Pierce's final order to the Winter Soldier had been to search for his own memories. The command aligned perfectly with the Winter Soldier's personal wishes, making it the order he carried out most thoroughly of all.
But memory was elusive and did not obey personal will. If he could not remember, he simply could not remember. After seeing on the news that Pierce's funeral was being held that day, the Winter Soldier came to the area with complicated, indescribable feelings to witness Pierce's final send-off.
He did not wear his combat gear or carry the jumble of weapons he normally used. Instead, he put on an ordinary jacket and a baseball cap and watched from a distance.
He had fought Daisy before, but those memories had been erased after Daisy rose into Hydra's upper ranks. Pierce had demanded that the Winter Soldier remain loyal only to him and ignore everyone else: the Baron, Viper, Daisy, all of them. He had removed every memory the Winter Soldier possessed about Hydra.
Instinct told the Winter Soldier that the woman in the black suit was extremely dangerous, and rashly approaching her to ask about his memories was a bad idea. He waited until Daisy drove away before blending into the crowd and watching the funeral from afar. That single glance was enough for Black Widow to spot him.
Black Widow rubbed her neck and slowly stood. Losing this fight felt deeply unfair. It was not that her technique had been inferior. She had lost purely because of the disparity in physical strength between a man and a woman, along with the Winter Soldier's mechanical arm.
When she was young and inexperienced, she had never thought much of that arm. Looking at it now, however, the more she thought about it, the more extraordinary it seemed. What organization could have provided a mechanical arm like this seventy years ago? Could today's S.H.I.E.L.D. build one? Could Stark?
She repeated her question. "You don't recognize me?"
The Winter Soldier shook his head. At that moment, he heard footsteps approaching. In two seconds, whoever it was might turn onto this street and see him with Black Widow. He immediately went on guard.
Black Widow heard the footsteps as well. The sound was familiar. It was Hawkeye.
She did not want her current colleague learning about those painful memories from her past. Thinking quickly, she said to the Winter Soldier, "Kiss me." Without waiting to see his reaction, she leaned in herself.
Seeing the scene from nearby, Hawkeye immediately backed off. He had rushed over because he suspected Black Widow had encountered an enemy. Now it was obvious that was not what was happening at all.
With her graceful figure, striking presence, and effortless allure in every movement, Black Widow was undeniably attractive. To be fair, Hawkeye had feelings for her. They had fought side by side for years. Given the times, a casual hookup between comrades would hardly have been shocking.
Unfortunately, Hawkeye had a family to consider. As he spent more time with Black Widow, he also came to understand her attitude toward relationships. Casual fun was possible, but feelings were best avoided.
Those thoughts had gradually faded. Now, seeing Black Widow passionately kissing a man in an alley, he immediately drew his own conclusions. Was he supposed to walk over and say hello at a time like this? That would be absurd. Better to leave immediately.
Only after she heard Hawkeye walk away did Black Widow separate from the Winter Soldier. As though the kiss had never happened, she asked him in a serious tone:
"Why were you at the funeral?"
"Where have you been all these years?"
"What's your name?"
Black Widow asked question after question, and the Winter Soldier shook his head at all of them to indicate that he did not know.
"You've lost your memory?"
This time, the Winter Soldier hesitated before nodding.
"I know where to find your memories. Come back to Russia with me." Black Widow held out her hand. The Winter Soldier did not hesitate this time. Their hands clasped firmly together.
It was a good plan. The problem was how they were going to get to Russia.
Black Widow did not want her current colleagues or the Avengers involved. The moment she used her bank card, she would leave a trail, and tracking her would be far too easy.
As for the Winter Soldier, he was completely broke. His only possession was a three-wheeler, the only thing Pierce had left him. Deep down, he strongly disliked robbing criminal gangs. Without an order, he considered such behavior beneath him.
Between the two of them, they did not even have one hundred dollars in cash.
"Wait here. I'll go borrow some money from a friend." Black Widow arranged a meeting place with the Winter Soldier, then went alone to Hammer Industries and raided a certain person's office yet again. The haul was smaller this time, only a little over five thousand dollars, but it was enough to cover the trip to Russia.
Daisy had no idea that the Winter Soldier and Black Widow had begun a journey to rediscover their roots after seventy years—or that they had robbed her on the way out. After the funeral, she returned to S.H.I.E.L.D.
Sitwell had not dared attend the funeral. He was afraid Hydra members loyal to Pierce would seek revenge, so he stayed inside S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters the entire time, practically treating the office as his home.
"The Winter Soldier has completely disappeared. We haven't found any trace of him." Sitwell forced himself to come forward and report.
Daisy had no good solution either. When an elite soldier with decades of experience wanted to hide, the Earth was simply too large to find him easily.
"Forget it. Pierce is dead, and there isn't much use for the Winter Soldier anymore. Tell the branches to keep an eye out. Bring Mr. Vulture to me."
Vulture, now a prisoner, surrendered outright. He had not even been able to resist Stark's Department of Damage Control, much less S.H.I.E.L.D.
Daisy had no intention of keeping him at S.H.I.E.L.D. Instead, she sent him to Hammer Industries as an equipment engineer.
Although he was a prisoner, Daisy still offered him a generous ten-percent share of product profits in order to motivate him. The condition was that his designs had to be suitable for large-scale military use. A combat suit usable only by one specific individual, like his previous design, would not qualify.
Daisy's terms were not harsh. Vulture had witnessed what she could do, so he accepted without much bargaining.
A week later, Vulture saw his old partners again at Hammer Industries. It felt as though a lifetime had passed, and the expression on his face was impossible to describe.
But he was a middle-aged man, and reason could suppress resentment much of the time. He greeted Tinkerer and Shocker cheerfully, politely borrowed personnel from their teams, then added several Hammer Industries engineers and rebuilt his own research group.
Daisy was afraid Hydra might steal her results, so she separated their group from Hammer Industries' main laboratory.
Money? Provided. Personnel? Provided. Alien technological weapons? Hammer Industries had mountains of them. Vulture was already fifty, and as he put it, family mattered most. He had little ambition of his own. Hammer Industries did not require him to manage anything; he could simply focus entirely on research. He had nothing to complain about.
Vulture, Tinkerer, Shocker, and the members of their small teams were all people whose careers had gone nowhere. Many had previously hovered near the poverty line. They were naturally supportive of their comfortable new lives. A few occasionally entertained other ideas, but after seeing James Wesley chatting and laughing with Kingpin, now the underground ruler of New York, those dangerous thoughts vanished instantly.
Why risk their lives when they could simply take the money and keep their heads down? The deterrent power of New York's criminal underworld was now a thousand times greater than that of the police. They were scientists. There was no reason to gamble their lives for a few dollars.