That kick should have fractured his kneecap and required immediate surgery. It's what has happened whenever the Winter Soldier went up against other HYDRA recruits and it's what he was expecting this time: surely this other asset is fast and strong but he's human, too; a good hit should have robbed him of his mobility.
Only it doesn't.
Only he doesn't feel that crunch underneath his boot.
Confusion jolts throughout the Soldier, involuntary and searing like those times he sat in the chair and felt electricity burn through every nerve. Only then, he had learned to expect it. This is not the same thing at all. Whatever this man is, he is a different thing entirely and the Winter Soldier's face clouds again with emotion that should've been scrubbed out of him. Confusion graduates to anger, real anger and frustration that he shouldn't be able to feel, draws his eyebrows together and his lips bared in a pissed-off, defiant snarl even as the world tilts.
Caught by surprise, unaware that that little trick was something he'd taught this man a lifetime ago, the Winter Soldier hits the mat and he hits it hard. The bigger asset's frame hits him at full force, crushing the air out of his lungs as he yells and he scrabbles blindly at his opponent. The silver hand flashes out, tries to punch, to claw (but not the eyes - even the Soldier will remember do not maim). His body surges violently under the Captain. A knee flashes out and hits the new asset dangerously close to the groin.
The handlers are watching.
Always, the Winter Soldier is aware of that more than anything. They are witnesses to his failure right now: the way he lost his ground so quickly, the way he struggles more than he should against this stranger. The thought of being dragged back to the chair when he just got out of it turns the Winter Soldier into a wild animal, squirming and writhing and now he's even more violent than before, lashing out at any soft tissue, any vulnerable spot of the Captain that he can reach.
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Only it doesn't.
Only he doesn't feel that crunch underneath his boot.
Confusion jolts throughout the Soldier, involuntary and searing like those times he sat in the chair and felt electricity burn through every nerve. Only then, he had learned to expect it. This is not the same thing at all. Whatever this man is, he is a different thing entirely and the Winter Soldier's face clouds again with emotion that should've been scrubbed out of him. Confusion graduates to anger, real anger and frustration that he shouldn't be able to feel, draws his eyebrows together and his lips bared in a pissed-off, defiant snarl even as the world tilts.
Caught by surprise, unaware that that little trick was something he'd taught this man a lifetime ago, the Winter Soldier hits the mat and he hits it hard. The bigger asset's frame hits him at full force, crushing the air out of his lungs as he yells and he scrabbles blindly at his opponent. The silver hand flashes out, tries to punch, to claw (but not the eyes - even the Soldier will remember do not maim). His body surges violently under the Captain. A knee flashes out and hits the new asset dangerously close to the groin.
The handlers are watching.
Always, the Winter Soldier is aware of that more than anything. They are witnesses to his failure right now: the way he lost his ground so quickly, the way he struggles more than he should against this stranger. The thought of being dragged back to the chair when he just got out of it turns the Winter Soldier into a wild animal, squirming and writhing and now he's even more violent than before, lashing out at any soft tissue, any vulnerable spot of the Captain that he can reach.