with nothing but his words. There, she maybe underestimated him, even knowing he was HYDRA. She didn't have Natasha's grasp on how everything had actually come crumbling down, not exactly -- she'd been buried in her own kind of chaos. She hums softly, thoughtfully, watching him. She tries not to, but there's something about that open attentiveness, and it does tug at something, makes her eye flicker for a moment.]
Maybe. People worth believing in are hard to come by. And in some people it pushes them off an edge, fanatics that can't see the world around them.
[By which she's actually talking about Ivan; although it could be a jab at Pierce, that would be a little too simplistic. With Ivan she knew very specifically what his delusions were-- his so-called key to the future, the idea that Natasha wouldn't put a bullet through his skull. She would like to avoid talking about whether she's a danger or not, but the truth is that is almost more telling.]
I believe that people trained like I've been aren't safe. But that's not the same thing as dangerous.
[Not quite a lie, but she very specifically avoids talking about herself in specific.]
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Pierce knew that their blades were sheathed, and that's exactly where he wanted them to be. In this way, he was negotiating with her, pressing her to see things from his point of view, opening her eyes little-by-little to a world that she might not have considered but might fit well into in time. In testing her, finding out what she believe and who she knew, he could herd her to find reason to serve a greater cause for them. Clearly she was useful if Ivan had gone to the trouble to not only train her some years but objectively move her over to the US. If a man as cunning as Ivan had decided that, Alexander was definitely interested to the whys and hows.
He nodded his head as she made her position clear. He leaned a little further on the counter, making his understanding clear in his expression.]
But you believe in some people. You've found people worth putting faith into, yes? [A beat as he immediately switched tracks to not give her time to truly consider.] Some people in positions of power only see the end goal, not the casualties in between getting to it. It's a sad state of our world.
[He understood where the dig was meant to fall, and he now was extremely curious of her dealings with Ivan. She might be more willing to talk over Romanoff, and that sort of information was way more useful to him. Ivan had projects of interest to HYDRA, for HYDRA, but there had been other matters in the way of getting their hands on it easily.]
I believe that people trained like you have an opportunity to turn that training over to a cause worth believing in. What that is, of course, is up to you and others likes you. The problem is that you've been so messed up internally that it might be difficult to know what is worth believing in. My suggestion is protecting those who you have put faith in as a start.
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She fits in more to his side of things than she even consciously recognizes. They might not have overtly raised her on the mantra of hail hydra, but her lessons had been tilted for years, that reminder of order being worth the price. Pierce seizes on that point about there being people she does believe in, and her lips thin a little as she looks up at him. There's that understanding, and she listens. She wanted to keep her friends as far off the table as she could, even knowing most of them would insert themselves into this or were already involved.]
Not many. [She doesn't deny it, half carried away as he changes tacks, and it's that eerie rhythm. Almost familiar.] The tragedy is when people in positions of power don't see the cost. Fighting for the world isn't wrong, even when that means sacrifices.
[There's something personal there, someone that's had to make hard choices. It's clear that some part of her knows those are the wrong words to say to someone like him, but they're all that she has, something she knows too well. She wants to tell him that whatever point he's trying to make here that he's wrong, but she doesn't have the words for it. She feels like she's playing into his hand, but doesn't quite know how to stop it.
She shifts a little, but doesn't back away, still standing there as he leans against the counter, and she watches him. He talks about protecting people and she sharpens a little, blades still sheathed, but there's a very clear affirmation to that, as much as that implication still hurts; that she failed. But still, Ava would do whatever was necessary to protect the people she cared about. Part of the reason she hasn't punched him yet is that she doesn't want to push him to feel threatened. Like he needs James.]
About a year and half ago they put me in the Academy and I thought I had. I wanted to protect the world. But I guess it's not that simple. But protecting people is.
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