He moves through the facility's hallways with the kind of easy grace that comes from relentless physical discipline, to all appearances ignoring those that he passes.

He's anything but unaware, but there's value in keeping that hidden, even if it's not much of a secret any longer. It was just a month ago that an overly-ambitious private decided to impress the senior command by overpowering the Winter Soldier in an ambush. Only the fact that the private was both young and stupid had saved the fool's life; instead, the Winter Soldier had made an example of him, delivering a lesson through blows and broken bones with harsh, ruthless efficiency.

No one has dared try anything of the sort since.

There's no one in the gymnasium when he reaches it, and a thin trickle of tension flows out of him as he strips down to his training uniform. He doubts that he's truly unobserved, of course, but it's still better when he's alone. He hates the curious audiences; it makes him feel like a lab rat, doing tricks on command. He's not so unwise as to complain or to even to let it show, however; he knows better than that.

(Besides, being watched while he trains is better than the tests the doctors run. Audience or not, he'd far rather be here than there.)

Light gleams from the cold metal of his left arm as he goes through the process of limbering and stretching his muscles. He doesn't really notice; it's as much a part of him now as the flesh arm it replaced ever was, and he uses it just as effectively. As soon as his warmup is over, he moves fluidly into his exercise routine, alternating between practicing unarmed combat against an imaginary opponent and launching knives at the stationary targets placed strategically around the room.

It's hard work, brutally so, designed to both demonstrate and test his skills at the highest possible level. By the time he whips the last knife through the "eye" of an "enemy," his breathing is heavy and sweat drips from him - which doesn't stop him from whirling with deadly speed at the sound of slow applause from behind him, nor from jerking to instant, motionless attention as he recognizes the observer.

"Very good, Winter Soldier." Satisfaction oozes from the older man's voice. "Very good, indeed."

"You honor me, Comrade General."

"Yes. I do."

Unable to respond to that, he stays silent and still while the general examines him - then reflexively accepts the file the other man holds out.

"Your first mission."

He clutches the file more tightly, trying not to let his excitement show as the general continues.

"Russia has put her trust in you, Winter Soldier. Do not fail her... or me."

It's a risk, but he takes it without hesitation. "Sir," he replies, switching easily into the Americans' language -- and knows he's been right to do so when the general smiles.

"You can count on me. I won't let you down."