Shadow Killer

Nine

I trace my finger over the letters reading 'Posie Parker.' The file felt thick and assumably had a lot of information about me. A small part of me wanted to read through everything, but a larger part of me wasn't interested. Anything about me before HYDRA and the Red Room meant nothing, that person I was or could have been simply doesn't exist.

I cast the file to the side instead reading through the file on Jame Buchanan Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier. I skim through the file, "enlisted to help in World War two in nineteen forty-one, taken by HYDRA in forty-three, became a test subject for Arnim Zola for the recreated super soldier serum. Was then rescued by Captain America, aka Steve Rogers, formed the Howling Commandos, attempt to to go after Arnim Zola but falls off a train to his death. Hmm well thats kind of boring."

I flick to the next page, which outlines his recapture by HYDRA. "Survived fall yet lost an arm, returned to Zola, and became first member of the Winter Soldier programme. Electroconvulsive therapy now that sounds familiar. Cyrofreezing aye, no wonder the old geezer looks like so good for his age. Kept in Siberia, only being thawed for missions."

The following page has a photo of a red leather journal adorned with a single silver star. "The Winter Soldier Programme manual. When the following words are read in Russian, the Winter Soldier would become obedient. Longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car. What a random bunch of words."

I skim over the following few pages, which have detailed mission reports of all the Winter Soldiers Missions, with the final one being Nick Fury. Then there was nothing. I growl in anger as there is nothing in the file that would be useful in locating him. I throw the file at the opposing wall of the aircraft, watching bitterly as paper flies everywhere, littering the ground white.

I lay down, my body dropping over several seats whilst I stare at the top of the aircraft before falling asleep. The next morning after waking, I cleaned up the scattered paper before sorting through all the weapons. I had made sure to grab plenty of ammo, so I reloaded all of my current guns before stashing the bag under the seat.

I sat on the ramp door of the quinjet, sitting in the warmth of the sun, waiting for the aircraft to regain some power from the solar panels. Also, because I wasn't sure where to go, I decided to start sifting through the files and programmes I had uploaded to my tablet. Much of it, although important, was irrelevant to me, but instead of deleting it, I just stored it away, should I ever need it for future use.

I sigh in frustration. I had no clue where to start. I have the skills and resources to help me on the manhunt, but I didn't know where to start. In all of my missions, everything was done for me. It was all set up so I could just make the kill. But now, it was me with a mission to find and kill the Winter Soldier.

I could do it. I could run off and live like a normal person. Leave this all be-.

An intense and unknown force begins to take hold of me, halting my thought process. The pressure grows and grows from within, forcing my body to bend backwards in rigidity. Pain courses through my body, sending me into a spasm. I try to hold in a shout, but the pain from the force grows as it consumes. A guttural scream rips from my lips, and then all at once, it stops.

I sat there, breathing heavily, gasping for air, as my lungs seemed to had almost stopped working. Confusion was all that really came from the episode. I could sit here and dwell on what just happened, but I knew that I should get moving. I stand up, feeling a dull ache in my hips, where the metal limbs attach to my body. I grumble incoherently to myself as I walk back into the aircraft, closing the doors with a button.

I sat at the pilots' seat, looking out of the window at the green field before me. I am about to fire up the engine when I hear a banging on the aircraft. "Ugh, what is it now?"