» healer // b. barnes

» eight. her

1980. Moscow, Soviet Union

       The intense look Winter was shooting at me was the only thing that kept me from moving, still underneath the body of a dead man. The fighting continued for another five minutes before two agents were sent over to retrieve me. They easily hauled the man off of me. The two of them easily lifted me up into the air, steadying me when I almost fell over. I put my arm around one of them men's waist for support. I looked over to see Winter watching us with his arms crossed, waiting where the plane used to be. Flames were raging behind him, making him look like a badass.

         It didn't take too long to make it over to him, but right before we did, then man whose waist I was holding onto violated my personal space. He lowered his hand on my waist, resting it on my ass and squeezed it. I jumped and let out a frightened gasp. Winter was in front of the two of us in less than a moment. Without a seconds thought, he punched the man square in the nose and pulled me away from him. Blood started flowing from the agents noes and I feared what punishment Winter would get from doing that.

         Other other agent who helped me patted the man on the back, "Brother, you deserved that one. You'd been warned by him earlier. Don't touch Winters girl."

          "Yeah, yeah." He sounded embarrassed that one of his fellow agents didn't even defend him or punish Winter. Plus, based on what I just heard, Winter wasn't going to receive any punishment for his actions because he wasn't the one at fault here.

          "Since our plane is destroyed completely, we're going to have to stay the night here in Moscow. A bad storm is going on back at the base and they can't send us any new planes." The agent who didn't grab me spoke. Suddenly he shoved his right hand in my direction. I stared at it, not understanding why he was holding his hand to me. This time, he actually spoke in English, "My name's Richie, by the way. And this idiot over here is Drew." I nodded and still stared at his hand. He slowly and awkwardly pulled it back to his side.

I quickly made a head count and saw that there was only four of us, before he mission started there was eight of us.

"Where is everyone else?"

Winters low voice made shivers come down my spine, "dead." I nodded, not knowing what else to say.

Richie looked around and motioned for us to move, "we need to move. It's almost night and I'm surprised Brezhnev hasn't sent his goons to kill us yet."

I had no clue who this 'Brezhnev' was, but Richie said his name with distaste, so it was obviously someone Hydra did not get along with too well. Richie reloaded the clip in his gun, Drew grumbled and did the same. Winter just stood stiffly beside me.

"Alight, let's move out!"

» » »

Walking through the streets of Moscow, I was triangulated by three large, intimating men. Richie and Drew took point while Winter walked closely behind me, almost stepping on my heels multiple times. No one talked. Richie would occasionally glance back at Winter and I, throwing a friendly smile when he made sure we were still here.

          He was probably the nicest of the Hydra agents I've ever been in contact with. Scratch that, he is the nicest Hydra agent I've ever come in contact with. He didn't have the cold-hearted stare of Winter or the asshole persona like Drew, he was just Richie. Good ol' Richie. He even had a cool name that wasn't scary.