' ' Perfect Enough To Break ' '

Unpredictable Loose Ends

Sova

The HYDRA van rumbled to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires as the compound loomed ahead—steel, concrete, and shadow. Nestled deep in the woods, hidden by layers of trees and secrets, the base hadn't changed. Still cold. Still merciless. Still home, in the worst kind of way.

I stepped out before the van had fully stopped. The agents flanking the door barely masked their unease. They didn't need to say it—I could see it in the way they avoided my eyes. I walked past them without a word, my boots echoing on the metal flooring as I entered.

The air inside was sterile, humming with electricity and the low buzz of machines monitoring a thousand things at once. The walls were still bone-white, unfeeling. The same scent of antiseptic, of metal and control, clung to everything. It was too clean. Too sharp.

HYDRA never changed.

My fingers twitched at my sides as I walked the corridors. Muscle memory guided me—left turn, down the third hall, second door—until a voice cut through the silence.

"Commander Pierce wants to see you. Immediately."

I didn't stop walking. Just veered toward the hallway without acknowledging the agent. No point asking why. I already knew.

I followed him past training rooms, through sealed doors, until we reached the heart of the compound. The doors to Pierce's office slid open with a hiss. Cold air greeted me. So did his voice.

"Ah, Ace. I've been expecting you."

He said it like a father greeting a wayward child. I hated that name in his mouth.

Pierce sat behind his desk, a portrait of composure—silver hair immaculate, hands folded, the glint in his eye more dangerous than any weapon in the room. He gestured to the chair in front of him.

I sat.

Silence stretched, taut as a wire. His eyes didn't move from mine. Measuring. Dismantling.

"I hear your mission didn't exactly go as planned," he said, finally. "Care to explain?"

"There was an unexpected... variable."

He tilted his head, almost amused. "A variable," he echoed, as if tasting the word. "I know you're efficient, Ace. Precise. But even you  have your... moments."

He steepled his fingers, voice smooth as oil. I could already feel where this was going.

"Let me guess. Barnes."

I didn't answer.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't breathe.

But something must've shown—something I couldn't hide fast enough. Because he smiled.

"Ah. So I'm right. He got to you, didn't he? The old friend act? Or was it something more... intimate?"

I clenched my jaw, kept my posture relaxed. But my shoulders betrayed me, the smallest shift giving away tension.

He leaned in, predatory.

"He still has that effect on you. Even after everything."

I said nothing.

Pierce opened the folder on his desk, slow and deliberate. My eyes flicked to it before I could stop myself.

He noticed.

He always noticed.

"You know," he said, flipping through the pages, "they used to call you two a perfect match. Not just in the field. The chemistry, the rhythm—it was natural. Dangerous, even."

He pulled out a photo and slid it across the desk.

I hesitated, then took it.

It was us.

Me and Bucky. Back-to-back, weapons drawn, synchronized down to the breath. There was a hint of a smile on my face—something wild, something real. God, I remembered that moment. It hadn't even been posed. We didn't need to.

Pierce watched me study the photo with far too much satisfaction.

"Good times," he said softly. "Before the cracks."

I shoved the photo back across the desk. "What are you getting at?"

His smile disappeared.

"Just a little walk down memory lane, my dear. But let's get serious."

He opened another file—this one thinner, but heavier. He barely glanced at it before speaking again.

"Barnes is a problem. A loose end. And you—"

I cut in, tone sharper than I meant.

"Implying what?"

He didn't flinch.

"Implying you're going to take care of him."

There it was.

Pierce's voice was flat now. No warmth. Just order.

"He's unpredictable. Disruptive. He's meddled in our operations too many times. And you—well, you know him better than anyone. You're the only one who can do it cleanly."

"That wasn't part of the plan," I said, cold.

Pierce leaned back, expression unreadable.

"Plans change."

He picked up the photo again, tapped it once on the desk, then met my eyes.

"You've always adapted, Ace. That's what makes you valuable. This is just another adaptation."

He leaned forward again, voice low.

"Barnes has to go. And you're going to make it happen."

I didn't answer.