Prologue

The President of the United States was furious. Within a few short hours, his best men had been killed or badly injured and now they expected him to give a speech. A speech for those his men had killed. He still couldn't understand why it had all gone horribly wrong. Everything had been according to plan!

The President stood from his black leather chair and pressed his pale, withered fingers against his cool desk. He bowed over the offending paper and read the carefully constructed speech for the fourth time. He let out a low growl and with a swipe of his hand the paper was sent fluttering to the ground.

This wouldn't do he decided. This wouldn't do at all! The President began to pace the length of his office, rubbing his forefinger and thumb across his recently shaven chin. There had to be a way to tell the others, to show them that they were not alone. This was but a minor setback! There were thousands more where those valuable men had come from. And just like that, as if someone had turned on a light inside his head, the answer suddenly became brightly illuminated.

With a grin, he walked briskly back to his desk and slipped into his chair. He pulled out a notebook and pen from his desk and began to write. He had spent years covering up for his men, hiding them and he even now he was still trying to do just that. But the word was out. The world knew of their existence and hiding had become a nearly impossible task.

The age old question: the President thought smugly, how do you cover up a lie everyone already knows to be the truth?

And the simple answer? You don't. You lay all your cards on the table and shock them into disbelieving. The President wasn't going to lie anymore. No, he would tell them everything. He was done hiding, for good.

Viktoriya Yeshevsky pulled her grey floppy hat further over her eyes. She held a pencil and pad in her sweaty hands and took a deep breath, forcing her shaking body to calm. She shouldn't be here.

Throngs of people bustled around her. Some carried cameras and microphones, others carried recorders, and fewer still carried simple notebooks. Viktoriya made her way to the back of the crowd, knowing that any good journalist would have fought her way to the front.

"You must do whatever it takes to get the best story." Christine Everhart had once told her. Viktoriya didn't care much for Miss Everhart but at least she wasn't a hypocrite. Sleeping with Tony Stark had probably not been unpleasant in itself and Christine had gotten her interview, but her reputation quickly went down the drain, especially in the office. Viktoriya doubted that was the best way to get a story.

But Viktoriya Yeshevsky was not here for the story. No, she was here for the man behind the story; the man who had ruined her life. This man who had made her babysit a monster and helped her along in becoming one herself. Rage bubble inside her and she could feel the heat start just blow the skin of her fingertips. A trail of smoke drifted from the sleeve of her summer dress and with a gasp, Viktoriya quickly patted it out. She needed to calm down! This was no time to explode, literally.

The quiet roar of voices that filled the city hall was beginning to make Viktoriya feel claustrophobic. She studied every face that passed with suspicion and her nerves had suddenly become a frazzled mess. She had walked into the lion's den confident and proud but now she huddled in the corner, praying that she be spared. She made note of her exits and gingerly brushed her fingers against the gun taped to her thigh hidden by this ridiculous flowery dress.

Viktoriya had had enough and was about to leave when an elderly gentleman took the stage. The room fell quiet. The President's brilliant white hair stood in contrast to the stage's navy blue backdrop and with shaking hands, he began his speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of America," he began, "we are experiencing a national emergency. Three helicarriers were shot down, killing eighty-four. A highly skilled assassin, affectionately known as the Winter Soldier, has escaped and is nowhere to be found."

A collective gasp sounded through the room. Viktoriya frowned; surely the President shouldn't be telling them this. She studied the President's men and was met with faces as shocked and confused as hers.

"SHIELD's defenses have been compromised and our nation's secrets have been broadcasted across the Internet by Agent Natasha Romanov and Steve Rogers. We are at war, ladies and gentlemen, and not with just any terrorists. We are at war with our own people. Agents Romanov and Rogers have put this country at risk and they must be stopped."

"Captain America and Agent Romanov saved us! They stopped Hydra!" a news reporter argued.

The President let out a chuckle. "Hydra cannot be stopped, cut off one head and two more shall rise in its place. Fighting it will only make things worse."

"What are you suggesting Mr. President?" Another reporter asked, her recorder held high. He couldn't be—he couldn't be saying what Viktoriya thought he was saying. Millions of dollars had been spent and hundreds of people had been killed trying to cover it all up. The President wasn't really going to blow the cover on the whole operation, was he?

"It's time we stop trying to fight. It's time to usher in the new era! SHIELD is all but dead and our country has been left weak and without any form of defense. It is time for Hydra to rise and for its enemies to fall. Hail Hydra!"

The roar returned to the room, louder this time but Viktoriya seemed not to notice. She suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable. It was over. The end of the world as she knew it had begun.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!