An Attempt at Sunshine (Winter Soldier) (Marvel)

[06.00] [August 28, 2015]

We are on the move.

The armored truck, the soft breathing of the two soldiers permitted to join us on this trip. Againagainagain. I don't know where we are going, what we are doing, why who when. Pain buzzes in my mind, stitches from last night so taunt I could cut them with a knife, pull my skeleton out and let it dangle from the cell walls.

One, two, five hours pass, we are far from the compound. This is one of the longest periods they've kept me awake, three weeks without a stop in cryostasis. New record. It feels good.

The truck slows to a stop, and the team immediately silences. I know now that it is a quick assassination. In and out. My suspicions are confirmed as I gaze up at a tall building in a dense city. I realize now that our van is painted like a plumbing repair van, last time we went this deep under it was a carpet cleaning service.

We move through a door near the back of the building, steps quiet and gentle. Up the stairs, two lefts and more stairs. We are calm, there is no nervousness, just determination to get the job done.

We slip through a hall, and stop in front of a door. It is not labeled. We stop and stand in silence. Three breaths, like always. In and out, in and out, in and out and the battering ram goes through the door. There are screams, and I can't stop the receptionist from getting a bullet planted in her skull.

We are quick, moving like a disease through the office space. I keep pulling at the controls, trying to get us to hesitate or miss an easy shot but we are too good. We are close to the target now, just a few more rooms. The halls are tight and filled with the metallic scent of blood. We stop.

We are not alone.

One of the soldiers is missing.

There's a crash, a shattering of glass and a deep metallic thud.

We inch forward, closer to the door at the end of the hall that is hanging slightly ajar, light leaking out, shadows in the shape of a man occasionally passing. We stop and stand in front of this door. In and out, in and out in and out and kick the door ajar, guns ready to kill.

There is a man, he stands alone in the room, but he is not the one we are looking for. He is stars and stripes and leather and hope. He raises our gun towards his head and I scream.

I surface.

My turn.

The man lunges towards my last remaining teammate, bashing her skull in with his disc of metal, I cannot scream. The muzzle keeps me quiet. Instead I back away.

He comes for me too, a deep vengeance in his eyes, I block the disc with my metal hand and wrench it from his grasp, block the punch with my right. The stitches scream and my shoulder aches, he advances.

We fall into a dance through the hall. Left right duck back right forward left right go go go. It's almost comfortable. I knock his arm away from my head, he blocks my knife with his forearm, I advance, he counters, I move, he mirrors.

He fights dirty, going for my legs and my abdomen, staying where I cant see him, but I fight dirty too. A knee to the chest causes him to crash backwards into a wall, and I watch myself kick him straight through it. We advance, pinning his shoulders to the ground with my knees, puling out the pistol from my belt, pressing the gun to the A on his helmet.

He has the eyes of my ghost.

The soft eyes. Filled with dreams and ambitions and sorrows beyond his years.

I make him drop the pistol.

The man takes the opportunity to throw me into the metal desk beside us. In a flash of blue he is on me again, beating the fight out of me. I am tempted to let him take over again, just to save us, but I know he will kill him.

I will not fight.

My choice.

I can't seem to die anyways.

The stitches are torn open, my skull ringing, my chest on fire. He takes the disc and brings it over his head for one last blow.

I cough, blood splattering the inside of the mask I've forgotten exists.

He doesn't hesitate.

Metal meets metal. I pull the disc from him and toss it aside. He stares at me for a moment, searching my eyes for something that doesn't exist.

He stands.

Grabbing my arm, he slides it over his shoulder and hoists me up. I dangle next to him for a moment, my toes brushing the carpet.

"I'm taking you in." He murmurs. "I've killed enough today."