Cherry || b.barnes

10 || Talk

The following days are a little more strenuous. With the entire schedule reaching from dawn till dusk, I mostly fall asleep like a domino into bed, entirely exhausted. One should think I had more condition, but even with the things I can do, with the blood in my veins, with being who I am, I first have to build physical capacity before being able to get to the point of perfection I crave.

And the training in here shows me I have been far from it. Although I do a better figure in most tasks then my two colleagues, the second name luckily flapping in my ear during one session for aiming with the bow; the dark-skinned companion of mine is called Jason, I still am covered in muscle aches at Friday afternoon. And this is frustrating, because all I thought I had accomplished to now is for nothing. Well, almost – I knew I was somewhat known for being undefeatable on the streets, and this can't come from nothing, not exactly. The style that I was raised in to fight, trained in, mastered in is getting me to my goals on the roads, within the gang. But I'm no longer there, no longer in contract killing and morally black battles, which is the reason for me mostly failing. Thinking about it, it's not actually failing when I'm the one at the top each time, but being scolded for always cheating, for blackmailing, for falsity and no feeling of virtue in brawling isn't exactly getting me a great image.

Short: The way I learned to fight is for the straight and most easy way to kill someone. The way I have to learn it now is getting the enemy into unconsciousness, only killing when there's really no other way, and I'm not truly good at that. It's like speaking a language your whole life without any school lessons in it, and suddenly, there's a grammar teacher correcting each and every of your mistakes.

And then, there's the thing with Barnes. I have that strong sensation of being watched with every step that I take since he discovered what S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't, more than I already am, although I haven't seen him face-to-face ever since. I knew the line would be even thinner displaying my powers within the very compound two Super Soldiers lived in, but I didn't exactly plan on one of them discovering so early. I am sure though he didn't tell Rogers about it – that blonde doll of America's surely would be standing in my door with a gun directed to my forehead if Barnes had lost a single word.

Still, I know it is only a matter of time until the ex-assassin will show up eventually, and I have to be prepared. But how does someone prepare for something as unpredictable as James Buchanan Barnes? He's like the main character of a mysterious thriller. You just can't make him out, and I've gone through a hundred different scenarios during the last days. None of which seemed probable – he didn't even show up yesterday night for my stroll. How am I supposed to calculate the danger he portrays so openly for my mission when he's not even launching at me from behind the dark corner on my walks anymore?

I imagined him to come right the next morning, asking me over and over again about the Serum. I imagined him not slackening, not letting go of the topic until he had his answers. He seems stubborn enough to do so, and yet, he never came back for any explanation. Not that I would've given one. I imagined him next to show up at my training sessions, trying to figure me out in another way. Maybe even at the language course, but no sign of him there, either. Still, I didn't want, I couldn't let go of the thought that he would play a huge obstacle in my path, one that I must destroy before it can become higher than anything I could climb. He would protect Rogers with his life; the more time I spent thinking about it, the surer I got. Meaning, he must be erased, too. But I can't do it being obvious; another riddle for me to solve, another time everything has to be set just fine.

Clearly, killing him outside would be no option. Next to New York City having more eyes than countable, it is also already evident they know of my nightly escapes. And I don't trust my acting skills all too much for them to present me a believable alibi.