AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so this is a fic idea I've been playing around with for a week or so now. I'm not entirely sure if I'm gonna continue with it or not, tbh. It depends on how much feedback I get, but I decided to post this prologue to see if people are interested or not. I mean, the more feedback I get will determine if I continue with this or not, basically. I really love the idea of Sean as The Winter Soldier, tbh. And also, sacrifices will be made if I continue this - meaning I'll most likely kill most of Team Nikita, save for a couple members.
Anyway, read, enjoy & let me know what you all think?
She stepped over the debris, eyes scanning the highway for Michael and Nikita. They should be here, somewhere. But everything was -... Alex lifted her hand to her forehead, smearing blood across her face. When she dropped her hand and looked down, she stopped walking and froze, looking around as if she were in a daze. They had come out of nowhere. He had come out of nowhere. Like a ghost. And he had been exact in his actions, no hesitation. She hadn't seen anything like it before. And she hadn't recognized him, nor had Michael and Nikita. The mask he wore shielded his face from them.
Remembering them, Alex called out their names again, desperate to find them and get the hell out of here before he came back. Alex froze, hand gripping the gun by her side. The figure appeared again like a ghost, the now familiar form getting closer and closer to her. Holding up her gun and pointing it at her, she aimed and fired. The bullets hit him but had no effect; he didn't stumble back or fall. More determined by this failure to wound him, she kept her gun pointed at him and repeatedly fired as she stepped through the debris toward him, coming closer and closer to him.
When she fired the last shot and the slide locked back, Alex dropped her gun; her hand formed a fist and she extended her arm, hand connecting with the figures face. She saw his eyes, the only thing not covered by the mask, and lost focus for a moment. Oblivious to the knife he had pulled out, he swiped at her but she jumped back at the last second, avoiding a flesh wound. Eyes on the knife now, she watched as he raised it up and she lifted her hands and gripped his wrists, turning with him and pinning both of them against a van. She kicked him, struggled with him, but he wouldn't let go. The knife neared her face, her eye, and she felt her hands get sweaty with the effort of holding it away.
Looking into his eyes again and feeling a sense of deja vu, she gritted her teeth and felt a surge of strength. She pushed the knife away and then ducked out of the way of the knife, twisting the ghost's arms underneath hers and knocking the knife out of his hands.
His hands, so quick and strong. One came up to grip her by the throat, taking her by surprise. Alex gasped and choked, struggling for air. He slowly stood up, his gaze focused intensely on her. She wrapped both hands around his wrists, trying to pull them away. Her gaze dropped to the guns on his thighs, but they were too far away. Then she spotted the knives he had mounted on his belt. If she could get close enough, she could grab one and stab him in the hand.
As he pulled her closer, she reached for his belt and found the second knife, plunging it into his hand as she ripped the mask from his face to see who he was. He screamed, letting her go. She fell to the ground, gasping for air. Looking up at his back turned to her, she pushed herself up to stand and looked for her gun, finding it a few feet away from where she was standing. She hurried to grab it, reloaded and then pointed it at him. She took a deep breath, waiting for him to turn around.
The face that met her own – Alex slowly lowered her gun and took a step back, shaking her head. It couldn't be. He was dead. She had watched him die. She had kissed him goodbye, buried him several months ago. "Sean?"
"Who the hell is Sean?"