Return of the Winter Soldier
The flight over was quick, as fast as the jet could go. They were not heeding any laws and she was sure that just this once the President and the RAF would not mind them invading parts of the airspace they did have permission to enter. Not that they usually listened anyway. The key thing was getting briefed and it was a serious offence that they were going to. She had expected something serious but her mind hadn’t even gone to the President despite the fact her television had been set to have the live coverage on in the background while she graded papers.
The jet hovered and they dropped down, Natasha instantly analysing the situation while Steve turned to the President. All her training, all her sniper shots, her knowing how to take out snipers and where they would be just by knowing where a target stood; it came rushing back in situations like this. This is what the KGB had taught her. This was what James had taught her. The instinct of a killer; just be able to know, to connect to the killer with a level of understanding.
She had figured it out before Steve had even turned to her. “They shot from there,” Natasha stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pointing to a high up point opposite where the President had been standing. “We should check there for signs first.”
Without another word or another moments hesitation, the Black Widow was running quickly towards the entrance point of the building.
The soldier was gone in seconds—jumping across rooftops, navigating through alleys, knowing every path out of the area that wouldn’t be crowded with people and secret service. He didn’t have to worry about cameras, his bullet proof vest had built in technology that would loop the footage of every camera he passed making him virtually invisible. And for any cameras that caught him…in a crowd, his domino mask would disrupt any facial recognition software.
He was a ghost, a myth, a legend…this was his craft, this is what he was trained to do, this is what he was best at, where he felt comfortable…despite the nagging feeling that something was wrong…
Why had he hesitated…? He still couldn’t figure it out. He should’ve taken the shot, but he didn’t. And the more he thought about it, the more it felt like a sharp knife was being driven into his temple.
Steve ran alongside her without a single word, eyes focused forward and leaping through and past any obstacle that came his way. Eventually they came to the point that Natasha had led them to, where the shot was fired. She had an immense skill when it came to judging the trajectory of a bullet. A skill that Steve didn’t choose to question, especially when it was boding in his favour.
Reaching the top he spotted the gun, darting toward it and picking it up. He narrowed his eyes as he held it in his hands then showed Natasha.
There was nothing else there, not even a trace, a hair, a fibre. It was completely sterile.