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twinkats ([personal profile] twinkats) wrote2014-04-17 10:35 pm

Голубка [My Dove] {5}

Captain America: The Winter Soldier SPOILERS abound! Beware!

Summary: For some reason Steve keeps running into the familiar face of the Winter Soldier. Each new time heralds a mission gone wrong, and yet, Steve can't help but be baffled. Is the Soldier his enemy? Or friend? /Capkink response/ AU TWS [SPOILERS]

Any foreign words has a tooltip with translation

Somehow Steve found himself back at the bunker-base, sitting in a chair, with an ice pack held up against his face while Natasha stared at him with this look and Sam, who gave him a ride, stands awkwardly behind him as Nick glares with a scowl on his face.

“So I ran into the Winter Soldier again,” Steve finally said, if only to quit the round of awkward staring. Natasha arched her eyebrow at him.

“And how did that go?” she asked, playing along calmly.

Steve gave a wry smile. “I think I actually provoked him.”

Nick sighed and shifted his gaze from this stranger in his base without permission to Steve. “Alright Rogers, I'll bite. How the hell did you bait the worlds foremost assassin that nobody believes exists?”

Here Steve gave a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his head. “Well...” he drew out the word. “I was on my way home when I actually pulled up right next to him. I don't think he even noticed me until I said something. Next thing I know there's a hail of bullets, then a bike, a lot of punching, kicking, and an explosion.”

Nick breathed out slowly and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Care to elaborate?” he asked, trying not to grit his teeth.

“Short end of the stick, I need a new bike,” Steve said.

“Steve....”

Steve shot a look to Natasha, who smiled and walked around to Sam.

“So, you're Sam right?” she asked, grabbing his arm lightly. “Why don't you come this way and you and I have a little chat about how you know Steve.”

“Is this like the reverse big brother act or something?” Sam asked. “Cuz I gotta tell you I don't swing that way and I have no designs on your boys purity.”

They got quieter the further away they went, which Steve was thankful for because that wasn't awkward at all. He felt rosy cheeked all of a sudden and coughed. Nick sighed.

“What happened,” he said. “From the beginning.”

Steve nodded, set the ice down, and started to talk. He explained how he was on his bike, intending to visit the Smithsonian to which Nick stared at him for a second and then shook his head with a sigh and motioned for Steve to continue. Steve explained how he literally passed the Winter Soldier by and, remembering the last time he saw the assassin, figured at least he could try and see where the other was going.

“Without back up?” Nick demanded.

“I went toe to toe with him for five minutes last time,” Steve pointed out, “half-blinded by smoke and got away relatively unscathed.”

Nick shook his head, muttered something about heroes, and motioned for Steve to continue. Steve explained that he just intended to catch the guys attention, that he hadn't planned on being recognized but then, he'd had his shield at his back because some of Nick's paranoia had rubbed off on him and he was a little leery of running into HYDRA unprepared. He gave as best a blow by blow of the action as he could, how the Winter Soldier escaped by detonating his bike, on top of Steve's, guaranteeing Steve would have to deflect the blast or get badly hurt. Not to mention the civilians who where loitering, gaping at the combat like it was a side show.

“The thing is,” Steve finished, “he was injured. His leg was at the least sprained if not outright fractured. That type of injury he shouldn't have been out and about doing anything stressful.”

Nick frowned. “Strange.”

Steve nodded, pursed his lips. “You think something might have changed?” Nick shrugged.

“I don't know. Keep an eye open just in case,” he said. “And at least return here once a day now that we have confirmation that he's active in DC.”

Steve nodded and got to his feet, intending to hunt down Sam and Natasha before permanent damage could be done to his reputation.

“Oh, and Rogers?” Nick said. Steve paused. “Next time don't bring unknowns to my base, are we clear?”

Steve nodded. “Crystal, sir.”


The Soldier stepped into the facility hours later. He limped through back roads, out of sight of people as often as he could. Sometimes he'd hear whispers about his fight with the man in blue not in blue, hear a name he can recognize, but he can't understand its meaning. The Soldier knew his face would be all over, picking a fight in a public place like that, but he doesn't care. He liked it.

The second he past the first gate in the facility, still running from a high from that fight and so unfocused on his surroundings, the but of a gun is slammed against the back of his head. He goes down, twists to kick back up at his attacker who took the second before he could raise his legs to stomp down on the one that is fractured. The Soldier screamed, eyes snapped open wide. He caught sight of one of his handlers, the one he contacted earlier.

Rumlow stepped around the Soldier until he could slam his leg down over the young man's neck with a sneer on his face. The Soldier struggled, tried to take in breath, and with his shiny, metallic arm—a gift from HYDRA to make their weapon more efficient—reaches up and grasped Rumlow's leg. The Soldier squeezed, applying enough pressure until he can tug and toss Rumlow into the far wall.

He pulled himself up, reached back into his belt for his knife and stalked forward, ready to slice into his attacker handler, master, owner or no.

“Stand down!” the words are sharp, bitten out, and instantly the Soldier went still. He licked his lips, breathed heavily through his nose. His leg throbbed something fierce as his gaze darted over to see Pierce standing there, furious.

He missed Rumlow getting up on his feet and decking the Soldier solidly across the face. He only realized it happened when he was back on the ground again. Rumlow stepped forward, ready to provide a sharp kick to the Soldier's ribs when Pierce raised a hand, frown across his lips.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded. The Soldier licked his lips.

“The pain clouded my mind,” the Soldier bit out.

“That's not what I'm talking about,” Pierce said coldly. “The fight. The one that has gone practically viral?”

The Soldier grit his teeth, ran his tongue along them in an attempt to wipe away the fresh touch of blood. He said, “He recognized me. From before.”

“From where exactly,” Pierce demanded.

“My previous mission,” the Soldier said. “He is also in the way of my current mission.” Those words were bit out, ground out sharp like shards of glass.

“And your rifle?” Pierce continued. The Soldier grit his teeth, breathed out heavily, and answered.

“I had a malfunction in my arm. Squeezed too tight, rendered the rifle into scrap metal. Left it behind, it was useless.” Pierce scowled, arched an eyebrow, and the Soldier added, “Two days ago.”

Rumlow narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth to say something but a look from Pierce quieted him immediately. “Get up,” Pierce said sharply and the Soldier pulled himself to his feet. He swayed, his leg in a much worse state now than it was before. “Go to the back, have your arm checked over. I don't want a repeat of this again.”

The Soldier nodded and hobbled his way back past the second and third gate to his chair.

Rumlow scowled, stepped forward and demanded, “You're just going to let it get away with that?” Pierce shot him another look.

“Any more damaged and he'll be of no use,” Pierce said. “Like it or not he has a job to complete, and in order to continue ahead with Insight Fury needs to be out of the picture. Permanently.”

“We should wipe it then, as a precaution,” Rumlow said.

Pierce shook his head, “No. He's shown no signs of deterioration yet. If he starts to become problematic, though, maybe.”

Rumlow scowled, looked back at the Soldier sitting in the chair, staring into nothing while the techs checked over his arm, worked through each piece with precise care.

“It attacked Rogers in the middle of the city, without orders,” Rumlow pointed out.

Pierce sighed and said, “A regrettably understandable situation that confirms what I had already thought. Nick's pulled Rogers in as protection detail for whatever he's scheming up this time.”

“That'll decrease the likelihood of success then,” Rumlow said and Pierce smiled coldly.

“Not as much as you'd think,” he said. “At least not once he's healed up enough. You're little exchange there pushed back his timetable, so any lack of success can be laid at your feet. Am I clear?”

Rumlow lowered his gaze, muttered a short, “Yes, sir.”

Pierce nodded. “Good. Make sure he's ready, provide him with whatever he needs, and then send him out. He knows what to do.”

Russian words (hopefully)

1. Голубка – golubka – my dove


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