(TL: PLEASE REMEMBER this is AU and the names of the organization or the date of establishment MIGHT be different. Thank You)
"Boss, I'm here to report a traitor."
The moment he had the chance, Alan marched straight to Karpov's office. Karpov, who held several high-ranking positions and graced the Weapons Development Directorate with his presence two days a week, looked up from his paperwork.
"Who?" he asked, frowning. Treason was a serious crime. With the international situation so tense, internal problems were the biggest worry. They had to be eliminated immediately upon discovery.
"The traitor is Wilson. I overheard him and an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent agreeing to leave at nine o'clock tomorrow night," Alan said indignantly. "I never expected him to be that kind of person. The country has given him so much, but he still covets wealth and fame. Unlike me, I'm perfectly satisfied sweeping garbage."
"…"
Karpov didn't believe a word of it. Wilson had just been promoted and had a bright future ahead of him. He couldn't imagine him being foolish enough to defect.
"I will have him interrogated immediately," Karpov said perfunctorily. He made a mental note to find a reason to transfer Alan somewhere far, far away. The psychopath was framing a key asset and was becoming a liability. As for Wilson, he had Karpov's unconditional trust.
"Don't act rashly," Alan said, closing the door and the windows before lowering his voice. "This is my chance to prove my devotion to the cause."
"You, serve the country?" Karpov said, his expression strained. "It's a good thing that you have such a high level of ideological awareness, but you should do things within your ability."
"Thank you for your appreciation, Boss. Now, let me tell you my plan." Alan didn't understand the subtext and blurted out his idea. "Boss, Wilson is going to escape tomorrow night. I'll follow him, infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. and pass the intelligence back to the Soviet Union."
This damn kid, Karpov thought. Is he determined to single-handedly lower the professional standards of the entire espionage industry?
"Very good," Karpov said, playing along while thinking of a way to get rid of him. "What cooperation do you need?"
Alan clenched his fist, his expression one of heroic determination. "Everything is under my control. I can finally be useful, like a high-quality, multi-purpose piece of toilet paper."
"…"
The next day, at nine o'clock in the evening, a speedboat docked by a large river in the suburbs. Carrying two suitcases, Wilson shivered in the woods. The Soviet Union was known as the land of harsh winters. Every year, drunkards who didn't return home overnight were found frozen stiff the next day.
"Dr. Duke, we can set off now," the middle-aged man pointed at the speedboat as a reminder.
"Then let's go." Wilson glanced in the direction of the capital, feeling a little guilty. The two of them walked toward the shore under the cover of night, preparing to board the boat and leave Soviet territory.
"Hey-ho… hey-ho… hey-ho…" At this time, a strange sound caused the men on the speedboat to raise their weapons.
Alan, making the noise, ran over from the other side of the woods and shouted, "You are all under arrest! Take off your pants and lick your own bottoms immediately!"
Click.
With guns loaded, the agents prepared to deal with him.
"Don't shoot!" Wilson recognized Alan at first sight. Remembering that this madman had, in his own bizarre way, saved his life, he couldn't just stand by and watch him get shot.
"Alan, stop making trouble. It's dangerous here. Leave immediately," Wilson persuaded.
"One who is afraid of death cannot be a true son of the Soviet Union," Alan made a pistol shape with his hands, blew on his fingertips, and said proudly, "But I'm afraid of death."
"…"
Is fear of death something to be proud of?
"Wilson, it is precisely because I am afraid of death that I must go with you." Alan put a hand on Wilson's shoulder. "Our relationship is… complicated. Everyone in the bureau knows it. If you leave, I'll be the first to suffer."
"You're just a cleaner. They won't make things difficult for you." And a mental patient, Wilson thought. Who has the time to target you?
"You bastard! You're enjoying wealth and glory, but now you turn your back on me and despise me, right?" Alan tried hard to hold back his tears, pretending to be abandoned. "I was wrong to trust you."
"What do you want to do?" Wilson grabbed his hair in annoyance, truly not understanding what Alan was thinking.
Alan said seriously, "Let's travel around the world together and be a pair of crazy lovers."
"If you want to come along, I need to ask them." Time was of the essence. Wilson turned to ask the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
The answer was yes. They had considered that Wilson might have a family, so they had prepared for three people.
Alan happily got on the speedboat, and they headed straight out to sea to meet the freighter. Looking out at the vast, endless darkness of the sea, Alan stood at the bow, his mouth wide open, facing the cold sea breeze.
"I am a new generation of Caribbean pirate," he declared. "And one day, I will be King of the Pirates!"
"Ah-la-la-la-la…" The sea breeze rushed into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge. After a long while, he said with satisfaction, "Drinking the wind can really fill you up. It tastes a bit salty. It has been added to Alan's luxurious private cuisine."
After three hours of speeding on the sea, they finally found the target freighter. On the surface, it was a cargo ship, but in fact, the basement level had been converted into an office, where many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were receiving telegrams.
"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Dr. Duke." Peggy Carter looked at the familiar Alan with a puzzled expression.
"Ignore him," Wilson said awkwardly. "There were some… episodes."
"It doesn't matter, as long as you are safe," Carter said with a smile.
Alan looked at the white paper on the table beside him and began to draw. An idle mind is the devil's playground, and Alan's mind was a sprawling, chaotic metropolis. He felt a deep, physical discomfort if he wasn't causing some kind of trouble.
Wilson and Carter chatted for a while, talking about the treatment he would receive in America. When dealing with experts who defected, there had always been a monetary offensive.
"I'm done pretending!" Alan suddenly yelled. He pointed at Wilson. "He is a fake! I designed the AK rifle!"
Suddenly, all the agents focused their attention on them.
"Alan, what are you talking about?" A jolt of panic shot through Wilson, but he quickly composed himself. He's a known lunatic. Who would believe him?
"Wilson, to be honest, I was plotting against you." Alan smiled mischievously and revealed the truth to everyone. "I drew that blueprint for you, just to let S.H.I.E.L.D. pay attention to you and guide what happens next. It's not your own achievement. If you sit back and enjoy the fruits of others' labor, you will definitely be worried. I tricked you a little, and you really fell for it."
"How do you prove that you designed it?" Wilson challenged.
Alan placed his new drawings on the table for everyone to see. It was another firearm with a completely new structure, completely different from the AK rifle.
"You could have proven yourself and waited for S.H.I.E.L.D. to recruit you. Why frame me?" Wilson asked loudly, embarrassed to have been deceived by a mentally ill person.
"That's different. The Soviet Union is after you, the AK design expert. I'm just a cleaner."
"…"
Could a plan this intricate, this devious, really come from the mind of a madman? Wilson had been framed, manipulated into defecting, and then used as a pawn to deliver the true asset. It was brilliant. It was terrifying.
***
(End of Chapter)
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