Disable S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ by any means necessary. Report back to handlers.
The Soldier had his orders and he was well on his way at accomplishing them. Getting into the United States was easy when his handlers knew just the way to send him in without having to deal with the pesky national security bullshit. A quiet jet that landed just outside the city with a few others he could remember seeing throughout his time. There was talking and buzzing going on around him, but he paid no attention them. They were senseless people he didn't need to waste his time with when he had other plans working through his mind.
There was a car waiting and the Soldier climbed into it, immediately sitting back in the seat and beginning to go through various weapons that were in the luggage he'd brought. Pistols pulled out, checked and reloaded. Knives lifted, grazed across the leather glove that hid away the mechanical arm. Sharp enough to cut straight through. Good. It meant no maintenance needed to be wasted. The drive went faster than expected and he was pulled from his silent thought process when the car stopped. "This is where I let you out. You have your orders. Get to it, Soldier."
There wasn't a word that came out of his mouth as he climbed out. The city buzzed with sounds and somehow it felt almost.. familiar. He couldn't place it, but he brushed it aside. There was a fake ID badge to get him into the building. Not even a smile offered to the man that he flashed it to as he made his way with his bag straight to the bathroom. The whole time he kept his head down and the long brown hair keeping his cover hidden almost perfectly. This wasn't his first time infiltrating a government building, not his first involving the United States either. He knew the drill and as soon as the bathroom shut behind him, it was like a switch went off.
The bag was sat down and he was quick to make sure he was alone. Once confirmed, the Soldier moved to lock the bathroom and change. The plain clothes he'd walked in with tossed into the trashcan and changed into the armored, black uniform he was comfortable with. Long sleeves covered the unnatural arm and gloves hid away the metal fingers. The weapons were pressed into their places, guns in holsters as well as knives. Even a few in hidden places just in case. The black paint was added and the mask as well. Identifying exactly who he was would be nearly impossible and even then, his true identity had died in Russia. Not even he knew who that man was.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, a match was dropped into the trashcan to burn the evidence he'd walked in with as well as his bag.
