"Mörderischen bastarde!" John shouted as he threw a pen across the street and onto the concrete ground. "Mycroft's has got to have sent the wrong coordinates, because radiation, of 450 REM, would never originate from an abandoned Sokovian prison where mountain goats walk the premises!" John raged, "Its simple logic! Even I understand it Sherlock, me!"

"John, be quiet, you're wig's falling off," Sherlock hushed as he readjusted the brown tendrils that currently covered John Watson's head, "If we're going to get through this village undetected, you start acting like the irritable, indignant old woman that you truly are, and don't scream German profanities across the street, will you?" Sherlock smirked, turned on his heel, and started pushing his way through the stream of villagers, eyeing the looming prison that stood far away atop the east European mountains.

"Sherlock, wait," John sputtered before racing after the consulting detective.

"Sir, this is a simple surveillance mission. Do we really need to send three of the avengers?" Agent Hill questioned Nick Fury. "Just tell Level 4 to send out a few field agents, collect some readings, bug the place, and make sure no evil robot clans are trying to procreate."

"Hill, this is the place where Loki's scepter was held captive. The radiation levels have been absolutely nuts since day one, and I am not risking anything just to have the place blow up and have a new 'age of whatever' again." Fury snapped.

"Your command, sir." Replied Maria Hill, before turning and walking down the hallway of the Helicarrier. She stopped at the control panel and pressed the dial to speak into the intercom, "May Agent Barton, Rogers, and Stark report to the launching pad, I repeat, Agent Barton, Rogers, and Stark, report to the launching pad. Over." She hesitated before keying the dial again. "Now."

Thuds of quickened footsteps began nearing Agent Hill, as a sweat-covered Steve Rogers emerged from the hallway across from her, boxing tape hanging from his hands. Clint Barton soon followed with a fresh bruise emerging on his left shoulder and a practice arrow still stuck onto the heel of his boot. After an exchange of curt greetings and nods, the three waited. Several long minutes later the sliding door hissed opened to reveal Tony Stark doused in oil stains with a strong scent of gasoline coming from his body. Multiple kid-sized iron man Band-Aids covered scrapes above the brow bone of his very annoyed face.

"So what do you need this time madam president?" snapped Tony, clearly irritated he was being pulled away from his computers. "Bruce's radiation gizmo hasn't picked up anything in ages and the world still hasn't called for my knight of shining armor."

"It's not my call, Stark, but we need you three to go back to the Sokovian prison where we found the Maximoffs. Fury wants to do an onceover of the place, make sure it's still dormant and secure. He's sending you three in place of field agents because he believes there may have been another party that had access to Loki's scepter before it was removed from the premises. We're, well, he's not risking anything."

"But we're the avengers! We're supposed to be fighting, not sightseeing. Now if you excuse me F.R.I.D.A.Y. and I have almost finished scanning the Mark 49 for potential launch infrequent-

"We'll do it, Agent Hill." Steve spoke over Tony's ramblings and grabbed the genius on shoulder before he could leave. "When do we start?"

"When you get changed," Hill said, referring to the mixture of sweat, blood, and oil that was dispersed among the three of them. "This one's incognito. Except Stark. You get the suit."

Tony silently pumped his fist in the background.

"Barton and Rogers," Hill gestured to the dry cleaning room located across the hallway. "Civilians clothes. Look normal." Hill glanced at her watch where a message from Fury was displayed. Hurry their motherfucking asses up. Hill internally rolled her eyes and finished, "Other than that, Stark will be responsible for all the wiretaps, bring your weapons, and be on the launching pad in five."

"Ay, ay, captain," Tony mock saluted before running off in the opposite direction. "FRIDAY, release the suit in compartment seven? Yes, the one with the cheekbones…" He mumbled into thin air.

Clint gave a look to Steve. "First one to the closet gets to wear the leather jacket!" Clint yelled before taking off down the hall.

"It doesn't even fit me!" Steve complained at Clint's back before sprinting after the archer.

"You sure this is it?" John asked as they stared up at the giant stone building way above them."

"How many other high-security maxi abandoned prisons do you see around here? Don't worry, you'll only need one hand to count them." Sherlock responded.

"Okay Sherlock, I get it. But how the hell are we going to get up there?" John indicated.

"Take off your clothes."

"Okay but then- wait, what?"

"I mean your disguise, John. Take it off." Sherlock snapped as he shrugged off the oversized winter coat and swapped the woolen scarf for his burgundy one. John nodded shortly and carefully removed the bobby pins from his wig before yanking it off and throwing the mess into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the mountain. Using the sleeve of his blouse John furiously rubbed off the lipstick on his mouth.

"Shame, I thought it was big improvement, now your mouth just seems too, small," Sherlock said nonchalantly before smirking like the giant asshole everyone knew he was.

"Sherlock- I swear to god, you're being the woman next time," John grumbled.

"Come along then, we can't wait for the entire mountain to erode. Judging by its current state, I'd say in 78,568,000 years."

"God Sherlock, what case forced you to learn how to figure out the expiration dates of mountains?

"Nothing. I searched it up before we left, now if you hurry up, we might make it to the prison before the first million years pass." Sherlock turned and began clambering up the misshapen boulders towards a carved out opening on the bottom half of the mountain.

"Why would you even- okay, whatever. Just, wait up will you?" John shouted at the back of Sherlock as he began scrambling after the climbing detective.

John and Sherlock walked cautiously through the cavernous hallways of the empty prison, silently analyzing the state of the complex. Sherlock's flashlight shined across the blast marks and broken down machinery that was labelled with a skull insignia with snake heads coming out of it. As they passed room upon room, hallway upon hallway, John realized something.

"Sherlock," John hesitated.

"Yes John?" Sherlock replied.

"How come there's no, carnage?" John asked, "The place's obviously been violently raided, so why is it so pristine other than the occasional hole in the wall? Like, no incinerated bodies, or misplaced limbs, or even just a bloodied up crow bar."

"That's why we're here. After the Americans eradicated HYDRA from the premises, there was a brief flash of immense radioactivity, lasted less than a second." Sherlock explained, "As much as Mycroft and I wanted to hope that it was just a friendly cleanup crew, our combined deduction skills told us, eh, no."

The pair of them continued to sweep through the former HYDRA base until they reached an opening and then,

"Whoa."

Before them stood a room. Or what was a room. Three out of four walls were complete rubble, the lightly falling snow dusting the pieces of stone. However, in the center of the 'room' stood a destroyed structure that looked like a scorched tree of metal. Black ooze dripped from the twisted mantel of the wreck, and the bent lengths of steel pointed outward as if an explosion happened from within.

"John, quick, get the REM device out. Take a reading," Sherlock ordered before taking out his rectangular magnifying glass and sticking it right in front of the disintegrated metal. "Melted tar, but it's still in a liquid form even after at least weeks. Obviously some sort of explosion from the inside, but it's of supernatural capabilities. John, what are the readings? The steel workings were encasing a radioactive material, but no legal substance has the ability to just smear titanium. The British government have no files concerning anything above a place of diplomacy at this location, so everything and anything here is officially the black market. What are the readings John? This metal frame held something very valuable, it's custom made. Look at those latches, their nonexistent. So whatever was here was never intentionally removed, only tested from within. So what is incredibly valuable, powerful, portable, and of unknown, supernatural capabilities- oh. Oh. Oh ho, I was not expecting- oh, this is great, John, what are those readings John, I think we've got something exciting! John, you've been awfully quiet, John- what- John, where are you?" Sherlock called out to the now empty space.

"Here, Sherlock," John yelled from a room fifty feet away from where Sherlock stood. "Sherlock, the device is picking up some other readings, there was a blink of something not-dead past there," John pointed at the solid wall in front of them. "And then it's just kind of stayed there, but now it's rapidly increasing." John reported.

"That's not right," Sherlock muttered as he walked up right next to John, "This place has been restricted from all public access, and there's no reason in the world why anyone would want to come here unless-

*CRASH*

"Alright ladies if you want to just drop down and accept defeat right now that'd be great, Pepper just made dinner and I don't want it to get cold."