The Soldier and the Child

Chapter 1: A Meeting by Chance

"Life is full of luck, like getting dealt a good hand, or simply by being in the right place at the right time. Some people get luck handed to them, a second chance, a save. It can happen heroically, or by a simple coincidence, but there are those who don't get luck on a shiny platter, who end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, who don't get saved." - Jessica Sorensen

Project Insight wasn't always a plan to use the Helicarriers to destroy those selected through Project Insight. Originally it was planned to use the Winter Soldier and have him kill the targets.

But like all plans, things change. Especially in the chance meeting that Percy Jackson's name was chosen by Project Insight and it was given to the Winter Soldier to eliminate the target.

This is their story.

The Soldier looked at his target's information again. The folder mostly blank as his handlers didn't see the need to give him the full scoop of the background of the target. They gave him a name, description, and location. Nothing else.

There was no picture, sometimes they did give him one, they mostly never did when it was a simple hit, no real information on the target so he never gets attached. He understood, even if he disliked the lack of information and possible outcomes of the meeting.

He felt the slight pounding behind his eyelids, something he was becoming used to as he continued to wake up from past missions. The light pain never really bothered him, sometimes it was worse than other times, especially when he was in Brooklyn, but he made no motion to stop or relieve any of the pain.

The last time he talked about it with his handler, he was hooked up to The Machine longer than last time and much more painful. He didn't like it, even if he was supposed to tell his handler everything wrong about him in order for them to make sure he's never damaged, he didn't like The Machine and tried to stay out of it the most he could.

The longest he was ever not in The Machine was during his mission with the Red Room Gang back in Russia where they train young girls to become assassins. He didn't really like that mission but had gotten close to one of the trainees.

The name slipped out of his mind but the image of fiery hair stayed put, something he was sure his handlers wouldn't have hesitated in deleting it by hooking him up to The Machine.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he watched the target matching his description come running down the streets, his backpack tightly against his back as he ran past his building and toward the alleyway behind the rundown apartment complex.

Three children that were obviously older than the boy raced after him. The Soldier frowned and wondered how the machine could've picked this child as a threat against the world. He didn't appear to be more than 8 years old and his clothing showed that his family didn't have a lot of money.

But a mission was a mission he thought as he readied the silencer on his pistol. If his target was truely a child, then he would give the child the honor of dying in his face, and not from the sniper that he had packed next to him.

He silently bad his way toward the alleyway where punches were obviously being heard. He frowned, his mind trying to pull him somewhere else but he pushed aside them and the pain behind his eyes. His mouth, hidden behind the mask in place, unknowingly tipped downward.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?" The Soldier heard one of the boys growl out as his target kept getting up from each punch.

"It's not my fault your punches are as pathetic as you asshole," his target snarked back, wiping some of the blood pooling at the edge of his mouth. "I can do this all day," he taunted.

He didn't know what came over him. The words brought the pain worse by his eyes but as he readied the silenced gun toward his target, his mind betrayed him for the moment and drifted toward the three, probably 17-year-olds, around and each one he fired at without remorse.

His target eyes widen as he stepped backward in surprise as the three teenagers slumped over, each having a bullet wound in their forehead, all dead with barely a sound escaping.

"Wha--" his target's voice drowned out as he stared at his with wide eyes as the gun was suddenly aimed at him.

A second passed, then two, then a minute.

"What..." The boy trailed off, his ocean green eyes glassy with fright but something akin to fight was still on the surface of them, "You're going to kill me?" the statement itself was formed into a question and the Soldier felt something similar to...remorse enter him.

"It is my mission," he said and kept clenching and unclenching the hand holding the gun at the child.

And he really was a child he thought as he stared at the form of one Percy Jackson, his target, that was apparently a child. His eyes frighten as they darted around, looking for some sort of escape, but the part that made him post hesitantly was the fight that shone through them.

He watched, as his target's eyes shinning with the fight just left just as it came. And something just dropped in his stomach.

Was...was this child ready to accept the inevitable death? All the people he's ever killed always had fought in them, even the elders that he was going against, so why was this child that was so ready to stand against the bullies, just letting him kill him without a fight.

"Okay," The boy whispered softly, "I guess that means I can see my mom again. And dad I suppose if he's really dead."

It was wrong though. It felt like every part of his mind was raging against the orders his handlers had given him his entire life.

But...was it his entire life. What about the snapshots of images he gets from time to time before they take it away from him. A blond-haired, blue-eyed male that was always by his side, smiling and laughing along with him in a time that was not now. First fighting the battle of his sick mother, then battling living together in a crappy apartment on horrible rent, before fighting side-by-side in the war that came and went with just a few snaps of his memories that were taken and buried deep inside his mind.

This child, fighting for his life...was now giving up. And for him? Because he said so? Why...why does this feel so wrong. To see the fight die from this child that took punches upon punches because he just didn't give up.

For once in his life, his hands shook and with it, the gun in it.

"No."

The boy looked so confused as he stared at him. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice still ever so soft but not scared. He wasn't scared he noted.

"You will not die," he said, his voice final.

"But...you said it was your mission?" he sounded so confused.

"It was. Now it is not," he said as he stuffed his gun in his pants.

He turned around and walked away.

It was the first time they met, but it certainly wouldn't be the last.