CHAPTER NINE

Song: Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf

With a few trips down the side paths that cut through the woods, he finally made it to the lake almost an hour after he had left the house. The path to it had built of a heavy layer of underbrush, making it look a lot less traveled than the others. The guards probably used the others numerous times making rounds during their stays at the house while on duty, whereas trips to the lake must have been rare.

The lake itself was a fairly good size and did not seem to have any flowing water coming into it as there were no waves or movement of any kind. There was a small clearing that the path made its way to and that was where he was currently standing, looking down at the small metal boat that was tied to a tree to secure it. Lifting the straps that held a tarp secured over it, he found that it contained two paddles and a couple of fishing poles. The guards probably used this as entertainment when they were here. He re-secured the tarp back down before taking a seat on a log that had fallen over.

Since he had left the house, his mind had been on alert as he had been trained to do, surveying the area, memorizing the paths. But now that he was calmly sitting looking out over the smooth water of the lake, his mind was instantly pulled back to thinking of Star. He thought that she seemed a bit too calm when he was around. Trained soldiers at the base were always wary of him, as if they expected him to attack them. But this strange girl seemed to be too calm and even a bit curious about him. Nobody had ever been impressed with seeing him pull his knife, but then the ones who were seeing it were usually on the wrong end of the blade.

Taking out his knife, he began to twirl it through his fingers and flip it around his hand. He knew that he had drilled the practice so much that he didn't even have to think about what he was doing, it was second nature to him. He had not even been aware when he had done it before sheathing the knife earlier when it had caught her attention.

As he watched the movement, he tried to think about previous times that he had done similar maneuvers, even trying to remember the training to learn how to do it, but for some reason not a single time came to him. It had to be something that HYDRA had trained him in, just like how he was able to assassinate his targets.

His mind began to flash back to the first moment he remembered, when he was sitting in the Chair as his Handler stood there. He recalled that the Handler had spoken to him and that he had responded but everything before that was blank. But he knew stuff. How to kill someone, with a gun, a knife, or even bare handed. How to fight to defend himself. What he would need while on a mission like this so that he could gather his equipment. Who HYDRA was and what they expected of him. What would happen if he failed a mission, which he somehow knew had never happened.

There was no denying that he had been well trained, probably for many years, so why could he not remember any of it. It had to do with the Chair, he decided. The Chair prevented him from becoming compromised. Maybe being in it also took away other memories besides just his previous missions. Useless memories like learning to do something, but not the actual skill. There was something nagging in the back of his mind about being in that Chair. Something that pulled a small piece of a foreign emotion towards him before it disappeared. Something that he was not supposed to remember. It would interfere with the mission…all of his missions. No, something told him to stop this line of thinking.

Pulling the apple from the pocket of his coat, he used the knife to begin to slice off pieces for him to eat. Star had been right, he realized taking another sliver, this was much better than the ration bars. Continuing to slowily slice and eat the apple, he tried to quite his mind by looking out at the lake, trying to figure out how fish would have gotten into it for the guards to try and catch. Maybe there was a stream on the far side that they could have entered from. Did Star know how to cook fish if he were to catch one?

He needed to decide what he was going to do with Star. With each bite, he told himself that rationally, when his extraction time came, Star would have to be eliminated as a threat. He would have to finish the mission. There was no way around it he realized. She could not leave this place, not with knowing about him, even with what little information she had. He would not allow himself to be compromised by letting Star tell the story of how she met him. If his Handler had known that she was going to be at this location, they surely would have added her to his list of targets. But why had they not known? HYDRA was not one to forget such an important piece of information about a mission.

Again he found himself wondering if she was a part of the mission to be used as a test, to see what he would do with a previously unknown variable. He would allow her the next few days to live as she seemed to be very useful with cooking. He had not minded the food she had made and she had even thought about giving him a real snack when even he had not.

As long as she did not try to escape, or get on his nerves by finally realizing her predicament and becoming crazed, she could live a few more days. But, he would have to keep in the front of his mind, that when extraction day arrived, she would find herself disposed of with Kozlov. If he did not do what HYDRA wanted, then he could suffer ramifications that would not be pleasant. Failure was not an option in his line of work.

Wiping the blade clean on his pants and sheathing the knife as he finished with the last of the apple, he realized that he had indeed twirled the blade again, without thinking about it. Taking the core of the apple in his left hand, he reached back and gave a fast pitch out over the lake. He was fairly pleased with the distance that he was able to make over the water before the apple splashed down. It did not have the weight of a grenade, and the aerodynamics were a bit off, so it did not go as far as he thought it would.

Hiking back through the woods he began to notice a reverberation faintly making its way through the trees once he was closer to the house. It was a pounding noise, conjoined with a screeching sound, as if someone were grinding metal pieces together. The sound did not travel far from the house, so there was no way that it had attracted the attention of anyone.

Leaving the trail before he became visible from any window on the house, he made his way towards it from the side closest to the guard house. There was no window on this wall, the back bedroom wall, so he would easily be able to get to the back door without being spotted. Taking a quickly glance towards the front of the house, he saw that there was no sign that anyone had arrived, so the noise had to be being made by Star. Was she hoping the noise would get someone's attention to help free her?

Getting to the stoop at the back door, he climbed his way onto it and began to stand so that he could see in through the door's window. The sound had steadily gotten louder as he had gotten closer to the house, but as he was starting to rise, the noise suddenly stopped. Hesitating, thinking that someone inside had spotted him, he froze into place. Seconds later, a similar sound began to originate from the house but this time he could hear the sound of a male voice singing. Suddenly, he heard Star cry out.

Rising fast, drawing his knife, and jerking the door open, he beheld the sight of Star in the middle of the den, on her feet while shaking her body in quick movements with her arms up in the air while singing along with the song that was coming from a device that he had thought was a plain cabinet. She continued to sway as he silently and curiously watched her dance, while her body was moving and spinning in a circle now during a part of the song with no lyrics. As she turned, he could see that her eyes were closed and with the music so loud, she had not heard him enter.

Sheathing his knife, he stepped inside the door and closed it behind him as he realized that Star had not been in trouble. Not taking his eyes off of her, he stared as she continued to move to the song, mesmerized by her movements. He had never seen someone dance the way that she was, no pattern to her movements, arms spread wide or moving above her, her head bobbing up and down. His eyes kept slipping down to her hips, which were making small round swirls. She was totally absorbed in the music that was playing a bit too loudly for his liking. There was also no way to hear anyone approaching with it this volume.

He then realized that she was not wearing the same clothes that she had been when he had left earlier. She had changed into an oversized black sleeveless shirt and a pair of draw-string shorts. Over on the couch, he spotted the bag of clothes he had presented her earlier, that had been left in the bedroom. How had she gotten it with the chain and cuff still on her ankle? Had she somehow removed it and put it back on? If she had gotten it off, she would have run away.

Walking through the kitchen, he realized that it was in a bit of disarray. There were a couple of food boxes and jars on the counter, as well as some old looking cook pots and broken utensils. It seemed that Star had gone through the kitchen and removed them from the cabinets for some reason.

As the song ended, Star finally opened her eyes and they were drawn to him standing only a few feet away, just out of reach of where she had been dancing. She was breathing hard, panting with a large smile on her face, which disappeared instantly as she focused on him standing there.

After a second of staring at him, Star suddenly dropped to her knees on the floor with her head down, into her trained submission position. The air began to fill with another song and he walked over to the record player and turned the volume down but not off. Turning back to face her, he snapped his fingers to get her attention. As she looked up at the scowl on his face, he gestured with his hand for her to stand, which she did, still breathing hard from dancing.

"Stop doing that," he said sternly. Pointing back at the machine producing the racket he asked, "What is that noise?"

"What…you don't like Steppenwolf?" she panted out with heavy breathing, tilting her head to the side.

"What the hell is a Steppenwolf?" he asked taking a step closer so that he could loom over her a bit more, knowing it might intimidate her.

"The band that's playing," she answered, her voice sounding as if the answer should be obvious.

"It was too loud. You did not hear me come in, and you would not have heard anyone else enter the house. Always be aware of your surroundings or it will get you injured or killed," he stated flatly, pulling a lesson from his training.

"Too loud? First…that's something an old fogey would say. Second…as for being aware of my surroundings, I think that I'm about four years too late for that warning," Star said kicking her cuffed foot forward toward him a bit, rattling the chain across the wood floor to make her point. "Third…the only one here that will kill me is you."

Taking a step back, he was a bit shocked at the bluntness and forwardness of her response to him trying to be intimidating. This did not seem like the same scared female that he had left here only a few hours ago. She was a bit more confident than she had been. Did the music have something to do with it?

"Besides…with what you do for a living, I figure that you should like metal music."

"I don't listen to metal music," he flatly stated.

"What? Are you more of a classical music guy?" she asked curious.

"No," he said becoming a bit aggravated at the conversation. "I don't listen to music."

Star's face suddenly changed to one of complete shock and disbelief.

"Any music? Why not?"

"Because…," he said before his entire body froze without uttering another word.

As he stood there with his mouth open, trying to think of what to say, he realized that he had no answer for her. There was never any music at the base for him to listen to. The only radio he used was the kind that allowed him to talk with other soldiers that he may be on a mission with. The vehicles that transported him from place to place never had a musical radio, and if they did, they were never turned on. The only time he had heard music was if a target had something playing as he completed a mission close range.

Star continued to stare at him as he thought over an answer but when she saw that he did not have one to give, her expression changed to something a bit softer. He could not tell what she was thinking. Instead, she moved around him so that she could turn the music down a bit more. It was now a low presence in the room, an acceptable level to him.

"Sir, are you hungry?" she asked changing the topic, turning back to him.

He just looked down at her small frame and nodded. She moved past him to make her way into the kitchen. Pulling open a cabinet door, she removed a frying pan and a pot, placing them on the stovetop and turned their burners on. She began to remove items from the fridge and pantry. He moved over to the couch on the far side of the room and sat down to watch her work.

He still could not explain why he had never really listened to music. Was it just that military vehicles and bases did not allow it? Or was it something else…like his Handler not wanting him to have it as an option? He began to think that this line of thinking was a bit too dangerous, just like him not remembering his training. This was the second time Star had brought up a topic that made him uncomfortable. How is that possible? She should be scared to death of him, fear him, waiting for him to kill her, just like everyone else. Instead she was making him lunch, without an ounce of fear on her face at him being here.

"I noticed that there is another building outside," she drew him from his thoughts while pointing in the direction of the guard house, a butter knife in one hand and bread in the other. "Is that where the others were going to stay?"

"Yes, it's a bunk house for the guards," he answered curious as to why she wanted to know.

"Then does that mean there are pillows and blankets out there?"

"On the beds, yes. Why?"

"Could you bring them over here? Only if they are clean. You know…with no blood on them," she casually asked, putting something into the hot pan. "Lunch will be ready in about five minutes, so that should be plenty of time."

Standing, he headed out of the house, closing the front door with a bit more force than he wanted to, with his mind trying to figure out what was wrong with this girl. Had she gone crazy? Usually when a target did, they were a bit more hysterical than the way that she was acting. He would say that she had become eerily calm and accepting.

Making his way inside of the guard house, he ignored the bodies lying on the floor. The only bed to have blood splatter on it was the lower one closest to the door where the man had been hiding, so he left it on the bunk. Throwing a blanket onto a bunk, he tossed the items into the center of it before grabbing it up to carry them back to the house. He was not sure exactly why he had just suddenly agreed to do this, but at least it got him out of the uncomfortable situation he had been in.

The same one he now found himself crossing the yard to head back into.

Author's Note: Picture Star's dancing being a mixture of 60's Go-Go dancing, 70's disco, a bit of early head-banging and teenager freestyle.