The Valentin Series, Book 2: Angel of Vengeance ( Winter Soldier Fanfiction)

Chapter 1: Silver

So here it is... i won't be able to update as often as I did with Valkyrie, but i will try to do so weekly. 

Love love, ~A2V~

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“We need you to find an asset for us,” a man in a gray suit and white shirt informed her in a bored voice. He stood staring out the window behind his desk, his gray hair turning silver in the sunlight.

“How much?” she was in black leather leggings, storm gray halter top under a black leather jacket, and brown moccasin boots. Her long brown hair tied up in a high ponytail with lips painted blood red.

“5 million Euros in cash when you accept the job and walk out this door, 5 million Euros more when you bring him back,” the man answered, his name was Alexander Pierce, and he was the leader of the HYDRA initiative.

Camilla Valentin, or Angel as she was now known, took a deep breath. 10 million Euros for one man, she hadn’t been offered this much since the drug cartel tracking deal. She shrugged; she could do with some new clothes.

“Fine,” Angel answered, “I’ll do it.”

“Great,” Pierce clapped his hands together, then handed her a file, “Your payment is waiting outside, happy hunting, Angel.”

She nodded curtly and took the file from him. Angel turned and headed out the door of the gray-walled office.

“Whatever you do, Angel, just remember,” Pierce’s voice stopped her, “this man is a killing machine. He has no emotions, no thoughts. Take him down, bring him back. That is all you do. Understood?”

Angel slowly turned back to face her new employer, “You may have mistaken me for someone who thinks feelings matter, Mr. Pierce,” she said in an emotionless voice. She watched as Pierce grinned.

“They did say you were the best one for the job.” He nodded at her in dismissal, and she walked out the door, only to be greeted by one of the guards. He handed her a duffel bag full of cash, and she took it wordlessly as she made her way out of the building.

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Angel soared above the quiet Argentinean town, searching for her quarry, the cold wind stinging her bare back and shoulders, but it didn’t bother her much. After all, Siberia was a much harsher place to hone your flying skills. She sniffed the wind, trying to pick up any scent of her prey, and scanned the ground below. A small light coming from the base of one of the mountains caught her eye.

She started her dive.

Angel landed silently a kilometer away from the clearing, the night shrouding her landing, her leather moccasin boots barely making a sound as she willed her wings back into herself. Adjusting the sling bag she had nestled in between her wings, she crouched and padded through the undergrowth like a tigress, her senses on high alert. She neared the clearing and smelled before she saw the small fire, but there was no one there. She sniffed the air some more, blood and sweat, and it was close. She froze, she knew she had been spotted. Cursing herself for letting her guard down and not noticing earlier, she silently padded to the clearing, as if she was unaware of her tracker. She took off one of her bangles, holding it in her palm like a knuckle guard. Then she walked towards the fire, dropped her bag and started warming herself, exuding an air of comfort she knew she did not have. She felt him move closer, she heard nothing. This man was quieter than even she was; it was beginning to freak her out. She turned around and faced him abruptly. She did not know what she was expecting, but she knew it was not what she was looking at. He looked shocked that she turned, and for a split second they stared at each other, then he lunged for her, his left arm glinting in the fire light.

Angel side-stepped and punched him in the jaw with her bangle, opting to not use the metal spikes buried in it just yet. The masked man stumbled back, dazed, and then took a fighting stance. She tried to see his eyes; she could usually gage what her opponent was thinking by looking in his eyes. Knowing your enemy was afraid is one of the biggest advantages of any fighter. But she couldn’t see them in the darkness, especially with all the black paint around them. She stood tall, deciding to not take him up on his challenge.

“I was sent by HYDRA to bring you back, soldier,” she said in an even voice, eyeing his silver arm and wondering if it really was metal, or if his file was lying.

The man quirked an eyebrow in curiosity, but didn’t say a thing. Instead, he just made another lunge. Angel sighed and lifted her bangle, readying herself to throw a punch hard enough to knock him out. He pulled out a dagger and made to stab her, she blocked, and punched his hand away. They danced like this for a few minutes, Angel languidly blocking all of his jabs, wearing him out as he got more and more frustrated.

She kept her game up, letting him closer and closer then pushing him away again. She hadn’t had a work out like this in years, and honestly, she was having fun. He growled in frustration as Angel slapped his arm away again, she moved in and landed a punch to his gut and his jaw, letting him fall to the ground.

“Thanks for the workout, stud,” Angel panted as she pulled out a small tranquilizer gun from her boots and shot him in the neck, the small red dart making a satisfying whizz in the air as it found its mark. She waited a few seconds as she watched him go slack, and then she crouched down and laid him flat on his back. She took off his mask, the sedative would slow his breathing, and the mask was going to suffocate him if she didn’t remove it. He was quite handsome; the Kevlar vest, combat boots and cargo pants suited him. She tapped the star on his metal arm, and traced some of the scratches on it. It was real. She sighed and sat on the grass beside his unconscious form.

“I guess you and me are more alike than I’d like to admit, Soldier,” she whispered as she pushed his long brown hair away from his face, “Damn, you’re good looking,” she muttered, tracing his cheekbones and jaw, “Here I am talking to an unconscious body again,” she mumbled to herself as she stood and moved to the fire, where she dropped her bag and took out a metal string. The file said the Winter Soldier was extremely strong, so heavy duty metal cables were her only option.

She hummed as she walked back to the unconscious man and bound his hands. “Well, at least you aren’t dead, huh? That’s an improvement,” she muttered. When she was done, she lay down beside him and looked up at the stars, and sighed. It’s hard being a killer on the run from other killers, being a tracker for a terrorist group that could hide her identity seemed her only option. She took a small beacon out of her denim jeans’ pocket and activated it.

“You’re going back home, handsome,” she muttered as she heard the chopper come closer.

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“That was quicker than expected,” Pierce said with a hint of awe from behind his hardwood desk as Angel took the bag of cash that a guard, who was introduced as Rumlow,  handed to her.

“It was easier to track him than I thought,” Angel shrugged, she was back in Pierce’s office, with him in a dark blue suit this time “It was a clear night, no breeze, everything worked in my favor.”

“I see you really can hold your own,” Pierce nodded, “We’ll contact you when we need you again, Angel, thank you.”

She nodded, hefted the bag onto her shoulder and adjusted her jacket as she walked out the room. She walked out into the cold corridor and ignored the guards standing sentinel on every doorway. She stopped as she heard the sound of marching boots, and saw a troop of heavily armed guards turn to her corridor. She stepped aside as they passed, and saw that in the middle of the Kevlar-suited human wall was her Soldier. His eyes downcast, but when they passed her, he looked up and looked at her with so much confusion, it almost tugged at her. Almost.

My soldier? She caught herself as she watched them bring him into Pierce’s office, You need a vacation, Val. She told herself as a guard came and escorted her to the underground parking area and to an unmarked car they were going to let her use to get away.

 I hope they don’t lose him again, Angel thought as she started the engine, she was going to drive 4 kilometers out, park the car and fly back to New York; I have a bad feeling about all this.