requiem

• an act or token of remembrance •

• • •

My eyes flickered from the opened wardrobe door with the hasty paint job that covered the old stickers whose images had paled away to the tight, spandex suit, a sour expression gracing my features. It was equipped enough, I supposed. Why it had to be made out of some tight, revealing material was beyond me though. I reached forward and fingered the material, letting out a little sigh. Alexander has insisted and as he has told me repeatedly, I can't question the decisions of my superiors... so here I stand, feeling the material between my fingers and biting my lip. I took it off the mannequin and peeled off my own clothes, folding them neatly and placing them into the laundry basket by the side of the wardrobe. I replaced the lid and looked back at my uniform with weary eyes.

I pulled it off the hook and put my legs through the material, somehow managing to pull it up. Tight was an understatement. How do the superheroes do this? Not they were technically superheroes. Not to me anyway. I sighed and managed to put the rest of it on. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, brushing the stray hairs from my face and armed my sheaths with their appropriate weaponry. As a second thought, I also grabbed the couple of guns I had accumulated in the armoury and placed them in my two thigh holsters, patting them almost affectionately.

I moved over to the full length mirror I kept hidden away from view and removed the sheet covering it. With my scars covered, I looked decent enough. Only a small scar where a piece of glass nicked my eyebrow was visible. This scar was the only one I actually liked. Once it had healed over it had prevented the hair from growing back, giving me a cool gap between one part of my brow and the other. It made me look cool, like in the movies. I chuckled to myself and watched as my mouth curved up in a small lop-sided smirk. I'd never really been proud of my looks. Like everyone, I hated the skin on my belly, the size of my thighs. The now-faded stretch marks. Even now, after training relentlessly and strenuously for months, I still had a bit of fat on my bones. But I had learnt to accept the way I am. Now, instead of seeing myself as an overweight person like I had in my younger years, I saw myself as a woman. An individual. Sure, my smile was lop-sided and my thighs were still kind of large. And sure, I wasn't entirely pleased with my maple sugar hair, or my blue-green eyes with brown flecks but I was me. And if I didn't accept me for me, then who would I be? I didn't keep the mirror away from view because I was humiliated with my image. I kept it hidden away because I was afraid of the scars lining my body and the memories they represented. If I trace my fingers over the raised, bumpy surface, I can hear the screams, the destruction. No, I didn't like to think about it. But I was beautiful... and no one can take that away from me.

I nodded in acceptance of my form and replaced the sheet that covered the mirror. Fury was going to die, that much was certain. I was just glad to be there to witness it. Finally I would be able to avenge the deaths of my family. I walked out of the room to see The Winter Soldier standing just outside. He looked me up and down for a moment before striding off without a word. He wasn't really a man of words, was he? My eyes followed his retreating form with a hint of a smile.

I followed him at a brisk pace, glaring at anyone who looked at me the wrong way. We both got into the back of a truck that was waiting for us in the garage. I tugged shut the door and sat down, ignoring the way the material stretched in all the wrong places. I'd worn this damn suit on so many other missions. It was slightly confusing me as to why it was suddenly bothering me so much today than any other. The car started and I took a quick glance at the Soldier, noticing the slightly stressed expression on his face.

His clothes covered his flesh arm but left his metal one bare, his red star brightly contrasted to the silver metal and the black of the rest of his clothes. I wondered briefly why it was a star. Of all the things to have printed on your one of a kind metal arm, he had a plain red star. He wore a mask that covered everything from his eyes down. His hair was out, hanging in his eyes. This man definitely fit the dark, dangerous and mysterious boxes.

"I have a hair tie if you need one," I said, snapping the spare band against my wrist. He didn't say anything in response and I blew a stray strand of hair from my eyes in annoyance. I looked away awkwardly.

"You know, I get that you're supposed to be a super assassin and whatnot, but, really, the whole broody silence thing is kind of off-putting," I explained, playing with the strap on my holster. The mask covered his face but I almost swore his eyebrows curved up slightly as if he was smiling. The look was gone almost immediately.

"That's the point," he said, checking the ammo in his gun only somewhat aggressively. My features split into a grin and I played with the band on my wrist.

"Ah, so he does speak!" I chuckled, slightly perturbed at the response. I took in the way that his hand tightened slightly around the gun and bit my lip. He was nervous. Or uncomfortable. You could never tell what was going on behind that mask of his, and no, I didn't mean the one covering three quarters of his face.

Naturally, the rest of the ride was in silence.

I looked out the crack in the side of the car as we sped through the streets. Occasionally there was an update from one of the many people in the police cars tailing Fury. Every time the radio crackled on, I would jump slightly in shock. It was quite loud in comparison to the quiet of the car.

"We see him," a voice crackled through, making me jump again.

"Engage slowly. We need to herd him," I urged through the mic after scrambling with it for a few seconds. I looked up at the Soldier. I could feel his eyes flicker over to mine before he looked away again.

"Understood."

I looked back over to the Soldier and raised one of my brows, letting a little smirk grace my features.

"So, do you have, like, a name or anything? Because it's getting weird now that I have to call you 'Soldier' all the time," I spoke up after putting the radio back down. He turned towards me and he didn't answer for a moment. He looked as though he was contemplating something.

"I have no name," he said lowly, fingers twitching on the gun.

"Oh, well, that's great then," I responded. So, what? Was I just supposed to call him "Soldier" for the rest of my life? I'll tell you what, that will get old really quickly.

"What's going on? Have you engaged?" I asked through the mic after a moment. It was getting seriously awkward in the car after that highly successful conversation. If you can't tell, that was sarcasm.

"Subject is fighting back," came the disgruntled reply. I groaned and looked over to the Soldier as if telling him 'I told you so.' I shook my head almost comically.

"See? I told you he wouldn't give up without a fight," I let out a puff of air, bringing the radio closer to my mouth so that the person on the other end would be able to hear what I was saying clearly.

"Contain the subject. Pierce wants him dead before daybreak and I don't suppose anyone else would want to break the news to him if we should fail," I threatened, clenching my jaw at the thought.

"Yes, Agent Miles," said one of the men in reply before the radio crackled and he was gone again.

"Okay, so, the likelihood of Fury escaping our goons are extremely probable. How do you want to play this?" I asked, looking at the broody man sitting opposite me with raised eyebrows. I threw my hands to my hips to add to the drama of the situation.

"He won't escape me," he promised before standing up and breaking the back of the door down. I let out a surprised shriek, eyes wide and following him. He didn't seem to notice and instead jumped out the back of the moving vehicle onto the road. My mouth dropped open in shock.

"Stop! Stop the truck!" I spluttered out a shout to the man driving. The breaks jolted me from my seat and I stumbled out of the back of the truck, almost falling over in the process. I brushed the hair from my eyes that had fallen from their place and noticed my blurry vision. I stood up straight.

"Ah, shit," I said, blinking rapidly to get rid of the dizziness. I saw the Soldier standing in the middle of the road. He was holding a launcher of some kind. I looked down the road to see Fury's car speeding towards us. I could tell it was his car because bullet holes riddled the sides and windows and it was speeding, crashing through any and all cars in its way like a battering ram. My gaze flickered repeatedly from the car and the Soldier.

The Soldier held up the weapon and pressed the trigger. A disk shot out and travelled under the car, latching onto the bottom. Not even three seconds passed by before the blast shot out from under the car. It shot upward from the bottom, doing a somersault and landing on its roof. I jumped back at the sound, still not fully comprehending the events happening around me. Usually there was a briefing and everything was planned when we had a mission. This was chaos in comparison.

The Soldier barely moved out of the way in time. He just stood and watched until the car was meters in front of him before he stepped leisurely out of the way. My mouth opened again. This time, however, it opened in awe. This guy was a machine! A suicidal one, sure, but a machine none the less. Now I could see the excitement to wake him up.

Black smoke billowed from the car as it slid across the road. Yeah, that car was seriously wrecked. No chance that was getting fixed. Although, looking back at our car and its opened back, I knew that ours would need some serious work too. Pierce would not be happy about that. Ah, well, I didn't have to pay for it so what did I care?

The Soldier dropped the launcher and walked to the car. I followed, eager to watch Fury die. It was time.

"Hail Hydra," I whispered as he reached the car. I was only a few meters behind. If the car was going to explode any more it was better it be him in the way rather than me. He furiously ripped the door off and looked inside, hair whipping with the force.

Even though I was slightly farther away that the Soldier, I was still close enough to see that he wasn't there. Fury wasn't there. Instead, there was a smouldering hole where Fury should be. I let out a loud yell and puled at my hair.

"Shit!" I shouted, kicking at the door the Soldier had ripped off and storming away like an angry teenager who wasn't allowed to have the car that night.

Updated on the 22nd of June, 2016.