Dugan puffed on his cigar, lost in thought.
Rumlow's week-long leave had ended, yet he remained idle. Even if Dugan had pulled strings with Fury to secure Rumlow, a Special Operations captain wouldn't be left unused. Dugan suspected Hydra had grown wary of him.
"My team's last mission left only me and one other alive—a Hydra operative," Rumlow said evenly, as if prepared for scrutiny.
"What's the chance you've been exposed?" Dugan set down his cigar, locking eyes with Rumlow.
"Since I made this choice, exposure's been a constant risk," Rumlow replied, unflinching.
In truth, Pierce hadn't assigned tasks because the Special Operations team was decimated, leaving Rumlow a commander without soldiers. Consulting Dugan was routine—scouting talent for Hydra was part of his job. Pierce didn't think twice about it.
Fury, meanwhile, was still deciding who to assign to Rumlow's depleted team. With Rumlow recently recovered, Fury saw his outreach to Dugan as a move to recruit promising agents, trusting Dugan implicitly. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founders would never betray it—or so Fury thought.
Thus, Rumlow was temporarily trusted and sidelined.
"Any plans?" Dugan asked, seeking a viable strategy. Unfamiliar with covert operations, he'd tasked Hit-Monkey with gathering intel from shadier circles. Contacting amphibious allies proved elusive—they didn't blend into human society.
"I'll provoke S.H.I.E.L.D. into facing an enemy. Hydra won't miss the chance to expand its influence," Rumlow said confidently. He'd considered targeting Bul-Kathos but abandoned the idea. Angering him would obliterate both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra, intertwined and rotten as they were.
"Got a target in mind?" Dugan leaned in, intrigued. Few threats could rattle S.H.I.E.L.D. nowadays. Bloodsucking fiends, unlike the noble Midnight Vampire, or cornered werewolves posed little challenge. Blade, their vampire-born ally, already kept the bloodsuckers at bay.
Mention of vampires stirred Dugan's thoughts of Midnight Vampire, who vanished during their assault on Hydra's last stronghold. Though Dugan refused to believe his comrade died easily, no trace remained.
"No outsider can challenge S.H.I.E.L.D. right now, so the plan stops here," Rumlow said, maintaining a serious facade. Expression control was a spy's essential skill, like a coroner's detached demeanor. A poorly timed laugh during a mission could spark chaos—imagine surviving a firefight only to hear agents chuckling while claiming credit.
S.H.I.E.L.D., a global entity, often clashed with agencies like the CIA or NYPD. No one liked being overseen, yet all believed they could control everything. If they truly could, the world wouldn't be such a mess.
"Tell me about your last mission," Dugan demanded, his tone commanding. Rumlow's composure cracked.
What's that saying about avoiding paradise and charging into hell? Rumlow had scrapped the Bul-Kathos plan, but Dugan was fixated. Who else could unsettle S.H.I.E.L.D. more than that mountain of a man?
"You!" Rumlow blurted, panicked. Dugan misread it.
"I know about confidentiality, but is there a better target? You're a Hydra traitor—what's there to hide?" Dugan pressed, his soldier's bluntness overriding tact. Peggy would never have pushed like this.
Rumlow relented. This wasn't his scheme to doom S.H.I.E.L.D., and Bul-Kathos might not slaughter everyone. Maybe.
"Fine…" Rumlow's hesitant reply pleased Dugan. Too quick an answer would've raised suspicion. Dugan, who'd trained countless agents, trusted his read on people. Rumlow's fear seemed genuine—enough to satisfy him.
But Dugan missed the true cause of Rumlow's dread.
(Chapter End)