Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  'S-seven.'

  'How many exits could you see?'

  'One. The front door. A...a window was open.'

  'Which window?'

  'The one on the far left, by the lady with t-the blue shirt.'

  'Good. And what kind of hat was the man next to her wearing?'

  'His hat? Who cares about his hat?' The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I immediately clamped my mouth shut when I realized what I said. No, that was bad, shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have said that -

  'Who cares?' The Winter Soldier repeated. I expected him to snap, but he just echoed my words, in an almost curious manner. There wasn't really much of an expression on his face, if there was ever one besides perpetual grimness, but it seemed different now. I couldn't put my finger on it, although I was too scared to really think much on that particular detail anyways.

  'Who cares?' he continued. 'You care. Because that is your job.'

  'My job?' I said incredulously. This was the first I'd heard of it. I mean, I knew this torture, this training, if you could call it that, was for something. But a job? 'What job? I don't work for anyone.'

  'Wrong.' The Winter Soldier said, his shadowed eyes dead set on mine. If looks could kill… 'You work for the good of the Soviet people. You are a loyal soldier to the Chairman, and will serve him to the best of your abilities. This role was chosen for you, and you will not fail.'

  'N-no,' I said, my voice shaking. None of it seemed real. The Winter Soldier sounded like a record, repeating words, propaganda. I wasn't going to take it. I told him, in a slightly stronger tone, 'I'm not a soldier. I don't know who you people are, but I don't belong to anyone -'

  'She's resisting again,' said a voice behind me. I tried to look over my shoulder to see who it was, but they were just out of my range. I could tell it was male, and he sounded somewhat concerned. 'I thought we fixed this already. I'll alert Strucker, make sure she's put into Re-Education program -'

  'No.' The Winter Soldier stood up. I flinched, and as he approached, I realized I was trembling. 'She does not need re-education, she needs motivation. Look again.' He gestured to the screen again. Another image appeared. 'Analyze this picture, but now with the knowledge that someone in this room is going to kill you.'

  'What?' I yelped, my eyes scanning the image frantically. 'Which one?'

  'That's for you to figure out.' The image disappeared. 'Tell me what you saw, and identify the hostile agent.'

  The memory slipped away before I could grasp the moment. I found myself standing in another room. A training room — like the one with Brandt, only this time, I was facing the Winter Soldier again.

  Except this time he wasn't trying to kill me.

  We were sparring, like Brandt and I were sparring, but this time I could tell something was different. I felt stronger. I had grown into my muscles, and my reflexes were faster.

  Just fast enough to learn from the Winter Soldier.

  Unlike Brandt, he wielded a knife — the same one he'd use on my again months later, on Tower Bridge. Not that either of us would know it at the time. What mattered was that it was real, and that I had already taken a few blows from it.

  This was later. So much later. I wasn't afraid of the Winter Soldier anymore; or, at least, I'd gotten used to his presence, knew better than to talk back. Those early lessons in the classroom were long gone. I had been successfully assimilated into the Crucible. I had proven to them I wasn't weak.

  So far.

  My left arm was primarily for defense, blocking — it was cut up, a hash of thin red slices through the skin where I'd stopped the blade. They weren't deep cuts. They hurt, but I was taught not to feel it. At this point, it was almost second nature. Even as the blood dripped to the floor, I continued on as though I weren't injured at all.

  Swipe, stab, block. It took me a moment to realize that I, too, was holding a knife. The Winter Soldier blocked it with his metal arm. It didn't bleed like mine did.

  His blows were just as real as any. I could feel bruises on my sides, my arms, my legs. Those would heal, as they always did. The cuts from the knife would turn into scars. I always recovered quickly. I didn't have a choice.

  He came for my head. I ducked under his arm. He swept my foot out, but I caught my fall, landed on my hands in a push-up, rolled over before the Winter Soldier could embed the knife in my back. I threw my own weapon at him. He backed off long enough for me to get back to my feet.

  'Enough,' he said to me in Russian, calling for the spar to end. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw dark figures in the shadows. We were being watched. Observed. By who? I couldn't remember.

  'That was impressive,' someone said from the darkness.

  More murmurs came up. But it was the Winter Soldier who gave me a short nod as he passed me, leaving. 'You could be better.'

  That was the only compliment he ever gave me.

  Other quick memories flashed. Other sparring matches, then weapons training. The Winter Soldier forcing me to hold a knife, a pistol, a rifle correctly. How to measure breathing. How to shoot between pulses.

  I never wanted to learn these things. But he didn't ask. He had his orders, and I had mine.

  The Winter Soldier wasn't always there. I never knew where he went, just that most of the time, Brandt taught me, in her usual cruel, sadistic fashion. Her laughter, her jeers echoed in my ears. But i knew they weren't training me to be an Extremis soldier. No, I was going to be something different.

  What that was, I still didn't know. But I knew better than to ask.

  Whenever the Winter Soldier did appear, it always got harder. He wasn't cruel like Brandt, he didn't seem to enjoy punishing me; he didn't seem to enjoy anything, really. I'd never seen a reaction out of him, not even when I failed (which was more often than not, but had been improving in later months). He was simply methodical, almost business-like in how to handle things. No more effort than needed, function as smoothly as possible. No fanciness, no elaboration, no indulgent. Just get it done.

  It took practice, to think and act like that. It was easier to fall into that mindset, when I didn't remember who I was.

  I was just another task for the Winter Soldier. I doubt teaching was in his repertoire of abilities. But he was the only one of his kind; the ones who made him were long dead.

  So that was it with him. Sparring, training, even lessons outside. I vaguely recalled trees, snow, following his dark form, tracking something in the wilderness.

  Why hadn't I run then? If the Crucible was stupid enough to let me outside, why hadn't I run when I had the chance?

  I didn't know. They were little more than snapshots, vignettes of other memories I still couldn't reach.

  Then I fell back into myself, into something familiar.

  Savin's face, in front of me. That crooked, awful grin.

  'You don't know when to quit, do you?' Savin asked, tilting his head as I started to squirm. His grip tightened, grew hotter. I watched as the veins down his arm began to glow. 'They told me you were quiet, but I didn't realize they meant you were mute. Can you talk at all?'

  Not this. Not this again.

  My throat was tight, and not because he was starting to choke me. My tongue was dry in my mouth.

  The words were rough, barely more than a whisper. 'Yes.'

  It hurt coming out, like ripping my heart out of my throat. I hadn't spoken in so long, I didn't even recognize my own voice, realize that I'd spoken, until after I saw the expression on Savin's face.

  He grinned viciously. 'Well, look at that. I bet that mouth of yours could do more interesting things besides talking.'

  I clenched my jaw, and despite myself, tried to shake him off. But the effort was only half-hearted, stunted by some internal force that suffocated insurrection.

  Savin's grip clenched tighter, and I let out a whimper as he started to burn me. 'What's wrong, sweetheart, you don't like me? The Crucible made you to se
rve. So what happened to that obedience they promised us?'

  I jerked in his grip. 'Not... yours.'

  'Like hell you aren't,' Savin snarled, his voice lowering as a few agents passed behind him. He drew in closer, so our faces were inches away. I could smell his breath — sulfur and brimstone. There was a faint red glow in his eyes as they bored into mine. 'If the Baron didn't want me playing with his toys, he shouldn't have picked one with such a pretty face.'

  He drew in closer, and I was frozen in fear. It was forbidden for me to attack a superior without permission, when it wasn't a part of training. Savin knew this, and he seemed to have no problem taking advantage of it.

  I thought it would end there, like it did last time. But it didn't. I seized against the wall, trying to wriggle away from him. Try to disobey and survive. But I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't.

  No no no no no

  Savin's face was inches from mine.

  'Enough, Savin.'

  Savin jumped back, caught off guard. I dropped, slumping against the wall, breathless as Savin spun to face the man who interrupted his moment.

  The Winter Soldier.

  He stood there, in the center of the hall, watching Savin with only the turn of his head. Where he had come from, I had no idea. Judging from how well he was armed, he was heading out on a mission — or had just come back from one. He regarded Savin with a cool look.

  'What, is there a problem?' Savin asked with irreverence, but I could hear the slight tremble in his voice. He was afraid of the Winter Soldier, and could only hide it behind bravado. He crossed his arms and jerked his chin up. 'I'm not against orders. This isn't your business, so go bother someone else.'

  The Winter Soldier said nothing. His face was stone. But his glare said everything.

  Savin faltered slightly, glanced to the side. It became clear that the Winter Soldier was not moving any time soon. In an effort to save face, Savin just huffed and said, 'Well, I got better shit to do anyways.'

  And with that, he stalked off, head held high. I could only watch, back still pressed against the wall. The Winter Soldier watched him go, before turning in the opposite direction.

  A flick of his head was all the indication he gave for me to follow.

  I obeyed, pulling myself out of the cold shadows, drawing up in the Winter Soldier's footsteps. I knew I was in trouble, that this was bad, but I said nothing; I had no reason to speak when no one was directly asking me a question.

  The Winter Soldier said nothing. He didn't even look behind him to make sure I was following. Just continued to walk silently through the cement halls, up two floors and past several superior officers who didn't so much as give us a second look.

  It wasn't until we were through another hallway - heading to what I remembered as an exit - alone again, with only our footsteps as an audience, when the Winter Soldier spoke again.

  'What happened back there was unacceptable,' He said, his voice slightly harder than usual. 'What excuse do you have?'

  'No excuse, sir,' my voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

  The Winter Soldier continued walking. 'What will you do if that happens again?'

  My mind went scattering, trying to find an answer. I couldn't. Embarrassed and angry with myself, I remained silent.

  Perhaps intuiting this, the Winter Soldier said, 'You fight back.'

  The answer was so out of left-field that I actually blurted, 'What?'

  It was enough to get the Winter Soldier to stop - so fast I almost ran into him. He pivoted on his heel to face me, those dead eyes locked on mine. He was several inches taller than me, and it took all my will not to cower back.

  He pressed a finger (flesh) into my collarbone. 'You fight back. Don't make me repeat myself.'

  I could only stare at him helplessly. 'But….I can't. I can't hurt him. It's against orders. I have to do what he says.'

  'It's my orders, do you understand?' He snapped, making me flinch. 'Savin is superior to you. I'm superior to him, so it's my orders you listen to. Fight back. If Savin, or anyone else, ever approaches you that way again, you have my explicit command to defend yourself.'

  'But...why?' I had to keep my jaw from hanging. This was dangerously close to treason. I couldn't believe it was the Winter Soldier, of all people, telling me this.

  The Winter Soldier blinked, appearing to translate what I just said. 'Because you are an agent of the Chairman, not a plaything to his Komitet. Do I make myself clear?'

  And just like that, thoughts of treason were gone. Oh, of course. I was an agent of the Chairman. I wouldn't half as useful if I had been compromised by the Komitet, would I?

  'Yes, sir,' I said, my gaze casting to the floor as I nodded, all confusion banished.

  'Good.' The Winter Soldier withdrew with another curt nod. Having no other orders, I continued to follow him. Ahead of us, the door to the outside gleamed closer. It looked so normal, metal with chipped green paint. It could've led anywhere.

  I turned my head ever so slightly as the Winter Soldier punched in the keycode to unlock the door. There was a camera in the upper right corner, red light blinking. The way it was angled, it wouldn't have caught our recent conversation.

  The door opened. Bitter white wind blew in, casting snowflakes down the hall. Before me, the wintry expanse of the Black Diamond mountains spread out. An army of thin gray columns awaited in the blizzard, trees whipped bare of any life.

  The Winter Soldier paused before stepping out. 'And if it happens, you will report it to me. Immediately.'

  'Yes, sir,' I nodded again. As he stepped out into the drift, I risked asking, 'W-why? What would you do?'

  A part of me already expected his answer. That it wasn't my business to know. That the Chairman would handle it. Some higher-up to Savin and the Winter Soldier, who handled conduct problems...if that was even a thing in the Crucible.

  So my surprise was understandable when I got something different.

  The Winter Soldier glanced at me over his shoulder as I followed him out the door. Something flickered in his eyes. 'I make sure it doesn't happen again.''...the hell did she come from? Why is she soaking wet?'

  'I have no idea! She just appeared, out of nowhere. She must have survived the attack on the bridge. I had to let her in.'

  They spoke in hushed whispers, for fear of being heard by the girl in the other room. It had only been a few hours since the strange American girl had shown up on her doorstep, so to speak. Julia had no idea how she found the apartment, much less got inside, but there she was, dripping wet, blood covering half her face, and muttering incoherently.

  'Well, you can't hide her here!' Frank said. He looked well, after a week of rest. His old bruises were finally starting to fade, and he'd gotten a new pair of glasses to repair the ones that had cracked. Julia wished she felt as well as he looked.

  It had been over a week since Julia had last seen Rebel in Sokovia. Back then, the teenager had appeared tall, confident, almost five years older than she actually was — a little beat-up but still somehow jovial after their victory in freeing the city of Novi Grad.

  Now? A trembling, inconsolable wreck. Julia could see her youth now, in the tears and the terror. She was bleeding from her head, her nose, at least a dozen other places along her body. There were thick black bruises around her throat, and her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. Her yellow coat was stained in what Julia hoped was just her own blood — but she knew there were probably others.

  'What the bloody hell else am I supposed to do? We can't very well go to the police, the whole city is on high alert. They'll think she's a terrorist — not to mention the fact that she's utterly goddamn terrified of anything that moves!'

  'But it's too dangerous. She's dangerous, Julia! Didn't you see the news footage? It was just like Sokovia, only a thousand times worse!'

  'I remember Sokovia! I remember her protecting us, saving lives! I didn't see anything different now. We were j
ust attacked, Frank!' Julia had no idea what happened to Rebel, couldn't believe the girl was still standing. All she knew was that Rebel had now taken refuge in the kitchen, huddled in one corner with a knife procured from one the drawers.

  Whatever had attacked her, Rebel was terrified of it coming back.

  'We need to take her to a hospital,' Frank said, after taking a deep breath to calm himself. He had been the first and only person Julia had called about this; she trusted no one else.

  The arguing was a little inconvenient, though. 'We can't.'