Claws of Fate

The Winter Soldier

I sat in the passenger seat, eyes glued to the road but mind elsewhere, still thinking what Sitwell had said on the rooftop. Sam gripped the wheel beside me, his jaw clenched as he tried to tune out Sitwell's endless rambling from the back.

"HYDRA doesn't like leaks," Sitwell repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice laced with panic.

I gritted my teeth. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard, I wasn't in the mood for his bullshit right now. Something felt wrong, like a nagging sensation at the edge of my senses. I leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing, my heightened senses on full alert.

"Then why don't you try sticking a cork in it?" Sam shot back, glaring at Sitwell through the rearview mirror.

I stifled a smirk, but something gnawed at me. A strange feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, a sense that something wasn't right. My senses had been buzzing ever since we left, picking up something was off. I wasn't sure what yet, but it was getting closer. I focused, listening to the hum of the van and the subtle sounds around us when I heard it—faint but unmistakable—the distinct sound of movement around us.

A scent hit me, familiar and dangerous.

"Grab him!" I barked, twisting in my seat to look back at Steve just as the van jolted violently. Something—or someone—landed hard on top of us. The whole vehicle shook, and before anyone could react, a metal arm smashed through the side of the van. In a blur, Sitwell was ripped out, thrown directly into the path of an oncoming semi.

I barely had time to register the sickening thud of impact before bullets started spraying through the roof.

"Shit!" I heard Sam shout, but my focus was on the bullets riddling the interior. Steve was already blocking most of them with his shield, but they were coming fast, punching holes through the van's roof.

Before I could react, Natasha was on me. She didn't hesitate. She leaped forward, pulling my head down and shielding me with her body as bullets tore through the space where my head had been just a second earlier.

"Nat!" I gasped, but she was already moving, kicking Sam out of the way to save him from another shot that narrowly missed his shoulder.

That moment—it was the same as what she asked me back at Sam's house. "Do you trust me to save your life?" She didn't need to ask now. I knew she had my back.

Gripping the gearshift, I shoved the van into park, grinding it to a halt. The screech of the tires sent the masked man flying off the roof, but he landed like a cat, bracing himself with that damn metal arm. My heart raced as I watched him stand, calm, and unbothered by the chaos around us.

There he was- The Winter Soldier.

The sight of him triggered something deep in me. My heart thudded wildly in my chest, not just from the adrenaline, but something else, something...familiar. I knew this man. I didn't even realize I had recognized his scent, it hit me, that distinct, metallic tang mixed with something I couldn't place, but it was there, tugging at the edges of my mind.

But whenever I tried to focus, my thoughts slipped into a haze, like they were shrouded in fog. My mind wouldn't let me piece it together as if there was something hidden, locked away, just out of reach.

Natasha was shouting orders, but her voice sounded distant. All I could do was stare at him. The metal arm, the mask covering half his face, the coldness in his eyes—it was as if I had seen him before. Not just seen him, but faced him, fought him.

Why couldn't I remember?

The Winter Soldier.

My chest tightened, the name felt like it meant something more. Flashes of memories tried to surface, moments of pain and confusion, but they wouldn't stay long enough for me to grasp them.