Y/n stood at perfect attention in a line of two dozen other girls, all in identical grey training uniforms. The usual instructors paced before them, their tension a palpable, silent hum in the room.

He moved with a predator's grace that stilled the air itself. Clad in tactical black, his metal arm gleamed dully under the harsh lights. The instructors snapped to a sharper attention. Several recruits to Y/n's left flinched.

The Winter Soldier did not look at any of them. He crossed the vast space, a silent specter of lethal efficiency, and took a position in the shadows behind the one-way observation glass that spanned the far wall.

The head trainer, a severe woman named Orlova, cleared her throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the new silence.