The Wolves of Winter

As the door to the KGB centre slammed shut behind me, I looked around fr any trace of the Winter Soldier, but it was clear he'd left long before I'd even got up from where he'd dropped me. Still scowling, I made my way over to the black A.I.M vehicle I'd parked behind the building. Beside it was a single lined track, obviously from a motorcycle.

I swallowed hard and checked my watch. I was expected to check in with my superiors in two hours, at a centre that was an hour drive from here. If I wasn't back in time I knew there was going to be a punishment; it had happened before. Gritting my teeth, I clambered into the car and turned the key in the ignition, following the Winter Soldier's tracks away from the compound.

The centre had been located in a mountainside in Eastern Russia, meaning the trail to and from it was windy, steep and dangerous. I followed the track as fast as I could while trying to keep control of the car, praying that there weren't hidden patches of ice on the road. The last thing I needed was to have to bail out of the car and walk back to the base.

Finally, the track evened out, and it became easier to go faster without worrying about crashing. The trail the Soldier had left in his wake was becoming more and more faint as snow began to fall around me and the sky began to darken. I gritted my teeth and pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor, thankful for the extra grip A.I.M had supplied to my car as I went over heavily snowed out patches of road, following the quickly fading tire marks of the Soldier's bike.

Eventually, with the light fading and the snow falling, I realised I wasn't going to find him. Thankfully, his trail hadn't led me too far away from my meet up point, so I pulled to a stop in the middle of a deserted road by a patch of trees and set off to the North, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel.

I'd been driving off his trail for about half an hour when I caught a flash of black in my rear-view mirror. I gripped the steering wheel tightly with my left hand and twisted around in my seat. Sure enough, he was tailing me, and judging by the speed he was moving, he was more than likely gaining on me.

I turned back around and switched gears, slamming my foot on the gas and shooting forwards, checking my rearview mirror again. He was coming up very close to my bumper, but surprisingly, he wasn't shooting. I raised an eyebrow and continued on, the dark scenery of the trees whirring past in one confused blur as the Soldier came closer. Without warning, I slammed my foot onto the break and made a hard left, spinning my car around 180 degrees and snatching the .50 Desert Eagle from the glove compartment and getting out, crouching around the side of the car to look for him. It had taken him a good forty feet to stop, but he was getting off the bike and heading my way, wasting no time in arming himself.

My breath quickened as I checked my ammo. I had a full magazine in the gun, and a spare tucked into my belt, along with my pistol. I had plenty of ammo to try and take him out.

He moved closer, his pace slowing to a walk filled with confidence. He almost seemed to strut towards my car, his movements fluid and easy as he checked the ammo of his sidearm, which he pointed casually in my direction. I ducked around the side of the car and moved to the other end, but it was obvious he'd seen my feet move underneath the car, because he was pointing it at me again by the time I poked my head round.

"Come on out, ренегат." He called, his voice mocking me as the snow swirled around him.

I took the safety off and pointed it at him, firing a bullet which he dodged with ease. I heard him chuckle. "You'll have to do better than that, Renegade."

I emptied my magazine, desperately trying to get a hit. It was infuriating how easily he could move, dodging each of the bullets I fired like they were creeping towards him. He fired one bullet in my direction, but it hit the side of the car with a 'ping' and bounced off, landing in the snow. I reloaded, clicking my new magazine into place.

"смотреть вверх." He hissed, his voice oddly close. Unwittingly, I followed his instructions and flicked my head up, to see him stood inches away from me. I couldn't shoot fast enough; his metal hand was already clamped around my wrist and he was pulling me to my feet.

"Trust A.I.M to send a ребенок." He mocked, sneering as he pushed me roughly against the hood of the car. I exhaled sharply, my breath clouding in front of his face.

"I am not a child." I snarled back, struggling against his vice-like grip. He let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, pinning me against the hood with his hips and tugging the glove off his left metal hand, before lifting the edge of the shirt of my combat suit and pressing it against my skin. I couldn't help the involuntary cry that escaped my lips, and his mouth curled into another proud smirk.

"So weak." He declared, moving so his head was inches from mine. "Why would they send you after me?"

I didn't bother answering him. I was too caught up in how warm he was. I hadn't even realised how cold it was outside until I'd felt the warmth of his body against mine. Now, I could feel the heat radiating off him and against me in a stark contrast to the snow that swirled around us both. His cold blue eyes flickered across my face, and traces of mockery or humour gone as he studied me. He repeated his question.

"I don't know." I snapped. It obviously wasn't the answer he'd wanted, as the metal hand went around my throat, chilling my skin in a way I'd only ever felt after missions had gone wrong and I was being punished. Was this some form of punishment? Was tracking him some form of punishment, to prove how weak I really was?

He pulled his hand away from my skin, pushing his face a little closer to mine instead. His eyes flickered across my face once more, until he met my gaze and smirked again. "Не стоит даже пуля."

He pulled away from me, walking back across the snow-laden path to his bike. I watched his dark figure retreat, confused as to why he'd let me live again, when he'd obviously taken so much effort to follow me out here. What was he doing? How did he know A.I.M had sent me?

He took off, the engine roaring to life. I watched him go, and then listened until I couldn't hear the engine any more, before climbing into my car and pulling the neck of my combat suit higher, shivering at his words.

Not even worth the bullet.

Notes