Came for the Low- Revised

Untitled Part 1

RIGA LATVIA: DAY 1

    A ticking clock echoed in the distance, coaxing Helmut Zemo to open his eyes, but the aching in his face refused to subside. Opening them would only made it worse.

    His head was already swimming and he knew better than to push too fast. He had to give himself time to come around in case he woke up to a less than desirable confrontation. Considering the events of the day that possibility was still very high.

    The last thing he remembered was looking up just as the closed fist of a masked man made contact with his face and then the sound of his own head hitting the floor...

    In spite of that memory he managed a smile, flinching from the pain. A strong sense of fulfillment dulled the persistent ache behind his eyes as he remembered the way the glass shattered beneath his boot. Zemo had managed to destroy those brilliant blue vials and the experience had been wholly satisfying. His mission while not complete had been a success so far and he let his smile grow just a fraction wider.

    No doubt there would be more to hunt down and destroy as there always seemed to be, but for now, he would take the little victories — and maybe some sleep. It would be a welcome change from unconsciousness.

    As the groggy Baron began to settle again with a false sense of security,  a sudden rush of awareness roused him from the effects of being knocked out.

    He moved his fingers and felt that his hands were cuffed in his lap but they hadn't bothered with his legs. No need. A Flag Smasher could run him down and break them with ease. And then he realized with a groan that he must have been here some time as his body ached with the feel of being stuck in one position for far too long.

    Damned smashers and their dirty hiding holes. Now he was stuck in one. A temporary residence to be sure, but no less annoying. 

    Begrudgingly, Helmut opened his eyes...

                                              **
   
     Of course he was bound to come around sooner or later, but the girl left to watch him had not been expecting it to happen on her shift.

    "Fuck" Christine whispered and sat up straight in the metal folding chair. She watched him stir from across the room and gripped her M4 tight.

    Far enough away to feel safe with the open door beside her, the new recruit still felt a surge of adrenaline. This was Helmut fucking Zemo. Former Sokovian army Colonel turned International terrorist who hated her and her kind.

    He was not known for physically attacking his victims, but what the man could do to a mind sent a chill down her spine. She had no desire to be on the receiving end of his attention. Still. She was here guarding him for a reason. The group saw enough in her that she'd been put on watch duty and she would not let the smashers, or their leader down. It wasn't that she needed to prove herself to them, hierarchy didn't have much of a place here. But showing that she could be a true asset would get her closer to Karli and that, was all she wanted.

    'Looks like I've got my shot', she thought and let the weight of her gun calm her though it was not her protection of choice.

    To her everlasting shame, she did not hold power in her veins like the people she admired. Instead, the brutality of weapons was her only option when watching over prisoners— not that she'd had any before him.

    Christine "not super, not yet" Vargas sighed. 

    Not super and perhaps not ever thanks to this shit groaning on his own folding chair.