Peggy's PoV

Night had started to fall as she got into her position at Dock 13, settling herself on top of on old container, giving her protection and allowing her the perfect view of the men waiting below her.

Darkness began to cascade around the dock like a black veil, allowing her the perfect camouflage to hide her almost invisible body. The moon created an eerie glow against the calm surface of the sea, creating enough light to see, but not enough to show anyone hiding in the shadows.

Peggy kept her eyes in the seven men below her, all so caught up in their joking and messing to notice her. She kept her gun in her hands, her finger ghosting over the trigger, ready to fire at any given moment, her back up gun strapped securely to her thigh.

Her breathing was easy as she lay on top of the container, trying to keep her mind on the mission and off the man she knew she would see. The real man behind the lies. The man that she had been so close to marrying and yet really knew nothing about.

How could she have so stupid? How could she have not seen it sooner? You'd think it would be pretty obvious if your fiancé was a double agent, but it wasn't. Not when all you new was the double agent and you couldn't tell any different. This man supposedly loved her, he had helped her move on with her life, she trusted him with everything and yet he was never who he said he was. He wasn't even from the same bloody country! No, Ulrich Ormand was born and raised in Berlin according to his file, not Brooklyn.

Berlin.

But what reason had he given her to doubt him, to doubt his story. Zilch. Nada. There wasn't one. He had been loving, caring, loyal, or so it seemed. He was a Sergeant in the American Army with war medals and a whole battlefield of men to prove his identity. He had the uniform, the scars, not to mention his history with Steve. She supposed that that helped to draw her to him, acting some kind of a link to the love that she had lost. But how did he do it?.

Peggy's thoughts were left unanswered as she was snapped back to reality by the one of the Russians shouting something to the others. Despite her lack of Russian, even just looking at their reaction, Peggy could tell that it was time.

Sergeant Scott Woods, Herr Ulrich Ormand, the big HYDRA boss man was here.

A black car drove up to the dock, silencing the air as if everyone in the vicinity had been killed, but they hadn't, at least not yet. Peggy let her eyes flicker to the men, watching as the men, as still as soldier, as statues, stood to attention.

The drivers door opened, causing Peggy to lean over the edge of the container as much as she dared, knowing she was only just out of sight. She squinted against the darkness, to make out the man. He was tall and broad, his jet black hair matching the rest of his clothes as he moved to the rear door. The man opened the door and held it opened, allowing someone else out.

Out of the car stepped Scott Woods, a large winter coat wrapped around his body, making him look much shorter especially beside the tall man. As he drew nearer, Peggy could make out his brown hair which was waxed back as always, but his usually smile being replaced by a ugly scowl. He stopped just below her, where he began talking to the men, who gradually relaxed from their positions.

They spoke quickly and in hushed tones, making it impossible for Peggy to catch anything but a bunch of 'ja's, 'da's, 'nein's and 'net's as the men swapped from German to Russian and back, all seemingly depending on Scott's preference in each moment.

Within two minutes of sighs, shuffling and stutters, Peggy saw Scott step back, a small package in his hand as he looked from it to the man and back.

"Guess that's my cue to gate crash this party."

Peggy silently slipped off the container, landing with the softest of thuds as the crouched to protect her ankles. She stealthily moved along the side of the container until she reached a point she deemed suitable. She could only just see, meaning if they could see it, it was barely, helping to give her an advantage as she played with the shadows.

She saw Scott open and close the envelope, not bothering to remove its contents, just checking it was there.

"Damn," she thought to herself, she needed to know what was in there.

All of a sudden, she saw Scott whip his head towards her and then to the other side of the container, growling something unrecognisable in Russian.

"Net! Net, pozhaluysta! Net! My prishli v odinohku!" No! No, please. No! We came alone!, one of the men began to protest, his hands raised as he pleaded for his life.

"Betrüger," Liar, Scott spat back, pulling a gun from inside his coat.

Bang.

He didn't even hesitate as he pulled the trigger, it seemed as natural as clicking his fingers, as if it wasn't blatant murder. The bullet hit the man between the eyes, stunning him for a moment before he fell to the floor like a dead weight.

The gun shot rang out in the quiet air if the freezing docks, seemingly shocking the other men, but not as much as it did Peggy who just watched her ex-fiancé murder someone without batting an eyelid.

At that moment, Peggy stepped back, allowing Agent 13 to take her place.

She raised her gun and stepped out from behind the container, all but her face and shoulders out of the shadows.

"Sorry I'm a bit late, fellas. Traffic was somethin' awful," she said sweetly in a feigned American accent, despite the chaos in front of her.

She did that sometimes, especially on lone missions where it was all down to her. It helped to save her ass, give her a bit more secrecy, lessen the chances of her being found than if she stuck to her normal English one. She knew for definite if Scott heard her, he would know straight away who it was. At least now she could buy herself some time.

The man closest to her left whipped around suddenly, baring his teeth and growling at her, the rest too caught up in their dead friend.

"Three seconds."

Peggy let her eyes flicker around her, taking in what she could.

Six Russians. One bodyguard. One head of HYDRA.

"Two seconds."

Her eyes fell onto Scott who was running back to the car, one hand stuffed deeply in his pocket, the other carrying the gun he had just fired as he ran like a coward.

"One."

The man ran at Peggy, swinging his arms at her head, but she knew it was coming. She sidestepped and ducked, dodging his flailing limbs and sending in a dig of her own. She swung the butt of the gun, hearing it connect with his cheek before he realised what was happening, causing him to stumble sideways before coming at her again. This time Peggy didn't hesitate as she aimed the gun and fired. The Russian howled in pain as he clutched at his leg, falling to the floor at the lost of balance.

"Oops, my bad," she giggled, hating the all American girl she was playing.

"Why can't I change it up a bit? Why is it always the brain-dead, flirty American girl who can't keep her knickers on?!Next time I should try French, or Italian or a bit of Irish. I'm sure Steve would like that."

Her thoughts went askew, bringing a smile to her face as she began fighting the other men who had knives, crowbars and, no surprise here, more guns.

She knocked the second man to the ground easily and was met almost instantly by the third and forth. She felt a hand hit come in from the side, connecting with her ribs and the gun was torn from her grasp. Another punch whacked her across the side of the jaw as a crowbar connected with her back. She stumbled slightly, breathing deeply as she ignored the pain. The crowbar was swung at her head, but she ducked at the last second and kicked it's wielder just below the knee as hard as she could, her ears being filled with a satisfying crack.

As another man ran at her, she reached to her thigh holster for her second gun, but it wasn't there. Her eyes scanned around her in the seconds she had, searching for it until she saw it. It was the whole way across the dock, behind the whimpering men who lay on the ground, just in front of where the car had been parked only moments ago, but had seemed to vanish.

Buggar.

Peggy felt someone grab her from behind and throw her like a rag doll through the air. She slammed into something hard, creating a dull thump as she connected with it. Her eyes moved to what it was and she groaned.

The container.

She struggled through her feet, gasping for the air that had been forced from her body. Suddenly she felt as sharp pain through her scalp as someone yanked her head up hard by her hair.

She hissed against the pain as the man holding her hair too tight shoved her head against the metal container. The last three men standing, or at least able to stand, surrounded her, a sneer plastered on each of their faces.

The man holding her grabbed her face either side of her cheek, squishing them together incredibly hard, forcing her mouth open. She lashed out with her arms, knowing she needed to get out of this situation before she was trapped. She couldn't be trapped. If she was, she was as good as dead. He arms were caught and pinned against the container by the other two men, the one on the left carrying a spilt lip and dislocated shoulder, the one on the right with a dirty scowl and a bad leg. If Peggy could have smiled at her handy work she would have.

Someone said something in Russian out if her view, causing the three men to laugh.

Peggy gathered whatever confidence she had left and looked up at them innocently.

"Aww, honey. Don't you know that I can't speak Russian?" She asked, refusing to let any pain she was feeling seep into her America accent.

That's when the first man stumbled into view, the one she had shot in the leg, an evil glint shining in his dark eyes as he smirked at her.

"I said, you have such a pretty face," he paused as he took out a small pocket knife and began playing with it. "Too bad it won't be when we are finished with you," he said as he flipped the knife between his fingers, his thick Russian accent coming through in his remarkable English, a wicked smile tugging at his lips as he stumbled closer to her, ready to have some fun of his own.