18
Washington
1993.
From where she lay on the ground 4 yr Daisy looked up at the sky, nearby she could the faint sound of other children playing in the park, she had no urge to join them in play, she wanted to watch as the clouds went past her, her view of the patch of sky she was focusing on, the one patch of sky that made her feel at peace at ease.
Off in the distance a man in a suit with sunglasses was walking towards her, his expression was tired and drawn, though his suit was clean pressed and flawless, the man looked as if he had not slept fully in a long time.
“Daise.” He called to her.
Knowing the voice she sat on her elbows and turned her head towards his direction.
Unlike hundreds of times before when she saw her Father, Daisy Pierce did not smile and run towards her Father for a hug, though a part of wanted to hug she couldn’t bring herself, because inside she knew why he was here and why he walking towards where she was laying peacefully on the ground in the school playground.
“Daisy, Princess.” Alexander Pierce said in a shaken sad voice in front of her as she glanced up at him. “I need to tell you something…” Inhaling for a moment his knelt down next to her, so he was to her eye level. It was then young Daisy saw, behind her Father’s aviator sunglasses, the red puffiness of his eyes and the blotchy patches around them. Exhaling Pierce went to continue but instead his lip started to shake as he held back his tears, looking at his daughter then made the pain of his loss flood back into his heart again. Looking at her Father with his sad still face she reached over and touch his right hand that was by his side as he knelt down near her. She intertwined their fingers and didn’t say a word.
That moment Alexander Pierce knew he didn’t have to say anything else to his young daughter, that she already knew and probably knew before he had even arrived.
Both Father and daughter looked at each other unified in their silent grief for the loss of Daisy’s mother and for Pierce wife, the simple sad fact that this one person they both loved so fully was now gone from their lives forever, left but both unable to say anything, but to just look sadly at each other on what was other a normal sunny autumn day in park.
Moscow - Russia.
4,666.36 miles From New York.
The snow in Moscow had come months ago and had stayed, the snow was like a permanent resident that no-one talked about or paid to much attention to, there had been no let up with it leaving and giving relief to the those that lived there, though not as heavy and as harsh as it had been in previous years it took a person with a good amount of resistance to cold to pay no attention to the snow, which came with knowing what to wear and to live in the cold, or surviving and trying your best to stay warm. Moscow had seen many changed over the last ten years but architecturally the city was the same, the snow covered city with its beautiful candy coloured old churches, cathedrals clock towers around the Red square made for a impressive christmas card image to behold. But further away from the Red Square, far enough to find from the Red Square and with buildings around it seem dull and simple compared, though themed to blend in with it surround and easy enough for anyone with the correct knowledge to find.
Away from the keen tourist, the local and visitors from nearby Moscow that evening was relatively busy, the week before Christmas was in the air, for the city that still sang with a history of communism and struggles internally for difference large and small, Moscow was in preparation for christmas, like everyone else in the world, everything was normal.
Facing to where the lights shone on the impressive Moscow cathedrals ahead of in the Red square a man looked at it with pained angered look, he stared at it having a flicker of a memory of something but not managing to hold on to it. Biting his lip he clenched his fist and begun to walk away, almost night had fallen and but the streets were still busy, though a tourist aspect of Russia had changed over the last 2 decades from progressively busier, to filtering out from the variable new fears instilled in people of the new dangers and threats in Russia, the man huddled up in a thick black modern military style coat paid no attention to anyone. Russia, no matter the time of the year, would always draw those who wished to drink, gamble and risk their lives for what they would deem living on the edge, in all truth the centre of Moscow hadn’t changed for the last hundred years, even in the days of the Tsars, the rich and poor divide before communism had centralised the divide of elitist communism and then allowed it to continued it though within different means and ways.
Russia to this man, held memories that he wished to forgot, but reasons he could’t understand Russia was a place that held as many secrets as it did answers. This was the first time, since his new found memory had begun returning, that he had come to Moscow, willing and with a plan.
Continuing to walk away from the Red Square towards the lower part of Tverskaya the buildings around him remained grand and of classic Russian style but become less cared for and looked after, the walls were of the buildings cracked and caked in random layering of street graffiti, holding no artistic beautiful other than some use of killing time and showing their gang or name symbols. The evening was on just starting, so the streets were beginning to fizzle out as people made their ways home, cars became less and less around where the man walked down the back streets. Facing ahead the man walked begun to walk towards three young Moscowian man, wrapped up as much the man but there scarves looser and their cheeks a rosier shade of red and with a merrier walk in their step than the man.
Ignoring them as his shoulders brushed past them the young man didn’t stop when one of the three man hissed a Russian curse word at him, which made him stop dead in his tracks. Not even turning around to face them the man gave a chuckle and spoke to them in Russian.
“Do not start with me young ones.”
Of the three the tallest stepped forward and jutted up his head mockingly, placing his hands in his pockets the boy gave a smile. “Why what you going to-“
Before he could finish the man had moved back towards the young boys, pushed the cocky one up against the wall, pulled him by his shoulder and was glaring at him.
Calmly and cooly he looked at the now shocked and levitating boy and said. “Go back to your homes and don’t EVER pick on any random people on the street again. Understand?” He gave the young man’s shoulder a squeeze with which a small yelp came out of his mouth,
Both of the young man’s friends stood frozen watching what was happening in front of them.
“Okay.” The man replied quickly after his yelp.
With that, the man left go of the young man’s shoulder and allowed him to slide down the wall on to his backside. Saying no more, he turned and walked away back on his journey. The three young man stayed where they were for half a second before darting off in the other direction as fast as their feet could carry them.
Crouched on the floor near a radiator, hands tied together, with a thick warm duvet covering her shoulders and her body, Daisy had to admit she felt almost comfortable enough to sleep…if wasn’t for her hands tied together. On her lap she was holding a copy of a book she had found under a piece of the furniture, it was all in Russian and she couldn’t understand a single word or letter but she liked holding it and just looking at it, as it was far more interesting than simply looked at the peeling pale blue wall and ceiling and the mix and match sparse 80s furniture in the windowless room/apartment she was currently in.
Letting out a sign, she closed the book and looked up at the ceiling, the whole day she had been in their she hadn’t heard a single person elsewhere in the building, having arrived there in the night she didn’t know where she was, except definitely still in Russia and still with her kidnapper.
Then the door opened and her kidnapper walked in, his heavy boots bring in the cold slushy snow with him.
Looking at him as he came and sat down with his massive coat on the old overused sofa across from her she said nothing at first, just looked at him. In her mind she rolled with the thought of asking something civil or maybe asking if he was going to release her yet, instead she settled for the only thing she knew wouldn't cause any answer or effect him in any way.
“Hey.”
Again, there was silence for a moment. His eyes looked down at her, with a unreadable face but not a threatening one.
Daisy gave her fingers a little stretch, letting them crack a little but sounding louder because the total silence, not bothering to meet his gaze, knowing full well that there was no beating in an eye-contest and that it really just got her nowhere.
“They weren’t people.”
Out of nowhere her kidnapper spoke.
Lifting her head up she looked at him. “Pardon.”
Eyes meeting hers and his voice controlled and even, as if talking wasn’t enjoyable.
“Those things that we blew up yesterday, they weren’t people.”
Narrowing her eyes and now understand what he was talking about. “Were they just soldiers and therefore not people?”
“No.” He said sharply to her, a hint of anger. “They were things created by Hydra, not yet finished, still being worked on.”
“Sooo…” Daisy frowned. “Robots? Really…Hydra has whole army of…?”
“Had.” He corrected her. “Destroyed now, no longer a threat.”
“Oh.” Daisy breathed, the frown still on her face.
Again silence.
Daisy sat thinking and just as a thought entered into her head and she opened her mouth to speak her kidnapper interjected and said. “I am not lying. Think, did you see any blood and did any try to run?”
“No…they didn’t.” Daisy answered. “But why are you telling me this?”
“You didn't kill any humans...they weren't humans." He replied, his blue eyes looked sternly at her, as if he wanted her to truly understand what he was saying. For a moment they held each-other's gaze and it then she saw something in his eyes she hadn't seen before, pain, not anger, not resentment, but pain, a pain that sat on his shoulders and a pain he carried with him, a pain almost as heavy as his metal arm and as she saw in his eyes she knew that his telling her this, was his way of trying to ensure that whatever pain he felt, that she didn't feel even an inch of pain that he did. She felt grateful to him then but even though she wanted to tell him, she simply couldn't. Instead she lowered her head and leaned back against the wall, trying to get more comfortable again.