Keira's P.O.V.

I swear I am going to shoot something. We've been on this damned mission for nearly three months now. All Masteria contacts have simultaneously gone underground. Coincidence? I don't believe in coincidences. It's all I can do to outright blame Zeke when every turn we take is blocked. After all, who could help being suspicious when the enemy seems to know our moves before we even strike. It's like they all know we're coming after them. Like they've been warned.

But I can't doubt Zeke, not now. If we start fighting amongst ourselves, we won't last very long in the field. Nathan, however, is not so conservative in his doubt. When Zeke happens to be away, sly hints and rebellious, dark comments about our comrade are the order of the day. Right now I'm dealing with another of his tirades.

I lean forward and rub my forehead wearily, "for the hundred thousandths time, Ortuso, Zeke isn't a spy."

"Then how do you explain—"

"I don't know how to explain it," I interrupt waspishly, "but I know that this mission will blow to the high heavens if we don't learn to work with each other, and I'll be damned if I screw up my first mission." I push my chair back up and walk away. As far as I can in our confined space, that is.

"Keira," he starts again. He sounds like he's reasoning with a child. I hate it when he does that. "We have to entertain the possibility that we're being blindsided, and we shouldn't let our emotions or prejudices get in the way of our job." He says it sternly, as if delivering a lesson.

"For Christ's sake, I have just as high of an IQ as you, don't talk to me like I'm a doe-eyed three-year-old!" I round on him. "And that emotional shit is rich coming from someone with a very biased hate of the very person we are discussing."

He looks taken aback, his grey eyes large and innocent. "I do not have a prejudice against him!"

"Bull," I deadpan. "You've had it out for him since you first laid eyes on each other." I collapse back into my previous seat and resume my position of hopelessly rubbing my fingers against my pounding headache.

"That would be unprofessional," he shrugs self-righteously and turns back to his computer screen. Unprofessional, my ass.

"We've had this discussion a million times, and my answer is the same, if we can't work out petty differences, then we might as well call Fury and tell him…"

Zeke strides in, causing me to let my sentence die off. "Tell Fury what?"

"I need a pay raise," I finish dryly. He quirks his eyebrows in agreement and sets a cup of steaming, black coffee in front of me. I wrap my hands around it gratefully and try to convey my utmost thanks from the depths of my heart as I raise the nectar of life to my lips.

"Made any progress?"

"Surprisingly, we had an enormous breakthrough in the past five minutes that completely rectifies three months of absolutely no progress," I chirp with a falsely cheery tone. Zeke doesn't laugh but grunts in acknowledgement. Nathan turns to me and frowns, waiting as if expectantly. I stare back, until I realize what his problem is. "It was this thing called sarcasm, Nathan."

His mouth forms an "O" as realization dawns. He contemplates it for a moment, as if humor is some kind of abstract concept, and then turns back to his data.

I roll my eyes. I need to get a life.

A small notification beeps all our phones. We scramble for them simultaneously. Nathan gets his first. "New orders."

I open my message and read aloud, "locate a known Masteria base in Spain. Observe from distance, do not engage nor attempt to make contact. Notify your handler for further instructions when this is accomplished."

"'Do not attempt to make contact,' what, do they think we'll knock on the front door or something?" Zeke sneers bad temperedly at the screen.

"I believe they were attempting to restrain us from any possible way of notifying them of our presence, such as an attempt to send a warning, or perhaps—"

"I know what they meant, Ortuso," Zeke snaps.

"Then why did you ask?"

"It was rhetorical," I murmur automatically as I gaze blankly over the rim of my cup, only half listening to them. I'm very used to their spats and having to mediate for them. Somehow, after three months in close quarters with two of the most sarcastic people in this business, Nathan still hasn't created an applicable algorithm for humor. "We need to take the first transport out of here," I comment, glancing down at my watch. We're currently stationed in some SHIELD base in Mexico, we've been hopping bases nearly each week for the past three months. Nathan is already pulling up the transport schedules in the system.

"The first one to Spain is an hour from now."

"Sounds great to me."

oooooOOOOOoooo

It was four p.m. by the time we got out of there, SHIELD duffle bags packed and ready. I study the coordinates for our first Masteria base. This is a significant change of plans. All SHIELD has been having us do is track possible Masteria contacts all over the planet, but as said before, they've all been dead ends. SHIELD, or Fury, I should say, is probably getting desperate enough to start sending us into the line of fire, going straight for the source, or as straight as we can get anyways. He's still aiming for stealth, apparently, with his orders of no contact, but I don't know how long that cover will stay, especially if my suspicions are proven true of the Masteria being informed of our movements somehow.

I sit next to Nathan on the transport with Zeke across from us, all of us strapped in and bouncing with the turbulence. Nathan has his tablet out just like I do, except he isn't studying our mission. I glance at his work, and do a double take.

I type a quick message and furtively slide it over to his screen. 'Why are you still working on that? This isn't the academy anymore, we have level four access.'

He barely blinks an eye at my message and responds 'All the more reason. You and I both know Fury has his agendas. We'd be fools to think that just because he's on the side of the angels means he's as clean as one.'

I immediately type my response and send it flying back to him, 'Then what would be the point of this system? They give orders, we obey. We aren't supposed to have the full picture. Things would go to hell if every soldier thought they were entitled to know everything their superiors know.'

His fingers blur as he responds, 'Don't tell me now you're beginning to trust them.'

' This has nothing to do with trust. This has everything to do with just doing our duty and putting the mission in a bag.'

' What if the information they keep is vital to our lives? They play the game well and in that game the pawns go first. I have never allowed myself to be used as a pawn, and neither have you. That's why we banded together in the first place. We are survivors. Are you saying now that you'll just throw your life away from this organization?'

His response stops me. Have my perspectives changed? I stare at it for a while, unseeing, trying to work out the response in my head before I let my fingers type. I see him glancing at me in the corner of his eye, confused at my lack of response. But I have none. No response for the logic that kept me alive my seventeen years. Finally I get my fingers to move, type some sort of response, even if it's not good enough. 'I don't know anymore. We used this organization to keep ourselves alive, so don't we owe it our lives? So go ahead, keep working on your hacking. I don't think I can help you anymore.'

With that I shut down my tablet and stare at the dark screen. I don't want to see his response. I don't turn my head because I don't want to meet his big grey eyes. Instead I glance up and catch Zeke studying me. He doesn't turn away, even as I catch him. Did he see that exchange? Probably. He's smarter than Nathan and I give him credit for.

We arrive to our new home for an indefinite period of time. It's just a staple apartment with one bedroom, two beds, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen, and about two miles away from our target.

"Looks like they decided one of us should have the couch," Zeke says, throwing his duffle onto the couch, "so I'll take it."

Nathan says nothing and immediately starts digging out his tech and setting up. I nod in acknowledgement to Zeke and turn towards the window. I pull back the curtains enough to look down into the street of Madrid, Spain, where we are stationed.

It would be beautiful, if I didn't have possible impending murder on my mind. It's not murder, it's self-defense. Of course, the usual standby argument. I close my eyes for a moment and pretend I'm just a normal tourist. I'm just here to shop and sight see, not a care in the world. Maybe some friends or family in the city. Hah. That hasn't and never will be my life. But I can't help but savor the sweetness of the daydream. A wish upon a star that I've longed for my whole life.

I open my eyes and reality catches up. Too bad, I'm sure they have some good shops here. In another time of my life I would've been scoping out possible robbery targets.

I hear the whoosh of the cushions as Zeke flops down onto the couch and throws an arm over his eyes. Ortuso's keys click as he types commands into his laptop. If it weren't for the cases containing rifles, pistols, knives, and grenades, we might just look like normal tourists.

"I'm going out. Play nice, boys," I announce.

Immediately Zeke shifts his arm to watch me grab my Glock 29 and tuck it into the waistband of my jeans. "Where are you going?"

"Take a look around the city, maybe scout some locations, get a general idea of anything that could be useful." I did this in New York. That city was my hunting ground and I knew it like the back of my hand. Never underestimate the power of a city and the anonymity it brings.

"I'll come with you," he makes to sit up.

"No, I'm doing this by myself." I grab the door handle, about to swing it shut behind me, and then pause, "ask Nathan what you can do. Maybe you can make yourself useful."

As I push the door of the apartment building open and step into the street, I take a deep lungful of the foreign air. One thing I've never done and always wanted was to travel abroad. Being on the metro police wanted list kind of narrowed my options outside the country.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, plug in some rod red earbuds, and start my first (illegally) downloaded song,Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum. I know exactly where I'm going. The ugly part of town. Certainly not as charming as the tourist areas, but a lot more interesting and suited for my needs. Everyone underestimates the homeless network. They naturally have their ears to the ground, and if one knows how to earn their trust, well, they're a veritable wealth of information.

Hotel California by The Eagles is playing and I've already made my rounds. A few whispered words here, some cash there, spread the word, find the right people, and I'm all set to go. I begin to make my way back to our apartment when I feel the buzz of my phone. When I check it I see thirteen missed calls from a blocked number. Must be my team. Oops.

"Please tell me you haven't blown cover already," I snap into the phone.

"Where the hell have you been?" Zeke sounds distinctly pissed.

"I was busy."

" I've been trying to call you for the last hour!"

"Geez, cool your jets, you're talking to me now. What do you want?" I glance behind me, around me, even above me, checking for any possible threats as I weave my way back to our apartment.

" Ortuso identified a possible location of the base. I'm staking it out now."

I frown. "I thought we had coordinates."

" That doesn't exactly give us and address, does it? There are three possible buildings in the area."

"You need backup." I feel honestly disturbed by the idea of Zeke out there with no one to watch his back.

"This isn't my first surveillance," his tone holds a serious quality to it, one I've learned he uses on the job despite his apparent lack of enthusiasm for formality. "I want you on the coms, though. Get your ass back to base."

"So demanding," I smirk, shooting another glance behind me. Something catches my eye. I could swear I just saw that same SUV take a left behind me a few blocks back.

"Don't test me, Matheson." I can hear the usual mischievous note in his voice. Do I call it in? I glance back and the SUV is gone. I'm not reassured, if anything I feel a greater sense of dread. No, I can handle this. The last thing I need is my team put into jeopardy.

"No promises. Hey, listen, I'm heading back now. If I don't show up or make contact in twenty, just assume I found some company on the way."

" Whoa, what? Wait, why would you—"

"Sorry, pal, I gotta run."

I pull the phone from my ear just in time to hear his slightly panicked, "Keira! Don't you dare—" Even if I get caught, neither Zeke nor Nathan will know where I am. They're only choice would be to call it in and label it an agent capture. Procedure would to be to disavow, pack up, and get the hell out of here. Good. That's what I want them to do if this goes to hell.

I glance behind me again. Still no sign of them. I will stick to the busy roads, there is always less chance of engaging if there are witnesses. Not like a drive by shooting is unheard of, but I highly doubt that if I have a tail in my line of work (aka assassins, spies, and espionage) they would want to make such a big spectacle.

The screeching of tires up ahead catches my attention. Another black SUV, or maybe the same one, swerves into the busy street from the intersection right ahead of me. I glance behind. There's another. Uh oh.

First instinct: dive into an alleyway, find a hideout, and wait it out. No, no, I can't do that. I don't know this city well enough. I don't have any safe houses. That leaves one other option, stick to the original plan and stay on the street until I can get a chance to ditch them. Then I can make a couple double backs, tour the city even, and make it back to the apartment by tonight when I'm sure I've lost the tail.

I keep walking, searching, probing, looking for a way out. Ah, there it is. I can see my chance. I reach down, grab the arm of a homeless girl who is sitting on the sidewalk in front of a shop, and pull her with me into the store.

To my surprise she follows without a comment. I pull her behind a rack of clothes. "Do you want to make two hundred bucks and an outfit, kid?" She nods mutely. "Switch clothes with me and walk down the street. Keep walking until nightfall. Got it?"

Ten minutes later, I wear an entirely new set of clothes, with my hood pulled over my face. I nod to the girl. She pulls up her hood and walks out, burying her face and walking the way I was going. I wait until I see the black SUV pass, wait another ten minutes, and then head out the opposite direction.

The rest goes entirely as planned. I phone Zeke. It's picked up on the first ring. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on or do I need to personally find you and shoot you in the ass for being such a piss poor agent?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Sorry, I picked up a tail. They're gone now." I keep my head bowed as I walk.

"This is called a team, Keira, you're supposed to tell us when you're in trouble so we can help you," he sounds extremely pissed now.

"Don't lecture me, Preissner," I snap. "I couldn't contact you or they could trace me back. If they found you or our safe house then they have a direct link to SHIELD. You know that as well as I do."

He sighs, obviously frustrated. I can just see him rumpling his hair. "There are ways we could've—"

"No, stop, there aren't. You're just overreacting. I'm fine now. We'll sort this out when I get back to base. I'll be back three hours, tops. I'll update you with a text every half hour so you don't call the National Guard, you idiot."

"Dumb ass," he spits.

I hang up. This is going to be quite a long couple of hours.

I make it back in two and a half hours, after doubling back, using alleyways, and doubling back again. No tails. I push the door to the apartment open to find a pacing Zeke and a outwardly placid Nathan.

"You took your time," Zeke practically snarls as he rounds on me.

I hold my hands up in mock surrender, "whoa, bitch. I didn't ask to have a tail put on me."

"Well, you wouldn't have gotten one if you hadn't gone wandering the city in the first place!"

Okay, one point Zeke. "It was worth the repercussions." I turn away to ignore him for the moment. "Do you know of anyone who would know we're here yet?" I direct towards Ortuso.

He shakes his head. "I have nothing. Not one ping." He pauses a moment. It's then that I notice him picking his nails and the slightly nervous twitch of his foot. "Preissner is right, Keira, you should have let us help you." His voice is quiet, but strained.

I glance between the two of them, incredulous. "Oh… what? So you two are ganging up against me now? I liked it better when you were at each other's throats," the snark in my voice is cutting. I brush past both of them and slam the door of the bedroom shut behind me.

The rest of the day is chilly, figuratively. Reviewing strategies, protocols, and our plan of action, but the tension is thick. Eventually I plug in my ear buds and try to get some sleep.

" What do you think you're doing?" A harsh voice, thick with a Russian accent.

I look up. I'm on my knees, hands bound, mouth gagged. Blood trickles down my scalp, the concrete is cold and hard against my knees. I could slip the rope around my wrists, but I'd only get in worse trouble. If these people were anyone else, I would. But I'm afraid of these people. They are the only ones I've ever been afraid of in my life. I can feel it. It's a deep dread down in my bones, an animalistic fear.

" Сука ! Вы опять не с нами . Эта программа не принимает отказ." (Bitch! You failed us again, this program does not accept failure). He strikes me across the mouth. Blood and pain bloom together, one dangerous flower of red. Tears sting my eyes. "Пожалуйста пожалуйста, сэр, прошу вас—" (Please, please, sir, I beg you—)

" Не прошу, шлюха, мы подняли вы сильнее, чем это." (Do not beg, slut, we raised you stronger than that). Another blow, but I do not fear hits, I know what's coming is much worse. Arms pick me up and pull me away, but they hardly register. All I see is where they are taking me. The Room. The Chair. " Пожалуйста! Пожалуйста! Я буду делать все, что вы спрашиваете! Пожалуйста! Я не могу, он сломает меня. Не делайте этого, я дам вам, что вы хотите. Пожалуйста..." (Please! Please! I'll do whatever you ask! Please! I can't, it will break me. Do not do this, I'll give you whatever you want. Please…" ) The words slur together, one hymn begging for mercy. I hardly understand the garbled language coming from my strangled mouth.

He grabs my jaw, roughly tilting my face up to meet his eyes. "Вам даст нам, что мы хотим. Вам дадут нам информацию. Что, я уверен. Но вы должны научиться послушанию, дочь. Выполнить, и вы найдете удовлетворение." (You will give us whatever we want. You will give us information. Of that I am sure. But you must learn obedience, daughter. Comply, and you will find satisfaction.)

A scream of despair hurtles from my throat. He releases me and I fall to his feet. I grovel, brought too low to care, but nothing I do now will change the verdict. I am like a criminal, being sentenced to death, nothing will save me. If only I could find something as sweet as death. A cool hand grabs my arm. I continue screaming. I am manhandled to the Chair. It's familiar metal restraints lock around my body. I can see the machine bearing down. I struggle and squeal and sob, but deep down I am calm. Calm because I know I only have moments before everything I have is ripped away. Calm because the inevitable is about to happen. The last thing I see is a man, watching from the shadows,his metal arm gleaming in the sterile light of the room. His face triggers a feeling. A feeling of familiarity, of something I should remember, but I don't. I never get a chance. The all-consuming rage of the beast is unleashed in my head, everything is torn apart. Nothing is left standing.