Chapter 8 – The Soldier

In the mission, there was clarity. The Soldier's mind was a snowfield, empty and white. If he had thought to name the feeling, its name would have been peace.

Pierce had ordered Fury eliminated as soon as possible and anything he carried returned to base. Subtlety was a secondary concern. The Soldier had a team at his disposal, who would follow his orders. Or kill you, if you get out of line, said the treacherous voice inside his head. He pushed it down. The snow was white, and pure.

The heads-up display inside the Soldier's goggles showed a road map, the target's car a blinking red dot on the wire-frame streets. The team had engineered a few traffic accidents and road closures to steer the target to a more isolated location, where they could work in private.

The target will suspect the situation isn't normal. He will see through the false escape routes they had planned. He will choose the most direct remaining path. There, he will find me waiting for him.

"Fury will be suspicious," Pierce had said. "I can't overemphasize how dangerous he is."

Not as dangerous as I am, the Soldier had thought, as they fitted his mask over his face, covering him chin to eyes.

Beside him, in the black van, the members of the STRIKE team shifted, trying not to touch him, even by accident. The Soldier saw how they looked at him out of the corners of their eyes. Looked away. Except one. A tall man, powerfully built, a sort of lazy grace that could easily explode into violence. His designation in the field was Wolf. He gave the Soldier a crooked smile, one long canine tooth more prominent than the other.

"How's the hip, gramps?" he said.

Behind his goggles, the Soldier saw the dot that was his target turn off the main road, exactly where he wanted it to.

"He's coming," the Soldier said. He spoke in Russian, but the team all understood. "Be ready."

The Wolf may grumble, but it didn't matter. The target was approaching. The Soldier's whole body tingled. He was...alive.

"Now" he said.

The van crashed into Fury's car from the side, crushing the rear passenger door and pinning the car to a concrete barricade. Emergency vehicles arrived rapidly – decoys who would close off the scene and prevent too many witnesses. The van opened and the team emerged, using the concealment of a false ambulance to open fire at the other car.

"Bulletproof!" Wolf called. "Bring out the ram!"

"No need."

The Soldier punched into the window with his steel hand, wrenched the front door off its hinges. No Fury...but in the floor of the car, a hole, edges still smoking. And under the car, a manhole cover, left carelessly open. Behind his mask, the Soldier smiled.

Now it's just him...and me.

Some of his team had climbed into the car, searching for anything Fury had left behind. Of course, there was nothing. Except...The airbags had deployed. The Soldier saw a spatter of blood on the white nylon. Fury was injured. Good.

The Soldier walked out into the street, already pulling up the sewer maps, overlaying them on his street maps. Pierce had shown him a map of the SHIELD safehouses in the area – too sensitive to be shared electronically. Fury had been hurt. He would be slowed. He wouldn't pick the obvious choices, but he'd have to stay close, to lick his wounds, to call reinforcements.

The Wolf was talking to the others. The Soldier cut in.

"Take the team. Search SHIELD safehouses inside a ten-mile perimeter. Allow yourself to be seen. Listen for chatter on the lines. Report to me if you hear anything significant."

He turned to go. His gear was in the van.

"Hey." He heard behind him. Wolf, of course. "Hey! Ice Man!"

The Soldier turned.

"So my team and I run down false leads and listen to phones while you go after Fury alone?"

He didn't answer, just looked at the other man flatly. He knew the Wolf couldn't see his eyes or mouth behind his mask. Many people found that intimidating.

"If I wanted to take orders from a human popsicle," Wolf said, "I'd stick with my day job."

The Soldier said nothing. This posturing was wasting time.

"You're one dumb bastard, aren't you?" Wolf said. "Hey, here's a secret. When the time comes, and we don't need you anymore? The boss told me I could put a bullet through your thick skull myself. What do you think about that?"

The Soldier said nothing. In his hazy memory, he recalled others who bridled at being under his command. They were all dead, and he remained.

The Wolf's smile slid from his face.

"You will take your team," the Soldier repeated. "Search safehouses inside the perimeter Listen for chatter. And report to me."

This time he didn't wait to see if the Wolf had anything to add.

One of the false ambulances hid a motorcycle in the back. With his weapons concealed in a pack, the Soldier pulled off toward the safehouse he'd identified. His dark hair blew back from his masked face. He didn't hurry. He didn't need to.

The safehouse was inside a closed antique store, dusty tuxedo in one window, wedding dress in the other, a cobwebbed bridal veil hiding the chipped face of the mannequin. Black dropcloths concealed the rest of the interior. The Soldier planted a listening device on the back door.

Fury's voice came into his ear, "Hustle, this is Foxtrot. I'm at the shop. SHIELD is compromised. We need to..."

The Soldier didn't need to hear more. He kicked the door down, pistol up and two shots fired before it hit the floor.

Fury was well-trained. Despite his surprise, he threw some sort of explosive at the Soldier's face, forced him to take cover behind a threadbare couch. In the second it took for him to look again, Fury had disappeared. The only thing left was a handheld, two-way radio, two spent shell casings...and more blood.

Got him. He'll be even slower now. The smile behind the mask was fierce. The Soldier hadn't had a challenge like this is a long time.

He called Wolf.

"I'm at 3844 34th Street. Fury has escaped again. He was calling someone on a two-way radio."

"Of course he did. Fuck. That's a bitch to trace."

"Do it."

He circled in widening spirals, but he didn't really expect to find anything. Fury was just as skilled as Pierce had claimed. The perimeter would cut off his options. He'd have to do something unplanned. Mistakes were inevitable. The sun was setting when the Soldier got the call from Wolf.

"Hey, Ice Man. We found who he was calling. Agent Hill. She's southbound on Massachusetts right now."

"Stay where you are. I'll intercept."

Agent Hill was skilled, but she never saw the Soldier. He ditched the motorcycle and followed her trail from the rooftops. She looked from side to side, doubling back, laying false trails. Finally, she swung by a restaurant, lit up with strands of white Christmas lights, and entered a brick building. The Soldier positioned himself across the street, on the roof of tall, nondescript building of gray brick.

He set up his rifle and used the scope to scan through the windows. Wolf called, impatient for updates. The Soldier ignored him. Hill hadn't left. Wait. The Soldier trusted his instincts. They were all he had. The night was bitterly cold, but he didn't feel it. The ice field in his mind was pure and clean.

There.

Inside a room on the top floor, a shadow that hadn't been there before. Was it the target? The Soldier's eyes were sharp, sharper than even someone like Fury would guess. Through a gap in the blinds, he saw a dark-skinned hand, a black coat, a black eyepatch. The soldier felt his heart beat faster. He had him.

The blinds were half closed. A difficult shot to line up. He needed another person to shoot first and break the window, shred the blinds and give him a clear shot. Too late to invite Wolf along now. He'd have to do it all himself. Fury was in an armchair, trying to stay out of view. But the Soldier was nothing if not patient. He'd wait all night if he had to.

There was movement at the edge of the room. A woman. The soldier couldn't see her face, just a long, blonde braid and a white t-shirt.

Memory was pain. And it was pointless. But the Soldier couldn't stop it. He smelled smoke. He was in a church, snow falling through a hole in the roof. Someone sat at his left, just out of sight. He could hear her voice, but he couldn't understand the words. If he turned his head, he'd see her. He just had to turn his head…

A memory of pain shot through the Soldier, so intense that it was like he was feeling it again, annihilating, searing, white hot.

No!

He forced the thought away. Fury had stood – his shot was clear. The Soldier squeezed the trigger. Fury fell. The Soldier broke down his gun. His right hand – the hand that was still his – was shaking. He knew he should check, make sure he'd succeeded. The woman was crouched over Fury, head down. In a moment, she would look up. He'd see her face. The thought of it filled him with a terror he couldn't explain. He leaped from the roof to his motorcycle, trying to get as much space between him and the apartment as possible.

When he could trust his voice, he called Wolf.

"Target eliminated."

He had succeeded. He should have felt satisfaction. But he didn't. Inside his mind, there was the church, the falling snow. The voice that he couldn't hear. The memory of pain.

Hi everyone! It's Thanksgiving weekend in the US, and I am thankful for all of you. :-)

If you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you had a good one. If you don't, I wish you good food and friendship.