Fury was not having a good day.
Phil was trying to rebuild SHEILD, and even though Fury had trusted him with the responsibility of being director, he still was watching in the shadows. He was paranoid yes, but that's how life gets when you're 'so called dead'.
He was pulled thin, running around and secretly checking up on Phil, and now this whole Winter Soldier thing made everything ten time worse. There were stress lines in his hands, dark bags under his eyes when he went to bed at night. And he'd wake up the same.
Only a select few knew he was infact not 'dead', but he had a sneaking suspicion that Roger's assassin friend knew. The fact that he was still with HYDRA made shivers run down his broken spine, and that said much. Fury, in all his years, had never seen such pure and utter skill from anyone. Not even Black Widow, who was the best assassin of her time, compared to the Winter Soldier.
It was like he wasn't human. Fury's thoughts ran across his head in a wheel. His mind picturing Barnes standing three buildings down with his rifle slung over hia shoulder. No soul.
Fury yawned as he set his car keys on the table of his tiny apartment he was currently residing in, along with his dark shades. This revealed his dull, grey orb with an ugly white scar running through it. His body shook as a chuckle escaped at the idea of walking in the park without the sunglasses. He certainly would get some attention. Maybe a shirtless Winter Soldier should walk with him, now that'd be a sight.
"You're making pretty good money considering you're six feet under"
Fury whipped around at the low whisper, his pistol pointed directly at the unknown's heart.
The Winter Soldier was leaning against the dark window, his black attire blending perfectly, his eyes glowing black.
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Sorry this was a filler so it was short:-(
The next will be longer!
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-Riku54