Silent as the grave, the assassin stalked his way through the cityscape and stopped short, peering up at the building to double-check. A turn to look around the various structures oriented him and he continued on his path. Hours before, he had been in New York and made his way to the infamous Gotham City to pursue the next name on his list. It was quite a list and he wasn't the least bit surprised by the amount of travel he would have to endure. The Soldier was dressed in his own dark blue uniform, the thick fabric providing him with plenty of protection and mobility. The custom-made tactical reconnaissance rig fastened securely to his muscular frame, his belt and shoulder straps allowing him to carry a small armory on him. Multiple magazines and tools stored safely on body through a variety of pouches or clips. To top it all off, a small domino mask of the same dark blue color was firmly pressed onto his face.
When the Winter Soldier noticed the figure on the roof opposite him, he swung the SCAR rifle up to rest against his shoulder and crouched lower, moving like a predator across the urban landscape to gain a bit of higher ground. Once that was accomplished, he adjusted the rifle so the stock was pressed firmly against his shoulder and he could peer into the powerful scope..the sniper support modifications made to the weapon allowing him to pierce the darkness and gather many details from the scope's magnification. Once he had a read on the situation, doing the math quickly in his head and hedging his bets that she was involved with the same target. Take the shot, was the loudest voice in the back of his mind..but he decided to take a different route.
Several more moments passed and he silently swung a leg over the edge of the roof above and behind the woman, the fact that he was about to reveal himself and his position to someone with a powerful rifle was..entertaining. It wasn't like the Soldier had a death wish, but he didn't exactly fear the prospect. Some deep, dark part of him had grown to detest what he had become and knew that the only release he'd get from this life of murder would come when he got his own. Once again moving the rifle so it rested on his shoulder while still holding it by the hand grip, he spoke with a casual flair. He was either expecting her to turn and start shooting or he was used to having conversations with people who were about to end the life of another. Both options seemed equally likely with the mysterious killer.