"We realize the importance of our voices only when we are silenced." -Malala Yousafzai
Looking at the picture of the Soldier, her eyes narrowed slightly.
"You'll retrieve the Winter Soldier," Mr. Nowak explained, "and bring him back to us alive." Her eyes flickered to him for a moment. "I understand, this goes out of your area of expertise. But you must understand the importance of the Soldier's life. He's been a valuable member of H.Y.D.R.A. for many years. Killing him simply isn't an option."
Her gaze went down to the picture. It was a little grainy, but she could make out the details. He looked young; he had shoulder length hair; a hint of stubble on his face. What stood out the most to her was his bionic arm. A red star was painted on it, making it stand out even more.
Taking the photo from her, Mr. Nowak tucked it away in a file. "You've seen the target," he said, his voice stern, "and I take it you'll know what to do."
"How much?" she asked; her voice void of emotion.
Mr. Nowak arched a brow at her, seemingly surprised she could talk at all. "I'm sorry?"
"How much time?" she repeated.
"Ah." Nodding, he folded his arms across his chest, thinking it over. "That's a good question. The Winter Soldier is a master assassin, so it wouldn't be a surprise if he threw together a disguise." Thinking it over, he let out a thoughtful hum. "I'll make it interesting and give you one month."
Her lips pursed.
"That won't be a problem, will it?" His voice was almost taunting, as if he were trying to get a reaction out of her.
"Not at all."
-0-0-0-0-
The Undertaker, whether she could recall it or not, had left the H.Y.D.R.A. compound she resided in countless times, but each time she went out it felt like the first. Seeing the world that was outside H.Y.D.R.A. filled her with a fascination; seeing the ignorance and naivety of the people who lived in the world filled her with a feeling of familiarity. That, maybe, at one point, she had been just as ignorant and naïve as them.
The H.Y.D.R.A. compound itself was kept hidden in plain sight in an Italian city. That had been where a majority of the Undertaker's training had taken place; that, and in a secluded facility at an unspecified location in Russia. It was expected that she learn various martial arts; become an expert sharpshooter; and learn multiple languages, depending on the mission she'd find herself in. She had done so with ease.
Mr. Nowak had instructed that a small team of H.Y.D.R.A. operatives accompany her in her destination to America, where the Winter Soldier was last seen. The team would go in civilian automobiles, to throw off any unsuspecting people. Despite H.Y.D.R.A. being compromised, they didn't want to stand out. They didn't want to be noticed right away. Which meant—also under Nowak's command—the drive be taken through backroads and any other short-cuts available. The standard when important missions were taking place.
"You'll be led outside of the city," Nowak had explained, "where you'll receive an airlift to the destination. Our American branch will be keeping an eye on you, Undertaker. Don't let us down."
Her eyes cast downward. She hadn't let them down before. She knew what the consequences would be if she did.
-0-0-0-0-
The drive seemed to take longer than usual. The operatives were being extremely careful of the backroads they were taking, making sure they weren't being followed by anyone who wasn't them. Meanwhile, the Undertaker sat stiffly in her seat, her gaze glaring heatedly at the back of the seat in front of her. No one uttered a word; the silence was heavy and thick and almost felt as if it were suffocating. It was something she was accustomed to. Only the higher-ups were able to communicate with her; them and H.Y.D.R.A.'s medical team. Most missions would end in injuries that needed treatment, not that she really needed it. It was required she did get some sort of medical treatment to avoid infection.
Her fingers tapped on her knees. It was something she usually found herself unconsciously doing. How long had she been doing that habit? Her eyes narrowed a little. For as long as she had been in H.Y.D.R.A., more than likely. That was the thing, as well; she couldn't remember a time where she hadn't been associated with H.Y.D.R.A. It was like they were a constant, looming figure in her life. No matter where she went, H.Y.D.R.A. was always there. Telling her what to do, what to wear, what to say—all for the better of the entire world.
Why would her actions be for the better of the world? Murdering people? Was that what the world had come to? She was supposed to be OK with the thought of executing people; they were interfering with H.Y.D.R.A.'s advancements, causing unwanted setbacks. Those people—the ones who were killed without a second thought—were the bad guys. She was saving the world. Helping it move forward. Helping reshape the century.
At least, that was what she had been told countless times.
She stopped tapping her knees.
Her eyes darted to the men in the car with her. They sat just as stiffly in their seats as she was; their faces nearly expressionless. She could easily detect anxious fear in the eyes of one of the men. He looked younger, more inexperienced. She had to wonder if this would be his first time going out on the field. What kinds of horrors did he expect to happen?
She resumed tapping her fingers on her knees.
(A/N):
Sorry it took so long to post this chapter, but hopefully you guys like it! Let me know what you think of it, OK? I know the ending might not be the best, but it was the best I could come up with. If I decide to, I might come back and do a little rewriting on this chapter.
Nothing in this franchise belongs to me.
Hope everyone's having a nice Thanksgiving! Be safe, have fun.
If you've got any ideas on how this story could go on—how Bucky and my OC could first meet; how my OC could meet Steve, since he's on a manhunt for Bucky; how the other Avengers could possibly be incorporated in this story; I'll probably hint at AoU in this story and possibly even Ant-Man, but I'm still deciding—don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me. If you have an OC you'd like to see written into the story, let me know and I'll add them in to the best of my abilities.
Let me know if there's anything I should improve on.
Thank you,
Scarlet Tchaikovsky
