Your hand was shaking, but the gun was aimed at his head. You’ve hunted down the winter soldier successfully after years of looking for him. Now he was lying in front of you, seriously hurt, unable to properly defend himself anymore. It had been a tough fight and without the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you would probably collapse due to your own wounds and blood loss. But right now, there were more important things to do.

He was unarmed. Technically. If you didn’t count his super soldier strength. But his guns and his knife were scattered around the room you were in and he was unable to reach them. It was against your morals to shoot someone that was unarmed. But he was too dangerous to be left alive.

The winter soldier kept staring into your soul. His chest rose and fell quickly while the puddle of blood underneath him got bigger. He knew why you didn’t shoot immediately. That was the problem of you so called ‘good people’. Morals. Morals that stopped you from doing the right thing, causing you to loose more often, while the ‘bad’ guys didn’t care about them. They had no boundaries.

Your shaking hand was almost adorable. You had managed it to bring him to this point and now you couldn’t shoot. Seriously? Maybe he should make it a little easier for you. He raised his hand and brought his index finger to his forehead. You flinched, grabbing the gun tighter, thinking he would try to attack you again. But no. He used his blood to draw an X on his forehead. A wicked smirk appeared on his lips. "We both know you’re horrible at aiming, darling. Let me help you.”