"You are to extract the Winter Soldier alive, minimal harm, no witnesses, and do not use your abilities if unnecessary. Am I understood, Archangel?"

"Да," she responded robotically. Yes.

The men had stated that she would not need back up to bring home James Buchanan Barnes, as strong as he was. She was stronger, better, faster than the Winter Soldier could ever be. As conceited of a thought it was, it was simply a fact. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like if she were as good as the Winter Soldier, not better, equal. She didn't remember him, not really (just glimpses of dark hair and thoughtful, mostly blank eyes) but she knew he was strong. Good. Fast, fast enough to take her down if she somehow managed to slip up. Would she have him as a field partner?

Nonsense. She could not think of any partner ships with the asset at the moment. The Soldier was rogue; and it was her job to successfully find and take the man without anyone knowing. Easy job, as far as the witness part went. The Soldier most definitely would be off the map; a skill that he'd been trained for. Unfortunately for him, the same people that had taught him that had taught her, too. And there was only one person that would think of pulling the soldier out, other than her, of course. Steven Grant Rogers, aka Captain America. Natalia Romanova had no memory of the Солдат, other than Odessa. She had been there—her abilities were actually quite helpful in the case of destroying evidence. So that left Rogers. Genetically enhanced. Skilled in hand-to-hand combat, normally non-protective of his lower body. Emotionally tied. Particularly arrogant.

As she watched the big, burly man abandon his motorcycle and head towards the bar, the sun's harsh light slowly beginning to receded, she realised that if Steven Rogers was looking for his former comrade, then that would amount to a race. A race she would have to win, if she didn't want to be punished. Punishment was not ideal.

♢
Her handlers had very little leads on the notorious Winter Soldier, but what little they did have, she could work with.

The Archangel could have easily teleported herself to where the information lead her, but as her handler had firmly instructed, she was not to use her powers unless absolutely necessary. The Archangel understood it was for her own good; if she used her powers too much, she would become lazy. And hurt. Nosebleeds left trails, physical, and sometimes in energy. She had enough experience with the supernatural and the enhanced to know. Unorderly. That was not allowed. She could not do things that were unallowed. They punished her when she did.

Speeding down the road, the acrid smell of gasoline evident in her nostrils, she replayed the information in her head. James Barnes had last been spotted near an airport located in Kharkov, Ukraine, carrying a backpack and seemingly nothing else. A camera wouldn't be able to catch the various blades and daggers hidden in his clothing. She wondered who had taught him how to sew that many damn pockets in a torn, dirty shirt, and as for the cargo pants, she knew how. That's where she would start, but the Archangel knew well that she would first have to make it to Alaska before she could teleport that far, over water, efficiently, which meant that her pain would be at a minimum and that she would arrive in an abandoned safe-house that was stocked with medical supplies and rations that she most likely would not need.

At this rate, the Archangel calculated she would make it to the Northwest Arctic Borough in Alaska within 3 days if she first started teleportation in the state of Washington, recuperated for a day in a hotel, perhaps, in northwestern Канада, and set out for the Borough at nightfall. Illegal speeds would be required, but it wasn't as if she hadn't left memory-less husks of police officers in her wake to complete her mission. Compulsion was more ideal, but the risk of them remembering her was too great.

With a blank face, hidden by a jet black helmet with wings on the side, she resumed her chase, reveling in the simple freedom of riding this stolen motorcycle.

A.N.
Hates myself bc this is so sHORT but im really excited because ive lived in both Washington and Alaska
Also, kids, if you do a little research, you can figure out exactly how this will go down.

EDITED 10/3/16