Chapter One
Soroya

The politician I was sent to kill didn't need much convincing to leave the country. He'd had run-ins with HYDRA in the past, and he'd apparently heard of me before, he knew my reputation. He took one look at me and begged for his life, begged me not to maul him like I maul my other victims. Even after I told him I was going to help him escape, he looked terrified of me, like I was a monster out of children's nightmares. When I gave him his new identity, passport, money, and a plane ticket, he stuttered a thank you and then asked me a question.

"Why did you help me?" He had asked.

"Because I'm not the monster you think I am." I had answered.

He didn't respond after that, but the look in his eyes told me that regardless of me helping him, he still thought of me as a monster. I don't know whether that's because I'm a HYDRA agent or a shapeshifter, or maybe both, but what I do know is that he isn't alone in that opinion of me. Every person I'm sent after views me the same way, as does every person in HYDRA.

It's my own fault really. I'm the one who crafted my reputation of being a vicious animal wearing human skin, of tearing the hearts out of my victims, of being HYDRA's perfect assassin. That reputation is why everyone looks at me with such fear, and though it bothers me, it's useful. Without my reputation I couldn't get away with helping my victims instead of killing them. I couldn't keep my brother and parents safe...wherever they might be...if they're even still alive.

I can't think about that right now. I have to focus, I have to get into the character I've crafted, the twisted HYDRA pawn that Alexander Pierce will be expecting when I call and inform him the job has been done.

I take a deep breath in, then I press call on the burner phone I was given to contact him in America. He and several other high ranking HYDRA agents are preparing for PROJECT INSIGHT, a project that I hope with every fiber of my being won't succeed.

Hope is all I have these days, which isn't much.

"Agent Roberts, I hope you are calling with good news." His voice sounds cold and emotionless as always.

Play the part. I must play the part. I force myself to laugh. "Have I ever not delivered, Director?"

"There's a first time for everything."

"Well you won't be disappointed. I located Roger Wilkes and disposed of him. I didn't sever any limbs this time because you're not here to receive it...and I may have gotten carried away."

"Carried away?"

"A girl's gotta eat, Director." I try to imbed as much playfulness as I can, even though I feel bile rising in my throat at the thought of eating a human being.

"Good work, Roberts. Your next mission is to track down and kill one of our recruiters. His name is Jason Kelly. He's not only been recruiting people for HYDRA, but for several Russian gangs, and we can't let a betrayal like that go unpunished nor HYDRA property be given away."

Property. Not human beings HYDRA is forcing to become agents, if they're lucky, and if they're not, test monkeys and target practice. I bury the disgust I feel and respond: "Got any leads?"

"His base of operations was at a house in Kazan, I will send you the address now. Find something there to track him with and kill him once you find him."

"And if he has recruits with him?"

"Kill them too."

I feel my stomach churn, but I force out: "Yes, Sir."

"Hail HYDRA."

"Hail HYDRA." I reply, feeling a tear fall down my cheek as I end the call. I set the phone down and wipe at my eyes, trying to gather myself, but the tears just keep coming. I hear the phone buzz and know Pierce has sent me the address of Kelly's last known location, but I don't look at it. Instead, I turn the engine back on of the car I've stolen and begin to drive, needing to go to the one place I can be myself.

The one place I'm not a monster.

-

"Ah, Beasty, back already. Was your mission successful?" Caden Harvey asks as I enter his secret base. It's built within an old tavern and is adorned with the most expensive and tacky decor money can buy. I've come to appreciate this place's eccentric tastes and the even more eccentric man who lives here. Caden is not only the person who helps me save the people I'm sent after, but he's the only person I trust. He's the closest thing I have to a friend.

I collapse onto one of his leather couches and nod. "Yeah, it went very well. Thank you, as always."

Caden, whiskey in hand, sits down next to me, giving me one of his youthful grins. "Of course. What's your next mission? I am guessing that's why you're here."

"My next mission is to kill a HYDRA recruiter who's selling people to a few Russian gangs..." I trail off, my jaw tightening.

"So you're going to actually follow through and kill him." He guesses, knowing very well I only kill the people I'm sent after if they're truly bad people. And a HYDRA recruiter? They definitely fit the bill.

I let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose hard. "Yes. But I was also told to kill any recruits he has with him. I was wondering—"

"Yes, send them here and I will assist them." He once again finishes for me, taking a sip of his drink. After working together for ten years, it's no surprise to me that he can predict what I'm going to ask for. He knows me quite well.

"Thank you, Caden."

He winks at me, taking another drink before setting the glass down on the table in front of us, shifting his body towards me. "There's something else. What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"There is clearly something on your mind, so spill." He urges.

I let out a sigh, turning to face him as well. In his eyes I see genuine concern for me, and this simple look makes tears prickle in my eyes. "I'm just so tired of this, Caden. I'm tired of pretending, I'm tired of being separated from my family, and I'm tried of fighting. It feels like my soul physically weighs me down everyday. It gets harder and harder to bare as time goes on. Sometimes it makes me feel like I can't breathe."

A tear falls down my cheek and Caden reaches forward and wipes it away. He then taps the bottom of my chin affectionately with his finger, something he does often. "I'm sorry, Beasty. I wish there was more I could do."

"You already do so much for me," I sniffle, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my shirt. "And I'm not just talking about what you do for my missions. I am grateful you've given me a space I can be myself in. You have no idea how much that means." 

"You don't have to thank me for that. You are the most interesting person I've ever met, your company is one I truly enjoy."

I wipe my eyes and give him a genuine smile. "What song would you like this time?"

In exchange for his help I always have to sing Caden a song, sometimes of my choosing and sometimes of his. But the songs are always from the 60's and before. He appreciates my more vintage tastes in music.

"I'm feeling Doris Day." He declares, settling back into the couch.

"Doris Day it is." I clear my throat and sit up, trying to think of what song of hers I want to sing. After a moment I settle on one, then begin to sing.

"When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be. Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me; 'Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera. What will be, will be.' When I grew up and fell in love, I asked my sweetheart, what lies ahead. Will we have rainbows day after day Here's what my sweetheart said; 'Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera. What will be, will be'."

Caden has a wide smile on his face as I sing, and for the first time all day, I feel genuinely at ease. Like that weight has been lifted, even just for a moment. I know it's because of the song. Singing this kind of music makes me feel closer to my parents, and I cherish anything that does.

"Now I have children of my own, they ask their mother, what will I be? Will I be handsome? Will I be rich? I tell them tenderly; 'Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera. What will be, will be.'Que sera, sera!"

Once I finish, Caden raises his glass towards me. "Words to live by. I think I might use that phrase from now on."

I smile at him. "Glad you liked it."

"I always like what you sing. You could make a tv guide sound lovely if you sang it."

"You're too sweet." I shove him playfully, causing him to smile back at me.

"Be careful not to let that get our. You're not the only one that has a reputation to protect."

He downs the rest of his whiskey, and as he does so I scooch closer towards him on the couch, leaning my forehead on his shoulder. He tenses for a second, not used to physical affection like most people in our line of work, but then he wraps his free arm around my shoulders, his hand gently rubbing my arm.

"Your secret is safe with me." I assure him.