The Wolves of Winter

I crept through the abandoned KGB centre, occasionally stopping in empty offices to rifle through files. My breath clouded in front of my face, coming out in gentle puffs. I dropped lazily into the leather chair behind the desk of the office I was ransacking, the cracked leather splitting even more beneath my weight. The desk was a mess of newspapers and Manila files, and as I looked through them I started to see little bits of information I needed.

That was when I saw his name.

Зимний Солдат. The Winter Soldier.

I snatched up the file, setting my flashlight on the desk and angling it so I could read. I was disappointed at what I found. Apparently he'd been a Soviet Agent about ten years before, but he'd disappeared after a few months of work. The file didn't state his whereabouts, and he was listed as Missing in Action. Apparently he just didn't come back to the base after a mission. It wasn't anything I didn't already know.

I dropped the file. Although I wasn't looking for information on The Winter Soldier specifically, I was under orders to keep an eye out for him at all times. A.I.M had told me on more than one occasion that he was the most lethal asset of any secrecy agency that I would ever face, and my job was to take him down if and when I found him.

The Soldier was the reason A.I.M had created me in the first place. I was their equivalent of him, created with the sole purpose of hunting him down and taking him out. Of course, A.I.M would have been stupid not to use my adverse skill set on other targets while I looked for the Soldier. I was currently looking for the whereabouts of Alexander Pajari, one of the more important members of the KBG. The centre I was raiding had been his main centre for operations, but it seemed that he was long gone.

I sighed, dropping the faded manila folder back onto the desk and reaching for my flashlight. I stood up, making my way to the door of the office, when I heard something. It sounded like a boot on metal.

I slipped my pistol out of my holster and peeked around the door, looking up and down the corridor expectantly.

Nothing. It was empty.

With a sigh, I holstered my weapon and crept outside into the corridor, making my way up to the next level of the centre. I was starting to doubt I would find any information on Pajari's whereabouts, (or The Winter Soldier's position), but I carried on regardless. I was about ten feet away from the next office when I heard the sound again. The distant sound of a boot on metal.

I span around, unholstering my weapon and narrowing my eyes. I'd heard the sound twice now, and unless my mind was playing tricks on me, (which I assumed it wasn't) I wasn't alone in the centre.

"ренегат."

I span around, my weapon still aloft, to see him. At first glance, he could have been any operative, from any organisation. But then my flashlight caught his metal arm, and the light reflected off, blinding me momentarily.

"I take it you know who I am?" I called. He'd called me by the nickname I'd acquired during my time as an asset.

"Renegade." He repeated my name in English, and a shiver ran down my spine. I tried to conceal it; the last thing I needed was him knowing that he intimidated me. It was the only invitation he'd need to attack me, and judging by the size of his shoulders, he would be able to overpower me without a problem. "You know me?"

"солдат." I tightened the grip on my gun. "Soldier."

He took a step forwards, calmly starting to close the gap between us. As he got closer I could feel my pulse begin to speed up, but I realised I couldn't move. He was ten feet away, then five, then four, then three, then -

"Are you going to shoot me, ренегат?" He asked, undertones of humour marking his words. I ground my teeth and wet my lower lip, raising the gun a little higher so it was aimed at his chest. He looked down at the muzzle, and then took another step forward, so that the metal pressed into the fabric of his combat suit. Finally, he raised his eyes to look at me. "Well?"

"Are you going to shoot me?" I shot back, trying to keep my voice from shaking. In my time at A.I.M I'd had plenty of time to read up on the Winter Soldier. I'd studied his missions, read the reports that had been stolen from Hydra bases, all the time trying to assess how best to take him down. Now he was stood in front of me, and all I could think of was how easily his left hand could crush me.

Without warning he grabbed my outstretched arm, wrenching it around to pin it behind my back. The gun slipped from between my fingers and clattered to the ground behind me while he tugged me backwards so I was against his chest. He lowered his head so that his lips could brush against my ear.

"После того как все рассказы," he whispered harshly, his grip on my wrist becoming painful, "легенда гораздо больше, чем женщины. Я разочарован."

He let go of my wrist and I dropped to the floor with a yelp, falling to my hands and knees. He stepped past me, sneering when he saw me massaging my wrist, before disappearing down the flight of stairs I'd come up.

I sat back against the wall, scowling while his words played over in my head.

After all the stories, the legend is so much more than the woman. I'm disappointed.

Disappointed. He'd expected a fight.

And he'd let me live so he could get one next time.

Notes