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"H-here's your kit..." The handler was a little nervous standing next to the fist of Hydra. He'd seen what had happened to the last guy who'd tried to do this, hell, he'd been on the other side of the mirrored window behind him. They'd promised that the correctional activity had worked this time, but that's what they'd said the last time, too.
The Soldier eyed the kit laid out on the table. The clothes were very tactical, and he couldn't shake the idea that they were a little similar to something he'd worn before, but not quite the same. The jacket was missing its left sleeve again and he took a measured breath. He clenched his left fist. So they wanted the arm on display again. The guns were different again too and there were no knives.
His eyes narrowed and he glanced at the handler who was almost visibly shaking. He squared his shoulders and the handler took two steps backwards, apparently to stay out of range. He smiled a little and the other man took another step back.
Pointless. The idiot couldn't escape him in this room anyway. It was interesting though. What had happened that the idiot was so afraid of him?
The Soldier turned his attention back to the kit again and he heard a loud sigh of relief from the idiot. Time to shake him again, then?
"Where are my knives?" he asked. "And these holsters are new. New kit is invariably uncomfortable, and interferes with operational capability."
"Th-they won't be needed for this mission." The idiot's voice had risen by half an octave.
"I need my knives." He turned to look at the idiot again and then back to the kit. "And my normal kit. I can't be confident in the equipment if it is unfamiliar." He reached out with his left hand and picked up one of the pistols. Even if the weapon itself wasn't familiar, the weight felt right in his hand.
But the hand didn't feel right... The soldier blinks twice and focusses on the pistol to clear that thought. Even if he hated the weight and the strangeness of it, it was better than not having one, especially given it seemed more natural to do things with his left hand.
The Soldier brought himself back to the moment by checking the operation of the gun. The idiot squeaked - he actually squeaked - as he did so and the Soldier turned to find that the man had pressed himself against the door as if he could teleport through it.
"Do you feel unwell?" the Soldier asked, sounding remarkably innocent for what the handler knew he was capable of.
"N-no. I... I'm just going to find out about your knives." The handler was fumbling for the door with one hand behind his back, apparently unwilling to turn his back on the Soldier. The Soldier rolled his eyes and turned back to his kit. He knew better than to try and force his way out of the room.
The Soldier started to get dressed, pulling on undershirt and pants, and then investigating the tactical jacket. There were fewer armoured panels than usual, but the material was good quality, and had an unfamiliar texture in the lining underneath the leather. He undid all of the strapping so he could put the jacket on. It fit well and didn't restrict his motion in any direction. The weight of it was also reasonably comforting, though that could have just been the opportunity to put something warm on in the cold room. He zipped the jacket up and started to clip the straps across his chest just as the door opened. The handler entered the room again, carrying a long case the Soldier knew would be carrying his primary weapon for the mission and followed by an older man whose presence made the Soldier stand to attention straight away; his heels snapped together and arms stiffened next to his side
Pierce stepped forward and buckled the rest of the straps across the Soldier’s chest and straightened the jacket about his shoulders before stepping back.
“At ease, Soldier.”
The Soldier relaxed; his hands shifted behind his back and linking together as his feet shifted to just under a foot apart. Pierce took the case from the handler and held it out to the Soldier.
“You requested your knives.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“Standard operational kit, sir.”
“You won’t need them. This is a distance mission. A followup on the targeted who escaped this morning. He is trying to disrupt Hydra’s mission and needs to be taken out.”
“Understood, sir.”
Pierce held the case out and the Soldier reached out with his left hand to take the case.
“I’ll see you when it’s done.” Pierce turned and left the room.
The Soldier stood to attention as Pierce left and relaxed as soon as the older man was out of the room. The handler was standing nervously near the door, seemingly not entirely sure what he should be doing. The Soldier looked over at him and keeping his expression perfectly even, asked “So, where are my knives?”
The handler’s eyebrows shot up and he actually squeaked in fear. The Soldier took one step towards the handler and the handler almost tripped over his feet in his rush to leave the room. Feeling slightly pleased with himself, and not quite chuckling (he had little to laugh about these days, really), the Soldier shouldered the case and left the room, heading for the transport he knew would be waiting for him in the garage.