Soooo, don't try to understand the chronological events of the MCU storyline in my story. LOL! I'm basically picking and choosing events and event order to suit my storyline, so there will be things that haven't happened (like the rift between the Avengers from Civil War) and things that have still happened but may be in a different order than shown by Marvel. Hopefully it doesn't mess you guys up too much. I've got some of this story roughly laid out, but I'm doing this as a fun writing project on the side so I'm not sure of when I will update. I'll probably work harder to regularly update if this story actually gets a good response. Well, enjoy!
I own nothing but my OC's. :)
"Tell me again why we are doing this and not the super soldiers?" Daisy asked, glancing down the hall of the dank apartment building. A fluorescent light at the end of the hall flickered imputently. The stale musk of cigarette smoke coated the decaying ecosystem of the apartment complex.
May didn't look up at her as she slid her lock pick from of the door handle with a satisfying click. "Because it might be nothing. They are only here because they were in the area when we got the tip."
The worn knob turned easily now, the door hinges squealing a protest as they swung the door open. The apartment was empty, they had made sure of that, but both agents still drew their sidearms anyways. Nodding once to Daisy, May stepped inside. Daisy followed, locking the door behind them, just as it had been when they had arrived.
Even with only the minimal presence of the two women, the studio apartment still felt crowded. The kitchen bled into the living room which bled into the murphy bed that leaned slightly away from the wall as though age had stolen its ability to stand upright. A single chair and small round table stood sentinel in the center of the kitchen/living room. Beneath the its feet the linoleum was warped and yellowed. Cracks raced through the drywall like a spider's web.
One door branched off from the single room apartment into what must be a bathroom. The opposite wall was the only impressive feature of the homestead. The entire wall consisted of thick glass windows, whose interior surface had been meticulously kept clean of dirt and smudges. It looked out over the industrial part that surrounded the building.
Daisy stepped up the glass, her hands in her pockets and looked down. The pebbled roof of the adjacent warehouse greeted her. "If I don't get to set eyes on Captain America by the end of this," Daisy said, shifting the sling of the rifle across her back, "then I am counting this reconnaissance as a total loss."
May smirked at her from where she stood, inspected the lone bowl and spoon in the sink. "This chick takes minimalist to a whole new level."
She opened a cabinet to find a single box of cereal. The cheap kind that consisted almost entirely of sugar. Milk alongside a small crowd of condiments were the solitary inhabitants of the fridge shelves. A small carton of eggs in the door. Cheese.
Daisy nudged open the bathroom door, gun raised, finger ready at the trigger. It was empty of course, but they had been tipped off on a possible Inhuman occupant, so she wasn't going to take any chances until they knew exactly what she was capable of.
A single tooth brush lay beside the sink, its only companion a mangled tube of toothpaste.
"Now this is interesting," Daisy heard May say from the other room.
Daisy stepped back out into the kitchen/living room/bedroom to find May kneeling beside what looked to be a cardboard box bedside table. The small alarm clock had been set on the floor, and May was sifting through the box's contents. Daisy hovered of May's shoulder. She held several glossy photographs in her hands.
"Those are Hydra agents. Look at the crest on their jackets," Daisy said, pointed down at a man in the corner of the photo at the top of the stack.
"We are in position," A voice crackled through the radio in May's inside jacket pocket.
May reached inside her coat and pulled the radio free, pressing in the comm button. "Alright Captain. We are inside. All clear." May slid away the photo at the top pile with the pad of her thumb, letting it fall back into the box. This photo was not as new as others. Its corners were creased, the edges worn with handling. Daisy let out a breath. This face she recognized. Unruly dark hair. Sharp cheekbones. The frost of a cryogenics tank. Someone she had never met but would recognize in an instant. They all knew of him. May continued, "I think there are some things here that you might find interesting."
Daisy took the photograph, light glimmering on its glossy surface. This man in the photograph was a ghost of the man he was today. In this photo, even in the cold induced slumber, his skin was sallow. She could see dark circles under his eyes. Lines of strain and tension frozen in his face. She turned the photo over. Four words were written in a neat script. Where is he now?
"The tip claimed her to be enhanced. I first thought Inhuman," May said, flipping another photo of a Hydra agent off the top of the stack. "But now I'm starting to think another Hydra experiment. Some sort of super soldier, maybe?"
Daisy sighed, dropping the photo she held back in the box. "They really need to give that a rest. It's getting old."
"These look like surveillance photos to me," May said, sifting through a few more. There were photos of men talking. Guards at their posts. Two men at a cafe.
"There is the camera," Daisy said, pointing to an elderly Nikon sitting on top of a dark duffle bag in the corner of the room.
Daisy took a step toward it when she heard a sound that made the hair raise on the back of her neck. The click of the door lock releasing. They hadn't heard anyone come down the hall. They had been assured by the creaks of the old oak floors that any approach to the apartment would be identifiable. But this intruder had been silent. She turned, hand going to her sidearm, just as the door was pushed open.
For a long moment, Daisy and the girl in the doorway just stared at each other. The other girl was tall, powerfully built. The dark jacket she wore strained across the shoulders and through her biceps. Her legs were long, the musculature of her thighs and calves made visible by the tight fit of her jeans. She was barely any older than Daisy, if any. She held an obese paper grocery bag to her chest, the florets of a broccoli spear peeking out the top.
She blinked dark eyes, and then the spell broke. She dropped the grocery bag, a jar inside it shattering as it hit the floor. Daisy raised her hands, but in two great steps, the girl was vaulting over the counter top to her left and into the kitchen area.
May came to stand behind Daisy, gun freed of its holster, as they quietly approached. They could hear the girl rummaging through the a cabinet, a clang of metal. Daisy's eyes flicked to meet May's. The girl rose from behind the safety of the counter barrier. She now wore a leather shoulder harness, similar to gun holsters or the harness that Daisy had seen Captain America wearing. Curved tips of wicked looking blades peeked up over her shoulders. She held a pistol in her right hand, the muzzle tipped down, finger running the length of its barrel. Not on the trigger, but ready if need be.
May jerked her gun up at the sight of the weapon. Daisy raised her hands, muscles tense. "Careful Daisy," May warned. "This is an old building."
"Look," Daisy said, taking a step closer to the girl. "We just wanna talk."
The girl stood statue still, feet braced apart, dark eyes sharp and cool. "That's what they all say, right before they cut you open."
In a motion almost too fast to track, the girl raised the gun and fired. Both Daisy and May dropped. Daisy's knee smacked the hardwood, pain lancing up her leg. The sound was bigger than the room, the cacophony of it an assault on her ear drums. Everything rang with the sound of it. Glass rained like water across the floor as a window behind them shattered. The girl's feet were moving, carrying her toward the broken window. Daisy pushed up, glass biting her palms, and launched herself at the girl.
"What's happening?" called the static voice of the Captain through May's radio. "Was that a gunshot?"
They went down hard, Daisy's elbow on fire as it collided with the floor. She wrapped her arm around the girl's throat, locking herself in. With a snarl, the girl hauled herself to her feet, staggering a step under Daisy's off center weight, before slamming her back against the wall. Dust puffed around them as the ancient drywall fractured on impact. Pain cracked like lightening up Daisy's back as her rifle dug into her spine.
The girl reached up and snatched Daisy's wrist, digging her fingers into the tendons there. Daisy cried out, her fingers springing open without order. The girl grasped Daisy by the collar of her uniform and shucked her off like she was not more than an old sweater, sending her tumbling across the room and into one of the floor to ceiling windows. Her head struck the glass, and she could hear the surface fracture under the force of her body. Daisy wheezed, trying to pull air into her lungs.
When she looked up, stars bursting in the corners of her vision, May had engaged the girl. They were fighting. May's breathes were coming in ragged gasps as she fought hard to keep up with the girl's speed.
Until this moment, Daisy had thought of May as one of the toughest, most skilled fighters she had ever encountered. She had seen the woman take down men twice her size, fly several types of aircraft and wield an entire arsenal of weaponry with ease. But this girl...she fought with a cool, unsettlingly efficient style. There was no added flair, no superfluous acrobatics. She was all deadly speed and wicked power.
It took a matter of seconds for the girl to disarm May. Daisy was just getting her hands underneath her when the girl cracked the butt of the pistol hard across May's face. Bone crunched and May staggered, gasping. Blood rushed from her nose.
In that moment of utter chaos, Daisy tried to push to her feet but stumbled. The girl took two great strides across the small room and leapt through the fractured glass window behind Daisy. Light flashed across the blades at her back and then she was gone.
Daisy let out a pained breath into the silence of the room. She pressed a hand to her rib cage and winced. Several were bruised, if not broken. Daisy took a few unsteady steps toward where May leaned against the counter, spitting blood onto the apartment floor.
"Dude, that's never coming out the carpet," Daisy joked weakly as she reached inside May's coat and retrieved the radio.
"Yeah, well," May said, using the heel of her palm to push blood coated hair back from her face, "I think it's safe to say she's not getting her deposit back."
The radio's hard shell was badly cracked and the display flickered frantically, but when she pressed down on the soft rubber of the comm button it sprang willingly to life. "You guys are up," Daisy wheezed. "You've got incoming."
Steve looked up to the sound of shattered glass. A figure was falling three stories down to the rooftop of the manufacturing plant he stood on, her arms windmilling in an attempt to keep herself from over rotating. The SHIELD agent Daisy Johnson was still speaking over the radio, but her couldn't make out what she was saying. He watched as the girl landed in a spray of pebbles, rolling through the brunt of the impact until she was on her feet, dashing across the rooftop.
Steve broke into a sprint, surprised by how hard he had to push to catch her. He took her in the moments before their collision. Her dark hair streamed behind her like a dark banner. She was impressively built, powerful muscles propelling her across the rooftop. Long curved blades were sheathed in a harness at her back. Steve's boots sunk deep in the rock of the flat roof top with every step. All he could hear was the breathrushing from his lips and the roar of the wind past his ears. With one final push, he launched himself at her.
They hit the ground in a spray of pea gravel. Between the seconds of his body colliding with hers and hitting the ground, she managed to push herself away from him, just enough to allow herself to roll to her feet. Steve didn't give her a moment to gather herself. He pressed every ounce of speed and strength into his first blow, ready to finish this before it started. But she deflected it.
He let out a breath of surprise, but regrouped instantly, stepping in again and again, blow after blow. One after the other, she deflected them, her face carefully blank as she met each advance. He went for the inside of her knee, and she spun away. The face, and she dipped she shoulder back, his fist catching only air and the feather light kiss of the strands of hair that had pulled loose from her pony tail.
Any strike that made contact glanced off. One to the shoulder, one to the line of her jaw, but neither were allowed to showcase the enumerable strength thrust into each advance. Then, in a movement even he found surprisingly quick, she twisted herself inside the reach of his arms and drove her elbow up hard into his face.
Steve saw stars. Tears pricked at his eyes. He staggered back and tripped over his heel. Black blurred past as he fell, a flash of red hair. Natasha landed a solid heel to the girl's chest, who had clearly not expected the agent's sudden appearance, knocking her back a few steps. There was a flash of metal at the girl's shoulder.
Natasha snapped out a baton, the weapon telescoping to its full length with a click. It snapped savagely with the threat of its electric current. Natasha swung. The baton whistling through the air. The girl dodged one swing, then another and another with the same cool intensity she had held in her previous altercation.
The girl roared when the baton finally made contact. Natasha leaned in harder, trying to keep the girl slowed. The girl clamped a hand on Natasha's wrist and twisted hard. Natasha cried out. Steve was already to his feet but it was too late. The girl seized the baton, ripped it from her hands and brought it down on Natasha's temple. The Black Widow crumpled, the girl letting her fall back as she threw the baton to the side.
Steve hesitated for a split second, unsure if he should go to Natasha or go after the girl. The girl took a few steps back from Natasha, clearly shaken by the electrical charges that had passed through her system. Suddenly, her back arched and she cried out. She twisted, reaching for the black blade that was buried hilt deep in the meat of her shoulder. Russian. Military issue.
Bucky.
The girl ripped the blade free with a snarl and flung it far from reach. Steve went for Natasha. She gave no response as he reached her. He felt for a pulse. Slow but strong. She was just unconscious. The girl reached up and pressed her fingers into the wound, hissing. They came away red.
Then, silent as a ghost, Bucky was on her. She twisted, narrowly missing the arch of Bucky's blade. Again and again he swiped, the knife catching the front of her coat, her sleeve, a few strands of hair, but never making contact with flesh. Watching the two figures fight was like watching a meticulously choreographed dance, quick, smooth, unfaltered. This time though, her cool mask had crumbled, giving way to tight features and bared teeth. She was fight through the pain in her shoulder.
Sunlight glinted off Bucky's metal hand as he drove his blade toward her chest. She caught his wrist, her feet sliding back several inches in the loose pebbles. Her body trembled with the effort of holding him back, but her strength held. Steve could see Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, saw him falter and make himself vulnerable. Steve reached over his shoulder, his hand settling on the cool edge of his shield. Then he flung it.
The girl caught a glimpse of the disk seconds before it made contact. She twisted at the last second. Instead of hitting its mark, it struck her hard in the injured shoulder. She cried out as the shield clattered to the ground. Steve was already moving, running for it, but she was closer. She dove for it, rolled to her feet with significantly less grace then he had yet to see her do anything else, and slid her forearm in the straps of the shield.
For a breath, everything stilled. The girl breathed in ragged gasps, her hand clutching her shoulder, blood dripping through her fingers. Behind him, Bucky slipped closer, smooth and silent, a predator closing in on its prey. She stepped to the side slightly, keeping the shield between her and Bucky.
Steve's earpiece crackled. Agent May's voice came through the waves, thick and rasping. "Daisy is in position. She has a clean shot. Should she take it, Captain?"
Steve pressed the earpiece into his ear, glancing at the girl as she slowly backed towards the edge of the rooftop, her eyes still on Bucky. If they let her reach the edge, she would jump and they would have no chance of catching her.
Steve let out a breath. "Take the shot."
It rang like a crack of lightning through the industrial park. The shot struck the girl in the shoulder. The force of it wrenched her body back, throwing her down into the pebbles like she was no more than a ragdoll and then she was still.
Steve took a few steps closer. He could see the shallow rise and fall of the girl's chest. What had they called them? Icers? A non lethal round.
Steve watched as Bucky moved to stand over the girl, slipping his knife back into its sheath at his hip. He was nothing more than a dark shadow dressed all in black, dark hair a wild mess from his spar. Absently, he rubbed the palm of his metal hand, the hand the girl had stopped.
The wind fought to snatch the quiet words from Bucky's mouth. "What are you?"
I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you did. :) The next chapter is partially written so hopefully it will be up in the next week or so!