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(Y/N) stared at her feet as she leaned against the edge of the table, the silence in the room being too suffocating for her taste. It was moments like these that allowed her train of thought to take her as passenger, and she started to think of things that she hadn't bothered or wanted to think about. She thought about the way she used to make fun of Bucky and Steve for their constant search for trouble, and how she used to tease them about a future in which she would have to pick them up at the police station. She wanted to laugh at the irony of how that situation worked out.

Another of her many thoughts was the repetition of every interaction with Louis, no matter how short. She wanted to see if she could remember any detail that would've been a clue to who he truly was, but she couldn't find anything. How could she not notice? How could she not think of the possibility that there could be not only one, but two assassins out there?

"I feel so stupid, you know."

Mr. Jarvis and Peggy lifted their heads at her words, frowns etched on their features. They stayed quiet, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Louis."

"Well, you shouldn't," Peggy argued once she realized what she was talking about. "He had everybody fooled. There was no way you could've known."

"Yeah, but. . ." she let out a frustrated sigh.  "Aren't I supposed to be trained for situations like this? Shouldn't I have noticed that something was wrong?"

"(Y/N)," Peggy soothed her ramble down. "He is a trained assassin."

"Allow me to say this, Miss Dewitt," Mr. Jarvis spoke up. "That man was a fool for taking advantage of you in such a way, and I await for the moment where you give him what he deserves."

(Y/N) let out a chuckle at his words, especially at the completely serious look on his face when he said it. She would've said something else, but she noticed how Chief Dooley headed his way over to their room, and his march looked utterly desperate.

He opened the door and did not waste a second. "You three, with me, now."

"What's happened?"

"Can't talk here," he lowered his voice. "There's ears everywhere."

They stepped out of the conference room and allowed Chief Dooley to guide them through the bullpen. (Y/N) flickered her eyes through the halls every now and then to see if there was any sign of suspicious behavior around. The chief led them into one of the interrogation rooms and even pulled the blind down to block the view into the outside.

"Have we been compromised?" "Did they finds something across the street?"

Chief Dooley turned around slowly and unexpectedly raised his gun in the air, aiming it directly at the trio. (Y/N) took a step back and raised her hands in surrender along with Peggy, who looked as shocked as she did.

"Stop talking."

He aimed the gun from (Y/N) to Mr. Jarvis, the weapon being enough to scare them back. His arm never lowered as he forced them into the handcuffs underneath the table, used in extreme cases when interrogating people. Since there were two single cuffs and three of them, Chief Dooley had to improvise and use a pair of his own to tie Mr. Jarvis to the table.

(Y/N) noticed the far off look in her former superior's eyes and could tell there was something wrong. "Chief Dooley!"

"Chief Dooley!" Peggy followed along.

"Somebody help!"

Their pleads were useless against him, but they held onto the hope that he might reconsider and remove the cuffs. Chief Dooley walked out of the room and (Y/N) could hear the lock turning into place before the chief's footsteps echoed away. Since she was tied up to the table, she couldn't match up to the window and bang on it until somebody walked by, and so she tried to think of another solution.

"Please help!" Mr. Jarvis continued his series of yells, even though nobody seemed to hear him. "We're taken hostage in here!"

"No one's coming."

"I know you may be universally despised in this establishment, but they barely know me," He told Peggy before he raised his voice. "Please help!"

Peggy stared at the double-sided mirror and back at the table. "How would you two feel if we smashed that mirror with this table?"

"It would be my genuine pleasure."

"I would feel splendid about it."

"All right," she nodded determinedly. "We pick it up, and then on the count of three — "

"Battering ram," Mr. Jarvis agreed.

The three awkwardly moved around the table — or at least tried to move while still being handcuffed — to hold on different sides of it and turn it around for their plan to work. Peggy and (Y/N) held onto the left and right side respectively, meanwhile Mr. Jarvis held on to the back side of it.

"Ready?"

"One, two — "

The three counted together and swayed the table back and forth for impulse.

"Wait," Mr. Jarvis abruptly stopped his movements. This made the two drop the table back on the floor. "What if there are people behind this mirror that we're breaking?"

"Then they may get hurt," Peggy answered his question. "There will be a spray of glass."

"I see."

The three picked up the table and repeated their previous movements.

"One, two — "

"Wait!"

(Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh at Mr. Jarvis.

"What if these hypothetical people behind the mirror have guns?"

Peggy thought for a second before replying.
"Then we may get hurt. There will be a spray of bullets."

"I see."

They grabbed the table for one last time and swayed it back and forth like their first attempt.

"One, two. . ."

"Three!"

The table broke through the glass with a loud noise that was probably heard out in the hallway. Large shards of glass fell on the other side of the interrogation room, where nobody stood behind the glass — proving Mr. Jarvis's theory wrong.

"No people," he realized with a pleased smile. "Everybody wins."

(Y/N) clicked her tongue against her cheek. "I feel like we forgot something important."

"We're still attached to a table."

"We are still attached to a table."

Before they could discuss their next move, the door on the other side of the room opened. (Y/N) cringed when she saw Thompson walk in and the way his eyes widened at the sight of the broken glass.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

"Where is Chief Dooley?"

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Thompson banged desperately at the door of Chief Dooley's office with Peggy and (Y/N) right behind him. They could see through the open blinds how he was asleep on his desk, wearing some sort of orange vest. Despite the constant banging on the door and the yells of his name, he didn't seem to wake up from his deep slumber.

"Chief Dooley!"

"Chief!"

Chief Dooley slowly opened his eyes, finally disturbed by all the noise. He groggily stood up from his chair and walked over to the door as if nothing was wrong, even though his eyes were red.

"You okay?" Thompson asked softly as the chief walked out into the bullpen.

Mr. Jarvis's eyes fell on the vest. "Oh, my God."

"Very calmly now, everybody stand clear, please."

"Miss Carter, Miss Dewitt, stand clear," he grabbed them by the shoulder and guided them away from the chief's path. "Mr. Thompson, stand back, please."

(Y/N) noticed the violent glow in the vest and the way heat radiated off it. Every other agent in the agency stood behind them, all letting out audible gasps at the sight of their chief.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Chief Dooley finally spoke up.

"What is that?"

"That is the prototype for a new system of armor," Mr. Jarvis answered Peggy's question.

"How do we get it off him?" Thompson asked as he walked around the chief, careful not to touch him.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Mr. Jarvis responded in a solemn tone. "Please don't touch. It was intended to double as a heat source, for use in the winter months on the European front. Locking the armor ignited a self-sustaining battery."

"But there's always a catch to this stuff, isn't there?"

"I'm afraid the energy source is experimental, powerful, and incredibly flawed. It invariably overheats with rather violent results."

"How violent?" Chief Dooley looked at him.

"Explosive."

Peggy whirled on her heel. "Get the scientists."

One of the agents followed her order and went to the lab in search for help. In the meantime, Chief Dooley had to lean against a desk to rest since he was afraid that sitting down might trigger the armor somehow. Sweat build up on his hairline and dripped down his forehead, his constant panting not being a good sign.

"How you feeling, Chief?" Thompson tried to lighten the mood.

"Burning up," Chief Dooley answered drily instead. "He got in my head. He made me steal something from the lab. You can't let him talk to you. If he starts talking to you, he got you."

Mr. Doobin from the lab joined the circle. "These clasps — "

"They're locked, as I said before," Mr. Jarvis cut him off to explain. "It's what activates the system. Tampering with them trips a circuit to the battery and speeds up the reaction."

"What is this thing made out of?"

"It's an alloy of Mr. Stark's creation."

Peggy flickered her gaze between Mr. Doobin and Mr. Jarvis. "Can't you cut him out of this thing?"

"I don't think we have the time."

"Tampering with the circuitry — "

"Speeds up the reaction," Mr. Doobin cut Mr. Jarvis off this time. "I got it."

"Let's pack him with ice," Peggy suggested, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Perhaps we can cool the core."

"The armor is designed to be impervious to all outside elements, whether it be artillery or temperature."

(Y/N) stumped her foot in frustration at the person responsible for this. "Damn you, Stark."

"My God, it's searing his skin."

"It's in the final stages," Mr. Jarvis announced, his eyes never leaving the chief. "We're running out of time."

"I don't know what to do."

"What does that mean?"

Mr. Doobin did not look up at Thompson as he answered his question. "It means that, I don't know what to do."

"I know what to do." Chief Dooley commented for the first time in the conversation that revolved around him. "Here, give me a hand."

When nobody moved, he raised his voice.

"Give me a hand."

Thompson took a cautious step forward to help him up, but Chief Dooley took this as the opportunity to remove his gun out of its holster.

"Whoa!"

Chief Dooley stepped away from the group. He winced with every step he took and his bloodshot eyes were on the verge of tears.

"Tell. . ." he breathed out, words directed at Thompson. "Tell my wife. . .Tell her I'm sorry I missed dinner."

"And you. . ."

(Y/N) did not think she was strong enough to look at the chief in the eye, but she still did so. No matter how strict or demanding he was with her, she could not bear the sight of him in this state.

"Promise me you'll get the son of a bitch who did this."

"Say it!"

(Y/N) nodded firmly. "I promise."

"We'll catch them," Peggy added in reassurance.

"Attagirl."

He was pleased by this responses, and a mixed look of realization and acceptance washed over him. Before anyone could react, Chief ran in direction of the nearest window while firing at it with the stolen gun to make it easier to break.

"Chief!"

"Chief, don't!"

He ignored every cry of his name telling him to stop and jumped out the window. The armor rigged an explosion at the same time, every single window of the bullpen shattering into pieces at the large cloud of smoke on the side of the building. It knocked everybody back a few feet, some lucky enough to take cover and avoid getting hurt by the flying glass. (Y/N) could hear the noises of the people outside shrieking in fear at the sudden explosion, but she couldn't seem to remove her eyes from the window Chief had jumped out of.

Agents aided the injured ones by placing some bandages around their cuts or carefully removing incrusted shards of glass from their skin. Others were busy cleaning up the mess, but the rest, like (Y/N), Peggy and Thompson, sat inmovible by the desks as they tried to process what just happened.

Sousa walked into the bullpen with a frown etched on his features. "What happened?"

"They got chief," Thompson could not look at him in the eye.

"I did this," Peggy broke the silence. Her eyes were teary and she had her arms wrapped around herself.  "Ivchenko brought me to him so that I would bring him to the SSR. This is my fault."

"No," (Y/N) placed a hand on her shoulder. "No, it's not."

"This is not your fault," Mr. Jarvis offered comforting words of his own. "This is Mr. Stark's bloody inventions."

"You're right." A wave of realization flashed through her eyes. "Leviathan tasked Leet Brannis to steal something. What was it?"

(Y/N) felt her heart stop. "The blood."

She and the others rushed toward the lab, her feet not being fast enough as she begged them to be. (Y/N) would never forgive herself if she found out the blood was missing, and she scolded herself for handing it out in the first place. When they barged in the lab, the first thing her eyes noticed was the Blitzkrieg Button placed in the center of the first table, looking completely intact. With shaky fingers, (Y/N) flicked the switch and the Button opened, revealing an intact vial of blood inside. She let out an audible sound of relief, but that meant that Ivchenko stole something a lot more dangerous from the lab.

"We need to find out what Ivchenko took."

Sousa turned to the agents. "Search every crate."

They did as ordered, opening every crate they came across and find them all perfectly sealed with their respective inventions inside.

"Item 17," Mr. Doobin pointed out. "It's gone."

"All right," Thompson turned around to Mr. Jarvis. "What's that do?"

"I have no idea."