Lin Xiao ended the call and slipped the Communicator back into his pocket. The room was quiet, save for the steady hum of the radiator. Su Ying looked at him without surprise, only the grave expression of someone who had expected this all along.
"A private deployment." She repeated the term softly. "Not many people in S.H.I.E.L.D. can do that."
"Who came to mind?" Lin Xiao asked.
Su Ying was silent for several seconds. The snowy light outside the window reflected across her face, making its pale parts seem almost translucent. She raised a hand and gently pressed the bandage over her left ribs, her fingertips feeling the rough texture of the gauze and the faint throbbing pain beneath it.
"A few names," she said. "But the most likely... is someone with a pathological obsession with 'order' and 'loyalty.' If he believed my defection had stained S.H.I.E.L.D.'s honor, he would absolutely use private resources to 'clean house.'"
Lin Xiao walked to the window and looked out at the world buried beneath heavy snow. The base's searchlights cut pale beams through the curtain of white, while scattered lights shone from the distant barracks. Everything seemed calm and orderly, but beneath that order, undercurrents were beginning to stir.
"Tell me his name," he said, his voice as calm as a frozen lake.
Su Ying took a deep breath, and a stab of pain shot through her wound. She looked at Lin Xiao's back. His silhouette before the window appeared resolute and lonely in the snowlight.
"Brock Rumlow," she said. "Commander of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Rapid Response Special Forces, one of Nick Fury's most trusted operations chiefs. If it really is him, then this pursuit isn't just official business."
Lin Xiao turned around. The lights cast deep shadows over his face, making his gaze seem