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1
Blue coat. Shorter hair. Gaunter skin across my cheeks. Frostbitten. A less steady flesh hand, still steadier than most. Deep breath.
Rumlow, you clever bastard.
I blink away the memory of snow.
I know it’s not you the second I see your decoy creeping around the corner. I let my arm waver out of sympathy for whatever poor sap you’ve conned into taking your place. I could have taken him out if I’d wanted to, but I hadn’t wanted to. Too much mess. A lesser soldier might have done, just to make sure. But I don’t need to. I know it’s not you. And HYDRA would have used the evidence to find me. Couldn’t have goons crawling all over my trail. You’re my prey. My target. My mission.
Time to pack up and move.
A shame. This is a cosy spot, high up on a rooftop. I have enjoyed waiting here in the cool sunshine. Once, long ago, a cat had stretched itself across my back while I nested on a grass bank under a camo sheet. Hadn’t fucked off all afternoon. Obviously considered me unthreatening.
Me.
Little shit.
Unlike you.
Four false trails. Impressive, in the time you’d had. I am indeed that much of a threat.
2
I knew you weren’t there as soon as the sun set. The windows illuminated, for a start, as if someone was home. No shadows flicked across the inner walls. No footsteps vibrated across the floor.
I guess you just took the supplies, set up a timer, and left. Even though you must have been exhausted. Even though your ribs must still have been sore.
Did you kill the previous occupants? I didn’t check.
Time to pack up and move. HYDRA remains too close for comfort, even without my help. No more slip-ups. I cleaned up one clue you left. I’ll have to deal with the goons soon, if you’re going to start making mistakes like that, and it’ll cost us. They’ll know I’m still out here if their operatives start disappearing, but no matter.
I think about how to pick them off as I strip and pack my rifle, because I find it entertaining. I hadn’t been permitted any non-mission thoughts, in my captivity, so I drew my amusement from planning.
Some wag once christened my rifle Ice Maiden. Gender and name. For a weapon. She’ll be safe and sound and warm against my body. Far more gently handled than any HYDRA agent had ever been with me.
Except you.
3
I can still remember the way you trailed your hand across my jaw.
I saw you today. Caught a flash of booted ankle as I whipped around the corner, handgun ready. The concrete where you’d been exploded into powder an instant later, but I found no trace of you. Not even a dust trail.
The explosive to cover your escape had been a good plan. I don’t know where you’d been keeping the charge, but I sure as fuck don’t want to know. You must be running low on supplies by now, and you didn’t appear to be carrying anything. I found your pack where you’d left it when you fled your last safehouse.
I know you didn’t make it onto your plane. I’d already taken up position on the control tower roof by then, blood rushing in my ears, erection pressed into the hard tin as I lay in my nest and caressed the Maiden, trying to still myself and slow my breathing.
I suspect you hadn’t really intended to flee by air at all. Too dangerous. Too easy to take down. You’re smarter than you look. Which is to say, you don’t look like an idiot. You look beautiful.
I imagine it will explode before it lands. HYDRA doesn’t need to be close to track a plane or take it down these days. Not even with only tatters of their former technology at their fingertips.
4
Not much of a hiding place, this small town. Too small to be anonymous in the crowd. Too large not to have children with smartphones. Eyes and cameras everywhere. Mistrust on every face, although yes, I noticed the doctor’s surgery. I suppose you forced the medics to tend your wounds. How are the ribs, by the way? Should be healed, provided they set right in the first place, and I know you exerted yourself back when you thought you could vanish without a trace. It might have been worth the pain, had I not been who I am.
I stand out more in a small town than a city, and as you know well, I feel discomfited out of battle dress. I am forced to sneak into the barn under cover of darkness.
The sawn-through roof joists are a nice touch. Old-school. Sometimes I miss the days when tracking a target was the job of days, weeks, or even months. They kept my mind active. Battles are fun but can be rather short and repetitive. These days, it’s easy to dial up the internet and go wherever the AI deems the target most likely to be. Most of the time it is correct. Too easy.
Ice Maiden is far more advanced than I need, but just old-fashioned enough to keep things interesting. I must keep her in good condition, or she’ll refuse to operate. I like the challenge. It keeps me grounded. Humble.
Yes, sometimes I miss those days.
Your knife fighting has improved, or the adrenaline stoked your desperation to new heights of speed and dexterity. You’re lucky I didn’t cut an arm off, moving as fast as you were. I tried my best to hold back. Sorry about the throwing knife to the leg. Old habit. You walked it off admirably though. Well done.
I had to take myself in hand for the first time in years today. I enjoyed our time together and look forward to our next encounter.
5
No more bullets today. No more knives today. I’ve used them all. Spent them in pursuit of you.
Hydra nearly got lucky yesterday, but I took care of the last remaining operatives in the vicinity shortly after, so don’t worry about them. They tried to poison me but got the dose wrong. I only took one bite of my lunch, which resulted in a mild headache. People underestimate my metabolism, and enhanced sense of taste. Clearly, they are helpless without you, which is probably why they’re desperate to get you back. I don’t know.
Dropping through my ceiling onto my bed had amused me. How romantic. The plaster dust fell like confetti. I’m touched.
Pretty sure I got in a few good kicks before you leapt from the window. I’d been in the closet, waiting. Still not sure how you managed to get away without falling to your death. Do you have backup now? Someone supplying you with weapons? I noticed your new gun and tac vest. They look good on you.
I wouldn’t put it past Rollins to have survived, you know. I left before any intelligence came in regarding him. Are you in love with him? Because I thought you loved me.
Never mind.
Ice Maiden sends her regards. She has a bullet with your name on it, but it’s not to kill you. I’m only supposed to bring you in, more or less in one piece. It’s the only one I have right now, but I can get more. I can collect my knives.
Seems like a long time ago I got my orders. It’s possible they’ve been updated since, but my phone and tracker met with unfortunate ends. How careless of me.
+1
Disturbed snow. An embankment. Tyre tracks and a trail of blood over the edge.
You, sitting hunched, gazing down into the abyss, legs splayed, left arm curled around your middle. I guess the ribs still ache, yes? Some wounds take forever to fade, especially in the cold.
I didn’t mean to startle you when I dropped from the tree to the needle-covered ground, but I saw you flinch. I thought I’d give you a heads-up by making noise before closing in. I thought the click of my fingers against Ice Maiden would let you believe I wouldn’t shoot you, but you looked terrified. I feared you’d try to flee again. You needed help. And hope.
You kept your eyes squeezed shut as I approached. Was it terror that I’d shoot, or the thought that I’d really gone over the cliff? I mean, that had been the plan; to make it look like I’d died. But I didn’t expect you to believe it. I laid the trail for HYDRA. I hope you hadn’t believed it.
It pleased me the way your eyes lit up when you finally turned your face up at me, radiating something close to disbelief. Maybe even joy. I’m not sure. Thank you, for taking my hand and letting me help you up. Letting me steer you towards the cabin, one arm slung across my shoulder while Ice Maiden jigged against my back, keeping us company. Is the limp still a problem?
The wounds certainly hadn’t looked that bad when I’d stripped you naked and inspected you, in the bed where I’d piled every blanket I could find. Sorry there’d been no heating. Even if we’d had something to burn logs in, I couldn’t risk their billowing smoke exposing us to any kind of threat, HYDRA or otherwise. I’d been so careful. Freedom felt so fresh and fragile.
I thought long and hard as darkness fell and decided that despite your injuries, slipping under the sheets next to you naked would be the kinder option, abandoning my battle leathers with reluctance, and my weapons with even more reluctance, but I don’t think you’d have tried to grab them considering your level of fatigue. Pressed so close to you, I’d have noticed any movement in any case, even if I had ended up falling asleep.
I know you always liked me naked. I remember being washed with warm water often as not, at your insistence. I hope it brought you joy. You had such gentle touches for me, among the punches. I appreciated that.
The cold bit my shoulder blades despite the pile of blankets, yet your heat burnt my chest as I curled around you. I hope you weren’t catching a fever. I’m usually the furnace in the room, thanks to my metabolism. Everybody’s pillow when they needed warm ears. I figured I’d be able to see you through the night, if I lay with you naked, under the blankets, as we used to do, although this time with me as the big spoon.
It also allowed me to throw an arm around your waist. Trail my fingers one at a time down every ab and rib. I felt you tense, but hoped it wasn’t from fear. You have nothing to fear from me. I decided not to shoot you when the shot was too easy. You were doing so well. I enjoyed our game. The back of your legs felt so firm against my thighs. I liked it. Your buttocks pressing into my groin so you could feel me getting hard. All for you. My nose pressed into the short hair at the nape of your neck. No shower out here, but I don’t mind. I like how you smell. I miss it, sometimes.
I trailed my hand down, as you’d done so often for me, guessing this is what you liked. It made you gasp, anyway. I have enhanced hearing, after all. Your skin is smooth, and hot, and silky, and I like it. Like how your cock firms under my fingers as I stroke you. Not my metal hand, because I want to feel you for real. Not some HYDRA interpretation of sensation.
I stroked you just a little faster as you twitched and bucked just slightly into my grip. Ah, I knew you’d like that. Every little shiver and choked breath you offered made me harder as well, until I could push myself between the backs of your thighs and up against the back of your balls, and rut just a little. Easy. Gently. Sharing warmth and comfort under the blankets.
I’m sorry I had to work my metal arm underneath you eventually to hold you still, but I can’t help what HYDRA did to me. The arm isn’t designed for comfort. I’ll pay them back. Perhaps we can do it together.
I remembered to bring lubricant. I know some of the others didn’t bother, but you were always so careful with me. Always used it when you could. I appreciated it, so I brought some with me just in case. It’s amazing what it can be used for. But anyway, I’m sorry I couldn’t do much prep. Just three fingers before I had to flip you on your front and push myself into your body. I couldn’t help it. Turns out there’s still some animal in me, after all. I needed you. Needed you then and there. If you spoke or cried out, I couldn’t hear you. My ears felt stuffed full by a roaring beast. Hydra could have stormed in and I wouldn’t have noticed. I’m sorry.
But I liked it. I can see why you liked it this way, too: laying on top of someone, their legs pushed apart, hips lifted, cheeks splayed, tight asshole slick and stretched around your cock. A smooth glide, deep and intimate. Satisfying. I did manage to take it slow for a long time, just barely moving while you moaned and whimpered. I can see why you liked that as well. Hearing those sounds from me. Maybe more than the sobs and groans of pain. Each to their own, I guess. Forgive me that I snaked a hand up your chest to palm your throat for a while. I don’t remember squeezing. I’m fairly sure I just wanted to feel your well-defined muscles tense and flex, and to feel the vibrations of your ragged breaths. The death I have dealt has always been quick and sudden. Unseen. Now I know I prefer sex slow and lingering. Every motion felt. Every stroke noted and enjoyed.
I could have stayed like that all night, but we needed to sleep. You needed to heal. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t seem to control myself. You felt so good, and I’d waited so long to experience all these new sensations with you. Show you what I’d learned.
Orgasm had never felt so good. So glorious. I hadn’t expected it to cloud my vision with pleasure, sending sparks igniting and dying behind my eyes in quite the same way it did when other objects filled me with pain, but perhaps pleasure and pain aren’t so far apart after all. I prefer this. Your tightness, your heat, wrapped around me and consuming me, your hard body quivering beneath my grasp, your cock shooting thick and sticky over my fist as I try to give back as much as I take. If only I’d had the hands free to fill your mouth and feel your lapping tongue. Another time perhaps. For now, I content myself with the memory of my release filling your body, adding slickness to my thrusts as I shake and rattle apart, over and over, until the world stops disintegrating and I hear myself think again.
I wait for you in the chill morning air. The sun is already kissing the horizon, preparing for dawn, but I let you sleep because you needed it. I left my warmth behind for you. Our mess from the night before. No need to clean it with your tongue. I remember not liking that, so I left it. I’ll burn the blankets later.
All my knives are clean. All my bullets packed up and lesser guns checked over. Ice Maiden is reassembled. I can see you looking at her while you kneel on the floor where you fell, having staggered from the bed in alarm. Isn’t she beautiful? Just like you and me. A perfect weapon. Not so new as to take all the fun from the game, but not so old that she breaks down too often.
I am not sure what your expression means, but I hope it’s not fear. I’ve told you I’ll give you two hours’ head start. I do have to burn the bedding, after all, and remove the other evidence of our having been here, and eat, and plan to catch you again. Figure out where you might go. There are rations in your pack, and I’ve given you two of my guns. Not my favourites but suited to your fighting style. They should serve you well.
I’ve promised not to kill you unless you are stupid, and you’ve never been stupid before. Well, less so than other men I’ve known. The memory of your body is keeping me warmer than usual, and I look forward, oh so much, to the next time I catch you. My last directive had been to bring you in, but I can’t do that if I let you go again. Or you escape. Or you evade me, and I make… mistakes. You’re smart. You know all the tricks, and then some. You’ve had to stay ahead of me for so long, I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’ve been my handler. You know how I think. What my protocols are. The anticipation is thrilling. I can’t get enough of you, and at last, it’s just us. More or less.
So: Go. Run. And when I find you again, I’ll build a nest, and get you in my sights.
Blue coat. Shorter hair. Gaunter skin across my cheeks. Frostbitten. A less steady flesh hand, still steadier than most. Deep breath.
I blink away the memory of snow.