"Change of plans," Rumlow said, walking into the prep room where their asset was waiting for further instruction. "It seems our prey is coming to us - all the better. We won't have to hunt him down before we put a bullet in his head."
The assassin looked up with a cynical smile. "And who says I wanted to use a gun?" He nonchalantly spun a knife through his fingers, eying the hundreds of different instruments spread across the walls and tables. Each had its advantage, each inflicted its own breed of pain. Some were fatal, others were only meant for...persuasion. Most could cause death, but it all depended on your particular preferences concerning the amount of pain and length of departure. If his victim was coming here, he'd have more of an opportunity to test some of his less-used tactics. Normally, he'd get it over with as quickly as possible. But something had risen in him - a yearning, a hunger, a boiling hate for this "Captain America." Why he felt that way, he couldn't tell. But it was an ingrained part of his very being. Now, not only his death, but to see him suffer - only that could satisfy his unbounding rage.
"There are more interesting weapons than guns, Rumlow."
The agent raised his eyebrows with a pleasantly-surprised grin. "Whatever you prefer. He's almost here."