Russian Requiem
Disclaimer – This is a work of fanfiction. All recognizable characters and elements belong to Marvel Comics and its affiliates. The purpose of this publication is entertainment, not profit. All original characters are my creation. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: The Extraction
The ground shook with each exploding bomb. Debris rained down, making visibility poor and crossing the camp compound dangerous. It was supposed to have been a simple extraction of refugees from a valley in the mountains of Afghanistan. Somehow, somewhere, the information S.H.I.E.L.D was working from had soured, turning the extraction into a harrowing nightmare for the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D agents that had accompanied them. Director Nick Fury's voice snapped commands in everyone's earpiece, trying to salvage the mission.
Screams of anguish echoed in the valley as refugees were caught in burning buildings. The hostile force had appeared out of nowhere. Not a sound had been heard, nor a blip noticed on any surveillance imaging. The only light in the valley was from the fires that burned steadily all around. Natasha Romanoff ran across the compound to the final building to be cleared, her boots kicking up ash and dust. Beside her ran Steve Rogers, his stars and stripes Captain America uniform burned and tattered. Around them, Tony Stark, Dr. Bruce Banner, Thor, Clint Barton and a bevy of agents tried to push back the hostiles. Exhaustion lined everyone's face, but no one was ready to admit defeat yet.
Steve surveyed the ramshackle one story building as they approached it. It was a typical slapdash building of refugee camps – wooden walls supporting a corrugated metal roof. "We won't have much time, its burning too quickly. You go right, I'll go left. Get as many out as you can."
Natasha nodded once in understanding before dashing into the building.
Steve quickly followed, taking the left side of the building. The smoke and heat were oppressive, but Steve kept on. As his exploration of the first few rooms proved futile, he was forced to turn back when he encountered the wall of flame that had been the back half of the building. He turned back, making his way back to the front to aid Natasha. It was on his way out that he saw it. There was a doorway almost completely hidden by charred rubble, but a faintly fluttering white scarf marked the only hole in the blockage.
"Keep back!" he called as loudly as he could over the din of everything else. "I'm going to move this."
With a grunt and straining muscles, Steve slowly inched the wreckage away from the door. The thick smoke makes him cough, interrupting his progress. Though he knows himself to be incredibly strong, he understands the environmental limitations being imposed upon him.
"Need a hand?"
Steve looks over his shoulder to find Stark. The Iron Man suit is starting to come apart from the repeated clashes with the enemy. Steve gives a quick nod in the affirmative. Time is precious for whatever people may be trapped back there.
Once the rubble is clear, Steve enters through the doorway. The air is still heavy with heat, but easier to breathe since the rubble had kept a good deal of the choking smoke out. In the half-light of glowing embers he sees a woman clutching two small children in a corner. All three look close to fainting.
"Stark, get the children out."
The woman clutches the children tighter as the strange man in a metal suit approaches her. Her expression is one of distrust, not knowing who started the destruction of her home.
"Ma'am, he's going to bring your children to safety. We don't have much time. You need to trust us." Steve tries to reassure the woman that they mean no harm. He watches as her eyes dart about, assessing her predicament. She bends her head and whispers a few words to the children.
Reluctantly, the woman passes the children to Stark. He gathers them up and jettisons towards safety.
Steve offers a hand to the woman. "Come with me, ma'am. I'm going to get you out."
She grasps the outstretched hand and allows herself to be pulled along. Steve's original route though the building has been cut off by more burning debris. He hurries desperately through the burning maze, searching for a way out.
Outside the building, Fury and the rest of the team wait anxiously. Everyone else had cleared the buildings and pushed back the enemy. Only Steve was missing. "Where the hell is he?" Fury barks. The Avengers team looks around at each other and takes a step forward. "And don't any of you dumbasses think about going in there. Losing one of you would be bad enough." Fury surveys the scene. What a mess, he thinks to himself. Where the hell did we go wrong?
Inside the building, Steve and the woman reach critical levels of desperation. They both know they have few precious moments left before the building claims them. Their breath comes in ragged gasps in the ever thickening smoke. What they need is a miracle. Then they see it – an exit. They dash towards it, only to hear the ominous groan of the building about to collapse.
"Sir!" Agent Hill calls out. "I see them! The building is just seconds away from collapse."
"I need a med evac team ready! This could get ugly." Fury paces on the ridge.
As the team watches, Steve and the woman make it only a few more paces before everything gives way. All of the Avengers and agents wear similar expressions of horror as they watch the scene, feeling helpless. Steve crouches low, dragging the woman down with him. He holds the adamantium shield aloft, hoping to deflect the worst of the collapse from their heads. The woman clutches at him in fear, muttering a prayer Steve does not recognize under her breath. All around them, glowing corrugated metal and blazing wood beams crash around them. Though the noise of destruction is loud, nothing can drown out the scream of pain that rips from the woman's mouth as a burning beam lands on her slightly exposed leg.
The world is red, hazy and cacophonous. A nightmare become reality. Only a gloved hand of blue and soft blue eyes keep me from collapsing. Prayer falls from my lips, nearly silent in the symphony of destruction. The gloved hand nor the soft eyes cannot help me when the pain comes. A wrenching, destructive pain. Nothing can hold back my screams. Darkness comes, but the screams follow me.
