2012-07-06 Winter Comes Early to NYC

It's lightly raining in New York, but the storm is passing, and the weather is not as bad as it was tonight. There's all kinds of New York traffic tonight: through the neighborhoods, over the bridge, and here in Brooklyn. But some of the side streets are as empty and lonely as any country road. This is where two rather suspicious looking men stand. There in the shadows, they smoke, but then step out and look down the dim, moonlit street.

The men are apparently twins and one of them looks rather nervous, frowning as he steps up the narrow street to look out on the main drag. He glances back and forth at the traffic, the people, and the other things present there, then quickly darts back to his brother. He might not be mistaken for an assassin, since the two men are wearing nice suits, with bright red ties. But one of them picks up a sniper rifle off the ground and hands it to his brother, then takes another for himself. He motions to a nearby ladder to the roof and begins to climb. Even more shadows are on the roof.

Usually rumors and such are ignored by Sharon who allows the higher-ups decide what need to be followed up on or can be left for other agencies to do with as they wish but this... this is something that she just could not leave alone. There's no reason as to why - no obvious clues or signs - but there's something that niggles and soon nags until she finds herself looking to the sole person she knows who might want to get involved with this along side of her.

It took them awhile to find a starting point since there really were no clues to go by but eventually, somehow, it was decided that they should start in Brooklyn where Sharon is as well as Steve. She's armed but out of uniform, dressed casually with a small pistol concealed at the small of her back, the shape of it hidden under a summer-light jacket.

"Nice night for a walk, hmmm," she asks while leaning in close to her compatriot, her voice held at a conversational volume.

He doesn't like this. He doesn't like the idea of sneaking around his own neighborhood in the middle of the night to find Russian assassins. He doesn't like the idea of Russian assassins in his neighborhood. But Steve Rogers, sometimes called Captain America, does indeed like the idea of rooting them out. He's dressed, as far as can be told with ease, in dark colors: dark blue slacks of some kind and a black leather jacket zipped over his chest.

Who this Winter Soldier is he doesn't know, not exactly. The dossiers are unclear and there are no good pictures. Rumors, mostly. He's not averse to putting those to rest. But at the moment, he just looks like a blond man with his arm around the lady next to him, a pleasant smile on his face as his watchful eyes flick from window to door to roof. "Nothing like a summer night in Brooklyn," he says softly. "All we need is a nice rooftop garden with a view to make it perfect. Say, at about ten o'clock?" And Sharon really ought to be able to get *that* code.

Steve Rogers aka Captain America has the right to feel uneasy in his own neighborhood. Russians have wormed their way into New York and seem at home operating there on the shadowy roof. They talk to each other as they put on some high-powered goggles. They speak to each other in Russian as they load their rifles. He doesn't move to the edge of the roof and might not be seen except by a keen eye.

The passing rain has cooled the hot night. As Sharon and Steve walkity walk down the street, a man who stands on the side approaches them. He is wearing a green trenchcoat that looks like it is made for the rain, or fishing in a storm. He grabs for Sharon and tries to pull her by the collar, as well as the arm back into the alleyway right behind him. The mysterious coated man has noted Steve Rogers too, instead trying to surprise him with a boot aimed at his side. He attempts to boot Steve Rogers back while pulling at Sharon, drawing a handgun to reinforce his intentions.

Sharon's glance to ten o'clock comes a bit too late. The instinct to fight has been honed in her, all her training quick to come to the surface in no time at all. She quells it for a moment, however, tempering it with prudence instead of acting out in what might be considered a knee-jerk reaction. As Steve's kicked at she winces, knowing he should be alright if it does make contact doing nothing to keep the grimace from blossoming upon her face.

"Steve..." she cries out, adding a warble to her voice to try and make it sound like she's frightened, a ruse. Hopefully it'll lull the snatcher into a false sense that he snagged a helpless civilian and distract him so she can reach behind her for her gun.

Ah. Inevitable, maybe. And all terrified, right? Obviously, as he crumples to the ground with a cry. "Don't hurt her!" Steve's usual baritone is a wavering tenor now. The man who doesn't like to lie can nevertheless act. And the alley is nice and dark, isn't it?

"We don't want any trouble," he continues, rising on one knee and slowly lifting his hands, urging the other two further into the darkness, crowding them into the alley. The gun he brought with him? Suddenly in his hand. Suddenly pressed against the side of the man in the coat in the shadows of the Brooklyn night.

"We really, really don't want any trouble," he repeats, his voice much more his own.

The hooded man has been waiting expressly for someone like Sharon to walk by. It's just his luck that he has encountered her. He is attempting to twist her arm behind her as she calls out, "You'll have to put your date on hold agent," he tells her, continuing to pull on her. He jabs the gun at her, "I need your help, Agent 13. Please...I..." he begins to explain, but then holds back as Steve jabs a gun of his own. "Don't do that. I don't want to do it this way. But I've got no other choice..." he says almost desperately. He cocks the gun pressed at Sharon, "Drop the gun," he tells Steve.

This is so... strange. Surreal. It's like something out of those spy movies, isn't it? The struggling stops when the sound of the gun being cocked reaches her ears, the tension the situation is bringing into being etching deep lines along her brow. "If you want my help all you need to do is ask," she hisses, her throat too tight to allow her voice to come out in anything but. "First things first. Who the hell are you?"

A quick glance is given to Steve and she adds quietly, "If we promise not to do anything will you please let me go? This isn't exactly comfortable, you know?" The position her arm is in has joints aching already. Sure, she could get out of it but she doesn't want to risk a gunfight here. Not when innocent people might happen along and get hurt.

"Grabbing people and dragging them into alleys. Not step one in How To Make Friends And Influence People." Steve's hand continues to grip his weapon, but he gives a slow shake of his head. "You don't want violence. I don't want violence. Sounds like we're all looking for the same thing. So put the safety back on and let the lady go, and I'll put the safety on mine, and on the count of three, everyone lowers his weapon, all right? One. Two. Three." How's this going to go?

Does the man have a pause in his voice like Bucky? "Cap! We've got it made! Great work!" Bucky lets out with a grin, watching as Captain America disposes of the last German. It is World War II and the duo have been ambushing Germans. Bucky and Captain America shake hands like the close partners they are and make plans to head back to base after that successful mission.

The hooded man turns his head just slightly, "Great work," he tells Steve with inevitability that reminds him of when the two of them got the drop on the Germans. "There are two Russians on the roof who have wired their cars with explosives up the street. They're going to use an explosion as a distraction to get the jump on me. And kill me. And probably lots of innocent people in the process," he tells them. He then releases Sharon and raises his gun. Apparently, he is now at their mercy. "Help me."

The grasp is shrugged off even as she's released. Sharon glares at the man before rejoining Steve, moving to stand on his off side in case he winds up needing to move or winds up having to use his gun despite the stranger's shifts in demeanor. Listening, she looks between him and then Steve himself, brow knitting.

She's not sure what to say at the moment so remains quiet but the expression she now bears should say it for her. They have /got/ to do something about that explosive as well as try to deal with the Russians.

There's a sudden freeze in Steve's blood. Bucky is holding onto his hand. There's a hell of a drop down, down, down into the snowy ravine below him. He can smell the snow, feel the freezing air and the tension in his arm. He's strong. Bucky's strong. Together they should be strong enough, but he can feel the slip, he can see his friend falling. Falling into darkness, and the war he was fighting threatens to swallow him whole.

A sharp shake of his head. Steve glances around them, silent for a long moment before he nods. "Okay. Agent 13, how good are you at defusing explosives? And what do we call you?" Because Bucky is long gone. Dead somewhere in Eastern Europe with nothing but snow and mountains for a grave.

Reluctantly, the hooded man keeps away from Steve, as if embarrassed. "I don't expect you to believe me, but I used the same tactic a few months ago. Not much time now," he tells them. He raises his chin and adds, "I am the Winter Soldier. Now...apparently without a country. Or friends," he says with a downtrodded resolve, then frowns, "Nikolai and Sergei always start their operations at the top of the hour. We don't have much time," he says, pointing to the roof ladder and the way up.

Now isn't time for a joke but Sharon can't help but to make one anyhow to try and liven the mood a bit, unknowing as to what is passing between the others. "Well... I got this slight tic but I'm sure it won't hinder me in the least..." The joshing's halted immediately as she darts a glance towards the Winter Soldier, her brow knitting. "We better hurry then." Without waiting, Sharon bolts ahead, dashing towards where the rigged cars are.

There's a flash of white teeth in the darkness as Steve cracks a grin. "I'm sure it's nothing," he says. He looks to this Winter Soldier again, stepping closer to him and speaking quietly: "This might be a trick. But sometimes... sometimes you have to take a chance. I'm going to take one on you. You." He points to the Winter Soldier. "Get to a good vantage point and cover us. Nikolai and Sergei notice us, start to draw? Make sure their attention gets drawn away. However you can. We pull this off and we all get out of here alive." And then he's turning away, following Agent 13 and making his way toward those wired cars.

Glancing up at the buildings, Steve might be able to make out The Winter Soldier's masked face finally under the green hood. "I can hit them from 50 yards," he promises, "But remember, I can only hit one at a time, so stay under cover. Oh by the way, the trunk of two green El Caminos," he reminds them. He thumbs toward the end of the alleyway. Hopping up onto the ladder on the adjacent building, he starts to climb to get in a good position to aim at the Russians.

Sharon doesn't have a bomb defusing kit upon her, meaning she's going to have to improvise. The cars are approached after the spint but she has no time to catch her breath. The explosive device is located after some searching and she begins her work. "Blue... red... green. Ugh. This is bullshit," she grumps to herself. Why can't the bad guys all get together and agree on using a singluar type of bomb? Would make the good guys' lives so much easier.

Steve, too, could be happier. He's read the manuals, yes, and he's even run into bombs before. Most of them were from about seventy years ago. The principles are still sound, and as he crouches in the darkness under the green El Camino he draws a knife from his boot and squints. Ah. Wires. You can make wires any color you want. You just have to recognize... where... they... go. *SNIP*

Inside the trunk are some bombs with wires and the standard explosive gear. As Sharon pops the trunk to look things over and get to work, The Winter Soldier sets up and narrows his eyes at the Russians. They notice the duo messing with their El Caminos and poise their sniping rifles to fire. The Winter Soldier takes note and a small noiseless bullet takes out Nikolai. With a start, Sergei rolls to the side and ducks behind a large ventilator. "I got you...come on...I got you..." he mutters, but frowns as Sergei pats himself down to find the detonator and smiles as he takes it out. The Winter Soldier uses the opportunity to take him out from a new angle.

If she knew they were about to get in over their heads Sharon would hurry. As it is she's already working as fast as she dares, using a piece of broken glass found in the gutter in place of a knife. She /thinks/ she finds the right wire and goes to work, sawing away at it. The glass is sharp all around, unfortunately, and soon her fingers start to bleed. Good thing she's almost got that wire freed.

This is why we carry knives with us, Agent 13. Everywhere we go that doesn't have metal detectors. The tip of Steve Rogers's tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth as he ponders intensely, following the wires one by one and... *SNIP* Excellent. That should do it. Trusting that Sharon has done her part, he turns his gaze back up to the sniper's rest. Have they seen them? Is someone drawing a bead on his head right now?

Crossing over to the other building, The Winter Soldier draws his sidearm and turns over Nikolai, who is apparently still alive. Hey how about that. "Sorry Nikolai," he tells the man, who suddenly comes alive and reaches for his gun. After a struggle, The Winter Soldier kicks at him and fires. He frowns, having not expected such a reaction.

"Done..." The glass is thrown away, it only then that the sting starts to hit, causing Sharon to look at her hand. "Oh... huh." It looks like someone has a trip to the infirmary in her future. "Think he..." Blinking, she looks up, frowning. "I guess we can't just go home, huh?"

He heard the silenced *paff* of the gunshot. It slows the bullet. It's probably why they aren't red paste right now. Steve looks up toward the former snipers' nest and shakes his head once to Sharon. "Agent 13," he says, "I don't think we're going to be seeing home for a while yet." He checks to see that his gun is still tucked into the back of his trousers and slips into the darkness, creeping along the walls until he reaches an alley where he can climb to the top of the building. It's not over yet

Turning away from Nikolai, The Winter Soldier checks to make sure Sergei is dead and the detonator is disposed of. Afterward, he pockets some markings off of Sergei and turns to see Steve come up the ladder, "I will contact you again. There will be others. But now I have to go," he tells him, "Thank you.'

Looking down on the dead Sergei, The Winter Soldier takes something from his body and stands up as Steve comes up the ladder to find him. "I thought I might be able to make off before you came," he tells him, "I have to get out of here. There will be others," he explains to him.

As Steve reaches the roof and sees the dead Sergei and Nicholai at their feet, he glances between them and raises a hand. "You need to get out of here," he says. "But you can't do it alone. I've known someone before in exactly your position. I was able to help that person. I can get you out of here and I can get you protection from your former allies, but you need to come with me now." He speaks as he walks across the roof, pausing as the moonlight illuminates his face. As he tries to see past the mask the other man is wearing. He extends his hand, his eyes bright in the pale light. "You don't have to be alone, soldier."

Pocketing his revolver, The Winter Soldier considers his options at the moment, "I am alone. This is what they've made me," he tells Steve. "But I may last another year or another week. I know who they are going to send. They are a powerful enemy. They controlled my every move for years, you see. They are everything and made me who I am," he explains, "What can you do? Offer me the same four walls and the same indoctrinated General?" he asks. He grabs Steve's hand with a stern grip, "Well?"

"To start? A warm place to sleep. People who will listen to what you have to say. People who might just be willing to help you disappear off their radar entirely. Tonight's work won't be going unnoticed. And maybe," Steve says, "//hopefully//, the chance to be not who someone else says you are but who you decide to be." He grips the man's hand tightly, meeting his gaze with a curious intensity. He smiles. "We're big on that sort of thing here, son. Welcome to America."