III: The Soldier and the Fairy Queen: Red Eve

XX: The Arrest

A/N:
Feburary 26th, 2017- Ten days after Sunny's abduction
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The Soldier pulled her red hood over her head and followed the reporter, carrying a microphone. It hadn't been that hard to shadow the reporter and his crew into the White House. She'd gone through security with no problems, showing them her fake ID.

She took a deep breath, reciting her mission to herself, "Infiltrate the White House, avoid unnecessary casualties, get captured, capture the Winter Soldier. Await extraction and transportation to the compound." Undercover soldiers were already waiting in Virginia for her. She reached up and rubbed her left shoulder absent-mindedly. She had a tattoo there. She didn't know where she'd gotten it.

She wondered why the woman thought the Winter Soldier was going to come to her after she was arrested. The Soldier hadn't questioned it at the time, but now she considered it. He might come to kill his replacement. But that seemed stupid in light of the fact that he was a wanted fugitive according to her handler.

She clasped the microphone holder with both hands and turned her attention to the Secret Service agent leading the group down the lavishly decorated hallways of the House. Now was the time. She looked down to make sure her long, red parka covered her empty holsters and sheaths. She nudged the man beside her and motioned for him to grab her microphone. "I gotta go to the bathroom," she whispered, ridding her voice of her accent.

The man grimaced and grabbed her microphone in the hand that wasn't holding his own, "Hurry up."

"Thanks. I'll be back," the Soldier smiled at the man and tapped one of the Secret Service agents. "Can you show me to the restroom, sir?" She smiled sweetly at the agent, it hurt her cheeks, but she ignored it.

The agent looked down at her for a moment, then turned down a hallway. The Soldier followed the man until the rest of the group was out of sight. The Soldier saw a little side table with a statuette of Dwight D. Eisenhower. An idea sparked in the back of her mind. She eyed the agent, making sure his broad back was still turned.

Faster than a snake, she grabbed the heavy figurine and thrust it at the agent's head. The agent, at that moment, was turning his head to look back at her. It caught his temple and he dropped heavily to the ground. The Soldier grasped his wrist and checked for a pulse. It was there, and strong. He probably wasn't going to be out for very long.

The Soldier listened to the House. She looked up and winked at the camera in the corner of the hallway. She investigated the open door the agent had stopped at. It led to a bathroom with beautiful pea-green walls. She turned on the sink and washed the make-up off of her face, revealing the angry red burn lines on her forehead and cheekbone. She didn't what she'd gotten those from either. She stripped off her parka and checked that she didn't have any weapons on her. She threw the parka over the toilet, then bended over to retrieve the lipstick out of the pocket.

She puckered her lips, listening to the sound of feet baraging down the hallway. The Soldier colored her lips blood-red and smiled at her reflection. She put the golden tube in the pocket of her pants, and dashed out of the bathroom.

Her gaze was met with five Secret Service agents in dark uniforms barrelling down the hallway. The Soldier glanced down at their fallen comrade and saw that he was stirring. She turned tail and sprinted. Might as well make it a fun game of cat and mouse before she surrendered.

She flew past decorations on side tables and knocked them down as she passed. The Soldier toppled a huge orange vase and heard it shatter behind her. That's when the first bullet whizzed past her head. She took an abrupt right turn and headed for where she knew the group was conducting an interview with the president.

She heard someone behind her reprimanding whoever had fired, "Stop, you dumba**! There's people in the building!"

The Soldier risked a backward glance. There was eight men now, including the one she had knocked out. She raced forward and opened the door in front of her. She burst into the room. A man was sitting at the beautiful desk in the room. Graying dark hair crowned his head and a pair of glasses were perched on the end of his nose, threatening to fall off. His desk was surrounded by the group that she'd come in with.

The Soldier nodded to the man, shaking from adrenaline, "Fine morning, isn't it, Mr. President?"

The man smiled, keeping his composure well, "Ah, yes it is. A bit too cold for my liking, though."

A heavy burden locked onto her back, making her fall to her stomach. She stilled, the wind knocked out of her. When she regained usage of her lungs, she threw off the man while another tried to swing at her. The Soldier leaned back and kneed him in the groin. He fell with a great thump.

Someone grabbed her from behind. She swung her skull back into his nose and mouth, connecting with a wonderful crack. The man would probably lose a tooth or two. He loosened her grip on him and she flashed a sassy smirk at the cameraman, who's camera was focused on her now. She hoped she'd given them a good show.

She took one step out of the melee before a walking brick wall slammed into her like a train going eighty kilometers per hour.