Chapter Text
Out of time; fish and ditch it, you said to yourself as you peeled running through the tight alleys of New York, sidestepping rubble and homeless encampments on the way. Skidding to a stop and almost slamming into the grey brick wall from the momentum, you squeezed through a tight space between the wall, ran down a flight of stairs and yanked off a strip of wallpaper, revealing a blue lit keypad. You jammed the code in and opened the door, only to find Bug’s scruffy face illuminated by the tiny TV in the corner, the only source of light in the room, fast asleep. Two pundits on the screen were arguing about the Avengers again; the media had been debating about whether Stark’s merry band of heroes had either helped of hindered the USA’s security after the battle of New York. Based on you current line of work, safe to say it was the latter.
“Get up dickweed, we gotta bail” you whispered urgently, startling Bug awake.
“Wha..?” his bleary eyes clearing as he focused on you, while you rushed around the dark room, stripping cables, and breaking PC towers open; grabbing drives, disks, and as much valuable data as you could manage. “What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?!?” He stood to grab your arm brusquely in the middle of your frenzy.
“They’re coming!” you turned to him, a wild expression in your face. “So unless you want to be doing 35 to life, help me grab all this shit and get ready to run.” The plan called for you each to spread out the data cache and drop it in separate locations. One random backpack with seemingly spare parts was useless to law enforcement, and if either of you got caught, you’d have plausible deniability about the other one’s drop points. You had no idea where Bug would dump his stash, and he didn’t know yours, and if you were questioned, nobody knew each other’s real names anyway.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Bug began ripping down the maps and logistic notes from the walls, turning off the TV and for some reason grabbing it off the stand. “Where’s Novak?”
“Probably in the same squad car as Leen and Zev,” you stuck a flash drive into the router and opened a small netbook. “Why d’you think I’m the one who woke up your sorry ass?” You ran the command for a quick encryption and a proxy router to try and buy you some time.
“Shit, shit, SHIT!”
“Bug, just shut up, leave the TV and start clean up, they can’t find a single hair strand, get me?!” You closed the last of the bags, set them by the door, and closed the netbook, while Bug opened up a cabinet under the kitchenette and grabbed an ammonia bottle, throwing you a second one. The room was a small studio, but you both had been working out of this space for weeks. You couldn’t afford to miss a single spot.
“Set the rig,” you told Bug, running another program. He set a small device on the door, right behind the keypad lock, and you both ran out, each with 3 backpacks on hand. At the foot of the stairs you turned to him again.
“You know the plan.” He nodded, still trying to catch his breath.
“Headed anywhere in particular?” he asked.
“If I told you…” you trailed off with a smirk. Bug chuckled, “Right.” You smacked his arm playfully. “Watch your back”.
You both went up the stairs and split up, Bug running North, you went West. As soon as you turned a corner a block away, you heard them. Sirens. Hoping Bug had made a clean getaway, you jumped into an old crusty Volvo stashed in an alley not far away. There was only one more thing to do.
Flipping open the netbook once again, you clicked “enter”. The screen prompt changed from ‘Standby’ to ‘Armed’. You reached under the seat and grabbed a police scanner, connected it to your netbook, and flipped through multiple frequencies until you found the one you were looking for.
“One suspect in custody, apprehended north side. Team Bravo going in.”
“FUCK!” you couldn’t help yourself, as you threw the scanner and netbook on the passenger side of the car, turned it on, and backed up the alley to drive as far away as you could. You had 2 hours to dump your cargo and Bug was toast. You couldn’t get caught with all this shit on you, you’d never see the light of day again. Especially after the–
–BOOM–
You slammed your foot on the gas and peeled out onto the main avenues. If you crossed 53rd you could make it to the next borough in time, maybe start building up an alibi and have enough time to wipe your footprint off the map.
You didn’t see it until the headlights flashed on right behind you: a dark van slammed the back of the Volvo, and a second one blocked your way in the front. Dazed from the whiplash, your tried to blink the grogginess away, reaching over to your netbook and yanking off a piece; a safeguard you had installed to corrupt all data and processes from the machine if removed or tampered with. It was useless now. You heard shouts as the driver’s door opened.
“Out of the car, put your hands up!”
You sighed and held them up. “Fuck me.”
***
“I want a lawyer.”
The red haired Detective laughed. “What’s the use? All your buddies threw you under the bus.”
FBI rulebook was always the same, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You weren’t about to fold, you knew better.
“I don’t have any buddies.” you said fiercely.
“You got that right,” this time Good Cop spoke up, dark hair, a stack of files in hand. “Every single one of your hacker pals basically said you were the brains of the operation”. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, but you still knew your rights. There was a plan, and you all followed it, that was the rule. It wasn’t over yet.
“I want a lawyer,” you repeated, each word oozing with disdain at the pair.
Redhead rolled her eyes. “Oh for god’s sake,” she said as she yanked the files from Good Cop and started throwing them one by one in front of you. “Lauren ‘Leen’ Correa, Christoph ‘Zev’ Yevgeny , Freidrich ‘Novak’ Normandie, Hammond ‘Bug’ Fields” she crossed her arms, all files opened on each one of the ops team. So much for anonymity. “Four signatures, clear as day. LOOK”, she slammed her hand down on the papers in front of you when you didn’t react.
You stayed still. The chair you were sitting on was suddenly too cold and hard, but you felt like you were boiling from the inside. You had stuck to the damn plan, the plan they had all agreed on and ran a million times, and these fucking bastards just decided to screw you over. You wondered which one was the first to squeal. Probably Zev. You never trusted him and he knew it.
“You still want that lawyer now?” Redhead smirked. You didn’t move, just swallowed hard. This was it, you’d be stuck in the hole for the rest of your life… at least until some crazed Patriot guard marked you as a “traitor to your Country” and gave you a quicker end. Prison would not be kind to you.
The door behind you opened and a sharply dressed man, face lined with time, and full head of white blonde hair stood in the frame.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, casually strolling into the room and standing opposite you. You held his gaze. “I think we can come to an arrangement,” he said, smiling at you.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
“My name is Alexander Pierce. And you, are out of options.”
You leaned back on your chair, still looking into those deep blue eyes. He was guarded; his features warm, but his expression wasn’t exactly genuine. Practiced. Maybe CIA or NSA. This you’d heard about, too. Hackers turned into reformed government pawns for the rest of their lives. Exactly the opposite of everything you’d stood for. Freedom of information shouldn’t have consequences for citizens aiming for the truth, you had made it your mission to make it available to any interested party. Sure, you made a bit of profit on the side, but that was basic enterprise. It was relatively nothing compared to the massive financial transactions the government signed off on on the regular, at the expense of their own citizens’ dime.
“You here for an offer I can’t refuse?” you smirked.
“Oh you’re free to refuse it, if you wish,” he smiled back, gesturing to Redhead and Good Cop to close the door behind them as they left. “I’m sure a self-proclaimed ‘freedom fighter’ like yourself will find a way to thrive behind bars.”
“As opposed to…?” You shot back. “A prison by any other name is still a prison.”
Pierce looked at you with those knowing eyes. You knew it wouldn’t work out for you if you underestimated him. He could sense your fear, and even worse: you knew he’d use it to get you to do anything he wanted. But there was a reason he was here, preying on your vulnerability, after being used by Novak and dumped like yesterday’s trash.
“You don’t have the advantage of being on foreign soil, Y/N Y/L/N.” He measured his words, scanning your face for a reaction. You hadn’t told him your name, but he knew it nonetheless. “Not that avoiding extradition would be of any help to you, you’ve managed to… frustrate enough of the World’s governments with your impressive work.”
You couldn’t help but scoff. “As if that would be a problem,” you muttered, loud enough for Pierce to hear.
“I don’t doubt your resourcefulness,” he continued, grabbing a chair and sitting down across from you, leaning back on it casually. “But extortion, arson, and theft are not protected under the Whistleblower Protection Act, you know,” you sighed, lowering your gaze as he continued, “among other things. By all intents and purposes, you’re a radicalized domestic terrorist who has endangered the security of our great Nation. Or at least that is what the District Attorney will say at your trial.” You looked up and he fixed you with that knowing stare again, letting the silent question linger in the air: government tool or prison?
After a beat, you spoke up. “Do I get immunity?”
Pierce chuckled. “You’ll get a bed,” he said standing up. “Not in a cell. A desk job, a salary to buy groceries, and a chance to make a difference in the future of our country. Maybe even the world.” He took out a brown envelope from inside his suit jacket and placed it in front of you, a logo of an eagle enclosed in a circle on it.
You looked back up at him. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”