One hundred years ago there used to be an elite group of four individuals called The Eternals. The team worked for an organization that specialized in taking down enhanced humans that went rogue, or who were a threat to the world. Twenty years pass...
"What, that's impossible..." The words died on the male's lips as he saw the unforgiving mark played against him on the board. The tall, clean-shaven and lean man of thirty-nine, rung his fingers through his black short-cropped hair, as he looked upon with green eyes full of intense scrutiny at his friend's move. Which undoubtedly and to his dismay, had been a checkmate.
An air of defeat encompassed him when he slumped back in his wooden chair. The two gentlemen sat on opposite sides of a small round oak table in the living room, next to a couple of tall windows. The green velvety curtains that which adorned the windows, had been drawn back to reveal an ugly thunderstorm unleashing its rage outside the very mansion they were in.
Three white candles burned in a brass candelabrum on the windowsill; a faint coating of dust rested upon them. The yellow flicker of light illuminated half their faces and sharpened any angular features. The two gentlemen had been battling one another in their game of chess by candlelight. They would have been playing with the lights on had the power not gone out unexpectedly.
The other male, short ginger red hair spiked in the front of his forehead, smirked at his friend. "Don't feel so bad, mate. Perhaps next time you'll beat me." The raven haired man grunted in responds.
A flash of lightning struck the skyline and lit up both their faces, enhancing the ginger haired man's golden brown eyes to a slight glow. A rumble of thunder followed in the lightning's wake, shaking the mansion's very core.
The raven haired male took a peek at his friend as he prepared to clean up the game he lost, and found his mouth pressed thinly together. He began to stroke his finely trimmed mustache, that matched the color of his hair, as he watched the storm carry on. "Trouble in paradise, Louie?"
Louie broke away from his consideration of the rain pelting down on the window, to his friend. He stopped stroking his mustache and gazed heavily at his dark haired friend. Seriousness enriched his eyes as an air of contemplation of the moment seemed to linger over him. "Just thinking how the power went out, Charles. A transformer must have blown."
"Oh come on now, we had power outages before. Why is this one bothering you now?" Charles laughed while shaking his head, unaffected by Louie's troubled demeanor over the storm and power being out.
"It's not that. We've had worse weather when the power went out. This one isn't so bad." He paused to peek out the window again, then abruptly made up his mind against his troublesome thoughts. "I think I'll go and check the panel downstairs."
"You go on and do that. I'll finish cleaning up the—"
The words were lost upon Charles' lips once again. But this time not because of an intricate move, but rather because of a whistling sound that which followed a tink and his friend falling back into his chair.
Charles' eyes first raced to where that sound came from and caught a small hole in the glass window. In panic, he swerved his vision over to his friend who now had a bullet hole in his temple, blood dribbling out of the entrance wound. Eyes wide, he started to rise from his chair to inspect Louie but another whistle and tink hit the glass, and he too fell back into his chair like a lifeless doll.
____
Winter'sdark blue eyes rimmed with the domino mask, inspected his two dead victims through the scope of his sniper rifle two hundred yards away. The onslaught of rain had been relentless during this mission, battering him from one side, then to the other when the wind shifted its course.
He raised himself up off the ground where he hide between some trees and shrubs, slinging his rifle's strap around his shoulder.
He now walked through the curtain of rain, slinking further into the bushes leaving the mansion behind, and stepping onto a narrow dirt road where a black van awaited his presence. Actually, demanded would be the better term.
Upon approaching the door, it slid open automatically. He jumped in, and as he did, he was greeted with three agents. One driver, a passenger, and the other in the backseat with the Winter Soldier.
"Является Это сделанный?" (Is it done?) the one in the backseat asked, anticipation for the soldier's answer displayed heavily on his face.
"Это является сделанный," (It is done), he grunted to his commanding officer while he took a seat next to him. The officer appeared pleased and most of all, relieved. Winter as usual, held very little emotion upon his face as he thought back to when he sabotaged the panel downstairs, in order for the whole scene to appear like a normal power outage on a stormy fall night.
The officer clad in black, handed the assassin a cream-colored folder and in doing so, the vehicle's light made Winter snag a glimpse of red octopus tentacles. Hydra's symbol that which was embroidered on his shoulder.
"Ваш следующий миссия," (Your next mission), the officer discretely said.
"куда в этот время?" (Where to this time?)
"Швейцария." (Switzerland.)
a.n
Cue the dramatic music please.
Hello lovelies and welcome to the first installment of the first chapter! If you were pleased with this chapter and want more, I am happy to tell you that I do have some of the next chapter written. It's quite eventful, I'll just say that.
There won't be special updating days for this book, or really any of my books. I write and when I have a chapter, I update. Though, if you've not already picked up that my usual updating day is on Fridays if I have a chapter to update, well then now you know :)
I'm not feelin very 'enthused' to write this authors note, so amuse me with the question of the day.
Q o t d: who do you ship: Nat with Buck, or Nat with Steve?
–K
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