The Wolves of Winter

It didn't take me long to find him. I knew he'd be there.

He was waiting for me in one of the abandoned offices on the second floor. As soon as I nudged the door open and peeked inside I knew he was in there; the beam of my flashlight caught his arm.

"I was wondering when you'd turn up." He said, his tone almost conversational. I raised my flashlight to point it into his eyes. He turned his face away and stood up, his long legs carrying him around the desk towards me.

I backed out into the corridor, tucking the flashlight away and reaching for my knife. As soon as he was out in the corridor I lunged forwards, slashing at the air in front of him. He barely managed to dodge my attack and put up his hands into defence to avoid me cutting across his eye and nose. I span around to face him again, snarling and dodging the movement of his lethal left hand.

He was fast and strong, but I was smaller, which gave me the advantage when I had to defend and dodge. There was a lot less of me that I had to move around, so I could get around his attacks with a lot more ease than I'd previously thought.

He moved with brutal force, each one of his attacks perfectly times to meet with mine. Every time I threw a punch he would block it and swing my hand away, trying to swing my arms out far enough that he could land a punch. Every time though, I managed to move out of the way, before batting his arm away.

I used his lack of defence to land a kick square in his chest, sending him flying backwards across the hallway. He landed on the floor, his eyes open in surprise for a few seconds. I wasted no time in moving to him to take him out, but he was already on his feet. He looked impressed as he regarded me.

"Кажется, кто-то тренировался." He called with a smirk. He'd seen I'd been training.

"Yeah, training to kick your ass." I snarled, managing to land another kick, simultaneously grabbing my knife and spinning around to try and wedge it into his chest. He deflected the blow and instead grabbed one of my thighs, and with surprising ease threw me over his shoulder. I hit the ground with a thud.

I rolled over onto my back, trying to get my footing so I could attack him again, but he was already on top of me, caging me beneath his arms. He smirked down at me. "Но еще слишком слаб."

"Jokes on you." I snarled back. "They don't speak Russian in Georgia, asshole."

He smirked. "ისინი არ ლაპარაკობს ინგლისურად ან."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I snarled. I couldn't speak Georgian, but I assumed it was some smartass comment.

His cold blue eyes flickered across my face while the smirk lingered. For a few minutes, we just stared at each other. Then, he grabbed me around the waist and hauled me up into a sitting position, keeping his metal hand clamped around my wrist in case I tried to move. He tugged me a little closer so he could study my face.

"I've heard about you." He said finally, his voice soft. "The Renegade from A.I.M. The nameless girl. The ghost."

"Same could be said for you, Soldier." I said quietly. I expected him to smirk at that, but instead his eyes flashed. He et go of my wrist and stood up.

"What are you doing here?" I called after him, curiosity getting the better of me. "Why are you following me?"

He paused and glanced back to me before responding in Russian. "Вы были отправлены, чтобы убить меня. Я был послан, чтобы убить тебя." You were sent to kill me. I was sent to kill you.

I frowned, watching him walk away from me, briefly wondering why he spoke in Russian more than English. From what I'd heard he'd originally been American, and Hydra was an organisation that originated in Germany. Surely it would have made more sense for him to speak one of those languages?

Either way, that wasn't the most pressing issue. The current problem was that he'd let me live again, with no explanation. In all of the files I'd read on the Winter Soldier he never let anyone live - his targets were always killed. So why was he letting me live, when I was clearly his next target?

I asked him this, and he stopped again, looking over his shoulder for a few seconds. I saw something flicker across his face that I couldn't quite read - perhaps it was pity? And then he was gone.

I dropped my head to rest it on the floor, deeply confused. He had been sent by Hydra to kill me - they had presumably heard that I had been produced by A.I.M to try and take down The Winter Soldier. So he was tracking me, following me from the KGB base in Russia to the base here in Georgia.

But he still hadn't killed me. He'd come close to it three times now, but each time he'd backed off, walking away before he could end me. And what had been with that look, just before he'd left? It had seemed close to pity or compassion - both of which I knew were impossible. He was an asset, like me. A robotic, ruthless killer.

I swallowed hard and clambered to my feet, continuing with the job at hand - I still had to find Alexander Pajari.

Notes