TALES FROM FALLEN WARRIORS ─ marvel

V. An Unlikely Partnership

Chapter Five
Soroya

The journey to the Mongolian safe house was long and agonizing. Without a passport, driving seemed like my best option, but I didn't have the patience for a week long drive, so instead I took a train. I hid in the luggage compartment as a mouse and spent the better part of three days sleeping on a leopard print suitcase until we arrived at our destination. By the time I shifted back into my human form, my body was incredibly sore and my stomach was about ready to devour itself. And I still had an hour's drive until I reached the safe house.

But I've finally made it. I've made it to the safe house. It's a two floor house, the outside walls painted blue, the door and porch painted white. The paint looks rather old, it's begun to chip away, the grass surrounding the house is unkempt, standing as tall as my knees, and when I walk onto the porch, every step is met with creaking and groaning. This place clearly hasn't been looked after, but I don't really care as long as it has food and a new identity for me to use.

I was told long ago when I was assigned this safe house that the porch lamp would hold the key to the house, but the lamp is empty. That's when I realize a human scent is present on this porch and inside the house. It grows stronger as I open the unlocked door and step inside the entryway.

Someone else is here.

Most safe houses are given to at least two agents, so whoever is here must be my unwitting housemate. I have no idea who it is, and I'm afraid to find out. As Caden said, I have a reputation in HYDRA, whoever is here may look at me and see me as a threat. I have to be cautious.

I pull out a gun I stole from a security guard's office at the train station and begin walking slowly through the living room, eyeing the staircase behind the couches and the connecting kitchen. While my attention is focused on these two locations, I fail to notice the couch ottoman right in front of me, and I trip over it, my feet making a hard thump as I try to regain my balance.

Footsteps sound from the second floor and they begin making their way towards the stairs.

I just gave myself away.

I keep my gun aimed high as I back up towards the kitchen, shuffling my feet to make sure my movements go undetected. My housemate slowly make their way down the stairs, a gun of their own in their hands, their gaze on the living room. I watch as they survey the room, and I slowly walk closer towards them as they do so, my gun aimed right at their head.

My housemate suddenly tenses, cursing under their breath. They turn around, and that's when I feel all the air leave my lungs.

It's the Winter Soldier.

He's wearing casual clothes, his usual tactical uniform and mask nowhere in sight. His hair has grown a little since I last saw him, it just brushes his shoulders. These are the only things different about him however. He still has the same metal arm, the same rigid posture as he aims his own gun right back at me...and he still has those ice cold eyes, eyes that have haunted my dreams for the last decade.

"Do you understand me?" He asks me in Russian.

I'm confused by his question, even more so by the mirrored confusion in his gaze...does he not remember me?

Fury blazes through me at the thought. This man took the only person I trusted, the only person who ever looked out for me in HYDRA, ever took care of me, loved me, and he can't be bothered to remember me at all. But I guess if you're like him and you torture and kill dozens of people daily, they all start to blur together.

I don't think even I can remember the names of all the people I've been sent after on missions, all the people I've killed.

I push that thought aside and refocus on the current issue. "What are you doing here?" I ask him. A stupid question, but it's the only thing I could think to say.