IX. Emris

I step closer into the cell where they keep him. The Winter Soldier sits in the chair, silent, his metal arm resting on his knee, his gaze vacant. A weapon at rest. But I know better. There's a war happening inside his head, one I've been called to end.

I reach out, pressing my fingers to his temples. His skin is warm beneath my touch, a stark contrast to the cold, unfeeling metal of his arm. He flinches slightly, barely noticeable, but I catch it. A sign of resistance. Hydra has trained him well, but the cracks are there. The name must still be rattling around in his mind, like a loose screw Hydra has yet to tighten.

I close my eyes and pull the threads of his consciousness toward me. His mind is chaos—disjointed memories, flashes of faces, voices calling a name he should not recognize. Bucky. I feel it in him, tangled like a knot I must unravel. The image of a blonde man, blue eyes full of something deep and unbreakable, lingers at the forefront, Steve fucking Rogers. He called to the Winter Soldier. Called him Bucky.

I tighten my hold, weaving through the frayed strands of his thoughts, severing the ones that do not belong. The memories fight me, but I've done this before. I know where to cut, where to smooth over. I dull the edges, turn them into nothing more than static in the background of his mind.

"You are the Winter Soldier," I murmur. "The name means nothing. It is nothing."

His breathing slows. The tension in his shoulders eases. My control takes root, the disruption in his mind melting away like snow in the sun. His consciousness bends to my will, accepting the truth I give him.

I let go, pulling back, waiting for his response.

"I am the Winter Soldier."

His voice is even, flat. Perfect.

A sense of satisfaction settles in me, though it is short-lived. I tell myself I should feel nothing about this, that it is only another mission completed. But the guilt gnaws at me; I'm not sure why, but it does. We are so similar and yet I am helping his captors to keep his true self under wraps.

The helicopter ride back to the Black Lotus compound is silent. The soldiers escorting me don't speak, and I don't care to acknowledge them. The only sound is the steady hum of the rotors above, the rhythmic thump of the blades slicing through the wind. I stare out the window, watching the landscape blur beneath us.

The weight of what I did lingers in my chest, heavy and immovable. I did what was required. I ensured Hydra's control over their most valuable weapon. That should be enough.

The compound comes into view, a dark structure hidden away from the world. As we land, I brace myself for what's coming. I don't expect praise for a job well done. Not here. Not from him.

Dragunov is waiting when I step off the helicopter, his hands clasped behind his back, a smirk already tugging at his lips. The scars on his face stretch as he grins, eyes glinting with something cruel.

"Well, well," he muses. "Look who's finally managed to complete a mission without failing."

I say nothing. There's no point in arguing. He feeds off reactions, enjoys getting under people's skin. I won't give him that satisfaction.

He steps closer, circling me like a predator. "After your little disaster at the Avengers compound, I was beginning to think you'd lost your touch. And let's not forget the disaster you made in Prague."

I keep my expression blank, my stance still. If he wants a reaction, he won't get one from me.

"But here you are," he continues, voice smooth as silk. "Fixing what you helped break. Tell me, did it hurt, seeing what a mess you made of the Soldier's mind?"

I clench my jaw. He notices, of course, and his grin widens.

"Relax, little zmeya," he taunts. "You did your job. Hydra is pleased. And for once, you won't be seeing the inside of a punishment cell."

He says it like it's a reward, like I should be grateful. I don't respond.

Dragunov tilts his head, studying me. "You seem tense. Something on your mind?"

I force a smirk, meeting his gaze. "Only how much longer I have to stand here listening to you."

His laughter is sharp, amused. "Ah, there she is. For a moment, I thought you were losing your edge."

I don't wait for him to dismiss me. I turn on my heel and walk away, ignoring the way my skin crawls under his gaze. I may have completed my mission, but in the Black Lotus, there is no such thing as true victory.

Because here, no matter what I do, I am always under someone else's control.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The air in Dragunov's office was always cold, but today, it was freezing.

I stood at attention, my spine straight despite the tension tightening in my muscles. Dragunov leaned against his desk, his fingers steepled, his expression unreadable except for the fury simmering in his sharp eyes. He was always a hard man to read, but today, his anger was barely concealed beneath the surface.

"Hydra has fallen," he said, his voice clipped and edged with venom.

I said nothing. There was nothing to say. I already knew. The whispers had been circulating for days, the rumors of SHIELD's destruction intertwined with the news of Hydra's collapse. But hearing it from Dragunov himself carried a weight those whispers never could.

He exhaled slowly, the air heavy with controlled rage. "Years of work. Years of control. And now? Now it is dust. Our allies scattered. Our operations in ruin. All because of a few insubordinate agents and a soldier who should never have remembered his past."

I knew where this was leading.

"The Winter Soldier."

His gaze snapped to mine, like a whip lashing across my skin. "Gone. Vanished into thin air. We lost our most valuable weapon because of a weakness that should have been eradicated years ago. Because of memories that should have never surfaced." His voice dropped lower, a hiss of pure contempt. "And tell me, Emris—was it not your job to ensure that would never happen?"

I refused to shift under his scrutiny. I had done what I was asked. I had crawled into the Winter Soldier's mind, twisted the remnants of his past, drowned them in silence. And yet, he had still slipped through their fingers.

"He was stable when I left him," I said carefully.

Dragunov's mouth curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk, more like a sneer. "Stable? Tell me, how stable does a ghost have to be to disappear?"

I clenched my jaw. He was taking his anger out on me. I knew that. I had seen him do it to countless others before me—blaming, punishing, breaking down those around him so he didn't have to shoulder failure alone. He had done it to me plenty of times as well.

But that didn't make it sting any less.

"I did what you ordered," I said, my voice steady. "He should not have been able to resist."

"And yet, he did."

A sharp silence filled the room, thick with unspoken threats. Dragunov slowly rose from his position against the desk, stepping forward until he was close enough that I could see the cold calculation in his eyes.

"We need to find him," he said, each word deliberate. "And you, Emris, might be the only one who can."

I knew what he was asking before he said it aloud.

The Winter Soldier had disappeared into a world he did not belong to. He had no mission now, no leash pulling him back into Hydra's grasp. But I had spent years inside his head. If there was a trail to follow, I was the only one who could track it.

"I want him back," Dragunov said, his voice low, dark. "Or I want him dead. I don't care which."

I held his gaze, unreadable.

Either way, I knew what my next mission was.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The rain slicked off the rooftop where I crouched, watching Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson move inside the dimly lit safe house.

They'd been here for days, tracing rumors and whispers of the Winter Soldier. And I had been tracing them.

Intel led me here. They were my best shot at finding him. Dragunov's orders were clear—I had to locate the asset. But I wasn't about to walk in blind. I needed to know what Steve knew first.

Sam Wilson moved confidently, his body language betraying a soldier's instincts. Steve, on the other hand, carried the weight of something heavier—determination mixed with regret. I'd seen enough men haunted by their pasts to recognize it.

I adjusted my position, pressing my back against the cold stone ledge, and listened.

"You really think he's still in the city?" Sam asked, his voice edged with skepticism.

Steve sighed. "He has to be. He wouldn't just vanish."

"Well, he is a ghost, Cap. No paper trail, no sightings. If I didn't know any better, I'd think we imagined him."

Steve didn't reply, but I could tell he was thinking about it. Doubt had started to creep in. That was interesting. I filed it away.

Sam continued, "And what about that shadow you keep feeling?"

That caught my attention.

"Could be nothing," Steve said, though he didn't sound convinced. "Could be someone watching us."

Bingo.

A strong gust of wind carried the sound of their conversation away, and I shifted closer. In doing so, I knocked a loose piece of debris free. It clattered against the gutter before falling onto the pavement below.

I froze.

Fuck.

Steve's head snapped up immediately.

So much for keeping a low profile.

I was on my feet before Steve even made his move. He was fast, but I had the advantage of distance and an escape plan already forming in my head.

I turned, ready to disappear down the alley, but Steve's voice stopped me.

"You gonna run, or are we actually gonna talk this time?"

Damn it.

I turned back, tilting my head as I let a smirk play on my lips. "Talk? Now that's new. Last time we met, fists did all the talking, and then you threw me in a cell."

Steve didn't rise to the bait. "I don't want a fight."

"That's disappointing." I crossed my arms, staying out of reach. "It was fun while it lasted."

Sam took a step forward. "And who the hell are you?"

I gave him a once-over and grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He scowled. "Yeah, that's why I asked."

Steve cut in, his tone sharper. "What do you know about Bucky?"

I let the name hang in the air for a moment, savoring the tension that followed. "Oh, we're on a first-name basis now, are we?"

Steve's expression hardened. "Where is he?"

I shrugged. "Beats me. You're the one chasing ghosts."

Steve took a step forward, but I didn't flinch. He wasn't going to intimidate me. "If you're here, that means someone sent you. Who are you working for? Dragunov or Hydra?"

I scoffed. "What, you think I'm just gonna spill all my secrets to you, Captain?"

"Would save us all some time." Sam's arms were crossed now, his patience wearing thin.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to be mocking. "But where's the fun in that, Birdy?"

Before either of them could respond, a metallic clank echoed down the alley. I felt the heat of repulsors before I even turned to see the red and gold suit hovering above us.

"Wow. Didn't expect to see you again," Tony Stark's voice crackled through the helmet. "Didn't you try to kill me once?"

I smirked. "Once? You wound me, Stark."

He landed beside Steve and Sam, his mask retracting to reveal his narrowed eyes. "What's she doing here?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Sam muttered.

Tony didn't look convinced. He turned to Steve instead. "Listen, Cap, I hate to break up your spy party, but we've got work to do. Hydra's still got pockets of resistance, and we've got a base in Sokovia to crack open."

That caught my attention.

Sokovia.

The rumors I'd heard suddenly didn't seem so far-fetched. A pair of enhanced individuals—twins, apparently—rumored to be working with Hydra. I'd been curious about them for a while now, but if Stark and Rogers were heading straight into Hydra's den, well...

This was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

I took a slow step back. "Well, as fun as this has been, I'll let you boys get to saving the world."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "You're not going anywhere."

"Oh, please." I flashed him a grin. "If you wanted to stop me, you would've tried already."

Then, before any of them could move, I vanished into the shadows, slipping away as easily as I had arrived.

I might've been looking for the Winter Soldier. But I was in search of something else entirely now.

Will I be punished for this? Likely. But I don't seem to care anymore. I guess curiosity does kill the cat.