Snow, he couldn't hate snow but he couldn't love it either. It was colt, he was used to it, like ice being dumped down your back, or somebody's voice was ice cold. He knew it all. He also didn't like silence, silence meant it could be ruined, silence meant peace and quiet until something happens. Which is why he hated being a little soilder.
The familiar gruff and snarl of a voice yelled from downstairs, the sound of the deep, raspy, and authoritative voice split the silence of his room— that called his name.
He quickly stood up, grasping the old skull that covered his upper face and pulled it on over his face. He rushed towards the door and put on the protective gear he was meant to wear- snapping the buttons around his arms and legs. He drew in a breath before he pushed the door open and moved down into the open space of a smaller area in the HYDRA base.
The winter storm continuous outside, it seemed relentless in its intensity as it pounded down in the windows and filled the landscape outside of the base- too hard to see with the snow fall, you couldn't see two feet infront if you went outside.
"Sir? You called." The man with the skull spoke in his quiet tone, glancing at the large windows and staring at the snowfall for a second before he quickly turned his attention back towards the shaggy older man in front of him who was staring at the HYDRA memorial wall.
That "Shaggy older man" was his something—, his boss. He 'controlled' him, gave him missions, told him what he could and couldn't do, he was his god and his god alone.
"Alright... At ease." The older man huffed, before motioning the adult over, pointing at a map, "I'm sending you on a mission, assassination. Anything that gets in the way, exterminate. Somehow you get found— escape or die trying, understand?" The man merely grumbled, the man in the skull didnt know this man well, he knew he had two kids— he met them, he brought them to work. Which, I don't see why he should truly.
"Yes, sir." He nodded, a hand coming up to rest in the back of his neck to scratch at. He didn't like being on a time crunch— and he didn't like people rooting for him to do something right. One thing always leads to another and he would never stop thinking about what he was thinking about, like a record player in loop. What if he messes up, what would happen?
He always said to himself but he never dared to verbally and vocally speak and ask these questions, as it would go against his commanders rules- he would be questioning his commander. You need to give respect to assume respect is given, you don't want to be considered rude in the HYDRA base.
.
He hated planes, of course he had to get on a few hour plane ride, same plane ride the target was on to get him. He was meant to watch him, and once they got into Romania, he was meant to kill him at his safe house carefully with no traces left.
He sat in coach— or whatever it was- he sat in the far corner, being brought drinks and things he wasn't even asked for, but the good thing was— his seat was close to the targets, Dr Handmon, lead doctor in making serums that enhance anything biologically or physically.
Looking out the window as the snow storm of somewhere near Romania— Moldova; that raged on- got further and distant as the plane slowly raised higher and higher into the sky.
The silence was comforting, the light sounds of business men typing on their computers, or the small sounds of little kids sitting with their parents, snoring as they fell asleep on the 'boring plane ride', it was truly nice, not having to hear babies cry- thank god nobody takes babies to places like Romania anymore. He never really got a moment of peace, it was rare for him to be able to actually sit down and be calm, it was a nice comfort for a change but it was unnerving.
Thought, of course, all the good things had to come to an end eventually. After the hours long plane ride, the masked man finally arrived in Romania. He didn't understand why Americans clapped at the end of plane rides. He was good enough to get in the space behind the doctor, his target, slowly following behind. He was met by the moons light- and the night sky of the land of Romania once he got off. He drew in a deep breath, his hand coming up to scratch at his eye, poking through the skulls eye hole, holding his breath and closing his eyes before quickly snapping out of that calm trance like daze and immediately started to walk.
He walked, weaving through crowds and hiding behind pillars as he tried to hide in the crowd. It was unsuccessful as he had gotten weird stares from the Romanian people and heard whispers— some he understood or couldn't, seeing as his maiden tongue was Romanian. But he couldn't stop, he just had to complete his mission as he only had 48 hours to complete it before he was punished for failure. HYDRA doesn't accept failure. He made his way through the crowd, he got all the way to the safe house— where the famous doctor, Axel Handmon, would be staying.
Many guards line the tree lines, doors, and roofs in the front, but in the back— the one door was there— about two to four guards residing near by whom he took out with ease.
He silently creeps up behind a guard at the door, knife drawn. His every move is calculated, every step calculated for absolute silence. He felt his heart thud with anticipation, adrenaline surging through his body with every movement. When he's within arm's reach, he lunges forward, knife held high. He brings the blade down with all his force, piercing through his throat— blood splashing and spluttering against the concrete and walls. The man stumbles forward, choking on blood. As he falls to his knees, he turns around and looks him in the eyes. In that moment, he lock eyes with death.
Reaching for the doorknob, he paused—- his eyes fluttered shut, a low breath of air escaping him as his muscles clentched— a low ringing screeched in his ear before something exploded. The buzz in his body stopped once the lights outside all exploded, glass raining as he tried to not make any noise when electrocuting the buildings lights and cameras. He heard the glass of a nearby camera shatter, so he figured that the building couldn't control his mind— thankfully the will of his powers were strong.
He made his way into the building, kicking the door open and making his way up the stairs. He knocked a few of the night crew workers out- but he felt no guilt in his actions as he made his way up towards Dr. Handmons room. No trouble through, the man with the skull was sure he was going to succeed in completing this.
YOU ARE READING
HARSH WINTERS | B.B
Action-the lines of villain and antagonist smudge together as Warren smith, known as the blur, goes against or with the avengers- while finding common ground with a certain someone.
