Chapter Text
The air was cold at this time of year. I felt a chill unlike any other, despite being inside an isolated warehouse, a desolate outpost in the northern reaches of England, right on the border of Scotland. They said it was mid-November, but they were vague about the year, somewhere in the late 1980s or early 1990s. However, that information was irrelevant to my current assignment and was a childish distraction.
I have to maintain focus. This mission was vital for the success and longevity of Hydra’s plans.
My handler and the other agents tasked me with scouting the warehouse. They waited outside the warehouse, hidden inside the trucks they’d stolen sometime earlier. The large, white, non-descriptive trucks were a perfect cover. The chances of the stolen vehicle being recognized were minimal, ensuring our position remained a secret for as long as needed.
It had already been hours, close to three or four. The wind’s chill bit through the thick leather of my uniform, and my hands were numb and painful from the cold. I could see my breath every time I breathed through my mask. The thin vent filters let my frozen breath out. I wish I could move. Run a swift lap around the building, hoping to get warm, but those weren’t my orders.
" Soldat, have you secured the building? ” My handler, Colonel Karpov, barked through my earpiece.
“ Yes, sir, ” I replied in Russian, my default language unless instructed otherwise.
“ The client has arrived at the location. Moroznyy has eyes on him. Watch Moroznyy’s back; we do not know the client’s full intentions. ”
" Yes, sir. " My eyes scanned the building for Moroznyy Soldat, The Frost Soldier. A figure clad in black was using stacks of crates to hide as they snuck around the warehouse. I knew it was Moroznyy; I remember the debrief and seeing her name appear on the file. She moved efficiently and quickly, staying hidden within the darkest shadows of the building. We’ve worked together before, though she’s always a mystery—a familiar stranger.
I soon saw the client and his men. Two men were on each side, and three more flanked him. All of them carried handguns, but their bulky jackets exposed concealed holsters and other weapons they could use against us. My handler didn’t seem pleased with the news of concealed weapons. Not that we were any less guilty, given that Hydra brought both of their assets to a meeting. The client was wise to arm his men well, and so was Hydra.
“ We’re entering the building. Stay in position until further notice unless the client attacks, ” Karpov explained. “ Understood, Assets? ”
Moroznyy and I understood the instructions. It was a clear and direct order from a superior. We couldn’t fail.
Karpov entered the building with at least four agents following behind, weapons ready. The client remained in the middle of the open area of the warehouse, free of clutter or crates. I still couldn’t see anyone else lurking inside the brick building. Nor did I see any traps.
I naively entertained the thought that the client wouldn't deceive us. These meetings almost always went wrong. There were always too many variables. Too many unknowns. That's why they began bringing The Frost Soldier along with me.
The meeting feels off from the start. I’m standing to the side, eyes scanning every corner of the darkened warehouse. Moroznyy faced me from across the warehouse, silent, her face hidden beneath the shadow of her hood and mask. I know her and how she moves—swift, controlled, lethal.
They spoke primarily in English since it seemed the client couldn’t speak Russian, but he spoke English like any native speaker. The apparent British accent and location of the meeting made the fact much more evident.
It was early on when I felt it—a shift in the air, the sound of feet shuffling outside. A second later, gunfire erupts, bullets ripping through the dim warehouse. They planned this. Unnamed men charged inside the warehouse and immediately started shooting at my handler and the Hydra agents accompanying him.
There were orders shouted out in Russian and English. It was pure, unadulterated chaos.
The words, " Find and protect your handler, Soldat, " echoed relentlessly in my mind. I’d had that sentence drilled into my head long before Hydra sent me on missions. The Handler’s safety and assets were the only thing more important than completing the mission. The lives of a few faceless men were worth it. Hydra had spent too much money and many years working to lose their most lucrative assets.
A dozen men, maybe more, weapons raised, rushed forward. Moroznyy had already started moving, blending into the shadows, becoming part of the chaos. I caught a glimpse of her taking down the first attacker with a swift strike, her blade flashing under the dim lights. She’s fast, a shadow that dances through the ambush, and I almost lose sight of her for a split second.
I launch ahead to join in the chaos.
They never saw me coming. They never did. Moving through the shadows, I became part of them, silent and unfeeling. My mind was a blank slate, a machine running on instinct and command, not thought. One comes at me from the side. I sidestep, my metal arm catching his jaw with a force that sends him spinning. He drops, and I’m already onto the next. I rip the gun from his hand, turn it back on him, and fire. He crumples, and I pivot, keeping the others in my sight.
I charge forward, my metal fist connecting with the jaw of the nearest man, feeling the crunch of bone. He drops, and I’m onto the next, pulling his weapon from his hands and using it against him. Another man lunges at me, but she appears behind him, twisting his arm smoothly until he falls silent. Her eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second, steady and unreadable, before she slips back into the fray.
More men close in, but they’re disorganized now, scrambling as they realize we’re picking them off, one by one. I drive my fist into the ribs of one, feel them give way, then turn to catch another by the throat, crushing his windpipe before he can scream. She’s beside me again, her movements a blur, every strike clean and lethal, every step in sync with mine.
Shots keep coming, clipping my shoulder and grazing my side. Irrelevant. I close in on another man, driving my fist into his gut, feeling him fold under the impact. My hand finds his throat, silencing him before he can scream. More rush in, panic flashing in their eyes as they see their numbers dwindle. We move through them like a storm, every strike deliberate, every shot precise. One by one, they fall—broken jaws, crushed ribs, lifeless bodies hitting the ground in brutal rhythm. Soon, only silence remains, broken by the echo of dying breaths and the sharp scent of blood. I glance back at Karpov, who nods, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
We were just about to leave when something or someone caught my eye. The movement was so minute that any ordinary man would’ve missed it—a fact proven by Karpov, who never saw the shadow move. Even the ever-diligent and detail-oriented Frost Soldier kept walking. I kept my steps light, instinctively moving alongside the shadows. “ Zimniy Soldat? ” I ignored Karpov as I continued walking forward.
“Pl-eas-e. Do-n’t.” Huddled between two stacks of crates was a man, a young soldier cowering in fear. At first glance, he didn’t seem critically injured. The tears in his uniform revealed only a few cuts and bruises on his skin. “I-I never wanted to be a-a part of this. It was him who made me do it. He made me join him.” He explained between sobs.
I paused to catch Colonel Karpov's eye, and he returned my gaze with a knowing look. “ No witnesses, Soldat. ”
The man’s eyes widened dramatically. “No! Please don’t! I-I won’t tell anyone, I promise!” He cried as tears began streaming down his face. I leveled my handgun at his forehead, executioner style, promising the man a quick and merciful death. The man continued to cry and beg, refusing to accept his fate.
That’s when I pulled the trigger.
BANG!