"They were much better than this," Winter agrees grimly. Something he could just hunt, bait, and shoot? Much better than bleating sheep-plants that pop up like daisies.

He's dirty, but all right. The wound in his leg broke open again and there's a little blood staining his pants, though it's hard to see since it's black. There are probably going to be more bruises soon, but nothing else got through his body armor and metal arm.

He wipes the poor blades off on a clean part of his pants and sheaths them. He'll sharpen them later. "This place is terrible," he decides. "Not as terrible as HYDRA. But terrible."