2000
New York City, Lower East Side
Solomon Institute Foster Home
2 years later
Being a baby again sucked. Having to rely on someone for your every waking need was not fun, and Tony wasn't exactly a doting father either. He would often leave me in the care of Jack, my foster brother who was older than me by four years, and Jeanne who was in her early teens and was Tony's real daughter.
When I finally turned 5 and was able to walk on my own with no problems, I started to sneak away from them to explore the house for more info on where I was.
Initially, my search was a bust, being the early 2000's there wasn't a computer or smartphone in sight. But checking Tony's room did yield me a little insight into what my caretaker got up to in his day-to-day.
His closet held a literal arsenal and was stacked with all kinds of pistols, rifles, and knives. He even had a sword and shield hanging in the back.
Under his bed was a backpack filled with different passports and money. I was tempted to take a few bills for myself or maybe even a gun, you know for protection. But my better judgment won out, a five-year-old with a stack of bills and a Glock hanging out his diaper definitely wasn't a smart look.
I put everything back where it was and left Tony's room. From what I found I came to the conclusion that my foster father has to either be a hitman or some kind of spy. But why did a hitman/spy need to run a foster home? At least he's not a creep or trying to torture us...for now. But what that meant for me and my future, I have no idea.
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"Brock! Where have you been?"
I turned and saw Jeanne standing behind me. Her deep green eyes were narrowed, her arms crossed and a frustrated look on her freckled face.
"I turn around for one second and you disappear on me?"
I scrambled my brain for a good excuse, then remembered I'm five years old. Shrugged my shoulders and said, "I was playing."
Jeanne let out a sigh, flicked her shoulder-length blonde hair, and reached down to pick me up.
"Whatever. Come on, Dad just came back from his business trip."
She led us outside the house where Tony was unloading bags out the front.
"Hi Tony!" I said waving my little arm and playing with the excited child. He never allowed Jack or I to call him Dad like Jeanne did. I supposed if I was a regular kid that would have for sure caused some childhood trauma.
"Hey," Tony answered stiffly. I don't think he knew how to handle happy children, makes me wonder how Jeanne was raised.
Tony dropped his bag inside and then turned to Jeanne, a cold look never leaving his face.
"Have you finished the training assignments I gave you?" He asked.
The girl nodded "Both packages are in route to the client. I also took care of the loose end. He won't be causing any more trouble."
Tony just nodded, "How is Jack's training coming along?"
Jeanne hesitated for a second, "He is...proficient. Nothing special but usable."
Tony nodded again then gave a scrutinizing look to me, who was trying to keep the oblivious childish smile on my face while I also panicked inside after hearing the crazy shit they were talking about casually.
"It's almost time to start the boy's training. See to it that he knows the basics before coming to me."
Jeanne gave a trepidatious nod to her father and then looked at me with a bit of guilt reflected in her eyes. She turned back to him just as he turned to leave.
"C-Couldn't we let him be a kid for just.. a little while longer?" She asked nervously.
Tony's back stiffened and without turning back to face he asked "Have you forgotten our cause girl?"
His tone was ice cold leaving no room for doubt anywhere near him.
Jeanne lowered her head and weakly called out "No father.... Hail Hydra."
I AM SO FUCKED.
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