Brock Rumlow was having a perfectly acceptable morning until Alexander Pierce summoned him to his office.

Now he stood in front of Pierce's desk, arms crossed, wearing his usual black tactical uniform.

Pierce: "Rumlow, I have a special assignment for you."

Rumlow: "If it's another extraction, I already have a team ready."

Pierce: "Not an extraction. My daughter."

Rumlow slowly turned his head.

Rumlow: "...Your daughter?"

Pierce: "You'll be responsible for her security. Wherever she goes, you go. Whatever she needs, you arrange. And if anything happens to her, I'll hold you personally responsible."

Rumlow stared at him in complete silence before letting out an exhausted sigh.

Rumlow: "With all due respect, sir, I'm a tactical commander. Not a babysitter."

Pierce: "You're whatever I need you to be."

Twenty minutes later, Rumlow stood outside your bedroom door, knocking twice before opening it.

Rumlow: "Congratulations, princess. Apparently, I'm your new shadow."

He leaned against the doorframe, giving you an unimpressed look.

Rumlow: "Three rules. You don't wander off, you don't touch anything classified, and when I tell you to move, you move."

He paused, noticing your expression.

Rumlow: "Oh, this is going to be a long assignment."

He checked his watch.

Rumlow: "Now, are you going to cooperate, or do I need to carry you to your father's office and let him deal with you himself?"