“Hydra. It was a Nazi science division headed by Standartenfuhrer Johann Schmidt who later went by the alias Red Skull, but when Schmidt decided his time was better served searching for ancient legends instead of building the Reinland, Hitler fired him, shut down the Hydra unit, and thought it dead. Of course it wasn’t, and has continued to be a thorn in everyone’s side for the next hundred years.” Hill stood up, glancing at Castle briefly before taking several pictures from the file and placing them in front of him. Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, The Hulk, The Abomination.
“These are all direct results of Captain Rogers super soldier serum, different nations looking to create their own army of mega-killers. If Zemo gets close to any of these people, we’re fucked. If Zemo gets close to any of our scientists, we’re fucked. And I don’t like to be fucked by anyone who isn’t Idris Elba.” Hill sat down again, looking at Castle, trying to register his mood.” Here’s the thing, Castle, motivations only last so long. Anyone can tell you that. No human being can be dedicated to a cause for fifty years, it’s inhuman. Your one man war of crime, it’s got to be wearing thin. You pull up one weed, two more sprout in it’s place. You clearly want some weed killer. That’s S.H.I.E.L.D. We’re the good guys.”
Maria hated Frank with a passion, he was arrogant, filled with military training and nothing else. A killing machine, a war machine. Maria was a spy, trained to be the peak of human performance both in her mind and in her body. She knew that an appeal to his civic duty, his military oath or even his national pride would fall of deaf ears, so she opted for a simpler one. “Your shot gun is neat, and your brass knuckles are cute, but if you join my outfit, we’ll stock you to the teeth. We’ll make sure that you have everything you need. Send one person to do the job of twenty people. Spare nineteen lives. Well not one person, you’d be sent with an actual agent, I’m not an idiot, I know you’d run off and attack some Mexican Cartel types if we took our eyes off you for a second. So, you and Agent Barton, shadow of night, under your alias’ obviously. The Punisher and Hawkeye, saving the world from evil. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, Castle?”
“Here’s a deal, Hill,” Frank started, his voice as calm as it was at the beginning of the conversation. Maria diligently did her psychology homework during S.H.I.E.L.D. training, he could see that. She wasn’t so great at hiding her personal contempt though. It made Castle feel weirdly calm in this situation. Hill hated him and here she was, luring him with a sense of belonging and all the other shit. The fact that his own goodwill was the only power in the agreement almost made Frank smile. “Terms and conditions are on me here, it’s not a job interview. Neither I am, nor I ever will be your underling, I’m not a beast that you’ll unleash and we’re not discussing conditions of the unleashing right now, I hope we’re clear about that.” Frank looked up to meet Maria’s eyes, ready to strike off every amount of anger she had for him.
“The deal is about former agent Martin Highsmith --” he brought half of the papers out of the file and moved the rest towards Hill, “-- and no-one else. I will not solve your entire Hydra problem, it’s your business, not mine. The guy that has recently ratted you -- Highsmith -- is gone, all of the information that he’s passed to Hydra and this Zemo-asshole-whatever is gone from their databases, archives and desk drawers, and right in that moment our arrangement is gone as well. You’ll get every piece of information that I gather during the mission, from start to finish. Every Hydra hiding place, every backdoor to database, every name and recording, whatever pops up in the meantime. You’re getting my time and involvement in nothing but this mission, from the moment that I start planning, to the final report. Report that will be classified and you’ll be the only person that ever reads it. No digital copies of anything with my name on it, no GPS trackers or bugs, no recordings of my face or my voice, no S.H.I.E.L.D. gear, vehicles, uniforms or anything you can imagine. If you had done your research well, you would have known that I’m a man of my word. I won’t break the deal and if you do, the mission ends, immediately, and the next time any of your people steps on my toes, your secrets are no longer safe. There’s a great way of avoiding this unpleasant situation -- not playing tricks, highly recommended. Unfortunately for you, you’re gonna have to trust me. I have nothing against Barton’s involvement but the prep work is on me and he steps in when the assassination plan is ready. He gets the coordinates from me and that’s the moment that you obtain information about my location which will be all yours until the end of the mission. I don’t want your money, gratitude or sense of belonging in return. Handheld EMP gun, with a blueprint, will be enough.”