The Winter Soldier stoically watched the man's tampering with his arm, until the boy got loose and retreated into the shadows - then, the Asset's eyes lingered on the spot the boy had disappeared into the shadows, almost as if he were cloaking himself in them. Who knew, perhaps that was possible: all the Soldier knew was that many things were possible beneath Heaven and Earth, and he was in no position to ask questions about that. All he was meant to do was take orders and execute them to the letter, as efficiently as possible. If he did so, he would be rewarded with a hearty meal perhaps, or a long hot shower. If he failed to please his masters... Well, not all
his scars pre-dated Hydra and the Red Room and his cognition. Not that he knew where most scars came from; the few moments he had had the opportunity to examine his body, only the fresh wounds and bruises made sense, as did the thick scars where his arm and shoulder were fused to flesh and bone. Very few of the others could he recall getting, though he could easily identify what had caused the wounds and scars.
It didn't take the Baron long to shrug; one-armed, two-armed or perhaps none-armed, the fight was still on. The Soldier shrugged himself, getting a feel for how much of a dead weight his arm was now. It had been disabled before, but every time was different - though he could not recall how, he knew he knew how to fight with the metal arm not functioning. It still worked sufficiently as a shield to block bullets, knives or blows, often damaging the attacker more than it did to the Asset, although it sometimes wrenched painfully at the seam of his flesh.
Satisfied that he knew the new limits of his body, he stalked towards the young man, still standing half in the shadows, his right hand grabbing the second training knife in a steady grip. Drawing blood was still quite possible without it, but it would be smoother and less damaging for the boy if he managed without having to resort to punches.
Frankly, the Asset was a little uncertain about how to successfully attack a speedster, but he would give it a damn good try and rely on his reflexes and muscle memory to grab him where his mind may not be fast enough to catch up with the speed the Maximoff boy moved at. So he just strode up to the man, not quite running, not quite walking, quite clearly aiming to do some damage - though the most logical action for the boy was to dodge him, and keep dodging his attacks, in the hopes of tiring the Asset out sufficiently that he could disarm or even take him down. His intent was to let the boy dodge and try a sideways attack during that, which he could block with his bionic arm, which depending on the force behind it should render the boy's hand unusable until the stinging lessened and feeling returned. His arm was, after all, harder than a brick wall.