Super Assassin

An hour earlier, at a secret Hydra base.

Dark crimson waves spread like a tide, slamming violently against the white brick walls and one-way glass of the sealed room. The reinforced glass, strong enough to withstand the impact of a rocket, gave off a faint hum under the assault, and even a shallow crack appeared.

Inside the room, a girl in white knelt weakly on one knee, her long red hair hanging in disarray. She gasped violently and with difficulty, thin streams of blood seeping from her nose and mouth. Her sharply defined face was as pale as a sheet of printer paper.

Outside the room, the elderly man in a lab coat adjusted his glasses and cautiously shuffled away from the control console to his unsmiling superior. Baron Wolfgang von Strucker stood ramrod straight, his face dark as he stared at the girl collapsed behind the one-way glass, displeasure plainly written across his features.

"Failed?" He cast a sidelong glance at the old man in charge.

"No, not entirely, sir." The old man frowned. "But the development has indeed been somewhat unexpected."

"How so?"

"We originally hoped to amplify the sensory ability she displayed before and use it to pinpoint the location of that 'Black Knight.'" The old man looked at the girl behind the glass. She was trying hard to curl herself into a ball, as though attempting to keep warm. "But instead, it seems her ability formed some kind of connection with his."

Strucker looked at him coldly.

"A connection?"

"Yes." The old man said firmly, "We have reason to believe that the target may be a superpowered individual similar to her, and their comparable abilities created some sort of resonance. But judging from the results, his control over his own ability appears far superior to hers. So the moment they made contact, he shut her out. What a pity. If it had lasted a little longer, we might have obtained his identity."

"So in the end, we got nothing?" Strucker asked icily.

"No, that's not what I mean." The old man hurriedly said, "Though we are still a step short of his true identity, we at least successfully obtained his current location! If we act quickly—"

Strucker snorted and gave the girl in the isolation chamber one final glance.

"Lock her back in her cell. Starting tomorrow, increase the dosage and training intensity. I need her progress accelerated."

As Strucker spoke, he turned and headed out, telling the aide following behind him, "Also, notify Pierce. Tell him what we know. He will take over from here."

"Yes, sir."

An hour later, now.

The ballroom venue, rooftop of the building directly opposite.

The stairwell door was kicked open from the inside, and a broad, powerfully built man ducked as he stepped onto the roof. He wore a black tactical vest and a mask, with a large black bag slung over his right shoulder. His left arm was a silver-white cybernetic prosthetic, a red five-pointed star painted on its shoulder.

The Winter Soldier—one of Hydra's trump cards, a super soldier, a brainwashed master assassin, an assassination weapon managed by Alexander Pierce.

He crouched at the edge of the rooftop and set down the bag. One after another, he pulled out a launch tube, firing mechanism, infrared night-vision sight, and an 84mm rocket warhead, swiftly and expertly assembling a black rocket launcher.

Half-crouched at the rooftop's edge, he braced the launcher on his shoulder and locked onto the ballroom across the street. He held his breath, like a hunter concealed in the brush, his finger tightly curled around the trigger.

However, after waiting several seconds, an order came through the earpiece in his right ear.

"The plan has changed." The commander on the other end ordered, "Regardless of the target's identity, he has been confirmed to have disappeared from inside. Mission canceled. Withdraw immediately."

Without a single question, the Winter Soldier released the trigger at once upon receiving the order and began dismantling the rocket launcher to retreat.

He was a blade, a top-secret weapon for precise assassination. And weapons did not need to ask questions.

"Where are you in such a hurry to go?"

The mechanical baritone came from directly behind him. The Winter Soldier did not hesitate in the slightest. He turned with crisp, efficient movements, and a Colt M1911A1 automatic pistol appeared in his palm as if by magic.

He pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out. A savage muzzle flash hurled the 11.43mm bullet from the barrel, aimed directly at the head of the person behind him.

The bullet left the barrel at roughly 246 meters per second, while the two of them were only five steps apart. The bullet should have struck its target before human reflexes could possibly respond. Yet, unbelievably, it stopped less than half a centimeter from its opponent, as though someone had pressed pause on that very frame.

Only then did the Winter Soldier see what his opponent looked like—a suit of black armor in a modern industrial style, with white stripes across the limbs and chest. The pistol round he had fired hovered before the V-shaped visor of the other man's helmet as though bewitched, refusing to move forward another inch.

The Winter Soldier. Hydra had finally played this trump card. Michael still had not figured out how they knew to send the Winter Soldier after him, and he was quite certain that none of his actions so far had left any flaws.

But that was fine. He would find out soon enough.

Michael twitched a finger and made a gesture resembling "go." The suspended bullet seemed to regain its momentum in an instant—only in the opposite direction. Acting on instinct, the Winter Soldier shifted aside, and the spinning bullet shot past him along its original path.

The Winter Soldier was only a puppet. Even if Michael captured him, he would not be able to get any useful information out of him. Michael understood that clearly, so he had no intention of wasting time.

He raised both palms, firing two Pulse Cannons in rapid succession at the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier dodged nimbly, dashed forward, and flicked his right hand, a combat knife appearing in his palm. He sprang into the air, silver blade light slashing down at Michael's head.

Michael flashed aside and fired another blast with a turn of his left palm. The Winter Soldier tilted his head to evade it, then swept the missed blade upward toward the joint connecting Michael's Gauntlet to the shoulder armor. Michael reached out to grab it, but just as his fingers came within half a meter of the blade, the move abruptly changed. The knife traced a strange arc and chopped toward the vulnerable joint at his neck.

Hydra's trump card truly lived up to its reputation. As a super assassin, the Winter Soldier was impeccable. Whether it was combat awareness or the finesse of his techniques, everything was flawless. In only a few exchanges, his formidable combat skill had already been displayed in full.

Unfortunately, the opponent he faced was not entirely a warrior.

The cold blade stopped dead when it was only a hair's breadth from the armor at Michael's neck. A sparkling magical chain seemed to shoot from the void, unreasonably locking around the Winter Soldier's wrist halfway through his swing. A strike empowered by the Winter Soldier's overwhelming arm strength was forced to a halt, unable to advance even an inch.

But his reaction was extraordinarily fast. In that split second, he changed techniques again. He released the combat knife with his right hand and let it fall freely, catching it below with his cybernetic left hand. He reversed the grip, held the knife backhanded, and slashed again with the power boost of the mechanical arm.

Michael raised a palm to block it, but the Winter Soldier changed moves again and drove the blade straight at his visor. Michael knocked it aside with a backhand, then seized the opportunity to grapple, catching the other man's wrist along the path of the attack. The Winter Soldier exerted force sharply, his mechanical arm humming faintly as its power surged geometrically, yet no matter how hard he struggled, he could not break free from Michael's iron-grip hand.

Michael clamped the Winter Soldier's arm with his left hand, then drove his right fist up beneath the man's armpit. The cold metal punch smashed into his jaw, striking the super soldier so hard that his mind reeled. Michael immediately released him, spread his fingers, and raised his palm toward the other man's abdomen. A Pulse Cannon fired at point-blank range on low power. The Winter Soldier was already staggering backward in a daze when he took the blast without warning. He was sent flying like a kite with its string cut, flipped over, and tumbled off the rooftop.