Chapter 32: Black Widow Versus the Winter Soldier

Inside the power plant.

Not far from the entrance.

“A special ops team has been ambushed. The enemy is just one man.”

Coulson held a tablet, his expression darkening as he watched the live feed. “Does Hydra still have someone this strong? His physical abilities are extraordinary, surpassing the limits of human training—almost identical to the data we have on Captain America from the Strategic Scientific Reserve... Wait, that face looks familiar.”

Coulson was a devoted fan of Captain America and kept a close eye on the squad the Captain once led. S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed some declassified information, including photographs of those men. The man on the screen stirred a sense of familiarity within him. The shape of the face, the build—both rang a bell. But with the mask obscuring his features, Coulson couldn’t place him, nor did he connect him to Bucky, the Captain’s lost brother-in-arms who vanished after falling from a cliff all those years ago.

Natasha glanced at the screen and instantly froze, her pupils dilating, and an uncharacteristic wariness crossing her face.

“Agent Romanoff, do you know him?” Coulson’s sharp instincts picked up her unease.

The infamous Black Widow, trained since childhood under the harshest conditions, showing caution? That was rare.

“He’s a killer that many intelligence agencies believe to be a myth. Those who do believe call him the ‘Winter Soldier.’ Some say his appearance signals the coming of winter. Others suspect ‘Winter Soldier’ is a program, not a person—that there’s more than one.”

Natasha shifted uncomfortably, adjusting her skin-tight suit and tightening her grip on her pistol. “Over the past fifty years, he’s been linked to over twenty assassinations—never once failing. I suspect he killed Howard Stark too. And now, it seems he’s working for Hydra!”

“Fifty years?” Coulson frowned. “He doesn’t look a day over forty.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has records on him, level seven access. You can request them anytime. Researchers in R&D think it’s related to cryogenic technology—he might have survived since World War II, spending most of his time in suspended animation. That tech isn’t too difficult to replicate.”

Natasha went on, “There was a time I was gravely wounded, nearly killed—you know about that, right?”

Coulson: “No, I don’t.” My clearance might be higher than yours, but you only ever take orders from the Director. You’re a ghost in S.H.I.E.L.D.—all we have are your legends, not your whereabouts.

Natasha explained, “I was escorting a nuclear physicist out of the Middle East when, near Odessa, someone blew out my tires. The car went off a cliff. That was the Winter Soldier’s handiwork. We barely escaped. He fired. I shielded the scientist—his bullet passed through me and killed my charge.”

She lifted her shirt to reveal a scar on her right side. “Goodbye, bikini season.”

“I hear there’s flawless scar removal surgery now... Well, never mind, none of us can afford it, and the Director would never reimburse us for that kind of thing,” Coulson sighed, reminded of his already-diminished year-end bonus, and his mood soured further. “How dangerous is he?”

“His hand-to-hand skills are on par with mine. He’s better with firearms, never speaks, utterly inhuman—cold and silent, which makes him even more terrifying,” Natasha replied without hesitation. “He’s physically enhanced—same tier as Red Skull and Captain America. His left arm is a high-tech prosthesis, equipped with anti-tracking technology that even R&D can’t crack, and it disrupts electromagnetic signals. I’ll take him—everyone else, support me.”

“Understood,” Coulson agreed without protest.

Physically enhanced and a Hydra agent—Coulson immediately thought of the Super Soldier program. It was likely the Winter Soldier had been injected with the serum as well.

His strength would be in the ton range, his speed comparable to a family sedan, his endurance virtually inexhaustible, his perception and reflexes monstrous, and his combat experience and skill on par with the Black Widow herself.

Coulson knew such a monster was not someone he could handle.

Wait…

Ward had mentioned that only one person had rescued Eli, someone even stronger than Agent Romanoff.

Could it have been the Winter Soldier?

He certainly had the capability.

But then, why had the Winter Soldier spared the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, instead of killing them all?

Was there some connection between him and S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Suddenly—

Gunfire erupted again, cries for help echoing through their earpieces.

“It’s not just the Winter Soldier—Hydra sent reinforcements, at least fifty! Damn it, where did all these people come from?” Coulson couldn’t help but curse.

Agent Ward’s team had already been sent for treatment and interrogation. The rapid response unit had been wiped out; their sole survivor was critically wounded and barely clinging to life.

No matter how formidable S.H.I.E.L.D. was, it couldn’t conjure reinforcements out of thin air, and the Quinjet would take time to arrive.

His longtime partner Melinda May, after the Bahrain incident, had withdrawn from field work and taken a desk job, leaving Coulson with an acute sense of vulnerability.

“You handle the others. The Winter Soldier is mine,” Natasha said, expressionless. “I’ll keep him occupied until you arrive.”

She didn’t promise to defeat him—she knew that might not be possible.

Just holding him off would be enough.

…

The Winter Soldier was fighting.

Or rather, he was slaughtering.

His face was expressionless, his gaze sharp and icy, his focus absolute.

Years of conditioning had left him capable only of receiving orders and executing them, with not a single stray thought.

Obsession bordering on the pathological.

When someone devotes themselves entirely to a single task, mastery comes in ten years. And assassination—this, he had practiced for over fifty.

Though much of that time was spent in cryogenic sleep, he’d spent the rest in training, learning countless languages, mastering hundreds of weapons, and even learning to pilot the latest Quinjet models.

Such single-minded dedication was terrifying.

To some in Hydra, he was more fearsome than Captain America himself.

He had two objectives:

First: Retrieve the Darkhold at any cost.

Second: Destroy as many S.H.I.E.L.D. assets as possible, especially Phil Coulson and Natasha Romanoff.

The first took priority.

Intel suggested someone had acquired the Darkhold, taken Eli, and entered Roxxon’s power plant—likely to conduct some urgent secret experiment.

He didn’t know the details.

But one thing was clear:

This mission would not be easy.

His adversary was likely something called the “Ghost Rider.”

The file, less than ten pages, stated Ghost Rider possessed strength and speed on par with Captain America, even greater endurance, and the ability to control hellfire.

This would be the most formidable opponent he had ever faced.

He had prepared meticulously.

But before that, he had to eliminate all who stood in his way.

He raised his weapon and fired.

No one could stand against him.

Countless hours of training had made his marksmanship superior to almost anyone on earth—he didn’t need to aim, every shot hit its mark.

Suddenly, the Winter Soldier sensed danger.

Thirty thousand volts of electricity surged through him, causing his body to convulse uncontrollably. He nearly lost control of his bowels.

A micro-explosive detonated instantly, followed by a tear gas canister.

A hail of bullets came next.

A cold, beautiful tactical knife sliced through the darkness.

A black shadow darted toward him from afar.

“Remember me, Winter Soldier?”

He recognized her—the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who had once barely escaped him...

The Winter Soldier didn’t reply. Some device in his left arm activated.

The micro-explosive was too weak to harm him.

Tear gas was useless—he’d been exposed to it hundreds of times.

The powerful electric current would’ve knocked out an ordinary man in seconds, but it only paralyzed him briefly—and didn’t affect his electromagnetically shielded left arm.

He swung his left arm with sudden force, meeting the Black Widow’s deadly sting head-on.

…

Fifty meters away.

Down a corridor after three sharp turns.

Wind swept by on both sides, but Wang suddenly stopped.

“A one-on-one between the Winter Soldier and the Black Widow?”

“Just the two of them, alone in the dark—doesn’t that seem a bit... improper?”

“They really could use a hundred-watt lightbulb!”

A neighborly, boyish smile played on Wang’s lips.

Such a scene was truly rare.

He had to see it for himself.

But he didn’t want to interrupt their little rendezvous; best to tread softly, even more softly, so as not to be discovered.

He moved forward.

Wind brushed past on both sides.

Three seconds later, he was standing in the darkness, silent and still.