Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  The way ahead was covered in smoke and flames. We were too low to the ground; at first, all I saw was more debris, the dark outlines of cars and trucks, left abandoned in the chaos. The looming black cloud from the explosion rose higher and higher into the air, obscuring the bridge tower from view.

  Then, I saw something flicker in the haze. Silhouettes. Heavy shapes. Men. Guns.

  They took cover behind cars. A strategic move. We were effectively cornered.

  And then, someone stepped out.

  He hadn't been hiding to begin with. There was something sinister, in the almost casual way the man appeared from the smoke, materializing like some sort of ghost.

  He was dressed entirely in black. Tactical gear, leather and buckles. Footsteps even, heavy with purpose. Long hair hung over a shadowed face. In both hands, he carried what looked like a sniper rifle, its long barrel pointed towards the ground. I realized, one of his arms was strangely bare, uncovered.

  Then he stepped out into the sun, and the light glared off metal, blinding and bright.

  My heart skipped a beat when I finally understood what I saw. He had a metal arm. One single red star painted on his shoulder.

  I couldn't breathe.

  Wanda finally gasped: 'It's the Winter Soldier!'The name echoed in my head like some forgotten nightmare. For a long moment, I couldn't move, too stunned by the moment. It took Pietro grabbing me by the waist and pulling me back for me to recollect myself.

  I fell back against the wall of the container, strangely breathless. My thoughts were running a million miles a minute. Already I could feel the drag of exhaustion. I had only gotten three hours of sleep in the last day. I wasn't running on peak condition — I never had been, since I first woke up in Sokovia, but I was really feeling it now.

  So close to home.

  This was a disaster.

  'W-what do we do?' I asked, unable to clamp down on my stutter. I was too afraid, too caught off guard. I knew nothing about this new player on the field. 'H-how do we f-fight him?

  'You don't fight the Winter Soldier!' Pietro retorted, in the tone of a person regarding another like they were an idiot. 'You can't! He's unstoppable!'

  'What do you mean? What is he? Komitet? Extremis?'

  'No, he's worse,' Wanda said, her pale face gaunt. Her red eyes glowered with intensity. 'The KGB's greatest assassin. He was there at the Crucible. You can't fight him, Amelia! You can only run, and hide, and pray he never finds you!'

  'Well, he found us!' I pointed out, my voice rising an octave. I had unwittingly accumulated the twin's panic into my own. How could two powerful Mutants - one who could tear atoms apart with her mind, another who could outrun bullets - be so terrified of one man? 'We need to get out of here while we still can!'

  'How?' Wanda demanded. 'We're trapped!'

  I swallowed my panic for a moment, scanned the area, the sky, anything that could be helpful. But there was nowhere to go. None of us could jump the gap to the other side of the bridge - even if we could, there was a massive fire on the other end, and another on our side. The sky was a haze of gray and blue, the air filled with the loud beats of the chopper blades. A few more gunshots rang out.

  And time was running out. Sooner or later, the Winter Soldier — whatever he was — would catch up.

  'All right, all right,' I said, nodding my head, trying to get my thoughts in order, form some sort of plan. 'From what I saw, there are about a dozen men on the ground, not including, um, him, the Winter Soldier. Pietro, you and I are going to deal with them. We'll flank from either side, while Wanda goes for the chopper. You're the only one who can attack from down here.'

  'And the Winter Soldier?' Pietro asked.

  'Like you said, we can't fight him,' I replied, pulling myself up to a crouch. 'So we're not going to try. After you and I clear the way, you're going to take Wanda and get the hell out of here. I'll follow.'

  'You sure?' Pietro frowned. 'No plan survives first contact. Especially not with the Winter Soldier!'

  I could only cast him a wan smile. 'What, you got any better ideas?'

  'Well, we can always jump,' Pietro suggested, gesturing to the end of the bridge, the freezing Thames below. 'It's been ten years, but I still know how to swim.'

  I paused, considered it - the fall looked huge from this angle. I wasn't entirely sure we'd survive it. Not to mention the cold water, and if any of us were strong enough swimmers to get through it - then looked back at him. 'We'll call it Plan B, okay?'

  Pietro nodded once before darting over to the other side of the bridge. He ducked and weaved around cars and fallen containers, avoiding a smattering of gunfire. A small blast went off behind him — someone had a grenade launcher. Perfect.

  Wanda found proper cover behind a fallen car, getting as close to the gap as she could without falling — and maintaining enough distance from the Winter Soldier without being seen. I shared a nod with her as well before moving into position.

  Keeping my cover, another shipping container, to my right, I headed to the far left edge of the bridge. Behind me, I heard a blast as Wanda fired off a blast of energy, warding off the helicopter from hovering over us and mapping our positions.

  I glanced over my shoulder one last time to see Wanda ducking behind the pick-up truck, bullets ricocheting off its side.

  And then, in the distance, someone crying out. Pietro had already begun his attack.

  I turned back to face the way I was going. I stopped at the far end of the shipping container, pressing my back to the metal. I was about to peer around, check if the coast was clear, when I heard crunching footsteps — several of them.

  Three agents rounded the corner. Dressed in black, with visors and helmets, each armed with an AK-12 — I didn't know how I knew that — they looked like some sort of black-ops team. Their vests were laden with extra ammunition and at least three different types of grenades. They wore no crests or badges indicating whose side they were on; not mine, at the very least.

  They paused for a moment, crouching down and scanning the area; the spot I was in not two seconds ago. They spotted Wanda thirty feet away. They already knew Pietro was on the other end of the bridge. So where was the third?

  They never thought to look up.

  I had flattened myself against the top of the shipping container, looking down. The third agent was still behind the corner, outside the line of sight of the first two. It was the third agent whose shoulders I landed on.

  He only managed to let out a brief cry before I knocked him unconscious.

  The first two agents jumped, caught off guard. The second one didn't even get a chance to turn around before I grabbed him from behind. I kicked him behind the knee and his leg gave out— using gravity as an aid, I slammed his head into the container, and he dropped.

  By that time, the first agent, now last, had turned around. He raised his weapon. I was faster.

  I lunged forward, slipping around the weapon, and slammed my fist directly into his face. I felt plastic and cartilage break beneath my touch. The agent's head snapped back with a grunt, and he stumbled, falling backwards.

  I had just bent down, about to grab the weapon, when I felt something press against my skull.

  'Don't move,' The man ordered, and it took me a moment to realize he was speaking in Russian. I could feel the click of the weapon as he readied it. 'Stand down, Forty-Seven. Don't make this harder than it has to be.'

  Idiot! I wanted to kick myself. I should've seen him coming. I went very still, heart skipping a beat. He was behind me. I couldn't see any part of him. I couldn't retaliate without getting myself shot.

  I glanced down, breathing hard. Think of something. Think of something.

  'Hands up,' The agent ordered, jamming the muzzle against my head to show he meant it.

  I took a deep breath, before obeying. 'If you insist.'

  As I raised both hands, a pin fell from my fist, clinking to the ground. I felt the
agent pause behind me, unsure of what he saw, before I opened three of my fingers, and revealed the armed grenade I had pulled off of the fallen agent beneath me.

  'You shoot me,' I said, risking a tiny glance over my shoulder. I looked up the barrel of the rifle, saw the whites of the man's eyes behind it. 'I drop this. We both die.'

  He cursed in Russian. When he backed off, I would've smiled, had I any real reason to.

  As soon as I felt the barrel leaved my head, I twisted on my heel. Raised my leg, swept it beneath the feet of the agent. I caught him just as he stepped back, his balance off, and sent him on his back. Without wasting a breath, I shot to a stand, bringing myself over him, grenade still in hand.

  His last look was one of terror before I raised the grenade beside my head, so he could see it. Then I threw it aside.

  The grenade went off in a plume of fire over the side of the bridge.

  I left another unconscious agent behind as I finally rounded the container, and continued up the side of the bridge.

  There was a clearing here, beyond the fallen containers. Mostly cars and open road, debris whipped up in a whirlwind created by the chopper's blades. At least it sucked away the blinding smoke. To the far right, I could see Pietro's flickering slipstream as he dealt with his own agents.

  Then there was the Winter Soldier. He had taken cover behind a sedan, avoiding Wanda's debilitating attacks. He hadn't seen me yet.

  Nor had the agent that was crouched behind the front of a delivery truck. Before the Winter Soldier could spot me, I slid over the hood of the truck and dropped down on the agent. Caught him by the head with my hand, brought my other elbow down on his neck. Landed on one knee. His AK-12 clattered to the ground.

  Then I heard a gunshot. A scream.

  I whipped around, just in time to see Wanda fall, clutching her shoulder. For to my left, the Winter Soldier, lowering his weapon. The helicopter loomed in closer.

  A flash of silver. Pietro was at her side in an instant, crouching over her in protection.

  I saw someone in the hull of the aircraft - a man readying himself behind a machine gun. Without thinking, I grabbed the fallen assault rifle next to me, dropped to a kneeling position, and brought the weapon to bear, stock against my shoulder, hand under the barrel shroud. A flick of my wrist, bolt sliding back, cleared the barrel, load. Peering through scope, took aim. Trigger.

  It was just a set of instructions, order of steps to follow in my head. I still remembered, with absolute clarity, what happened the last time I held a gun.

  This was different.

  I didn't aim for the head. It was all so fast it was hard to say what exactly I hit at all. All I saw was the spark of the bullet's impact, and the body flying back. Was he hit? Was he dead? Didn't matter.

  The helicopter veered back again, the machine gun unmanned and hanging at a loose angle. I lowered the rifle, brought my attention back to the bridge before me.

  Pietro was trying to help Wanda up. I could see the pain in her face, even from here. Her hand, pressed against her shoulder, was covered in blood.

  Two more agents, on Pietro's side, were coming on them. They passed a taxi on fire. Another split second decision. I raised the rifle, fired into the car.

  The bullet hit the gas tank. Gas spilled.

  The car exploded, and the two agents were sent flying.

  The Winter Soldier was less than fifty feet away. Didn't even look at the exploding taxi, his fallen men. Just kept walking, as if this were some daytime stroll, not a battle to the death.

  He loaded his rifle, brought it up.

  I aimed for the Winter Soldier. My finger went around the trigger. He was right there. It was a clear shot.

  But I couldn't take it. My muscles froze. My mind scrambled in a panic, images flashed in front of my eyes.

  The snow. The train. The Extremis soldier on top of me, the pistol wrestled between us. My hand on the trigger. The flash, the bang, the blood.

  I couldn't do it. A wave of nausea rolled over me, pushing my under. I gasped, lost my balance, almost dropped the AK-12. A belated fire, the bullet missing the Winter Soldier by a mile. He didn't even notice. Or maybe he did, and didn't see me as enough of a threat to acknowledge.

  I watched, horrified, as Pietro went down.

  He cried out, writhing as what looked like some sort of bolt hit him in the leg. He was unconscious by the time he hit the ground.

  Wanda screamed, agony and rage. She raised her good arm. A red supernova exploded from her palm. The pick-up truck they'd been hiding behind launched into the air, straight for the Winter Soldier.

  He simply turned out of the way.

  The truck flew by harmlessly. The Winter Soldier didn't even look to see where it went. He stopped, raised the rifle again, with one hand, ready to finish off Wanda. She stood there, red eyes alight, staring him down. She would not go down on her knees.

  His back, still turned to avoid the truck, was to me.

  That was the closest he ever came to making a mistake.

  He never saw me coming. As soon as Wanda lifted the truck, I dropped the weapon and ran. Before the Winter Soldier could fire off that last shot, I lunged.

  I came in from above, using an overturned cop car as a launchpad. I jumped off the bumper and swept my leg — my heel connected with the barrel just as he pulled the trigger. It swung like an arc. The bullet went wide. I hit hard enough to send the weapon out of his grip. It spun in the air, before falling somewhere behind the mess of containers and debris.

  I hadn't even landed before following the kick up with a fist to the face, twisting in midair to land the blow.

  It was like hitting a brick wall. I didn't even feel the pain of contact — to even consider the greatest mistake I ever made.

  It was already too late.

  The Winter Soldier didn't even flinch at my blow. My feet touched the ground. At the same time, he caught my offending fist. His human arm had a punishing grip. It was preamble to the metal one that found my throat and slammed me into the ground.

  He threw me so hard that the tarmac cracked beneath me. My head hit so hard, it felt like an explosion inside my head. All I could see were white and red stars, stabbing my eyes like daggers.

  By the time I registered the pain, I realized I couldn't breathe.

  It felt like ages, but was really only a split second. His metal hand was still around my throat. My hand flew to it instinctively, trying to pry off his grip. But I should've known - it was impossible. My left hand was still caught, pinned to the ground beside my head.

  My vision cleared. I wasn't ready for the sight less than two feet from my face.

  The Winter Soldier, looming over me. The first thing I registered were his eyes; covered in black grease contrasted a cold blue gaze. They bored into mine, utterly emotionless. The bottom half of his face was hidden beneath a mask.

  He said something to me, then. But my pounding heart, my thoughts were screaming so loud I couldn't hear a thing.

  Gasping, I pounded against his chest, to no effect. My legs kicked uselessly. The world was starting to feel light - an effect of oxygen deprivation.

  I was dying.

  Somewhere overhead, a shadow passed over us, turning bright white to black for a moment. I vaguely acknowledged the chopper flying past.

  Incredibly, the last thoughts I had were Pietro's words, echoing in my head: You don't fight the Winter Soldier. He's unstoppable.

  I never made it easy on myself, did I? I always had to learn things the hard way.

  I clawed down the straps of his jacket. My fingers caught on something round, metal.

  I couldn't see it. My vision had faded out again. But I didn't need it to recognize the shape of a grenade.

  The Winter Soldier understood what I was thinking right before I did it. He jerked back, letting go my left hand to grab my right.

  But his movement only pulled the pin in my hand out of the grenade.
I flinched, my now-free hand flying up to cover my face.

  The grenade went off. It wasn't the type I was hoping for.

  The flash-bang went off as expected. With a bright blast and a sudden explosions of smoke.

  The Winter Soldier recoiled, releasing me completely. Blinded for a moment, he stumbled back, one hand over his eyes. I was left gasping and coughing on the ground, oxygen assaulting my deprived throat. I rolled over to my side, blinking up into the sky. Having closed my eyes at the right moment, I could now see again.