[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.
[Alexander wasn't the person who called a victory until it was handed to him and been assured and researched to be true, but he felt the tide of battle that was this conversation shifting plainly to his favour. She hadn't exactly stumbled, but he had put her in a position where she had to admit something or be vulnerable for her lies in future. Either way, he had valuable information that was the basis of many started to work for him, for them.
Of course, being trained in the Red Room helped with that, though he was curious of where she had come from before that. Was she an orphan like Natasha? Were her parents victims of the regime and she just a product of that fall out? There were edges he could press on, but there was no need for that right now as he had good and clear ways to circle her, to press his advantages. She had come to verify he knew things - which he did - but he now had a way to work her over to see things his way eventually.
Another soldier who would come to the ranks, even if they might not yet realize it.]
The other tragedy is when those on the ground don't see how much some in power struggle with the decisions that they had to make. Some understand that they are destroying lives, families... and for what? A short-lived victory until the next skirmish, the next battle, the next war. [He bowed his head a little, taking a deep breath as if he had struggled at times with those very decisions. Sympathetic. Emotional... but resolute.] For peace, everyone sacrifices something. It isn't always their lives.
[Everyone, everywhere had something to protect. A person with nothing of value, nothing to believe in even if it was themselves didn't exist. Everyone had something to give, and it were those loose strings that could be appealed to. Some people were better off made an example of, or their priorities rearranged to better serve a cause over just themselves. However, there was nothing wrong with wanting to protect something or someone; it was the basis of humanity to a degree. It made her and everyone else human, nothing more, nothing less.
And yes, there was nothing quite like failure to protect to make one reevaluate their skills and perception of the world. He lifted his eyes to watch her again, nodding slowly as he too understood that sentiment.]
Starting with people and working towards protecting the world is a worthwhile aspiration though. In order to protect people, you have to accept who you are and what your strength and limitations are. Have you done that?
[Her history was darker than he imagined; her parents had been the ones that created the OPUS project, scientists working for Ivan, and she'd been raised in a lab as its first test subject. All the others had been orphans, except her.
Her Widow Ops training had been to satisfy Ivan's desire for all of its subjects to be spies and soldiers, and then he'd handed her over and Ava still didn't quite understand it. What his plan had been, just what he'd wanted to make the world into and where she was supposed to tie into it all. She's played over that final confrontation in Istanbul and she's still not sure what his play had been-- either a misjudgment from delirious insanity, or he'd wanted things to play out as they had. And that thought is even more terrifying.
He looks almost penitent, with his head bowed and the rasp of his breath exhaled into the thin air between them. She doesn't trust it; maybe that he had struggled with sacrificing those of his own people, but she wasn't sure she believed that he was sympathetic to losses in general terms, except when it suited him.]
There's too much chaos in the world to end it. But the struggle can be guided so that-- I just mean, you can't get rid of bad things happening, not entirely. There will always be battles, lives will always be lost, because even in the absence of war people always come back to hurting each other. But you can try and make the families destroyed into more than statistics, to make the world something better than it was.
[She does not like this line of conversation, not one bit. She feels like the words are the wrong thing, but she doesn't know what else to say. Nothing she says is wrong, but there's something about the way that it hangs in the air between them that makes it feel that way. These are things she's never really thought about too much, about what they meant. Lessons taught to her in her formative years, when she was just starting to question the world.
They were talking about sacrifice and protection, which should have been benign enough and yet all of a sudden it felt treacherous, like Pierce had pulled out the knives when she hadn't been looking. Had he? She wasn't quite sure. If she was reading too much into it or not.]
I'm still figuring it out. [Which of those questions, or all of them? She didn't particularly feel like clarifying. All of them. She didn't know who she was, who she was supposed to be. She knew her strengths but she didn't like all of them, and even that she was fighting to control.]
[If he was correct about what he happened to have his hands on, he would be learning a lot more about her and that could have decided meaning after a conversation like this. He was given the distinct idea that she would be a continual conversation starter, what with how often she had visited him so far. The impression so far was that she would return again and again as her questions came up, as she came to check in on his activities during the day or the dead of night. Braver - or stupid - than most, since not even those that actually knew him had taken the opportunity to put an end to him.
She might not believe him, but he couldn't give anything more of himself in that regard; he had a reputation to upkeep regardless of what she felt that she knew him. Media and even intelligence circles would vastly overstate matters, but it was for each individual to digest the information and determine for themselves what the truth was. He also found that exposure over time could alter the initial ideas of what the truth were.
More importantly than her possible disbelief was her opinion on how the world worked. She clearly understood some of the complexity involved in conflict and how it would always be present no matter what anyone did. That she believed that there would always be a worst in humanity was good; she had seen and done enough to not wear rose-coloured glasses.]
And how would do that, Miss Orlova? How would you make fallen soldiers and damaged families less of a statistic? How would you make them into a real entity that would move and effect those who listen so that they gather themselves up to stand against that chaos?
[An opinion lead to what one believed and what one believed could be used to find the roots of weakness. They would be the way to get to her soft underbelly. There was more to the world than a need to punch things; there were ways to hurt people far worst than physical violence, but in order to slide into that place, one had to take their time, be careful and let the individual open up. That was the beauty of conversation; people gave themselves away unless they knew precisely what it was that their end goal was.
He nodded his head to her honesty that she was figuring it out. That was good; they had hit the point of honesty on some subjects, perhaps the most important ones.]
That will come with time and experience. I hope that you don't live in a head space of blame and resentment for your abilities.
[Brave or stupid is admittedly a hard question. She's not unaware of the risk, she's just stubborn enough to push at it anyway. She'd needed to know what he knew. And unfortunately for her, knowing that he knows something makes it hard for her to walk away. He'd not threatening her, he's just pushing, testing her reflexes. It just happens that his are better than hers, but she knew that going in. Not that the thought of killing him hadn't crossed her mind, it just seemed risky, and like any miscalculation would only make things worse.
The problem is when he asks her opinion. She considers for a moment, because this is a dangerous subject. She's a bit too bitter, a bit too broken, and she knows it. But his questions are leading enough for her to offer at least pieces of an answer, a slight exhale as she considers the questions.] I think you'd know better than me, I never finished my lessons in statescraft. But, I'm not sure you can. Not like that, anyway. Most people in positions of power concern themselves largely with the acquisitions of more power, what form that takes is specific to their particular role and part of the world. Money, information, guns, drugs, mystical relics, people willing to die for a cause, control, and so on. [There's a vague shrug of her shoulders.]
You have to change the shape of it, I'd think. [She leaves it there, because she knows that he's cutting close, but there's something a little murky in the morality of it. She wants to be a hero, to save the world, she wants to be something that Natasha wasn't, and yet there are shadows behind her blue eyes of things that even she doesn't quite understand.
Those words cut, even if she tries to shrug them off, because of course she does. Alexei had died in all but the same breath as she'd received her powers. Sometimes it felt like she'd stolen his life, like they were her curse for not saving him. She'd been embracing them more lately, thanks to Loki, Steve, people that didn't look at her like she was a monster. But there was always something very double-edged about her abilities. Including the fear that somehow this was what Ivan and her mother had wanted from her.]
It's not what I was taught, it's what I make of them. Something like that?
[He hadn't been asking after her level of education and what it would mean for the state of the world; he had been asking her opinion on what she thought would work best for ordering a disorderly world. They both clearly knew that though, which made her little circumvent of his question amusing. She was and wasn't playing the game, trying to squirm and wiggle out from his questions. She hadn't even bothered from the earlier ones when they had been verbally sparring back and forth with information.
He shrugged his shoulders though, casual as if what he thought on the matter of world peace didn't mean much in a kitchen conversation over a glass of milk. She certainly was striking out though, which he found interesting. She disregarded his ability to sympathize with the common man, and that was very dangerous as most of his charm was the ability to sympathize, especially when he was recruiting. There was simply a time and a place for emotions.
So he turned it back on her.] And what kind of power was Ivan trying to get his hands on, hmm? He was in a position of power.
[Changing the shape of peace. That was an interesting idea, honestly. He actually paused in replying further to glance towards the ceiling and literally ponder the very idea. His jaw shifted as he thought, processing the information that he came up with and slowly nodding his head. He liked that entire phrase he decided; it had a nice ring to it.
As for her indications of self, he suspected those were words of advice and not something that she had come up with on her own. He raised his eyebrows and pushed off of leaning on the counter, actually walking towards her slowly, non-threatening.]
Hardly, what you were taught will always be part of you and will always play with how you deal with people and situations. I feel it more appropriate to think more about how those lessons reflect in what you believe, Miss Orlova, if it is, you believe in much of anything or are simply going through the motions hoping something comes up once you figure out your life.
[She knew that, of course. It had been a deflection, trying to buy herself time, a way to try and figure out how to voice the words in a way that wasn't what he wanted to hear. She didn't know exactly what he was pushing for, not just yet, but the angles were getting sharper, and she knew she wasn't walking that line as well as she had when the terrain wasn't quite so treacherous.
It wasn't so much that she disregarded his sympathy so much as the veracity of it; she was pretty sure that much like Natasha it was something to be used or discarded as the situation required. And there was a sort of safety in it- as long as she allowed herself to deny the possibility of it, it insulated her to some degree from him trying to use it on her. In theory. He asks about Ivan and she quiets for a moment, falls silent for a breath. Because that's a charged question, one with very delicate answers.]
He was. But don't you already know what Ivan was after?
[It's another deflection, but also a curiosity. This one she doesn't chase with an actual answer, just lets her question hang there with a slight tilt of her head toward him. He seems to consider what she'd suggested, accepts it and then he's pushing off the counter, and into her space. She doesn't pull back, but she watches him, attention focused on him. She knows that he's a threat, but she doesn't retreat.
His body language seems non-threatening and she's more interested in what he's angling for, here. So she lets him shrink the distance between them. At his words she nods slightly, because that's far more true, and far more apt for what the OPUS project made of her than the trite sayings her various SHIELD instructors and Coulson tossed her way.]
I was taught different things by different people. Which matters more? Ivan? Natasha? The Academy? The things in between? [There's a thin almost-smile, but it's all edges, almost wolfish.] I believe in peace and order and fighting for the people I care about.
[It seemed to him that Ivan was definitely a sore spot with the way that she continually flipped inquiries back on him. She wanted to know what he knew of the Kremlin while seemingly giving away how much of an impact the man had made on her in the process. And what could he actually say? He hadn't personally met Ivan more than a passing glance, and they had never exchanged words with one another; he was familiar with the man's work.]
Given Ivan worked within the Red Room, I can surmise what he was after, but I have no solid proof. You, having worked with him directly, have more a clear picture of what it was that Ivan was motivated by.
[That much was true. Her direct contact gave her far more insight than what he could have picked up in a glance. The informational back and forth between factions of HYDRA were not always clear cut after all; there had to be some heavy compartmentalization within the ranks to keep anyone from spilling too much information. The Heads were a bit more open, but they had to hide themselves more diligently, but they were often more skilled in keeping information from leaking.
It wasn't as if Ivan's motivations mattered to him, if he were being honest. The man wasn't quite so important to his aspirations, but the fact that he was a bother for Ava meant that it might become a point of interest soon enough.
He wasn't certain if she would hold her ground if he approached, his file in hand even as he closed. If he was about to leave, he wanted to have all of his personal items with him to simply walk away and leave her standing there. She, of course, had the physical advantage, and he never discounted that. He just plain wasn't afraid of any violence that might ensue.]
That's up to you, now isn't it? What you were taught will either fall in those beliefs or they won't. [He smiled at her, nodding.] In that, we are the same, Miss Orlova. That warms my heart.
[He wasn't wrong. She tried to downplay it, but the truth was that Ivan had beaten her, tortured her, experimented on her. A lot of it she still didn't entirely remember, but there were pieces- the handcuffs, the screaming, electricity that arced through metal pressed to her skin. Pain and some strange emotion halfway between anger and resignation.]
To say I worked with him overstates the facts. Ivan thought he could build a new world by tearing down just about every intelligence apparatus and government agency from the inside out. Better for who, I don't know. He believed in pain, though.
[She doesn't think it's something he could do something with, not directly, at least. But it does have overtures to the OPUS project. That had been the method of it, after all. And sure that's a sideways reference to the fact that he'd tortured her, but if Pierce knew anything about the Red Room at all, which he clearly did, then that wasn't anything that he didn't already have on her.
He closes the distance and she stands still. Bravery, or maybe foolishness, but neither of them are afraid of a physical confrontation, which makes the subject of distance more of an allegory, the philosophical subject of what it says about them. He speaks and she's quiet for a moment, because that sentiment all but catches her breath, and not in a good sort of way.
We are the same, you and I. Natasha had said those words to her when she was nine years old. And again, when she'd been seventeen and angry, with Russian snipers taking position on rooftops. She'd punched her in the face, then. For daring to pretend at some connection when the woman had left her. Had given her a charm and told people to laugh at her to make her harder, colder. And now Pierce stands there in the kitchen, and there's those same words: we are the same. That echo in her memory of something that had always been a cruelty, a comparison, a legacy she could never achieve or escape. Мы такие же.
It makes her heart pound in her chest, makes her forget to breathe and for a moment her blue eyes glow. She makes herself blink, try to rein in her emotions but that's never been easy for her, and for a breath there's something on the air. That way that thunderstorms feel on a summer's night. She sighs, shakes her head and her eyes fade.]
It's getting late, isn't it? I didn't mean to keep you so long.
[Alexander drank in the information that she plainly provided, and he knew there was quite the story there about Ivan. It made him recall a project that had been associated with the man, one that a few agents had been looking more deeply into. Of course, Ivan wanted to gut the intelligence agents and governments; that was the quickest path to leaving people in the dark and being able to instate sleeper agents all around. No one would know who to trust and what information was correct.
He actually held his peace on that subject, aware that many in that area of the intelligence community enjoyed inflicting pain. The agents they produced were malleable and pliant, willing to follow orders, to endure, and to report back. It came as no surprise to him, and there was no sympathy that he could or would offer on the matter. It was her life, and she either dealt with it or let it take over what she was.
It seemed to him that his words had a profound effect on Ava, and that was perhaps the most interesting aspect of the night. Those blue glowing eyes, a link to something deeper he had no doubt. He would definitely be looking a bit more deeply into her, into what she was and why the Red Room had not kept her, instead parceling her off to SHIELD. What part of SHIELD? He was going to look into that as well.
She looked as if she struggled for control. At least she could. For now. There was no need to push her any further; he had good information and maybe she had a little herself. That she could shake whatever took root in her off was curious, and he nodded his head to her words, as if she hadn't come to him or he hadn't intended to stay up reading.
He moved to step passed her instead. That was that, then. She had no more questions to interrogate him with.]
No doubt we shall have more midnight meetings in future, Miss Orlova. Should you think of more questions, do feel free to bring them to my attention.
[He looked at her as he walked casually away, the file under his arm still.]
Don't stay up too late. Everyone needs a good nights rest. Another time then, Miss. You know where to find me.
[And with that, he left the kitchen to return to his bed.]
[There's something off-putting about the way that he invites her back, as if this had been some arranged meeting and not Ava sneaking in through the kitchen in the middle of the night. But he's right, this is the point where things get too brittle and she can't push further than this, and pushing her will just make her run.
But she stays long enough to nod in agreement, quiet, but that flare of emotion under control.] I'll keep that in mind.
[Pierce walks away and she slips away, silent as a shadow as she leaves the way she came. And tries to decide on where she can go to hit something. Repeatedly. He got under her skin and she doesn't quite know how to burn it out.]
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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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Of course, being trained in the Red Room helped with that, though he was curious of where she had come from before that. Was she an orphan like Natasha? Were her parents victims of the regime and she just a product of that fall out? There were edges he could press on, but there was no need for that right now as he had good and clear ways to circle her, to press his advantages. She had come to verify he knew things - which he did - but he now had a way to work her over to see things his way eventually.
Another soldier who would come to the ranks, even if they might not yet realize it.]
The other tragedy is when those on the ground don't see how much some in power struggle with the decisions that they had to make. Some understand that they are destroying lives, families... and for what? A short-lived victory until the next skirmish, the next battle, the next war. [He bowed his head a little, taking a deep breath as if he had struggled at times with those very decisions. Sympathetic. Emotional... but resolute.] For peace, everyone sacrifices something. It isn't always their lives.
[Everyone, everywhere had something to protect. A person with nothing of value, nothing to believe in even if it was themselves didn't exist. Everyone had something to give, and it were those loose strings that could be appealed to. Some people were better off made an example of, or their priorities rearranged to better serve a cause over just themselves. However, there was nothing wrong with wanting to protect something or someone; it was the basis of humanity to a degree. It made her and everyone else human, nothing more, nothing less.
And yes, there was nothing quite like failure to protect to make one reevaluate their skills and perception of the world. He lifted his eyes to watch her again, nodding slowly as he too understood that sentiment.]
Starting with people and working towards protecting the world is a worthwhile aspiration though. In order to protect people, you have to accept who you are and what your strength and limitations are. Have you done that?
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Her Widow Ops training had been to satisfy Ivan's desire for all of its subjects to be spies and soldiers, and then he'd handed her over and Ava still didn't quite understand it. What his plan had been, just what he'd wanted to make the world into and where she was supposed to tie into it all. She's played over that final confrontation in Istanbul and she's still not sure what his play had been-- either a misjudgment from delirious insanity, or he'd wanted things to play out as they had. And that thought is even more terrifying.
He looks almost penitent, with his head bowed and the rasp of his breath exhaled into the thin air between them. She doesn't trust it; maybe that he had struggled with sacrificing those of his own people, but she wasn't sure she believed that he was sympathetic to losses in general terms, except when it suited him.]
There's too much chaos in the world to end it. But the struggle can be guided so that-- I just mean, you can't get rid of bad things happening, not entirely. There will always be battles, lives will always be lost, because even in the absence of war people always come back to hurting each other. But you can try and make the families destroyed into more than statistics, to make the world something better than it was.
[She does not like this line of conversation, not one bit. She feels like the words are the wrong thing, but she doesn't know what else to say. Nothing she says is wrong, but there's something about the way that it hangs in the air between them that makes it feel that way. These are things she's never really thought about too much, about what they meant. Lessons taught to her in her formative years, when she was just starting to question the world.
They were talking about sacrifice and protection, which should have been benign enough and yet all of a sudden it felt treacherous, like Pierce had pulled out the knives when she hadn't been looking. Had he? She wasn't quite sure. If she was reading too much into it or not.]
I'm still figuring it out. [Which of those questions, or all of them? She didn't particularly feel like clarifying. All of them. She didn't know who she was, who she was supposed to be. She knew her strengths but she didn't like all of them, and even that she was fighting to control.]
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She might not believe him, but he couldn't give anything more of himself in that regard; he had a reputation to upkeep regardless of what she felt that she knew him. Media and even intelligence circles would vastly overstate matters, but it was for each individual to digest the information and determine for themselves what the truth was. He also found that exposure over time could alter the initial ideas of what the truth were.
More importantly than her possible disbelief was her opinion on how the world worked. She clearly understood some of the complexity involved in conflict and how it would always be present no matter what anyone did. That she believed that there would always be a worst in humanity was good; she had seen and done enough to not wear rose-coloured glasses.]
And how would do that, Miss Orlova? How would you make fallen soldiers and damaged families less of a statistic? How would you make them into a real entity that would move and effect those who listen so that they gather themselves up to stand against that chaos?
[An opinion lead to what one believed and what one believed could be used to find the roots of weakness. They would be the way to get to her soft underbelly. There was more to the world than a need to punch things; there were ways to hurt people far worst than physical violence, but in order to slide into that place, one had to take their time, be careful and let the individual open up. That was the beauty of conversation; people gave themselves away unless they knew precisely what it was that their end goal was.
He nodded his head to her honesty that she was figuring it out. That was good; they had hit the point of honesty on some subjects, perhaps the most important ones.]
That will come with time and experience. I hope that you don't live in a head space of blame and resentment for your abilities.
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The problem is when he asks her opinion. She considers for a moment, because this is a dangerous subject. She's a bit too bitter, a bit too broken, and she knows it. But his questions are leading enough for her to offer at least pieces of an answer, a slight exhale as she considers the questions.] I think you'd know better than me, I never finished my lessons in statescraft. But, I'm not sure you can. Not like that, anyway. Most people in positions of power concern themselves largely with the acquisitions of more power, what form that takes is specific to their particular role and part of the world. Money, information, guns, drugs, mystical relics, people willing to die for a cause, control, and so on. [There's a vague shrug of her shoulders.]
You have to change the shape of it, I'd think. [She leaves it there, because she knows that he's cutting close, but there's something a little murky in the morality of it. She wants to be a hero, to save the world, she wants to be something that Natasha wasn't, and yet there are shadows behind her blue eyes of things that even she doesn't quite understand.
Those words cut, even if she tries to shrug them off, because of course she does. Alexei had died in all but the same breath as she'd received her powers. Sometimes it felt like she'd stolen his life, like they were her curse for not saving him. She'd been embracing them more lately, thanks to Loki, Steve, people that didn't look at her like she was a monster. But there was always something very double-edged about her abilities. Including the fear that somehow this was what Ivan and her mother had wanted from her.]
It's not what I was taught, it's what I make of them. Something like that?
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He shrugged his shoulders though, casual as if what he thought on the matter of world peace didn't mean much in a kitchen conversation over a glass of milk. She certainly was striking out though, which he found interesting. She disregarded his ability to sympathize with the common man, and that was very dangerous as most of his charm was the ability to sympathize, especially when he was recruiting. There was simply a time and a place for emotions.
So he turned it back on her.] And what kind of power was Ivan trying to get his hands on, hmm? He was in a position of power.
[Changing the shape of peace. That was an interesting idea, honestly. He actually paused in replying further to glance towards the ceiling and literally ponder the very idea. His jaw shifted as he thought, processing the information that he came up with and slowly nodding his head. He liked that entire phrase he decided; it had a nice ring to it.
As for her indications of self, he suspected those were words of advice and not something that she had come up with on her own. He raised his eyebrows and pushed off of leaning on the counter, actually walking towards her slowly, non-threatening.]
Hardly, what you were taught will always be part of you and will always play with how you deal with people and situations. I feel it more appropriate to think more about how those lessons reflect in what you believe, Miss Orlova, if it is, you believe in much of anything or are simply going through the motions hoping something comes up once you figure out your life.
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It wasn't so much that she disregarded his sympathy so much as the veracity of it; she was pretty sure that much like Natasha it was something to be used or discarded as the situation required. And there was a sort of safety in it- as long as she allowed herself to deny the possibility of it, it insulated her to some degree from him trying to use it on her. In theory. He asks about Ivan and she quiets for a moment, falls silent for a breath. Because that's a charged question, one with very delicate answers.]
He was. But don't you already know what Ivan was after?
[It's another deflection, but also a curiosity. This one she doesn't chase with an actual answer, just lets her question hang there with a slight tilt of her head toward him. He seems to consider what she'd suggested, accepts it and then he's pushing off the counter, and into her space. She doesn't pull back, but she watches him, attention focused on him. She knows that he's a threat, but she doesn't retreat.
His body language seems non-threatening and she's more interested in what he's angling for, here. So she lets him shrink the distance between them. At his words she nods slightly, because that's far more true, and far more apt for what the OPUS project made of her than the trite sayings her various SHIELD instructors and Coulson tossed her way.]
I was taught different things by different people. Which matters more? Ivan? Natasha? The Academy? The things in between? [There's a thin almost-smile, but it's all edges, almost wolfish.] I believe in peace and order and fighting for the people I care about.
no subject
Given Ivan worked within the Red Room, I can surmise what he was after, but I have no solid proof. You, having worked with him directly, have more a clear picture of what it was that Ivan was motivated by.
[That much was true. Her direct contact gave her far more insight than what he could have picked up in a glance. The informational back and forth between factions of HYDRA were not always clear cut after all; there had to be some heavy compartmentalization within the ranks to keep anyone from spilling too much information. The Heads were a bit more open, but they had to hide themselves more diligently, but they were often more skilled in keeping information from leaking.
It wasn't as if Ivan's motivations mattered to him, if he were being honest. The man wasn't quite so important to his aspirations, but the fact that he was a bother for Ava meant that it might become a point of interest soon enough.
He wasn't certain if she would hold her ground if he approached, his file in hand even as he closed. If he was about to leave, he wanted to have all of his personal items with him to simply walk away and leave her standing there. She, of course, had the physical advantage, and he never discounted that. He just plain wasn't afraid of any violence that might ensue.]
That's up to you, now isn't it? What you were taught will either fall in those beliefs or they won't. [He smiled at her, nodding.] In that, we are the same, Miss Orlova. That warms my heart.
no subject
To say I worked with him overstates the facts. Ivan thought he could build a new world by tearing down just about every intelligence apparatus and government agency from the inside out. Better for who, I don't know. He believed in pain, though.
[She doesn't think it's something he could do something with, not directly, at least. But it does have overtures to the OPUS project. That had been the method of it, after all. And sure that's a sideways reference to the fact that he'd tortured her, but if Pierce knew anything about the Red Room at all, which he clearly did, then that wasn't anything that he didn't already have on her.
He closes the distance and she stands still. Bravery, or maybe foolishness, but neither of them are afraid of a physical confrontation, which makes the subject of distance more of an allegory, the philosophical subject of what it says about them. He speaks and she's quiet for a moment, because that sentiment all but catches her breath, and not in a good sort of way.
We are the same, you and I. Natasha had said those words to her when she was nine years old. And again, when she'd been seventeen and angry, with Russian snipers taking position on rooftops. She'd punched her in the face, then. For daring to pretend at some connection when the woman had left her. Had given her a charm and told people to laugh at her to make her harder, colder. And now Pierce stands there in the kitchen, and there's those same words: we are the same. That echo in her memory of something that had always been a cruelty, a comparison, a legacy she could never achieve or escape. Мы такие же.
It makes her heart pound in her chest, makes her forget to breathe and for a moment her blue eyes glow. She makes herself blink, try to rein in her emotions but that's never been easy for her, and for a breath there's something on the air. That way that thunderstorms feel on a summer's night. She sighs, shakes her head and her eyes fade.]
It's getting late, isn't it? I didn't mean to keep you so long.
no subject
He actually held his peace on that subject, aware that many in that area of the intelligence community enjoyed inflicting pain. The agents they produced were malleable and pliant, willing to follow orders, to endure, and to report back. It came as no surprise to him, and there was no sympathy that he could or would offer on the matter. It was her life, and she either dealt with it or let it take over what she was.
It seemed to him that his words had a profound effect on Ava, and that was perhaps the most interesting aspect of the night. Those blue glowing eyes, a link to something deeper he had no doubt. He would definitely be looking a bit more deeply into her, into what she was and why the Red Room had not kept her, instead parceling her off to SHIELD. What part of SHIELD? He was going to look into that as well.
She looked as if she struggled for control. At least she could. For now. There was no need to push her any further; he had good information and maybe she had a little herself. That she could shake whatever took root in her off was curious, and he nodded his head to her words, as if she hadn't come to him or he hadn't intended to stay up reading.
He moved to step passed her instead. That was that, then. She had no more questions to interrogate him with.]
No doubt we shall have more midnight meetings in future, Miss Orlova. Should you think of more questions, do feel free to bring them to my attention.
[He looked at her as he walked casually away, the file under his arm still.]
Don't stay up too late. Everyone needs a good nights rest. Another time then, Miss. You know where to find me.
[And with that, he left the kitchen to return to his bed.]
no subject
But she stays long enough to nod in agreement, quiet, but that flare of emotion under control.] I'll keep that in mind.
[Pierce walks away and she slips away, silent as a shadow as she leaves the way she came. And tries to decide on where she can go to hit something. Repeatedly. He got under her skin and she doesn't quite know how to burn it out.]