The kitchen was cloaked in the darkness of the night, making it nearly impossible for Alexander Pierce to spot the Winter Soldier sitting silently at his kitchen table. Her dark attire and sullen face added onto her ability to hide in the shadows. It was only when Pierce opened the fridge, bathing the room in a bright, artificial light that reflected harshly off the soldier's metal arm, did he notice her.
They stared at each other, neither one saying a word. The soldier stayed silent because she had been taught over and over again that she should never speak to her superiors, let alone anyone for that matter, unless her mission depended upon it. Pierce stayed silent because he was shocked to find her there. He hadn't heard a single door open, nor had his alarm system gone off.
"I'm going to go, Mr. Pierce. You need anything before I leave?" his housekeeper called out, disturbing the silence.
Without taking his eyes off the soldier, Pierce answered by calling out, "No. Uh...it's fine, Renata, you can go home."
"Okay. Night-night." she replied before leaving through the front door.
"Goodnight." Pierce said softly even though he knew she couldn't hear him now. He stared at the soldier for a second longer before he turned his back to her and started rummaging through the fridge in search of a drink.
"Want some milk?" he asked the soldier out of respect for his guest as he pulled out the white liquid. He knew she wouldn't answer, but he still asked. As he expected, the soldier just stared at him, a slow blink was his only reply.
"The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. Three targets, level six." Pierce started to explain as he poured himself a glass of milk. When he was done, he cautiously moved to sit at the table in front of the soldier. Only when he sat down did he notice the gun sitting on the table in front of the soldier.
He knew he had full control over the weapon. The soldier wouldn't touch it unless he told her to, or until he told her to leave. The gun was there in case he needed to use the gun against her. Whether it was to put her in her place and remind her who's boss or in case she got too far out of control.
"They already cost me Zola. I want confirmed death in ten hours." Pierce commanded his soldier. The soldier blinked, showing she understood before her eyes darted to something behind Pierce. He turned around and saw his housekeeper, staring at the Winter Soldier.
"Sorry, Mr. Pierce, I...I forgot my phone." she stammered as she stood stone still, not taking her eyes of the menacing soldier who returned her stare.
"Oh, Renata. I wish you would have knocked." Pierce spoke sympathetically as he reached for the gun. He pulled the trigger and with one shot, the housekeeper fell to the floor, dead.
"Take care of this for me. And don't forget, ten hours." Pierce spoke to the soldier one last time before he picked up his glass of milk, stepped over Renata's dead body, and headed back upstairs.
The soldier stared at the dead women for a few seconds before she rose from the chair and picked up the body. The soldier then slung the body over her soldier and quickly made her way out the back door without a sound. Effortlessly, the soldier ran through the shadows towards the woods that were nearest to her superior's house.
Once she was far enough under the cover of the trees, the soldier dropped the woman's body. Thinking quickly, the soldier jogged back to the closest house to the edge of the woods to get a few supplies. The soldier hadn't broken a sweat yet, not even as she easily leaped over the eight-foot fence around the yard.
The soldier stuck to the shadows as she scanned the yard. She quickly spotted a shovel, but that was the only thing she found out of the three total supplies she needed. With a quiet sigh, the soldier headed towards the shed in the corner of the yard.
As she approached the door, she was relieved to find that it was lock-free, so she silently pushed the door open. Her eyes scanned the dark interior as she looked for what she needed. Within minutes, she walked back out of the shed with what she needed: lighter fluid and matches. Back over the fence the soldier went as she raced back towards where she left the body.
She dug a shallow enough hole with the shovel before she kicked the body into it. She then showered the body in lighter fluid and dropped the bottle into the hole. Last, she pulled out a match and struck it against the box. The soldier watched the tiny orange flame dance for a second before she tossed it into the hole and watched it catch on fire.
Only when the fire started to die down closer to dawn did the soldier refill the hole with dirt. This experience didn't faze her. More often than not she was told to get rid of any evidence like this during a mission, or when she was just practicing and she killed her fake target.
Her handlers passed this duty off to her almost every single time, knowing she wouldn't argue or complain. The soldier just went with it because she knew if she didn't that she would be punished. Whether it just be no food or water for a week or having to endure the chair for hours on end, she knew it was better to just obey.
As the sun started to rise, the soldier raced the sun back to the facility where she was being kept. She made it just before the sun started to rise.
"Good, you're back. You have a long day ahead of you. Six hours left on the clock." Rumlow reminded her as soon as she walked in. The soldier dipped her head in understanding before she followed him to the briefing room for a short, ten-minute brief.
Rumlow opened the door for her, and awaiting her arrival were several agents. The soldier estimated at least fifty. She sat at the metal table in the very middle of the room where three manila folders sat closed on the table.
"These three are your targets for the day. Captain Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America or Steve Rogers. His weapon of choice is this shield." Rumlow explained as he opened the folder on the left to reveal a picture of a tall, muscular man with cropped blonde hair and blue eyes. The second picture Rumlow showed her was of a circular metal shield painted red, white, and blue.
"In order to get the better of him, you need to get that shield away from him. He can still fight without it, but you have a much better chance of winning if he's fighting without it. Your next target is almost as equally dangerous as you. Agent Romanoff, otherwise known as Natasha Romanoff or Natalia Romanova."
"She can utilize anything and everything as a weapon, so watch your back. You must get the better of her and incapacitate her before she gets to you." Rumlow flipped open the middle folder to reveal a woman not much older than her with short, bright red hair and green eyes. The soldier knew she would be unmistakable to recognize.
"And finally, we have Sergeant Barnes, otherwise known as James Barnes or Bucky Barnes. He is the closest friend of Captain Rogers, so if you take Barnes out first, watch out for Rogers. And vice versa with Rogers going out first. Barnes also knows how to use the shield extremely well, so make sure neither of them can get it. Otherwise, his weapon of choice is typically a gun, which shouldn't be hard for you to handle with that arm of yours." Rumlow concluded by smacking her upper left arm, a ringing sound resounding throughout the room.
After shaking his hand out a little from the collision with her arm, he opened the last folder to her right. Inside was a picture of a man with cropped, dark brown hair and blue eyes. She would have thought he and Captain Rogers could be related, if she hadn't already known their names. In fact, the longer she stared at the pictures, the more she thought she recognized the two men.
But, she quickly shook the thought from her mind. There was no possible way she could have ever known these two men. They were her targets. That alone said that they were the enemy and weren't to be trusted at all.
"Get suited up. We leave in five." Rumlow announced to the rest of the men before he turned and left the room with three men following behind him. Several men advanced towards the soldier with weapons to attach to her uniform. Knives were tucked into the pockets on her pants along with a few shotguns.
For once, they didn't attach any weapons to the straps on her back or chest. When they were done loading her with weapons, they stepped away from her. One soldier handed her the two pieces to her mask-the mouth piece and the goggles-while a second handed her a hair tie. Her other one had broke during last night's endeavor, so her long, blonde hair was loose around her shoulders. A third soldier handed her black eye paint, which she quickly applied first.
After, she pulled her hair back and secured it to the top of her head in a slick, no mess, ponytail. Her blonde hair hung below her shoulder blades, even in a ponytail, but the soldier didn't mind it. She knew how to work with it, how to make sure none of her targets could use it against her or get a grip on it.
Last, she finished off her uniform by securing the mouth piece, or "muzzle" as she often heard her handlers refer to it, around her mouth, neck, and nose. She pushed the goggles onto her face, securing them behind her ears. By the time Rumlow came back for her and the others, the Winter Soldier was ready for action.