[Captain America] Don't force me to grab a man with you

"Father, I want to repent."

A woman in black came slowly and knocked on the door of the confessional.

The priest who was separated by a thin layer of wooden door habitually clenched his hand, stared sadly at the woman outside the door, and said slowly.

"My dear child, what are you confessing?"

"Love, waiting, desire|desire, I was almost driven mad by their entanglement." A hoarse voice came from outside the door.

The priest smiled and replied gently.

"Love is long-suffering and kind; love is not jealous, love is not boastful, not arrogant, and don't be blinded by desire..."

What he hadn't finished speaking was interrupted in the next second, and the woman's inaudible voice slowly spread to his eardrums, and the suppressed madness in it made him feel shuddering.

"I wandered in the dark night, lonely and endured the life without him, I waited in the morning light, hoping that the waiting would end, more and more lonely, more and more desperate, and finally perish."

"God loved the world, and I love him."

December 1973, 12, ten o'clock in the evening.

In an unremarkable alley in Madrid, the capital of Spain, a half-masked man, the silver metal light in his left hand gleamed coldly under the moonlight.

No one knew that the murderer of today's large-scale assassination case was standing in this inconspicuous alley right now.

He walked forward unhurriedly, the tense muscles that had just completed the task slowly relaxed, and the light blue eyes hidden in the fluffy curly hair looked around with sharp eyes.

Then the upright and strong figure trembled violently, the tingling sensation of a sharp object came from the neck, followed by the feeling of muscle numbness.

Supporting his almost paralyzed body, he looked back in disbelief at the direction where the anesthesia needle came from.

A slender figure stood at the entrance of the alley, seeming to merge with the light behind her.

Then, the world spun and he fell to the ground.

--clatter

--clatter

--clatter

Again and again, the sound of crisp high-heeled heels hitting the ground slowly approached him from far and near.

Animals with high IQ are keen to hunt and kill their prey. Killer whales like to open a hole in the body of a seal, and chase after it without haste until its blood is drained. Cheetahs will let their scarred prey escape, and then slap them again. Smack it to the ground, and they enjoy the flight and the desperate agony of their prey as it nears death.

The same is true for the owner of the voice. In just a few meters, she walked a lot of steps before she could barely reach his side.

He gathered up his last bit of strength, wanting to kill the person with one blow, but the raised left hand stopped at the next scene that caught his eyes.

White|smooth, with well-defined ankles in red high-heeled shoes, she just stood in front of him again and again.

The last bit of strength dissipated along with his hesitation, and he lay on the ground weak all over, and his field of vision was only the area of ​​the woman's ankle.

The heart seemed to go up and down with her feet.

The scene in front of him was familiar, as if he had seen it countless times in his dreams.

"What's your name?"

His face was lifted up, the angle of view was changed, and the complete human figure appeared in front of him. It was a pity that the woman was facing away from the light, and the contours of her face were all hidden in thick black shadows.

The dose of anesthesia was controlled to a terrible level, he could feel the touch on the skin, and he could also open his mouth to control the vibration of the vocal cords, but his body could not move an inch.

By some coincidence, he actually answered this question that had nothing to do with the mission.

"I don't have a name, to be precise I only have a number, number 11."

"11?"

When his fingers touched his body, he suddenly understood the reason why he, who was always on guard, didn't find her.

Even though his memory was blank, his body was telling him the truth.

It is familiar to her.

Like air, like water, common and indispensable.

There was a feeling of being oppressed in the abdomen, and in the interlacing of light and shadow, he only saw a backlit shadow sitting on him, straightening his body, with a sense of aggression that could not be ignored.

"If you don't like it, just close your eyes."

"who are you?"

Lean and strong arms wrapped around her waist, like an intimate embrace between lovers.

"Ingrid."

The moment the hoarse voice sounded, the second injection of anesthesia was injected into his body.

"Can we meet again in the future?"

He lay on the ground, resisting the growing drowsiness, opened his eyelids and asked the woman in front of him.

"We will."

Of course, you won't remember me next time.