Touch Me I'm Going to Scream // [Stucky]

Chapter 1

A few birds are chirping near his spot, their song monotonous but not distracting. All in all, their presence works in his favor, the same way the dear that's roaming some feet in front of the tree where he's perched on works in his favor. There are no prints on the pristine snow around or near his hiding place—at least not ones left by human feet. For there to be any footprints it would require for someone to have ventured into this part of the forest and he knows for certain that no one has set foot near this zone—not even him.

Snow has been piling on his head, shoulders, lap and thighs for almost three days; still, he hasn't moved unless he's had to adjust his grip on the rifle or readjusted on his perch, something he's needed to do for the optimal fulfilment of his mission while he monitored the area.

A sparrow flies past his left side, close to brushing his cheek, but the Soldier doesn't flinch. He keeps his muscles in tension to prevent them from shivering, his cold breath so shallow the little breath cloud is almost imperceptible. The bird makes one final circle over the dense crown of the tree, finally landing on the same branch as the Soldier, though not near enough to be touched even if he had outstretched an arm.

The man leans back a little and moves the scope of the rifle away from his face. He eyes the little animal, its head tilting in one direction and then the opposite with sharp movements. It opens its beak and chirps once, tilts its head the opposite way and chirps again. The Soldier observes the rapid movement of its abdomen when it breathes. His body tilts forward, just a few inches, but enough so he can observe more carefully the sparrow. The animal looks at him but doesn't scarper; it studies him with similar curiosity, eyes gleaming.

A loud sound breaks the peace that had blanketed the forest for the last hours. The Soldier startles violently enough that he almost falls from the tree. The bird takes flight while some of the accumulated snow over the Soldier's body plummets down—following his white mask to the ground and covering it. The night before, he had decided to take it off. It hadn't been a requirement to fulfil the mission.

He looks down at it, blinking slowly, feeling like he's been hit over the head and woken up from a deep trance.

He took off the mask.

He got distracted.

It downs on him how confused that makes him. The Soldier is an infallible weapon. What would his handlers think about HYDRA's perfect weapon getting diverted from a mission by a simple sparrow? What conclusion would the HYDRA agents that make the team that's in charge of the Soldier's maintenance draw if they knew he took off a mandatory piece of his uniform on a whim? He had felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen so he had unlatched it and latched it back again, this time around his arm. It's ridiculous; the mask is made for perfect air filtration.

Perhaps the Soldier should suggest they wipe him; too many days have passed since the last one and he can feel himself getting erratic—he's actually having some trouble estimating the exact amount of days. It goes beyond animals distracting him or his neurons firing in the wrong direction, causing a nonsensical caprice to take over his body. Who is he to ensure that next time he will not only falter when he has to administrate a final blow to a HYDRA enemy but maybe he will even help them out?

He shakes his head, more snow falling to the thick white blanket covering the land. He needs to oust these abnormal ideas from his brain. Make suggestions to a HYDRA scientist? Come to the aid of a HYDRA enemy? His handlers must never pick up on any of the weird thoughts that have been crossing his mind these last days. The Soldier will make sure they don't.

Focusing his whole attention on the two women that come into view—each one carrying a rifle—the Soldier waits patiently for an opportunity to eliminate his two marks. The older one—the mother, his handler had briefed the Soldier, though he hadn't supplied the photograph with a name—has sharp eyes, but he knows she isn't expecting what's about to come. Mother and daughter are here to hunt, not the other way around.