This is an age of
miracles...
And there is nothing
more horrifying than
a miracle.
A 'Wolfgang von Strucker' RP Blog
for Fallen Heroes Written & Played by Halforc80
Extract from the private journal of Wolfgang von Strucker
My friend is gone.
At least, that is what they tell me… The official assessors have reviewed the evidence and their verdict is that Viktor Harmut is missing, presumed dead. It is a difficult reality to face.
It is not as if death is a stranger to me. One cannot live as long as I have without attending more than your fair share of funerals & wakes, but this is very different. I feel the loss of Viktor more keenly than I did when I lost my family. Admittedly the circumstances are very different, but loss is loss and I have no interest in inspecting it too closely.
In many ways, Viktor has been more of a companion than a subordinate. I realise that I had viewed him as such, even if he did not regard me in the same way. I had hoped to offer him some advice on fatherhood, but now it is too late.
I shall endeavour to assist his fiancée however I may, although she might be resistant to the help, but I owe it to my friend to ensure his daughter is given every opportunity to grow into the young woman of which her father would have been proud.
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Extract from the private journal of Wolfgang von Strucker
It is a frustrating situation to be forced into abandoning a potentially fruitful project because of the failings of others... And so it is with Project Crucible.
While I continue to have high hopes that New York will, in time, provide the proof to my theory that manufactured social disorder and chaos is required before the general populace is prepared to willing relinquish civil liberties in exchange for increased security, it is a project which I will have to put on hold temporarily.
The situation in Argentina continues to deteriorate and, without strong leadership and discipline, may spread to the rest of South America. What a mess that fool Tomas has made of that entire theatre. It will take some time to arrest and exorcise the rot from within our organisation in that area, and I do not trust anyone there to handle the matter correctly... Especially since the one man I would have trusted it to in now dead. I am sure that Viktor and his family would have been safe there, but it is too late to turn back time...
My plane leaves soon, but I need to see his daughter, just once, before I leave. I hope he will forgive me.
Ginny and Sarah had been on their daily walk through the park when Sarah started to fuss, just as they approached a bench. Figuring Sarah wouldn’t have peace until Ginny picked her up and snuggled her. They headed over to the bench, where an older man helped her out by grabbing a sippy cup for Sarah. She’d just transitioned from bottles and Sarah was already loving it. Sarah held out her hands for the cup as Ginny put the brakes on her stroller and lifted her out.
Ginny gave the old man a grateful smile, then took the cup and handed it to Sarah. While the child cooed happily and started drinking, the old man started talking. Ginny recognized the accent and seamlessly slipped into her primary language before replying.
“You’re German, yes?” she asked in the language in question. “It is a beautiful day. The blue snow cones are the best, in my opinion. But my little princess here doesn’t like any of the flavors. she prefers vanilla ice cream.”
Ginny ran her hand over Sarah’s back as the girl drank greedily. “I’m Ginny. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Bavarian actually,” Wolfgang smiled, pleased that Ginny had chosen to converse in a more familiar language. “But the distinction is largely academic these days, and I have never been any good at disguising my accent. However, yours is excellent!”
He chuckled at the little girl hungrily draining her cup. The way she held it so tightly in her hands reminded him of his own youngest daughter, Hanne, She’d had such an appetite at that same age, and he used to joke with his wife that she would leave them destitute with all the food they would have to buy.
“I have never understood why they insist on colouring the sweets blue when they are flavoured with raspberries. I have never seen a blue raspberry,” he continued, shaking his head in mock confusion and then laughing when Sarah smiled and copied him, shaking her own little head.
“Well then, your princess has excellent taste as well as being beautiful. Sometimes it is the simple things which are the most satisfying and enjoyable.”
Reaching down, Wolfgang stroked the child’s cheek briefly, which tickled her and made her laugh. He grinned in return.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ginny. She is a wonderfully good-natured child, you must be very proud... I can see that she has your eyes,” he sighed, leaning back on the bench and taking a bite of his snow cone before turning his attention back to Ginny. “...As well as her father’s mouth.”
Tomas Gutierrez, the HYDRA Oberstgruppenführer for Argentina, paced the long corridor outside Baron von Strucker’s office impatiently, waiting for permission to enter. It had been bad enough to receive a summons to attend at short-notice, but to then have the meeting postponed was an insufferable insult.
Clearly, the Baron didn't know who he was dealing with!
Tomas controlled the HYDRA interests throughout South America, and that bought him powerful friends. Who was this Baron anyway? A relic of the past, that’s all... An old man who’d outlived his era many times over. Well, he’d soon see what Tomas Gutierrez was made of... Soon they’d all see.
His train of thought was interrupted when the doors did finally open, and led into an office smaller than Tomas had expected. In his mind’s eye, he’d imagined Wolfgang von Strucker’s office to be a grand affair, all wood panelling, antique furniture and portraits of the Supreme Hydra gazing down benevolently from every wall. Instead, this room looked like any middle manager’s office.
In front of an open window displaying impressive views of a New York construction site, a wood veneer desk was scattered with folders and documents. The beige carpet had seen better days, as had the tired magnolia walls. Boring prints of uninspiring landscapes in dull frames were all that broke up the monotony of the soulless room, except for the large military-looking crate that squatted off to one side. It’s red painted surface was incongruous to the point of being offensive, and Tomas couldn't help but sneer at it.
And behind the desk sat the Supreme Leader of HYDRA himself.
So, this was the great and powerful Baron von Strucker, Tomas Gutierrez thought to himself, replacing the sneer with a condescending smile. What a disappointment!
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Baron,” Tomas lied, offering a short bow. Wolfgang simply smiled in return.
“Thank you for coming, Tomas, and I am sorry that you were kept waiting but please... be seated.” Wolfgang extended his hand to take in the leather office chair opposite, the same smile on his face, but never quite reaching his eyes.
Tomas didn't appear to notice, dropping into the chair as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He gave Wolfgang a wearisome smile of his own.
“Yes... I’m not used to waiting, but I appreciate that you must be a busy man.”
“Not really,” Wolfgang replied dismissively, transferring his attention to the files on the desk. “However, I was waiting for that to be brought up, which took longer than anticipated.” He nodded to indicate the crate.
“Yes, I did wonder about that box, Baron,” Tomas nodded. “I assume it contains something which concerns me?”
“Not directly, but we will get to its contents soon,” Wolfgang smiled again, looking up from the folder and getting to his feet. “No, I requested you attend so that we might discuss your commitment to HYDRA.”
“My commitment?,” Tomas asked, a hint of concern and uncertainty creeping into his voice. “I can assure you, Baron, my loyalty is beyond question!”
“Oh come now, Tomas... Let us talk honestly, at least whilst it is just the two of us here,” Wolfgang interrupted, walking around the desk and behind Tomas’s chair. He rested his hands on the other man’s shoulders, and Tomas suppressed a shudder.
“You should understand that I have no fear of ambition, Tomas. I consider it essential in those who lead HYDRA, such as yourself. I know that you covet my position... No, do not try to deny it... It is the truth, and I am glad. If someone desires to be the Supreme Hydra, then they must be driven to do great things through an understanding of the true nature of what HYDRA seeks to achieve.”
Tomas tried to hide his confused expression as Wolfgang moved across to the red crate. He didn’t want to admit his ignorance in front of the Baron, but he had no idea of the point the man was trying to make. Yes, it was true that he wanted to be in charge, but the idea that Baron von Strucker was aware of this - welcomed it, almost - well, he was more than a little concerned.
While this train of thought was playing through Tomas’s mind, Wolfgang had unfastened the locks and opened the crate. Gas struts hissed as they helped lift the heavy lid, tiny lights illuminating the inside in response to the action. The Supreme Hydra smiled as he looked upon the contents of the crate, his fingers stroking the cool metal almost lovingly before lifting the item free and sliding his arm inside.
There was a gasp of surprise and horror from Tomas as he realised what the box had held. It resembled one of Iron Man’s arms, but bulkier and a deep crimson in color. Lights began to glow from between its metal plates as Wolfgang fastened the armour into place, activating the power source and testing its range of movement, as self-satisfied grin on his face. It was one of the few times that Tomas had seen Baron von Strucker truly smile, and it was an unnerving spectacle.
“¡Dios mío!... la garra de satanás,” he whispered in shock and awe as Wolfgang advanced slowly towards him, that blood coloured arm whining and pulsing with contained power.
“Yes... I understand that some have taken to referring to this weapon as ‘The Satan Claw’. I have considered correcting them in the past, but it is quite an evocative epithet, don’t you think?” Wolfgang asked rhetorically, flexing his fingers so that the metallic talons which covered them clicked menacingly against the palm plate. “And do you know why I have had this weapon brought up here, Tomas?”
Tomas shook his head, shifting uncomfortably in his chair and not trusting himself to speak.
“Because, to me, this weapon symbolises the true nature of HYDRA,” the Baron continued, holding the armour up in front of the other man’s face. “We have taken seemingly incompatible technologies from a host of disparate sources, and, through the sheer power of our will, knowledge and determination, we have created something more powerful than the originals.”
The heat radiating from the glove was raising a swear on Tomas’s face as Wolfgang spoke, but he dared not move. The glow from within the armour was like looking into a furnace; deadly, and yet memorising at the same time.
“Stark-Vanko technology, S.H.I.E.L.D., Cybertek, A.I.M... even Asgardian and Chitauri... All blended into this singular device. This is what commitment looks like, Tomas. This is what the world could be under HYDRA!”
The heat was suddenly gone, as Wolfgang snatched the hand back from Tomas’s face and turned away. He breathed a sigh of relief and wiped a hand across his brow, watching the Supreme Hydra move towards his desk.
The old fool’s gone mad, Tomas angrily thought this himself, trying to keep a look of disgust from his face. Comparing HYDRA to a vanity project like that... The sooner he dies the better for all our sakes!
“Yes, I understand the symbolism, Baron,” Tomas replied, his condescending tone belying the traitorous thoughts in his head. “But surely it takes more than... that... to bring the world under our rule.” He waved his hand dismissively in the direction of the weapon strapped to Wolfgang’s arm.
Now that his fear was beginning to fade, Tomas could feel a building anger in his gut. How dare this old man drag him all the way from Argentina to lecture him on the true purpose of HYDRA!
“And that is where commitment comes in, Tomas.”
Baron von Strucker spoke softly, using a clawed finger to drag a piece of paper across the desk. The Satan Claw hummed as it assisted the motion, gouging a deep scratch into the oak veneered surface.
“As I mentioned previously, I know you have the sense of ambition that I desire in a leader... but you lack the commitment to achieve it.” He raised the armoured hand to silence Tomas’s spluttering contradiction, shaking his head disappointingly.
“When the mutant virus reduced me to a withered and defenceless old man, you had ample opportunity to strike me down and seize HYDRA for yourself. But inconceivably, you stayed your hand and the moment was wasted...
“Even after my dear friend Viktor died and I was weakened by the loss and grief, still you failed to act...
“Time and again this happens, and yet you and your cohorts continue to conspire from the shadows, thinking that one day your time will come... But talking is not enough, Tomas, and these moments have passed because you lack commitment to even your own desire for power!”
His voice raised in righteous anger, Wolfgang turned on the terrified Oberstgruppenführer, the faint hum from the Satan Claw becoming a high pitched whine as the pulsing lights blazed, radiating from the gaps in the blood-red armour as the power levels grew.
Tomas stood quickly, knocking his chair over as he tried to back away. Tripping him, he scrabbled across the floor, babbling excuses and platitudes, trying to escape the inescapable advance of the Supreme Hydra.
“I had high hopes for you, Tomas, but you are as nothing to me now. You treated Argentina as your own fiefdom and have come close to destroying our influence there. Your fellow conspirators have already been detained, but I wanted to demonstrate the power of HYDRA to you myself... Unity through strength... Power through commitment... Domination through advancement... Hail HYDRA.”
Tomas uselessly threw his arms up in defence and cried out piteously as Baron von Strucker pointed the Satan Claw and there was a sudden release of energy.
At first, it felt as though nothing had happened, and Tomas wondered whether something had gone wrong. He was surrounded by a flickering aura of light which connected him to the Baron’s weapon and everything outside of it appeared to be frozen, but there were no other perceptible effects. He tried to open his mouth and shout back in defiance, but no sound came. It was as if his body was paralysed, but his mind was free... Was this all the Satan Claw did?
Then he felt it; an indistinct warmth that spread throughout his frozen body. It was as if the heat came from within, and increased moment-by-moment. Tomas was fully aware of the sensation and, as the minutes ticked by, the warmth grew into a burning that utterly consumed him. Every atom in his body was forced to absorb the transmitted energy, and increased in temperature as they did, vibrating faster and faster until they couldn’t hold together any longer. Tomas screamed silently as his body slowly and painfully disintegrated around him...
To Wolfgang, the whole process took less than a second. There was barely enough time to properly observe the effect before it was over, and Tomas Gutierrez was replaced by a blackened and rapidly collapsing facsimile of himself. Fascinated, he leaned closer as the once recognisable face began to crumble, brushing this armoured fingers across the skin and hastening the decomposition.
“Baron von Strucker...,” a voice crackled from a stereo on the wall. “The demolition of this building is due to commence within twenty minutes.”
“Yes... thank you,” he replied, momentarily distracted. “Advise the clean-up crew that they can collect my weapon, but they can leave the body of Mr Gutierrez. I do not believe evidence will be a concern in this case.”
Powering down the Satan Claw, he returned it to the crate and securely locked the lid. It had certainly been a successful test of the modified Asgardian Sentinel technology that had been added to the weapon, but its charging time still seemed too long. Making a mental note to chastise the technicians for it, Wolfgang picked up his coat and, with a final look back at the pile of ash that was once the HYDRA Oberstgruppenführer for Argentina, exited the office building.
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There was something about Central Park in springtime that drew people out of the city and brought them together with a smile on their faces. Every path was covered with pink cherry blossom, while the cherry trees bent their branches overhead and gave the impression of walking through a tunnel of cotton candy.
Even a slight chill from the May breeze did nothing to break the spell, as one park vendor tempted fate by selling summer snow cones and was making brisk trade by doing so. People bought into the fantasy of Central Park in springtime and, for a while, the city smiled.
Wolfgang von Strucker had never eaten a snow cone before. He had chosen a multicolored one from a vendor on the Gapstow bridge, and found that it tasted almost entirely unlike any fruit he had ever eaten. It was sickly sweet, cold and - he was surprised to admit - actually quite enjoyable. Perhaps there was one thing of New York City he’d miss after all.
Taking a seat at the designated bench, the Supreme Hydra crunched on his snow cone and waited. It had taken several weeks of surveillance to determine this as the optimal position for the interception, but even then his agents stated that they couldn't be 100% certain of success. After all, their target was a woman who didn’t seemed to keep any kind of schedule or routine... Either she was aware of the surveillance and taking precautions, or she was simply so disorganised that she lived in a perpetual state of flux and chaos. Wolfgang had his own suspicion as to which it was.
And so he continued to wait, until an attractive young woman, her brunette hair caught up in a messy bun, eventually approached the bench with a small child in tow. Wolfgang offered her a warm smile as she sat down, which she thankfully returned, before taking a bag from beneath the pushchair and offering a sippy cup to the child.
“It is a beautiful day, yes?” Wolfgang asked causally, making conversation as he imagined a foreign tourist might. “You know, I have been living here for many months and yet this is my first snow cone in Central Park. I wish I could share such a thing with my own children.”
Extract from the private journal of Wolfgang von Strucker
I will always be amazed by the lengths to which people will go in order to escape their past or deny their truest nature... It is something which I have watched time and again. Indeed, I had struggled with the same desire myself for many years.
Once one realises that there is something dark within ourselves then surely it is human nature to recoil from it. We all have an ideal view of our own souls and when we are revealed to be demons instead of the angels we aspire to, then it is how we react to this revelation that dictates who we will become.
Sometimes I wish that I could have made a different choice. Perhaps I could have been a good man leading a good life.
But somehow I doubt it was ever possible.
When I see my dark soul reflected in the reactions of others, then I realise this was my only choice and I find myself smiling as those others run from me, fearful of how the future might shape itself within my influence.
However, even I must confess that Georgia is an odd choice. To believe my arm is so short feels almost insulting, Samantha.
Jane had not in a million years expected THIS. It was too much. The car ride had been pleasant enough. Jane had been much too nervous to ask the driver where they were going, although she doubted that he would have told her anyway. It was a silent ride, and Jane could stare out the window, unable to recognize the streets that went by (was it because they were in a different place or was it because she was unfamiliar with New York? It was hard to tell). They drove into an underground parking ramp. It was then Jane began to get extremely nervous.
It was when she had stepped out of the car when she realized she was in way, way too deep. There were two men (plus the driver) waiting there for her in the dim, underground light, arms folded. They escorted her through tunnels that weaved in and out again until finally there were stairs that led up to the back of a small, intimate space for a very expensive, fancy restaurant. Jane’s first instinct was to find out the name of the place. For safety reasons. But there was no way she could run if anything went down - the men who were escorting her would make sure of that. Now up at the restaurant, Jane looked around the place wildly, taking in the velvet carpeting, the patrons all in very formal and expensive dress, the large bar with variously shaped bottles in all sorts of languages she didn’t understand, and the crystal chandeliers that didn’t give much light. It was dim dinner light, and she noticed some tables had candles too, that gave the place a very intimate feel. She caught sight of one woman’s shoes, which had to be studded with real diamonds, and felt sick to her stomach as she realized her little black dress had come from Target… when it was on sale.
Jane hadn’t noticed when two of the men disappeared into thin air, and now she was only accompanied by one man, who was muttering into his earpiece in a language that sounded like Italian. Nice, Jane thought sarcastically, slowly coming down from her high anxiety level brought on by the walk though the tunnels, conjuring the image of all the stereotypical secret service men clad in a black tie suits talking into their earpieces on TV. Jane was beginning to feel better now - at least there were others around now, and it would be much less likely that they would try to kill her now in front of all these other people (she had been worried there after about five full minutes in the tunnels that had dragged on for what seemed like hours).
Jane realized they were approaching a table in the far back, where a man - had to be older than she was, maybe by about 10 or 20 years, but still extremely handsome to Jane nonetheless - was standing up politely, to meet her. He looked vaguely familiar somehow…
He pulled out a chair for her. True gentleman. Jane couldn’t remember the last time - if there was even a time - someone had done that for her. She muttered a thank you and sat down, thankful to be sitting. “Oh it was… a little nerve-wracking,” Jane admitted, “I was not expecting that in the least.” She tried to give him a half-smile, still unsure about what he was playing at. First creepy tunnels and then a fancy restaurant where she couldn’t afford to walk in. What was going on? Was his goal to scare her first? Make her trust him? What? Jane was skeptical, but decided to go with the flow. “No, thank you for inviting me,” she smiled softly.
“Oh, no, thank you, that’s fine.” Jane nodded at him, deciding to trust him on that. She knew what an entrée was, but didn’t know what an apéritif was. It sounded French. She made a mental note to google it later. Yet another thought of “damn this place is fancy” crossed her mind. Maybe the entire menu was in French? Then what? Jane didn’t know French. Who knows? Maybe it would be better for him to order everything. God forbid they decide to go Dutch at this place…
Jane debated beginning a conversation, asking him about who he was, or why he had wanted to meet her in person, but then decided against it. Maybe it would be best to let him lead…
She looked like a rabbit; flighty and nervous, with a barely contained energy that made Wolfgang smile. In contrast he was collected, calm... perhaps even a little smug. The very picture of a fox after he’s gotten in to the hen house, and is taking his time on deciding which chicken to eat first.
“Perhaps I should have forewarned you of the unconventional method of entry, but the clientèle of this establishment desire a certain degree of exclusivity,” the Baron grinned wolfishly, a waiter appearing to fill their glasses with Lillet and adding a twist of orange to each drink at the table.
“Personally, I think they enjoy the cloak & dagger nature of this place more than they appreciate its excellent food!” he continued, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially, as the first course of Tartare de boeuf with petals of white truffle was placed in front of them.
“I have been following your research for some time, Dr. Foster,” Wolfgang said, taking up his cutlery and beginning to de-construct his entrée. “You have found some truly fascinating topics to investigate, but your original work with the weather system anomalies witnessed in New Mexico and their hypothetical connection to the natural formation of Einstein-Rosen Bridges was particularly interesting. And without that research you would never have ended up ...here.”
Smiling, he swiped his tartare through the truffle oil and put the morsel in his mouth, chewing contentedly. The chef at Le Chiffre was expensive but exceptional, and absolutely worth the money HYDRA indirectly paid her.
“What made you desire to follow that path initially, Jane? There are so few competent female Astrophysicists in the World, why did you want to take the less conventional road, the one which lead - initially - to professional isolation rather than capitalising on your position?”
Sadie suppressed a shudder at Strucker’s expression. For a moment, she was sure it meant the end of it – the end of her – and she cursed her own stupidity. She’d picked a hell of a time to grow a conscience, hadn’t she? Why couldn’t she have learned to feel guilt before it was something to get her killed?
But then, Strucker spoke again, and relief hit Sadie like a pund of bricks. He wasn’t going to kill her, then. Not yet, not for this. She was safe until the next slip u, and she didn’t intend for that to be soon. “I understand,” she said, and there was nothing in her voice to clue him in about her fear. “I can get them to you.” If not for his earlier reaction regarding her advice, she may have told him that anyone who could be tricked into joining HYDRA wasn’t likely anyone with an intelligence high enough to be useful to him. (She was, of course, the exception to this rule.) But he’d shown that he was not open to her assistance, and she wasn’t willing to risk her life to give it to him.
There was a long silence then, and Sadie shifted restlessly in her seat. She didn’t want to leave until she’d been formally dismissed, not when she already felt as if she was walking on eggshells, but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome, either. Just as she stood to leave, deciding that the conversation was indeed over, Strucker turned to face her.
Were she anyone else, his request would have made her freeze in her tracks. Had she not spent years of her life perfectingthe art of keeping a straight face under pressure, of lying without anyone knowing, she might have cracked right there. But Sadie was nothing if not an actress, and when it came to committing to a role, the stars on Broadway or the movies couldn’t touch her. “Ward?” she repeated the name with a furrowed brow, tilting her head slightly to one side. “We were acquantinces, back when he worked with HYDRA.Never close, though. I doubt I could tell you anything you don’t already know.”
“What a pity. I had hoped to find someone with an... existing relationship... to the man,” Wolfgang said dismissively, pausing briefly as if deciding how to define that relationship. “Ward was a useful agent once and I believe he has more to offer, but its of small matter. I shall have to approach him myself.”
Speaking as he crossed the room to his desk, Wolfgang watched Sadie from the corner of his eye. She was an exceptional actress, he had to give her that, but the photographs and transcripts in the file gave the lie to her words. But the Baron did find it curious that Sadie would seek to hide her relationship with Grant Ward from him...
Was she concerned about his reaction? Wolfgang didn’t believe she was here seeking his approval; more likely that she was afraid for her life. It was a common enough reaction to meeting the Supreme Hydra (he acknowledged his own reputation in that regard), but at present Sadie was more useful to him alive.
It was inevitable that she would take his message back to Ward. She would tell him that Wolfgang von Strucker had mentioned him, had wanted to speak to him, and that the Baron thought the ex-agent still had some worth. All these things would get back to the traitor Grant Ward and that was useful in itself... and since these things would be coming from Sadie Watkins - an unknowing pawn in this little game - the sentiment would seem all the more genuine.
Wolfgang settled himself in the large leather chair and steepled his fingers for a moment, touching his forefingers to his lips as he studied Sadie. Did she have the wit to play the part he had cast her in? Probably... only time would tell.
“Very well, Agent Watkins... That will be all for now,” he said, finally breaking the silence and pressing a hidden button under the edge of his desk to unlock the door. “I shall expect your first report in two weeks, after that they shall come weekly. Understand? Good... You are dismissed.”
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Extract from the private journal of Wolfgang von Strucker
My friend is gone.
At least, that is what they tell me... The official assessors have reviewed the evidence and their verdict is that Viktor Harmut is missing, presumed dead. It is a difficult reality to face.
It is not as if death is a stranger to me. One cannot live as long as I have without attending more than your fair share of funerals & wakes, but this is very different. I feel the loss of Viktor more keenly than I did when I lost my family. Admittedly the circumstances are very different, but loss is loss and I have no interest in inspecting it too closely.
In many ways, Viktor has been more of a companion than a subordinate. I realise that I had viewed him as such, even if he did not regard me in the same way. I had hoped to offer him some advice on fatherhood, but now it is too late.
I shall endeavour to assist his fiancée however I may, although she might be resistant to the help, but I owe it to my friend to ensure his daughter is given every opportunity to grow into the young woman of which her father would have been proud.
It had been settled. A car would pick Dr. Jane Foster up outside of her apartment complex at 6 pm sharp, timely for a 7 pm sharp dinner.
Where the car was going? Jane had no idea. The car would bring her there. The only thing she knew for certain was that the man wanted to talk to her about the stone she had found, and had given to Jemma and SHIELD… Who subsequently lost it.
It was raining. Spring had finally arrived to New York City, and Jane was very happy at the prospect of being able to run outside again. Sure, there were the diehards that still trekked Central Park in the snow, but being from the North Jane learned that outside was not a place to run during the winter, and she avoided it. Spring was also the time, so it seemed, all the precipitation that fell from the sky didn’t crystallize to snow flakes anymore, but turned to liquid rain.
That evening, it was raining. The dark clouds lurked overhead. As Jane left her apartment, she peeked out the window and decided to take an umbrella. At that moment, a streak of lightning cracked through the sky. Jane stepped away from the windows and walked out the door, grabbing a black umbrella as she locked the door behind her.
She inspected the apartment lobby as she entered, as if the driver of this car would be waiting for her. In fact, Jane had no idea what the car looked like, nor what the person who would be driving it looked like. Would the man himself pick her up? No. No one who ever said, “I’ll send a car for you,” would ever stoop to that level. And anyone who ever said that phrase was often too rich for their own good.
Jane stood near the doors, and held the strap of her purse with one hand, her umbrella with another. Her eyes continued to scan the busy New York City street, blocked with lines of cars, headlights on in the dark, the rain scattering the bright light of the headlights into a million directions. It was picturesque. Jane probably could have enjoyed the scene more, had it not been for the brick in her stomach. She was extremely nervous. Never had she ever agreed to meet someone online like this. And the circumstances. He said he would send a car for her for goodness sake! Who was this guy? Jane could only figure he was rich. Too rich, or too pompous. Jane had texted Thor to let him know where she was. Just in case, you know, the guy was a murderer or something. Jane doubted that, however. He was very nice online… Well, isn’t that what they all say? Jane took the risk regardless. She was very nervous. It was a dinner… date. Yeah. Jane had dressed nicely; she had never been to a dinner party before. She hadn’t known what to wear. She finally decided that when in doubt, it was a LBD.
The gridlock of traffic on the street outside came to a dead stop again. Jane became impatient waiting in the lobby, and stepped out, opening her umbrella as she did. Her eyes fluttered from car to car, parked, stuck in traffic. The light changed and the cars crept forward. One in the very right lane did not. Instead, when it became even to where Jane was standing, it pulled over and signaled to the curb.
It was a little black car. Jane didn’t know her car types, but it had a hood ornament.
She approached the car, nervous, and tapped on the window. The darkened window pane rolled down three inches. A voice came out of the car, “Doctor Jane Foster?”
“Yes?” Jane answered.
“Get in.” The voice commanded. Jane found the passenger door locked (figures, Jane thought) and tried to open the back door. That door opened, and Jane got in.
Le Chiffre (trans: The Cypher) was an expensive, exclusive and - above all else - hidden restaurant within Manhattan’s financial district. It was a place which guaranteed that the powerful and elite could dine without fear of being assaulted by paparazzi or recognised by the public. It also happened to be operated by HYDRA - not that most of its clientèle were acquainted with this fact, or particularly cared if they already knew. Le Chiffre was regarded by those who knew of it as the ultimate private dining club, and Baron von Strucker was deeply satisfied by that.
Seated at his customary table, Wolfgang surveyed the room, taking his time to assess who was present and what their worth might be to his cause. Tonight it was slim pickings; a couple of supreme court judges, some CEOs of dubious character and an Admiral of the US Navy. He shrugged to himself and straightened his shirt cuff. Networking and coercion were not on the menu this evening, only a speculative dinner with a naive (yet vaguely attractive) scientist.
Speaking of whom, Wolfgang smiled as Dr Foster entered the room, escorted by one of his plain suited guard. Not that the man was inconspicuous; at best he might pass for a clichéd caricature of a Secret Service agent, right down to the forefinger pressed comically against his ear. Making a mental note to have the idiot disciplined, Wolfgang rose from his seat and offered Jane a bright and welcoming smile.
“Dr. Foster, thank you for accepting my invitation. I trust the manner of your journey was not too... inconvenient?,” the Baron offered, still smiling as he pulled out a chair for Jane to sit at his table. The entrance for first-time diners & guests was located, by necessity, in an underground car park and the short trek through service corridors which ran beneath the New York streets could be somewhat unnerving for those who didn't know what to expect. Private members were naturally offered a more elaborate and comfortable way of reaching the restaurant.
Taking a moment to inspect her attire as she settled herself, Wolfgang was overtaken by a mild sense of pity. The fabric of her dress was cheap and inferior to the designer clothing worn by most of the other female diners, but its cut was certainly acceptable. Clearly the doctor had an eye for what suited her, even if the ability to buy the best outstripped her current salary. Something which we may be able to address, the Supreme Hydra thought to himself, dropping a crisp white napkin into his lap.
“I have taken the liberty of ordering an entrée and apéritif for us both. I hope you do not object to that small assumption on my part.”
Short rides–those are my favorite. Well, I’ve never been on a helicopter. This should be exciting. And when do I meet you exactly? On which step of this big ol’ journey?
That phrasing wasn’t creepy at all. Sure. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.
I will personally make sure that the jet is stocked adequately for our little excursion, so I shall meet you at the airfield. Since you no doubt have arrangements to make in order to excuse your absence, I shall wait to hear from you...
...But please don't leave it too long, Samantha. I am not known for being a patient man and twenty-four hours notice should more than suffice.
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Excellent, then that is settled. A driver will be outside your apartment at 6pm to collect you. I am very much looking forward to the pleasure of your company, Dr. Foster.
I’ve been a puppet of you in the past. Hell, I’ve betrayed you in the past. For all I know, the minute I get within ten feet of you, someone’s putting a bullet in my head. Give me one good reason why I should come in to discuss anything with you.
You were never my puppet, Grant. I allowed your mentor free-reign where your training and handling were concerned. Despite his accomplishments, John Garrett was a disappointment to us both.
Please be assured that I have no desire to endanger a potentially valuable asset. However, if you still require a good reason, then I can have Agent Watkins come and ask you nicely herself.
