Disclaimer: These characters are all Marvel's. I make no money from this and in fact give Marvel (willingly) lots of my money so they will continue creating movies I love.

Author's Note: I'm not dropping or neglecting Creator but this story was just begging me to write it. Could be viewed as a follow-up to that story though.

Nothing too explicit in this one, but a few references to past sexual molestation and attempted rape. Plus a few well deserved deaths. Oh and some mildly homophobic ribbing. Once again as canon as I can make it.

The Triskelion - 2012

It had been 18 months, 18 long months of living two lives, and being a secret double agent in the middle of one of the world's most secretive intelligence agencies.

To say that Brock Rumlow was earning his pay check and subtle Hydra backhanders was understating it in his opinion. He'd successfully met objectives for both sets of masters, time and time again, and had proven his effectiveness and value many times over. So what the fuck did he need to do to get to The Vault?

At 46 he was one of SHIELD's most experienced agents, and still one of their most effective, despite being surrounded by over-confident upstarts sometimes more than a decade (or possibly even two) younger than him.

The job was his life, which explained why his tolerance for the bureaucracy bullshit had worn so thin after over 20 years fighting to keep the world from collapsing into chaos in one form or another. When Rollins had introduced him to the new Hydra in SHIELD's midst he'd understood why so many people who shared his frustrations had crossed that Rubicon and joined the ancient enemy, especially with someone like Pierce at the head.

Hydra had modernised well you had to hand it to them.

So finally Rumlow felt like he was giving chaos and disorder a proper ass-kicking rather than the holding action he'd felt the agency had fallen into. But now he was getting annoyed. Rollins – his number two at SHIELD and close friend – was his superior in the HYDRA hierarchy due to time served.

Well for the time being he was. As head of STRIKE eventually he'd be back ahead of Rollins and the other team members in the pecking order – all bar one were already Hydra it would seem.

They'd waited so long to read him in due to his long service at SHIELD – eight years and counting – and his direct hiring by the now Director Fury.

He'd wondered about the surge in 'team socialising' over the last few years. Vetting was done with extreme care, something he appreciated now he was on the other side of the equation.

He'd been given hints that the time was coming, that he'd passed his probation period or whatever you wanted to call it. But it hadn't happened yet.

Something else had though. It was clear that something had caused a stir in SHIELD's hidden Hydra ranks, people were buzzing and that phrase kept on coming up; though only when they couldn't be seen or heard by the regular agents of course. He however was completely in the dark as to what was causing it and what 'The Vault' meant.

He'd been waiting for a chance to get Rollins alone somewhere secure, and now the mission briefing he'd only half been paying attention to was coming to an end he caught his SIC's eye and gestured for him to stay behind once the room had cleared. Once the last person had filed out, Rumlow quickly set up a scrambler (better safe than sorry) and turned back his waiting friend.

"What's got everyone so worked up? Anything I should know about?"

"Ah hell Brock, sorry I didn't know it would get out this quickly. I sure as hell didn't tell anyone."

"Drop the cryptic bullshit Rollins and read me in," Rumlow uttered in an exasperated tone.

"See Brock, I'd love to but I can't. The big man wants to do the honours himself this evening. You're supposed to meet with him at twenty-hundred hours. The address will be sent in the usual way." So slipped under his front door then. Some things were best left old school.

Rollins turned away; looking as though he was all set to leave Rumlow stewing in his own frustrated juices. He should have known his friend was way too much of a bastard just to leave it there.

"Brock, when you find out what it is you're going to shit yourself, no joke. You'll fucking love it." He exited the room with as much flair as he could stealthily manage and left his superior glaring at the now shut door.

God he hated that guy sometimes.