[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/kp75986.png?1[/img][/center] [b]Washington D.C. Twenty Months Ago[/b] “Where were you when 9/11 happened?” Tresser looked away from the pond and turned to face Steel. He was sitting beside him on the park bench. This was their third meeting in the past week and it was almost identical to the previous two. Every time it had been in a public place, somewhere they could be seen but audio surveillance would be hard to get. Per Steel’s orders Tresser spent nearly two hours before the meeting running countermeasures to throw off any potential tails. “I was in high school,” said Tresser. “I was in ninth grade at the time.” “But what about the day?” Steel asked. “September 11th, 2001. Do you remember exactly where you were?” “No,” said Tresser. “I… used to... I think I was in my homeroom… no that would have been too early to have heard about it. It’s slipped away.” “Of course,” Sarge Steel said with a slight nod. “More and more people are forgetting about the details of that day. Biggest tragedy in US history, and they’re moving on from it.” “That’s how it works,” Tresser shrugged. “Time marches on, memories fade. I--” “I was on my way to the Pentagon when a plane hit it,” said Steel. “My office was on the western side of the building, the one that got destroyed in the attack. One hundred and twenty-five of my friends and co-workers died that day. That memory hasn’t faded, Tresser. No matter how much time marches on, they're still dead.” Tresser was at a loss for words. He remembered the aftermath and the way everyone in the country seemed to come together and rally around the flag. He also remembered how quickly it all went to shit. Patriot Acts, prolonged war in two countries. He’d witnessed firsthand the folly of US foreign policy when he was a SEAL, and time and time again when he was a CIA spook. “If you could stop the next 9/11,” said Steel. “How far would you go to accomplish it? “I’d do whatever it takes. At JSOC they said we stopped it several times over.” “I bet that they did,” Steel chuckled. “The special forces boys hang their hats on that claim every chance they get. But I’m not talking about what you do to someone else to stop a major attack. What would you do to yourself? Would you die? Ruin your life? Does your life and happiness trump the lives of thousands?” “This is starting to sound like a philosophy class,” said Tresser. “About to break out the trolley problem?” Steel shook his head and looked at Tresser. “I’m gonna cut through the bullshit, son. I’ve combed through every bit of your files, both your time with DEVGRU and with the Activity. I like what I’ve read and I like what I’ve seen from you in these little chats of ours. I want to offer you a job… well, not so much a job but a mission.” “What’s the mission?” “Deep cover. I don’t mean pretending to be an Austrian drug dealer or some extremist right winger. You’re going to be a bad guy and live the life, 24/7/365. It means leaving the Activity and having your life rewritten to become a fallen angel in need of a job. Low-hanging fruit for the people we want to trap. What do you think?” Tresser looked out across the park. It was early afternoon but there were a few dozen people going about their lives. He half-remembered some quote about people being able to live in comfort because of the people who lived in the shadows and did the things necessary for their comfort. “What do I need to do?” asked Tresser. “Leave that to me, Tom,” Steel said as he stood. “We’ll work on your legend. For now prepare yourself. Very shortly you’re going to go through the rabbit hole.” [hr] [b]Hub City Now[/b] Tresser whipped his rental car into the parking garage and found a spot to park. He watched the rearview mirror and waited to see any movement from behind him. A car on the highway managed to keep a steady three lengths behind him and got off the same on-ramp, keeping behind him all the way to downtown. His first instinct was to cut and run back to France. Vertigo would understand the move, especially if this was a setup looking to get to him and his business. But Steel wanted intel to give to SHIELD, something to barter with in case he ever needed it. He also brought up another angle that intrigued Tresser. What if Broker was doing talent scouting? What if whatever HYDRA was, and Steel wasn’t sure exactly what it was, wanted to poach him away from Vertigo? [i]“What if you’re wrong and they try to kill me?” “Kill them first.”[/i] Tresser got out the car and started out on foot. He walked through downtown Hub. A few blocks away from the parking garage he noticed he was being followed. He caught glimpses in windows as he passed them and managed to catch snatches as he looked back from time to time. A man in a hoodie and jeans, white and very nondescript. Whoever he was, he wasn’t very good at shadowing. Tresser felt for the pistol tucked into his waistband as he stepped into an alley and waited for the man. A few moments later, he came into view, hurrying with a gun pulled out and ready to aim. Tresser reached out and disarmed the man with a quick blow to the elbow. He stumbled back and started to pull a knife. Tresser stopped him in his tracks with two quick shots from the man’s own gun. The bullets ripped through his chest and dropped him to the ground. The knife clattered against the pavement along with something else. Holding his shooter’s stance, Tresser stepped up and kicked the knife and other object away. Even in the dim lighting he could make out what it was: A golden shield with the words HUB CITY written on the top rocker, POLICE DEPARTMENT on the bottom rocker. “Fuck,” Tresser said under his breath.