Dodge

Chapter 1

Dodge, kick, punch, repeat. Dodge, kick, punch, repeat. Dodge, kick, punch

Enough.

I stopped, breathing hard. I let my aching arms drop to my sides, standing straight. I mentally checked my posture, steadied my breathing, and made sure my face was an unreadable mask. I could not afford to make another mistake. My handler stood at the door, but my gaze landed on the pile of ruined punching bags piled against the padded wall. If I listened closely, I could hear a soft tap every few seconds as my bloody knuckles dripped methodically on the cold concrete floor. I shook myself mentally, refocusing my attention on my handler. His breathing was steady, and I hoped it was because he was in a good mood. I hated to admit it, but this one frightened me. My previous handlers had been easy to read, and therefore easy to please. But not this man. You never knew when he would praise you or choke you out (which had happened before).

He walked slowly across the floor of the makeshift gym. My body stiffened involuntarily as he circled me.

Have you learned your lesson, Soldat? he barked in perfect Russian.

I nodded sharply. Yes, Commandant.

He grunted. Lets test that theory, shall we? I sensed movement behind me and turned quickly, catching his outstretched leg, moving underneath it, and using my momentum to fling him back. He caught himself, springing back up and grinning as he backed away. I stood still, confused, and then realized almost too late that he had been distracting me. I moved my head quickly, feeling a gush of air as a fist just missed my face. I spun around, throwing a perfect kick toward the head of my opponent. I was caught off guard when the assailant caught it effortlessly, and it was then I noticed the nature of the hand enclosed about my ankle. It was silver. I gulped and just as my eyes met those of the Winter Soldier, he flung me into the nearest wall. I scrambled, trying to rise as quickly as possible. I got to my feet just as he reached me. I swung up his torso, wrapping my thighs about his neck. It was a trademark of the Black Widow recruits, but it seemed to work in my favor. I used my momentum and body weight to drag him to the floor, but he didnt stay there long. We backed away from each other and circled slowly. For a moment, I thought I saw a spark of amusement in his eye, but it was gone before I was entirely sure. We went hand to hand for several seconds and I realized (belatedly) that he was far my superior. I took a deep breath. I needed to calm down. This was a test. If I did not pass the test I would be punished. What did I have to do to pass the test? Time. My mind provided. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment, and I listened closely, tuning in to my senses. A myriad of voices filled my ears, and then a tick. You only have to last past the clock. Dodge, kick, punch, repeat. Now that I knew what was expected of me, I returned with full vigor. I didnt have to take him down, only avoid him long enough to satisfy them. As the minutes passed, my already worn muscles screamed for rest. My breathing was ragged, and I wondered if perhaps I was wrong. When the fight hit the five-minute mark, he broke through my (rather weak) defenses, dragging me to the floor. I gasped in exhaustion as I stared into the eyes of the most infamous assassin to ever live. He stared back, his pupils blown wide with exertion, his eyes almost black. I was taken aback by the life that showed through, however. I gazed into them quizzically before dropping my own mask. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours but could only have been seconds. The strange moment was shattered by the sound of loud clapping. The Soldiers face slid back into its blank mask, as did mine. We both rose soundlessly from the floor as the applauding man approached us. I could sense the Soldiers discomfort of the man and wondered what it was that bothered him. The man was large, with greying ginger hair. I recognized him vaguely but couldnt put a name to the face. He approached me slowly, conversing with my handler in English under his breath. I only caught a few words but gathered that this test was proposed by this man, whose name was Alexander Pierce. I had already noticed that he was American and wondered why he had wanted to test me. My handler guided the man to me.