The Silver Soldier

XLIX

The next morning, I wake up at 3:30 once more.

But unlike yesterday, this time Fury gave me access to the training facilities. So for the first few hours of my day, I spend my time working out and jogging laps around the track.

By the time 7:00 comes around, my stomach is just about screaming for food.

Today - at least - breakfast isn't watered down porridge. We get fried eggs and toast. I can't complain, at least it fills my stomach.

Piss-face hasn't bothered me yet. I can see him sitting at the other side of the room, him and his friends. Every once in a while they will look over at me, but none of them have gotten up.

I'm done my food by 7:10, and there is no way in Hell that I'm saying in that cafeteria any longer. The sensation of their eyes burning holes into my back is almost painful.

I stand, dropping my plate off with the other dirty dishes as I walk out. On the island, we did our own dishes after each meal. We had no staff to do our chores for us.

I'm halfway down the hallway when I hear laughter behind me. I don't need to look to know who it is. Piss-face. Him and his friends have just exited the cafeteria- not a minute after I had. They're keeping their distance, for now, laughing about something unknown to me.

I keep my pace, if anything I slow down as I round a corner. The group of men stay a steady 50 meters behind me. They turn the same corner. If they wanted to be discrete, they failed miserably.

My eyes scan the upcoming hallway, noting where I am. The training facilities should be a few doors down. I continue on, only walking a few paces before coming up on the room I'm looking for. I take my time opening the door, making sure that Piss-face and his group see me go inside.

The locker room is dark, shadows in every corner. There are two exits, the one I came in through, and one leading into the main training quarters.

Once Piss-face and his friends come in, they won't be  leaving any time soon.

I walk over to the locker Fury gave me and begin to unlock it. I spin the dial to the correct numbers, pulling it open.

As I open the metal door, I hear footsteps enter the locker room.

Finally, a little bit of fun.

"Come out, Soldier Boy." The man that calls out is not Piss-face. His voice isn't deep enough. "We promise we won't hurt you too badly." I glance over as they round the corner, five of them coming into view.

"Hey guys." I pull my sweatshirt off, about to get changed into something a little lighter. I take a t-shirt out of my locker. "How can I help you?" I ask, turning to face them.

Each one of them - save for Piss-face - glance nervously down at my scars and tattoos. Piss-face - that cocky bastard - holds my eye contact, his gaze threatening. I can smell the bloodlust radiating from them. I have two options: beg them to let me off easy and allow them to beat the shit out of me, or... I can break their fucking skulls.

I pull my shirt on. When no one answers me, I return my focus to my locker. "If you guys came here looking for a fight..." I shake my head. "I'm not the bad guy here, not anymore."

"Save your voice, Soldier Boy." One of the men snarls. "You'll be needing it when you scream for help."

I blink. It is at that comment, my decision is made. "I don't think so." I hang my sweatshirt up on one of the hooks in my locker. "Look," I begin, choosing to try and avoid conflict first, "I am not the same man I was on that Island, Hydra brainwashed me and trained me like an animal. I don't agree with anything that they taught me-"

"Bullshit." One of the men say.

I ignore him, continuing anyway. "Except for one thing..." I smile, pausing. "Can you guess what that one thing is, Shawn?" I say, looking towards Piss-face. Shawn McCarthy, aka Piss-face. Aged 33, single, high school dropout. But other than that, his file is scarce of information. "We both despise of bullies."

Shawn McCarthy stays silent.

"And do you want to know what we did to bullies on the Island, Shawn?" I ask, but it's a rhetorical question. "We put them down."

To his credit, his expression gives nothing away. The only reason I can tell he's scared, is because I can smell it.

I open my hands, a small grin on my face; welcoming them to try something. "You came to dance, let's dance."

"You sick son of a bitch."

I grin. "A dead bitch," I correct him, "my mother is dead. If you're going to insult me, at least get it right."

"Do you miss her?" Piss-face asks, putting his hand in his pocket as he steps towards me.

"Not particularly." I lie.

"That's good." He pulls his hand back out, a pair of thick brass knuckles covering them. "She was a good woman, I assume?"

I watch as he comes closer. "She was."

"Good." He nods. "That's good." He clenches and unclenches his fist. "But you're not going to be seeing her any time soon, Soldier Boy."

"Yeah? And why's that?"

Piss-face inhales, pausing. His grin twists into a sneer. "I'm going to kill you, right here, right now. And when I do, you're not going to be going to Heaven." His voice is quiet, menacing, he's less than six feet away now. I glance down at the heavy brass on his knuckles, then back up to his face. There is murder in his eyes. "You're the Devil, Soldier Boy," he says, "and the Devil belongs in Hell."