The Silver Soldier

VIII

There are six jeeps sitting beside the mess hall, men standing around them.

Men with guns.

Big guns.

The five of us slow down ducking behind a group of shrubs.

"Who are they?" Laura asks, kneeling.

"Don't know..." I peer through the leaves and branches, watching Dr Fridrik talk to a man, presumably the one in charge. "They're Russian, that's for sure. They seem to know what they're doing, so I'm guessing they're either the government or..." a realization dawns on me, something Fridrik had said when he brought me here.

We will only be permitted to leave the island if we get an assignment. Someone to kill.

"Or what?" Gabe asks, turning to look at me.

"Or it's Hydra." I whisper, not particularly worried that I'll be heard. I just can't make my voice any louder. "On my count, we're going to sneak around back, to the shooting range. Okay?" I say, only loud enough for the four of them to hear. They watch me as I wait, searching for the right time. The men with the guns are watching everything, there is no way we'll make it without being seen.

I hold up one finger. Then I raise the second, as soon as the guards look away, I motion for them to go. We stay low, moving quickly and silently along the grassy yard. Just as the men turn back to where we had been, we are already out of sight.

Two years ago, I would have been sweating buckets after a run like that, but thanks to excessive training and determination, I'm not even breathing heavy. "They're here for one us." I say, grabbing my friend's attention. "So why don't we show them who they're dealing with."

Ten minutes later, the five of us are positioned around the group, hidden in the shadows, the trees. I can hear everything Fridrik and the man in charge are saying. I can also see the other four of my friends, but only because I knew exactly where they would be.

"These five are the best I've trained so far, Carson, they work incredibly well as a team." I hear Dr. Fridrik tell the man, Carson, both speaking in Russian.

"Which one is your best?" Carson replies, I notice now that he has greying, splotchy hair, and equally grey eyes. Yet despite his appearance, I can tell he isn't a weak old man.

Fridrik pauses. "There is one that stands out, but I wouldn't underestimate the others, they are just as deadly." He doesn't give the man a chance to speak. "I would strongly advise you to take them all, they are by far the most skilled agents I've seen. And that says a lot coming from me."

"We need one, for now."

Fridrik nods. "Very well." He puts his hands behind his back, making a system of gestures. He knew I would be here. I watch the movements, instantly knowing what he's saying. He focuses once more on Carson. "What skills are you looking for? What type of assignment."

"He or she will be acting as a highschool student in America." He says. "They will need to be able to speak fluent English without an accent. We need a sharp shooter, they will be asked to make a shot from a range of 1 to 1.5 miles."

"Anything else?"

Carson shrugs. "Preferably academically inclined."

"I see." Fridrik makes another hand gesture. "I have one for you, but he tends to be... creative."

"Creative?"

Fridrik nods, fighting a grin. "You will see." He glances around, mentally pinpointing the positions of each of my friends. He takes a deep inhale, walking naturally around Carson so that the man turns as well, determined to keep his eye on Fridrik. Soon, Carson's back is to me. "Vyjsť." Fridrik orders in Slovak.

Come out.

I watch as Jack drops from a tree, landing silently on the grass. Laura comes out from behind one of the jeeps, walking calmly past the guards, seemingly unarmed. If you knew her, you would know that is not true. Gabe reveals his position on the roof, lifting his long-range rifle and making his way down. And lastly, Colton steps out of the shadows of the building, coming into the light.

The man in charge goes pale.

Jack, Laura, Gabe and Colton walk up to them, coming to stand quietly behind Fridrik. "And the fifth?" The man asks, his eyes drifting over the four young men, and woman, before him. His gaze lingers for a moment too long on Laura. I know that Jack, Gabe and Colton noticed just as I had.

But we all know Laura can hold her own. We don't need to defend her.

She raises her chin a bit, Carson scowls and looks away.

"Like I said." Fridrik says. "He's creative."

"What, exactly, is your definition of creative, Doctor?"

I lay my hand on the gun on my waist, slowly wrapping my fingers around the hilt. "Like I said, Carson," Fridrik says, "you're about to find out."

Before the man has time to process Fridrik's words, I have the muzzle of my gun pressed to his temple. He instantly freezes in place. My hand steady, I pull down my mask, revealing my face. I had been dressed as a guard, standing barely six feet away from him the whole time. I had knocked out one of the guards ten minutes ago and had taken his uniform.

Carson hesitantly turns to look at me.

"Boo." I grin, taking the firearm from his head. I flip the gun in my hand, holding it out to him. With his cheeks still flushed of colour, he takes it.

"This one will do just fine." He decides after a moment, his voice slightly shaken. He looks at me, his eyes flashing with an unfamiliar emotion before he speaks in english. "Tell me, son, what is your favourite method of torture?"

Damn.

No lead up, no warning. This man is right to the point. I glance at Fridrik, he gives a short nod. Say exactly what you think this man wants to hear. Carson is a member of Hydra, a killer with no remorse, my answer needs to be just - if not more - psychotic than he would expect. 

"That depends on what I would be trying to achieve." I explain, leaving a pause for dramatic effect. I've always loved dramatic effect. "If I am getting information, I would threaten to take their fingers, ears, fingernails. But if my objective were to inflict pain, I would start with their skin."

"The skin?" Carson now seems intrigued.

Good.

"Yes sir. Their skin." I meet his eyes. "I would start with the face, sir, using a dull knife to cut the corners of their mouth, upwards towards the ear. I would then leave them for an hour in front of a mirror, to force them to admire my work as the adrenaline wears off." I pause once more, an idea forming. "Sir, have you ever hear of a Blood Eagle?"

He shakes his head. "Feel free to explain."

"It's a torture method used by the vikings, they would tear the victims ribcage out through their back, pulling the skin along with it to create the image of wing; like an eagle. But the problem with this is that the victims die quickly due to blood loss." I say. "That is why when I get the chance to try it out for myself, I will do things... differently."

"In what way?" For some reason, he seems proud of my answer. 

I smile at him. "Let's hope you never find out."