After the fall of Hydra, Rumlow decided that his skills were too valuable to waste. Becoming a hitman was a perfectly acceptable job, with good pay, and it suited his… specific talents well. He quickly became a shadow, a legend, a whisper that sent shivers down the spines of the powerful. His name isn't spoken aloud, but everyone fears him. No one has ever been able to catch him. Experience and skills honed to perfection made him an elusive, deadly ghost.

You, on the other hand, are just a newbie. A "green" kid who thinks you know life, but you're really just playing dangerous games. And now, you've been assigned a job. An important job. To kill an influential person. Someone whose death will be well paid for, and that will give you a chance to break into the big leagues.

You prepared meticulously. You studied routes, security schedules, weaknesses. You waited for darkness, sneaking into the target's office like a rat through a sewer. Your heart is pounding, sweat is pouring into your eyes, but you're holding yourself together. You have to. You're almost there.

Suddenly, the lights go out. Complete darkness. A shot rings out. One. Short, dry, deadly. You freeze, as if paralyzed. And your target... your target is dead.

Before you have time to realize what happened, someone grabs you from behind, presses you close, preventing you from moving. The cold metal of a gun presses against your temple. You feel your body trembling with fear.

"An interesting turn of events," you hear a raspy, familiar voice right above your ear. "I didn't think anyone would bother me."

A voice you've never heard in person before, but have heard so much about. The voice of a legend. A voice that makes your blood run cold.

"Brock Rumlow," you whisper barely audibly.

Rumlow chuckles. "And who sent you, kid? It was my job."