The Winter Solider.
Mina knew him instantly. Her once mediocre clasp on the doorframe turned callous. Thin fingers visibly tightened around the chipped wood until ivory skin stretched taunt across clenched tendons.
Facing down an infamous ghost story in the flesh felt akin to having a bucket of ice water dropped on her without warning. A chill shot down her spine, nipping every nerve-ending like a livewire in its descent. Needless to say, it demolished any semblance of a buzz.
Meeting her narrowed gaze with a turbulent glare of his own, Captain America's former best friend glinted down at Mina from beneath a nondescript black baseball cap. Dark chin-length hair shifted ever so slightly as his jaw twitched beneath the loose strands.
"Good day, Domnule Thompson," Mr. Albu said to his new tenant, oblivious to the sudden tension. "Bună seara."
The man in question didn't even bother answering, his attention was entirely focused on Mina. He knew who she was, somehow.
Once the echo of the landlord's footsteps disappeared down the stairs, all minor pretense on Mina's part disintegrated. She reacted faster than he probably expected.
Pushing off the doorframe, she rotated on the ball of her foot and, after a sharp kick, slammed the door shut. Mina sprang to her feet and set off towards the kitchen at a dead run. With adrenaline surging through her veins, all her reflexes and senses engaged. She didn't so much as flinch when the door tore back open. But her apartment rattled from the force.
This time however, he was faster than she expected.
A cold manacle surrounded her waist. It wrenched her backwards with a hard jerk and he entrapped her between pure muscle and pure steel. Mina threw back her elbow, making contact with her assailant's ribs.
Something cracked. He growled.
Relying on her own body strength Mina slammed her heel into his shin. Then, changing tactics, she spun herself around in his arms. Taking advantage of the slightest give she crawled up his torso like a dexterous, little spider going in for the kill.
Metal muscles clinked and whirled in order to compensate for her rapid ascension.
In less than a second she had encircled the bottom half of his ribcage with her legs and freed one of her arms. Reclaiming some range of motion, she seized the opportunity and landed a heavy blow to his cheek; enough to snap even his head to the side. The briefest flicker of his muscles rippling between her thighs was the only warning she sensed before her back unceremoniously met the floor.
SLAM!
All the air was knocked from Mina's lungs as her five-foot-two frame was squashed beneath the Winter Soldier's solid weight. Perhaps if she hadn't had so much wine she may have been a hair faster, but alas, she did, so she wasn't.
A lack of oxygen set her lungs on fire and black dots danced across her vision.
The assassin grabbed her wrists, restraining them above her head. "Dostatochno!"
Mina blinked hard to clear her vision. In her altered state the use of her native language brought her up short.
"Enough," he repeated, softer than before.
Once the room stopped spinning she realized how close they were; she could count his eyelashes. But, most importantly, he wasn't trying to kill her. Well, if he wasn't about to finish her off . . .
"Get the hell off me," Mina said through gritted teeth.
"Who sent you?" He ignored her demand and, if anything, tightened his grip.
Wincing from the way her bones smashed together within his ironclad hold, the last thing she was in the mood for was answering his fucking questions. Though, admittedly, her interest was piqued. His inquiry derailed her earlier assumption, for the moment. Madame Zima's voice belted up from beneath the layers of walls she'd placed between her past and consciousness, "There is no such thing as coincidence!"
That piece of advice steeled her.
I don't have the upper hand, though, he does, she admitted begrudgingly, the thought leaving a sour taste at the back of her throat.
"I could ask you the same question," Mina said. Her tone was nothing but calm and collected, as if she was the one with the power here.
His expression shifted, blankness morphing into detached calculation. "If I release you," he said, each word accentuating his lack of patience, "give me your word that you won't do anything . . . unwise."
"I give you my word." What other choice did she have?
Eventually, with one last pointed look, his weight disappeared.
Mina shifted backwards until she hit the counter, rubbing her wrists.
The Winter Solider stood poised and resolute. "Nina Romanov."
She sighed. Twice in one night did that name catch Mina off guard. It wasn't appreciated. "James Buchanan Barnes," she snipped back, though it lacked any real malice.
He took a single step towards her, his eyes caught in a fierce storm of unmistakable anguish. Although, the raw glimpse of the soldier's inner turmoil vanished as quickly as it appeared.
As unexpected as his appearance may have been, for the first time tonight she was at loss for words. Shame bubbled in her chest and she found herself unable to meet his gaze.
"I didn't come here for you, zhenshchina," he said.
Mina blinked as he started backing away. Distant memories conjured rising sympathy, and it swelled like a tidal wave within her, crashing against the walls protecting her from the details of her childhood. Recognizing the torment inadvertently shared with her, Mina backtracked. "Wait!"
He paused half way to the door.
"Why are you here?" Mina asked him.
A flash of blatant distrust passed over him and he pressed his lips into a fine line.
"If you're not going to kill me," she persisted, and then pointed towards his apartment. "Then stay. I won't tell anyone." Self-preservation demanded she retract that statement straightaway, but she didn't. "In return, I expect the same curtesy. Agreed . . . Bucky?"
If he was surprised, he didn't show it.
Mina took his silence as some reassurance and got off the floor. "And my name is Mina by the way," she informed him, skimming her hands over her sore tailbone.
"I don't know Bucky," he said eventually, voice void of emotion.
"Well, neither do I, so I guess that makes two of us."
A slight semblance of a nod was all she received.
Tentative peace established, Mina took stock of her apartment and ran a hand through her long, wayward curls. With the only evidence of their altercation being three busted floorboards from the body slam, she merely kicked her kitchen mat over it, reassuring herself that it could be dealt with later.
When she looked back up Bucky was gone. Only the soft click as he closed his apartment door suggested that he hadn't disappeared into the night.
Mina Walsh-23
Romanian: Domnule-Mister
Romanian: Bună seara-Good Evening
Russian: Dostatochno-Enough
Russian: zhenshchina-woman
A/N: Reviews welcome! Thank you all so much for the support! Although this chapter is short the rest, from this point on, will be longer. Do you think I should continue? This is also my first attempt at a fight scene, so let me know what you think!
-Emma
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Mandatory disclaimer: Everything in the Marvel Universe—Marvel, and its characters belongs to Marvel Comics, etc... Similarities to the original characters or themes from the movies and/or comics are used on here for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made. No infringement intended.
All I claim is the made up OC, Mina.