As the rays of the sun begin to seep through the windows of the bedroom, my eyes flutter open as I'm greeted with the sounds of car horns and birds chirping. Sitting up, I stretch my arms out and take a deep breath, remembering my actions of the night before as I looked at my arm. The wounds scabbed over, but I knew that it was bound to happen sooner or later. Today is going to be different. The room was freezing as I threw the blanket off of my body, but before I even thought about moving, I grab the blanket and wrap it around my body and walking over to the window. From here, the world seems so small and fragile. The sun shines over the buildings, casting shadows on the ground below, and somewhere inside me, I feel at peace.

I'm going to live my life today. For the first time in a long time, I can be free and not be under orders from an organization. But I can't forget that I have to be aware of my surroundings because Winter could be anywhere. That's not the point of today. I turn around, and run over to the walk in closet that I raided last night for something to wear (which I was lucky to find women's clothing), and I'm shocked how an individual can own this much clothing. I've been so adjusted to my uniform that I practically lived in it. It's the only thing I find familiar. As I search the closet, I manage to find a simple, black jacket, a grey t-shirt, dark blue jeans, undergarments and white tennis shoes. Quickly, I strip out of my pajamas and put on the new outfit for today. A slight feeling of excitement starts to form in my chest before it dissipates again. One day.

"Red, stay calm today, okay?" I say to myself, knowing that at any point, something can trigger the dangerous monster inside.

Walking out into the living area, I immediately go straight to the weapons that lay on the coffee table. By reaction, I grab my gun, putting it behind my back, in the waistband of my jeans, and the two knives in their cases and into the pockets of the jacket. The crossbow and its arrows still lay on the table, calling out to me, but I'd look too out of place and dangerous if I bought them out in a big city as Washington, D.C. is. For precautions, I shove the rest of my weapons and my uniform underneath couch, praying that they'll still be there when I get back.

But before I walk out the door, I saw a pair of sunglasses on the counter and I grab them and put them on. Practically, I'm stealing someone else's clothing, home, and now, their sunglasses, but do I care? No, not at all. At least, it's for a good cause. The moment I open the door, the cool, crisp air consumes my body and I shut the door behind me and look around me, hoping to not see him standing there. I sigh in relief, knowing that I'm safe. As I reach the sidewalk, a woman greets me with a small "hello" with a smile as she passes me by, and it completely takes me by surprise because human interaction isn't something I excel, but I shoot her a smile back, returning the kind gesture. So, maybe being here in the States isn't so bad after all.

***

   
After roaming around the city for an hour or so, I stumble upon a little coffee shop, filled with people who are engaged in conversation. Walking in, I find a small table set for two in the middle of the shop, and I sit down and take a look around at my surroundings. If you haven't noticed, my interacting skill aren't great and I don't know how to start a conversation with someone I don't even know. But worse case scenario, I'll just speak in another language to freak them out. I always have a plan. Looking above me, I find a moving picture before realizing that it's a television and I mentally smack myself for being so uneducated, and some sort of news channel is being broadcasted.

"...Last night, the bodies of five men were found brutally murdered in the alley next to Allen's Barber Shop. This crime was committed by a ruthless individual that has no sympathy for other. An unknown source informed us that this could be the work of the infamous assassin named the Red Ghost," the news reporter informs the public and I can barely process what he's saying.

Damn you, Alexander Pierce. You've messed with the wrong assassin!

In a place full of innocent civilians, I try my hardest to keep my composure and I go back to listening to the news report.

"She's been linked to over thirty assassinations in the past fifteen years. The Red Ghost is a dangerous individual and everyone should keep safe while the authorities are out to find here. Do not, under any circumstances, encounter her. She is a threat to all of us..." and the news keeps going on about me, and I can't stand to be in this room for another minute.

Calmly, I stand up from my chair, and walk out of there without making a scene. I'm close to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum that I heard people around me talking about. So without a doubt, I start walking in the direction of the museum, in hopes that I won't get caught in the process, but that's when I realize something. The authorities don't have any ideas on what I look like. Unless the "unknown source" told them otherwise, but other than that, I have nothing. My heart begins to race as I'm walking down the sidewalk. With every face that passes me by, I feel like they're staring at me like they know exactly who I am and all the horrors I've caused this planet.

After five minutes, I finally arrive at the museum, and to be completely honest, I don't know how coming here is supposed help anything. Jogging up the steps of the museum, I stop at the top, trying to get familiar with my surroundings as people pass me by, not recognizing who I am. I take a deep breath before entering the museum, to be greeted with lines of people trying to get through metal detectors. Shit. I have to find a way to get in without getting caught with the weapons that I have in my possession. Stepping out of the line, I walk to the end of the row of detectors, hoping there would be a space in between to get through. And in luck, there is a way. Looking around, I make sure the security guards aren't looking and slip past the metal detectors with ease. The museum simply amazes me because of the artifacts that they have, and some actually seem quite familiar to me. I walk further in, blending in with the sea of people, and my attention is drawn to a particular exhibit. The Captain America Exhibit. Over the years, I've heard the stories about this guy, and I know for a fact Hydra wanted him dead because of what happened during World War ll or something of that nature; I don't really remember. What I do know is that the Winter Soldier has a mission to kill him. I walk towards to exhibit, finding that it's not as crowded as I thought it would be.

It's weird to see how the museum has an entire section just dedicated to the super soldier. As I'm looking around, I'm drawn to the memorial they have for a soldier named James Buchanan Barnes; the best friend of Steve Rogers. I don't know why, but in a way, he and Winter could be the same person, but that wouldn't make any sense because James is dead and Winter is alive. I don't put much thought into it before I hear two voices behind me.

"Have you ever heard of the Red Ghost before, Nat?" the voice questions the other, curiously.

A moment passes before I hear anything else. I feel myself flinch at the sound of my name; it's like igniting a fire and waiting for it to burst into flames.

"I've heard many stories about her in the past. But like her name, she's like ghost, only leaving blood behind afterwards," the voice, who I assume to be Nat explains.

"Is there anything actually known about her?"

I turn my head slightly to the left intrigued about what these people know about me so far.

"She's been seen working alongside the Winter Soldier, but as of recently, she went "silent". The intelligence community believes she doesn't exist, but back in Iran, I saw her," Nat says.

A smirk forms on my face at the fact that people don't believe I exist. Little do they know that they're in the same room as a ghost. The room is for the most part quiet, but I know they're standing far behind me, but it's like their eyes are burning into the back of my head. And in my mind, I hear the voice yelling at me to run because something wasn't quite right

"Natasha," the man says, trying to get the woman's attentions. "Do you see that?"

"Is that a gun?"

And my eyes go wide. Slowly, I turn around to face the two and instantly, I make eye contact with the one and only Steve Rogers. They look at me confused on why I would have a gun on me, but Natasha catches on quick and it's like a switch in her brain turned out, giving her the knowledge that I am, in fact, the Red Ghost. Before anything can be said, I'm running out of the exhibit, trying to find the closest exit. When I do find an emergency exit, I bolt out it and back in the direction of the apartment.

As I'm running, I remember that now there's three people after me, but as I know the two follow close behind me, I don't know where Winter is. Pushing past people as I run down the sidewalk, I receive disgusted looks, but my attention switches between the rooftops and directly in front of me because I feel that he's near me, waiting for me to make an appearance. This morning, I said that this was going to be a good day for me, but I take that back. My lungs burn as I run, making it harder and harder to breathe, but I can't stop. The apartment building comes into view, and I know that I'll be able to fight them off once I'm there.

But that's when I spot him on the other side of the sidewalk, a hundred feet ahead. I want to stop, but my legs keep going, not wanting to stop since there's so many people after me. Winter and I make eye contact, and he lifts his gun, aiming it at me. I try to run faster and behind people, but he walks into the middle of the street, and fires the gun. The bullets pierce into my abdomen and my eyes go wide as my legs come to a halt. My hand presses against my abdomen, trying to stop the excessive bleeding, but since I'm no doctor I can't. I look at my hand, seeing that my blood covers it, and when I look up, he's coming towards me, and with all my remaining energy, I run to the apartment in the opposite direction.

I pull myself up the steps, trying to keep myself balanced and awake because I've already lost a lot of blood. Bursting into the apartment and shutting the door, I stumble over to the coffee table, pulling out my uniform and all the weapons I had. The sound of the door being kicked open startles me, and I stand up, clutching my things in my arms and my crossbow in hand, and face the two individuals that have been chasing me since our encounter at the museum.

"Who are you?" Steve demands.

My vision starts to darken, and I lean against the wall, trying to keep myself away. "I don't know who I really am," a laugh escapes my lips.

"What do you mean? What is your name?" Steve questions me again, persistently.

With my blood loss, my legs give out from underneath me, and I press my back against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

"They call me the Red Ghost," the words sound bitter coming out of my mouth.

The sides of my vision begins to become darker with each passing second, and I feel myself slowly lose my grasp on reality. Steve and Natasha didn't say a word as any of this happened. Everyone wanted me dead, and now, they're probably going to have the opportunity to.

"Don't let him find me," I whisper, not expecting them to care about who.

Natasha leans next to me. "Who?"

My eyelids become heavy and my breathing hitches.

"The Winter Soldier," are the last words I manage to get out before falling into utter darkness.

A/N - hello, friends. i know nobody has read this, but that's okay. it'll become well known eventually. in the meantime, i just updated the art of war a few days ago, so if you want to check that out, i recommend - kenzie (: