Road to War Part I: Terrible Lie

How Many You Betray, You've Taken Everything

The night is cold and rainy, water drips down his neck uncomfortably as he stands under the eaves.  He is in a small town, waiting outside the local tavern.  Pacing to keep himself warm, he pulls his jacket closer around himself and wishes that he'd brought something more substantial to keep the water off.  But he won't be here long.  And the weather is unseasonable at any rate, so how was he to know?  Still, being unprepared rankles.  It's not like him.

Most of the lights in the town are off by this time of night, but the tavern is still well-lit, and likely will be for a few hours.  Which is unfortunate, but he can wait.  He's waited a long time, what difference does it make to wait a bit longer?  His right hand feels very cold, his gloves more for concealment than warmth, but he flexes it continually to keep the blood flowing and return some of his body heat to it.  To pass the time, he thinks over what he might say, what he will do.  Planning ahead. 

He wonders if he should check in with Natalia.  She likes to hear from him every few days.  She teases that she will team up with Steve and Sam Wilson and track him down if he goes too long without letting her know he's okay.  He believes her.  He isn't sure he's convinced that the three of them would be able to find him if he didn't want them to, but he doesn't want to take that chance.  It's not time yet.  They can wait.  As he is waiting.

Spying is normality taken to extremes; spying is waiting, Natalia told him at one point.  He knows that; he knows most of his time out of cryo was spent patiently waiting for something.  And being in cryo was arguably just waiting.  But he likes how Natalia says things.  She's been taken apart and put herself back together, and manages her life just fine.  He hopes he'll someday be able to do that, too.

Finally, the lights begin winking out as the last patrons stumble home, cursing the rain.  He slips into the alley nearby so his loitering will be less likely to be noticed.  After a while, all the lights have been turned off and the street is dark.  Carefully looking around him, he walks across the street and down the alley next to the tavern.  There is a door.  He picks the lock deftly, using his left hand so his stiff human fingers are not an issue.  Then he slides through the doorway and presses the door shut behind him.  It clicks and he stands in the darkness, giving himself time for his eyes to adjust.  It's late.  Or early, depending on your point of view.

Moving very slowly, he makes his way down the narrow corridor and into the main bar area.  The chairs are neatly stacked on top of the tables, the floor freshly swept.  Continuing deeper into the building, he finds a door in front of a staircase.  It is also locked, but he manages to get through it soon enough.  The upstairs is dark, and he waits at the bottom of the stairs to be sure there is no movement.  He doesn't want to be interrupted.

Satisfied, he makes his way up.  Several people live here.  He is only seeking one of them.  So he must be very quiet to ensure no one else comes to investigate.  And very thorough.  The doors are all closed, though not locked, and he is momentarily at a loss for which one to choose.  Shrugging to himself, he selects one and opens it slowly.  A cursory glance of the room beyond informs him he chose poorly, and he pulls the door shut soundlessly.

On the third try, he's found the right one.  He slips inside and presses the door back into its frame behind him.  Before him is a small sitting area, with a corridor to the master bedroom and bathroom beyond it.  The bed is occupied.  Warily, he makes his way across the distance of twenty feet or so to arrive beside it.  Taking a deep breath to prepare, he reaches down and fits his flesh hand over the mouth and nose of the sleeper.

The old man on the bed immediately wakes and struggles, but his strength is no match for the former Winter Soldier's.  His arms flail, and he pins them both to his chest using his metal hand.  It is uncovered, and the glint of it in the moonlight causes the man to freeze, eyes as wide as saucers.  He smiles down at the sign of recognition.