May, 2014.

Washington, D.C., United States.

"Are there any trains leaving for New York within, like, the next hour?" I asked the ticket broker. He startled in his rolling chair, but put himself together quickly.

"Kind of early for all that. Let me check," he told me. He turned to his computer and began checking departure times. "In a hurry?"

"I got the date wrong on a huge business deal and meeting, and I need to be in New York by eight o'clock if I want to make it," I rambled. Run-on sentences and lots of vague details were the way to go when it came to ensuring you'd be forgotten. I was going to leave a few bread crumbs for SHIELD, just to be nice, but using my real ID at an Amtrak ticket counter was as far as I went. Weaving a fake story for a guy who'd forget me by the morning commuter rush was just fun. "Please, please, please."

More typing. It was 2:43. I needed him to hurry.

"We've got a 3:12 to New York City, arriving around 7:45. That good?"

"That's perfect. Thank you so much," I gushed. I dug in my purse as if I didn't know exactly where my wallet was.

"Credit or debit?" he asked.

"I don't use credit cards," I bragged. That was actually true, but my character was annoying. I enjoyed playing her up.

"Then debit," he assumed. He began typing in the right strings of letters.

"Actually I need to pay in cash. My debit card was affected in that last big hack, and I haven't gotten my new one," I explained. Throwing information at someone who should probably be asleep right now meant he'd never remember it. "Is that okay?"

"I'll still need to see your ID," he reminded me. I passed him my ID and a hundred dollar bill through the slot in his counter window. He collected them, typed in my information, and returned my driver's license with my change. "Train should be in already. Gate C, I think. Maybe Gate F."

"Thank you, thank you," I cheered quietly. I shoved everything back into my purse and made a mental note to fix it later. I turned away from the kiosk and began rushing towards the tracks. Put a little pep in your step, Gail. You're in a panicked rush, I reminded myself. My shoes were obnoxiously noisy on the tiled floor, but I ignored it and continued to drag my suitcase along behind me.

The train was nearly empty, which didn't surprise me. The two other people in my car were dressed in business attire as well. Chances were good they had the same story as my soon to be retired character. I set an alarm for 7:15, but I had no plans to sleep.

~

The ride to New York was dark and uneventful. More passengers, all in their business best, took seats in my car the closer we got to the city. Some of them looked as tired as I felt, but most seemed accustomed to the early hour. They had coffee in extra-large thermoses and their breakfast in hand.

I bought a ticket to Montreal and a cup of coffee in Penn Station. The passport I used had a new name on it, but it was government issue nonetheless and didn't trigger any red flags. My previous employer made sure I was well set up when it came to fake identities.

Penn Station was bustling at eight in the morning. Trains to Montreal, Boston, Chicago, and even more destinations were all leaving within the hour. My black pantsuit and grey suitcase blended in with most of the foot traffic. There was more security in the form of uniformed NYPD officers, but I also spotted half a dozen plainclothes officers who thought they were doing a good job of hiding. They were, honestly, but I knew what to look for and found them easily.

I boarded the train and picked the best seat for an eleven hour ride. Most of the passengers had already boarded, and most of them looked like high-end tourists. The Adirondack line went through the Hudson Valley and wine country. They'd thin out by the time this train got to the Canadian border.

I took inventory of the other passengers as I waited for the train to leave. There were a handful of suits, each with a designer tie or leather loafers. All except for two. They sat on either side of the aisle, but they were chatting like they knew each other. Their suits, ties, and shoes were all black. They were agents for someone.

"All passengers of the 8:15 Adirondack to Yonkers and beyond, please be aware of a thirty minute delay now in effect. Penn Station and Amtrak do apologize for this delay."

There were groans from the passengers, and I fished out the badge I had clipped to an inside pocket of my purse and attached it to my hip. A delay without a reason? Big Brother was on his way.

The pair of agents in standard issue black stood up simultaneously and filed into the aisle right as a hurried passenger sprinted into view on the platform outside. He was looking over his shoulder and running for the train. He hadn't heard the delay announcement. By the time he was boarding the train, the agents were passing my row of seats. The sprinter saw them as he turned into the train car. A look of panicked rolled over his face.

"Please, let me go," he said quietly. The rest of the train car looked up at him. People moving seats wasn't all that odd, but a sweating, terrified man begging for his freedom was very odd.

"Sir, we just need to ask you a few questions," the leading agent said.

"Ask me a few questions. Like you asked three of my colleagues? I'm not Hydra," he announced. Anyone who had only been sort of paying attention was now very intrigued. It had been over a month since the Battle at the Triskelion. People were still jumpy.

Then he dropped his bag in front of the agents and took a leap out the door. I watched him sprint down the platform with the two agents behind him. The passenger closest to the door took his bag and chucked it outside. If he hadn't, I would have.

*

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