. . . . . .
Skye stands in the center of the pitch black room, hands still clenched into fists, for several long, quiet moments. Then she goes to the wall the door is on and begins methodically sliding her hands over it, checking every inch for a crack or a switch, anything. She doesn't think she'll be successful—Hydra's been quite careful so far—but it's what her captors, watching her on that camera, will expect her to do. And anyway giving her hands something repetitive and mindless to do always helps her think.
How did things go so badly, so fast? Maybe she shouldn't have gone out to lunch alone. But she wasn't doing anything against protocol, and really, if Hydra has been watching her and planning this for who knows how long, they would have found a time to grab her eventually, no matter what. They are determined to have Quake work for Hydra—and she has to agree with them: having her powers on their side could swing the balance in their favor. She still doesn't know how much she's capable of; she's never tested her limits, because it'd be nearly impossible to do so without hurting someone somewhere. She takes a moment to curse Quake's Internet fanbase, the YouTube videos and the websites and the forums that scour the news for unexplained events to attribute to her. Maybe if she'd never become famous, Hydra would never have had this idea.
(Nothing to the left of the door. She moves over to the right.)
She wonders how long she's been out, and whether SHIELD has figured out what happened to her yet. She'll have missed a 3:00 meeting with May, so they'll have noticed her missing. Will they find her car? Will they find witnesses? Will they find any useful security camera footage of what happened? Ada, the comms tech, is good at that kind of thing—not as good as Skye, but still, she ought to find something useful. But will they realize it's Hydra? Will her kidnappers have helpfully worn the Hydra logo on their chests?
(Nothing to the right of the door. She moves to the door itself.)
And Ward. He doesn't need to figure out where she is: he knows, courtesy of Seyss. But he won't come, right? Ward is good, one of the best, and where planning this kind of thing is concerned, he is incredibly smart. So he might think he can manage a solo infiltration. But surely he's smart enough to know that it's a suicide mission. The trouble is that they still, after years of surveillance, have no idea how many members this branch of Hydra has, so it's hard to say if a one-man infiltration team is a the worst idea ever or simply a normal-sized bad idea. It's the largest branch left in the world, they know that. And they wouldn't have invited Ward over if they didn't think they could more than handle him, if they didn't have the manpower to greet anything he throws at them with guns blazing.
(The door is rock solid and, as far as she can tell from knocking softly on it, absurdly thick. She is not knocking this thing down.)
Or maybe their plans for him are worse. How long does brainwashing take? She has a sudden horrible image of Ward arriving at the base, or one of her fellow SHIELD agents, only to see the very person they came here to save waiting to bring the mountain down on their heads. She's distracted from this thought quickly, however, as she wonders why they haven't started brainwashing her yet. Surely they'd want to start sooner rather than later. Maybe there's something they're waiting for. They haven't fed her, even though it's clearly been at least ten or twelve hours since they knocked her out; maybe the person breaks faster if you starve them first.
Or maybe Seyss is just sadistic and wants Ward to have to watch them brainwash her, or vice versa: punishment for Ward having eluded them all this time.
(Nothing around or on the door either, not even a handle; there's just the window, which she can't open from this side and which is too tiny to be very useful.)
Then she moves over to the next wall and starts searching there—surely even more futile than the previous wall, but again, something to do. Then she does the other two walls and the floor, leaving off the ceiling, which she can't reach. And then she goes over her arm bracers, trying to find a catch or something to open them, but this is absolutely futile as well. And as she performs these searches, she thinks again and again of SHIELD finding her, of Ward finding her, of how much she hates her YouTube videos, of why they haven't brainwashed her.
And it's only when she's flopped down on her mattress, tired and frustrated, that she lets herself think of what Seyss said at the end: "That man is in love with you." Lola thinks it. Kara thinks it. Claud thinks it. The entire Austrian arm of Hydra thinks it. (Which is humiliating, when she thinks about them all listening in on their conversations. Those phone lines were supposed to be secure, but few things are really secure to a clever and dedicated hacker. And of course the e-mail wasn't secure at all; she'd just figured that no one would think to try to spy on them—that no one would be interested in watching two boring adults make small talk and occasionally awkwardly flirt with each other.)
But she asked him once if he still had feelings for her, and he was completely dismissive of the idea.
But that was nearly a decade ago.
And she did think it, more than once, when they were together in Montreal. Maybe she should have trusted her gut. Maybe Seyss is right and he loves her.
She hopes he doesn't, for his sake. She hopes he doesn't let any personal feelings convince him to do something crazy, like take on a Hydra base alone and get himself killed. She hopes he stays safe and far away from here. Let SHIELD deal with it; they have the manpower. She hopes they have the manpower. She hopes a lot of things right now.
Unbidden, an image comes to her mind of Ward, brainwashed like Kara was: same face, same body, same movements, but a whole different person behind them. He'll have forgotten everything about himself—the people he loves, the places he hates, the things he believes, the good times he's managed to have over the last ten years, free of Garrett and his family. He'll have forgotten that he ever knew her, that when he speaks to her in person or over the phone, he always tells her that it was really good to talk to her again with such warmth that she blushes a little. And the thought of Ward's mind disappearing makes her sick to her stomach.
And as she sits there, trying not to imagine him brainwashed, she admits to herself that Seyss was right: she might be rather fond of Grant Ward.
. . . . .
After an hour of sitting on her mattress, Skye starts yelling and banging on the door. "Hey! Whoever's out there watching me! I gotta pee!" The oldest trick in the book, yes, but at least maybe it'll let her go outside her cell, which is starting to give her cabin fever. Also, she's actually got to go.
After several minutes of this, two stern-looking men come to the door in black uniforms with the Hydra logo on the chest; she was right, then, about the identity of her kidnappers. They chain her ankles and wrists together—that's going to make relieving herself complicated—and lead her down the hall, past five doors identical to hers (all on the same side of the hallway) to the door that ends the hall (115 feet from her door to the bathroom door). Inside is a primitive bathroom; three walls and the floor are made of concrete, but the back wall and the ceiling are hewn from rock. It's looking like she may be right about this being the Alps base, and she's way down in the mountain. The toilet is just a hole in the ground. The sink is a small basin with a tank of water suspended above it; she has to push a tube to get any water to come out. Nothing here to use as a weapon against the guards. And even if she had one, her chained hands and feet would make any attack and escape hard.
So with a sigh, she finishes and leaves the bathroom. The guards are waiting right outside and they walk her back to her room. Now that she's facing the other way down the hall, she can see that there are six more doors to cells, and then a spiral staircase at the end of the hall (she estimates 130 feet from her door to the staircase). And down by the staircase is the only door that's on the opposite side of the hall from her cell. A different sort of room, then? Perhaps it's where the guards sit.
The guards force her into her cell and unlock her chains, then leave and lock the door behind them. But at least she knows a few new things: she knows where the guards are. She knows where the exit is. She knows it's Hydra and which base she's in, probably. And most importantly, she's feeling less likely to go stir crazy from this endless darkness.
. . . . . .
Three hours after her bathroom break, Skye finally hears something through the silence. It's faint, but she'd swear she hears . . . gunfire. Is someone coming for her?
After a few minutes, the gunfire stops, and there's silence. Then, finally, footsteps approach her cell. She gets up and stands to the side of the door. Now that she knows where the exit is, she thinks that if they open the door, maybe she can fight her way out . . .
But that doesn't happen. The window opens. "Get away from the door or we shoot!" cries a heavily accented voice—not Seyss. So Skye backs up slowly. The door opens just far enough for someone to be shoved in—someone tall and broad-shouldered. Then the door slams shut again.
"We've brought you a visitor, Skye." That's Seyss this time. "I think you two will want to catch up, won't you? We'll leave you to it."
The window shuts again and the footsteps recede, and Skye and this new person are alone in the dark. "Who is that?" she demands, horribly certain she knows the answer to that question.
And she's right. "Rookie?"
"Ward!" she breathes, and stumbles toward him. Even without being able to see each other, they end up with her hands on his shoulders and his cupping her face. It's a bit intimate, and she's in the process of planning some joke to relieve the tension she suddenly feels when she notices he's tapping on one of her ears with his thumb. Oh, for Pete's sake, of course she knows Hydra might be listening! She's not stupid.
She doesn't think it'll be spilling any important secrets to hiss, "What the heck were you thinking? Didn't you realize them contacting you like that was a trap?"
"Yes, I realized," he says matter-of-factly. "But I had to try. I couldn't leave you here."
Skye's about to tell him what an idiotic idea that was when suddenly she pauses, and then she closes her mouth, thinking. Despite what she nearly said to him just now, he's not an idiot. In fact, where this kind of thing is concerned, he's one of the smartest people she knows. Surely he wouldn't come here without some kind of plan. Unfortunately, with Hydra possibly listening, he can't talk about any such plan, and she can't ask. All she can do is wait and trust and hope she's right.
So instead of scolding him, she does the other thing she's wanted to since he showed up: she pulls him into a hug. She doesn't care if Hydra sees; they've already figured out that she and Ward are . . . whatever they are. He unhesitatingly puts his arms around her, and they just stand there for ages, her leaning her cheek on his shoulder, him leaning his on the top of her head. The hugs they've had previously tended to be tinged with awkwardness, but this one is . . . nice. Nicer than she'd ever admit to out loud. Also, she seriously loves the smell of whatever laundry soap he uses.
After a long time, he leans down so his lips are touching her ear, and he whispers, so softly that she barely hears, "Trust me."
Is he referring to his plan? The plan she assumes he has? She hopes so. In answer, she grips him even tighter and says, in a normal-volume voice, "It was crazy of you to come . . . but I'm glad you did." And she means it.
Finally, finally, their grips loosen and they back away from each other, although they keep their hands on each other's waists.
Knowing he's that close, even if she can't see him through the dark, is sort of making her nervous. So, to break the silence and distract herself, she asks, "So they told you their plan for you?"
"To brainwash me?" he asks. "Yeah, they mentioned that." There's another silence, and then he asks, "I assume they did something to block your powers?"
In response, she lifts one of his hands from her waist and sets it on the bracer on her arm. She can feel him moving his hand up and down it, examining it like she did. "Not coming off?" he says finally.
"Not coming off," she agrees. Another silence. "So why do you think they put us in the same cell?"
Ward hesitates. "Seyss told me, when they brought me to see him—through a two-way mirror, of course, since that's guy's obsessed with secrecy—that if I cooperate, go into the brainwashing sessions willingly, they won't hurt you. I mean, they'll still brainwash you, they just won't physically hurt you. I assume they're planning on giving you the same offer. And I think Seyss is hoping that letting us spend time together will make us more willing to sacrifice to keep each other safe."
She sighs and finds herself taking his hand in hers. "So what do we do now?" she asks.
"We wait," he says, squeezing her fingers. "Maybe we'll figure a way out. Or maybe SHIELD will notice you're gone and come after you."
She nods, but what she really wants to do is demand What's the plan? She hates being in the dark, both literally and figuratively. But he's right, there's nothing to do but wait.
"Is there any place to sit?" he asks finally. "I'm feeling a little . . ."
"Are you okay?" she demands as she leads him over to the mattress. "Are you hurt?"
"I got a little battered," he admits. "But nothing serious."
She wishes there were lights so she could see how badly he's lying to her; knowing him and how he refuses to admit when he's injured, she fears it might be serious after all. But again, nothing to do about it. So instead she tugs him down on the mattress and sits with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. He settles down near her, but not quite near enough; she scoots closer until they're actually touching, because in all this darkness he's what's anchoring her to reality. He hesitantly reaches out and takes her hand where it's resting against his leg, and she squeezes his hand in response. And then she figures, in for a penny, in for a pound, and she lays her head on his shoulder, and he lays his on top of hers. It's warmer this way, and it's more comfortable this way, and she tells herself that's why they're doing it but she knows that's not entirely true. She knows it's that she feels better when he's close.
And so Skye and Ward settle in to wait for whatever plan he may or may not have.
. . . . . .
Skye's gotten good, over the years, at judging the passage of time—a useful skill on an op—so she judges it's about an twenty minutes before she falls asleep. When she wakes up, apparently a fair amount of time has passed because she is quite a bit hungrier than she was, and she is cold. In fact, she thinks the shivering is probably what woke her up. The only part of her that's warm is the part that's pressed up against Ward's side. And noticing that is what finally makes her notice that Ward has taken the hand he was holding when she fell asleep and is rubbing it with both of his to keep it warm.
Reflexively, she flexes that hand a little, and Ward ceases what he's doing immediately. "Don't stop," she whispers, still groggy, and after a moment he continues.
"Give me your other hand," he commands, and she promptly does, turning to him a little so she can reach. He starts rubbing both of her hands. "You're really cold," he observes.
"I'd noticed," she shivers. "How are you not freezing?"
"I haven't been down here as long." She can feel him shrug.
She groans a little and turns to bury her face in his shoulder. Once she's done so, it occurs to her that this is a bit forward, but honestly, it's keeping her face warm so she doesn't move.
"We could wrap you in this sheet that's on the mattress," he suggests, but Skye suddenly remembers her suspicions earlier that the lack of food was meant to break her down and make her easier to brainwash. Maybe the cold is part of the same program. And the last thing she wants to do is something that really visibly lets her captors know how weak and vulnerable she's feeling.
So she shakes her head. "I'm all right," she lies.
Ward says nothing in reply, and they sit in silence a while. Finally, she murmurs against his shoulder, "Thanks for coming to get me."
"Hey," he says, "remember what I told you—anything you need, you just ask."
"I didn't even have to ask you about this one," she points out. "You just showed up."
"Well, Hydra was nice enough to ask on your behalf," he says, and she chuckles.
"I'm glad you're on my side," she says suddenly.
"I'm glad you trust me enough to know I'm on your side," he replies.
"I've trusted you for a long time," she says, which is something he should know by now—he's heard her say it a time or two—but she suddenly feels that it's important that he know it for sure.
"Thank you," he says, his voice suddenly much nearer her ear. He's turned toward her, she realizes from the way his breath is moving the hair on her forehead. And he's awfully close. He's, like, kissing close. Not that she plans on kissing him. Just, if she were, this is just about the best chance she's going to get, provided she trusts her aim in the dark.
Why is she thinking about this?
She's about to open her mouth and say something light-hearted, just to get her mind onto something else, when suddenly there's soft footsteps coming toward them in the hall. She springs to attention, and, based on the way he tenses, so does Ward. He releases her hands and gets quietly to his feet—it's cold without him—and then steps off the mattress. She follows suit. And they stand, waiting, for a long few moments, until suddenly the lights in the room come on.
It is painful and blinding, after all that time in the dark, and Skye throws her hands up to cover her eyes. Has the moment come? Is this how Seyss disorients them so they can't fight as he leads them to the brainwashing chamber?
The door opens, and Skye forces her eyes open just enough to see a Hydra guard come in. He opens the door wide, motioning at them, and Ward grabs Skye's hand and leads her out the door and down the hall to the guardroom at the base of the stairs. There is a second guard in there, standing over two more guards who are unconscious on the ground.
"Took you long enough," says Ward, who sounds in no way surprised.
The two conscious guards set down their guns. Skye notices the shorter one has a knapsack with him, and on the taller one's belt are . . . battle staves?
"Hey," says the taller guard in a familiar voice, "we had to fly across the ocean and then infiltrate a secret base. Cut us some slack." She lifts off her helmet to reveal blonde hair and a very welcome face. "Hi Skye. You doing all right?" She shoots a glance at Ward. "Did we interrupt anything? Because from the camera feed, you two looked kind of cozy. We can leave, if this is a bad time."
There's a smirk on her face, but the shorter guard sounds less amused when he speaks. "Can we save the teasing for later, Agent Morse?" he demands in a thick Glaswegian brogue. "We have a lot to do and I don't know when the whole force of Hydra is going to rain down on our heads and I promised my very pregnant wife that I wouldn't get killed today."
Fitz, of course, and as he removes the helmet and that familiar thick curly hair comes into view, Skye can't help it: she throws her arms around him. Because Fitz, who dislikes serious combat situations, has come to her rescue. Because Fitz is one of her best friends in the whole world, and he is here.
"Hi, Skye," he grins. He turns to Ward and gives him a small smile and a nod, which Ward returns. Then he turns his attention back to Skye. "So what have they done to inhibit your abilities?"
She lets him examine the bracers while, behind her, Bobbi stands at the door, listening, with her gun drawn. Ward starts divesting the unconscious guards of their weapons and hiding them in various spots around his own person; she can see now that she was right—he's pretty beat up, with a cut across his cheek and dried blood trailing down from his hairline, and a red shine around his left eye that is probably going to turn into a serious black eye. Nothing wrong with his mouth so apparently she could have kissed him, she thinks, and is so giddy with relief that she's not going to be brainwashed that she doesn't even remember to be embarrassed for thinking that.
"Ah," says Fitz, "Easy fix. I don't even need most of the stuff I brought." And he reaches into his knapsack and pulls out a handheld device with what she assumes is a saw blade at one end.
"You're going to saw my arm?" she asks flatly.
"It won't cut your skin," he promises. "It's like what doctors use to cut off casts for broken bones . . . except, you know, much stronger. Perfectly safe. It won't hurt you." He hesitates. "Well, I think not; I've never used a saw of this power on a person before. In the off-chance . . . you wouldn't mind, would you, if I accidentally cut your arm up a little?"
There's the Fitz she knows and loves. "If that's the alternative to getting brainwashed by Hydra, I'll take it."
Fitz nods and flips a switch, and with a quiet whine, the blade starts to move.
"How did you find us?" she asks Bobbi, mostly to distract herself from watching Fitz bring the blade close to the bracer on her left arm.
"Tracker," Bobbi says, nodding toward Ward, who's now keeping watch with her at the door.
Skye raises her eyebrows. "They didn't notice you wearing a tracker when they brought you in?"
He gestures at his left hip. "Subcutaneous," he says. "One of Fitz's, of course. And he did something . . . engineering-related to have it not show up on scans."
"Actually, it was quite simple," says Fitz, and Skye glances down to see that he's halfway through his first cut. "It all has to do with the mass of the metal components—"
Just then one of the unconscious guard's radios crackles to life. "Bericht," commands a stern-sounding voice.
Bobbi and Ward look at each other, and then Bobbi grabs the radio and hands in to Ward, who clicks it on. "Nichts zu berichten," he says. "Die Gefangene schlafen."
"Gut," says the voice, and the radio clicks off.
"Thanks," says Bobbi, taking the radio back and hooking it to her belt. "I can do German. I'm less good at being a German man." She fetches the other guard's radio and hooks it next to the first.
"First cut done," Fitz announces, and Skye looks down to see that he has cut through the bracer from top to bottom. But it's still too stiff to take off; he'll have to make a second cut and take the thing off in two pieces.
"So since we're apparently no longer worried about being listened in on, can someone tell me what's going on?" she asks.
"Rescue," says Fitz. "I thought that was obvious, Skye."
She rolls her eyes. "Anyone else have an answer?"
After a moment, Ward answers. "Hydra contact me yesterday and said they were cleaning up defectors, and they wanted Kara. Unless I gave her to them, they'd kill you. Sent me a picture of you unconscious on a plane to prove they had you. Obviously all a lie; if they could grab you, they could just as easily grab her. I figured it was a trap for the both of us—they wanted me to run at them. Not sure why they want me—retaliation because Garrett and I basically used them and tossed them aside? Or maybe they're just really in need of more manpower? So instead I called Coulson."
"Coulson was thrilled to death," says Bobbi. At Skye's startled look, she adds, "Not that you'd been taken. But that this is the chance he's been looking for to take down this arm of Hydra."
"Huh," says Skye, not following.
"Second cut done," Fitz announces, and the bracer comes off in two pieces. Skye gratefully moves her hand and arm around. Still no powers, with the second bracer still on, but at least her arm doesn't feel so constricted.
"The defenses here are unassailable," Bobbi points out. "No way we can fight in from the outside. Fitz and I barely managed to sneak in disguised as guards."
"But Seyss," Ward goes on, "just brought SHIELD's most powerful weapon right into the heart of his base."
"Well, most powerful person," points out Fitz. "I recently came up with a gun that—"
"Anyway," says Bobbi, "Ward let himself get captured to lead us to you; we figured they'd put you somewhat near each other. Although—" she smirks again— "we didn't expect it to be as near each other as we actually found you."
Is this going to be a thing? Skye hopes this is not going to be a thing.
"I told you," Fitz tells her under his breath, "you two kind of give off the impression that you're together."
Ward looks embarrassed, and quickly goes on. "And now Fitz is here to activate that weapon."
"And I am here to protect Fitz, and the rest of SHIELD is waiting a few miles away until we bring the defense system down from in here," says Bobbi. "Simple."
Skye thinks over this, then asks, "Why did you wait so long after Ward arrived to come down here?"
"We've only been in Austria for a couple hours," says Bobbi. "He got here way before we did."
"Third cut done," announces Fitz.
"I was in Egypt when I got the call," says Ward. "Jetted over to the UAE office and got the tracker from them. Claud let me take Drew and the jet; she was worried sick when she heard you were in trouble, Skye."
Skye smiles. "That's really sweet of her."
"Drew wanted to come help as well," he says with a smile. "But I sent him home when we got to Austria. I can't fault his enthusiasm but he's not exactly subtle or stealthy."
Skye laughs.
"And then Ward came here and just waltzed right in, instead of waiting for us." Bobbi's smile is teasing.
Ward looks embarrassed again. "I wanted her to know we were coming for her," he says.
Oh. That's . . . also really sweet. As is Ward's embarrassment. And it's kind of nice to hear him say "we" when referring to SHIELD. Not that he's an agent again, but he's . . . friendly with them, at least.
Just then, she notices something on the row of monitors on the wall: amidst all the empty cells, there is movement on one of the screens—a guard, coming down the stairs. Ward apparently notices it at the same time. "Morse," he says, sharply and too loud.
Fitz's hand jerks in surprise, and Skye winces as she waits for the saw to slice her arm. But nothing happens; the blade simply rests against her skin. Fitz, aghast, checks her arm but sees the lack of damage and a relieved smile comes across his face. "See?" he says. "Perfectly safe."
Skye rolls her eyes at him. Only then does she notice on the stairwell monitor that Bobbi is out there taking down the guard with a few well-placed hits. A moment later she appears back in the guard room. "Done yet?" she asks Fitz.
In that moment, the saw cuts through the last bit of the bracer, and Fitz carefully removes the two pieces. Immediately Skye's vibration sense comes flowing back to her, and for a moment it's as overwhelming as when Fitz turned on the lights in her cell. But quickly she's able to sort out all the different vibrations: Fitz's fluttering heart (apparently he's a lot more nervous than he lets on). Bobbi and Ward's steady pulses. Running water somewhere far below in the rock. And, most alarmingly, footsteps moving toward the stairs on the floor above.
"We're about to have company," she warns the others.
Bobbi looks pleased. "I take it Quake is back in the game?"
Skye grins in reply. Let those Hydra agents bring it on.
"Good," says Ward. "I've always wanted to see you in a real fight."
"Here's your chance," she says, taking the guard's gun that Ward is offering her. "Let's go."
. . . . . .
They move stealthily up three floors, following a device that Fitz carries with him—apparently it creates maps using radar? Skye doesn't really pay attention to his explanation, but she does listen when he tells her that the base has a main building and two wings, and they are in the basement levels of the east wing. On each floor, they search each cell and lab and room, locating all Hydra personnel. Where possible, they use ICERs; where impossible, Ward and Bobbi and Skye use hand-to-hand while Fitz follows after, injecting the incapacitated men with the same dose of dendrotoxin as is in the ICER rounds—it's important everyone stay unconscious and no one raise an alarm.
On the second floor they visit, they find an agent who is exactly Ward's build, and after he's unconscious, they steal his uniform and Ward changes into it. On the next floor they visit, they find a female agent for Skye. So when they reach the main floor of the east wing, which conveniently houses the defense system command center—Ward took note of its location when they brought him in—they look for all the world like four Hydra agents just out for an afternoon stroll.
No one accosts them as they enter the command center, and Skye quickly destroys the security cameras while Bobbi and Ward take care of the guards and technicians in there, piling the unconscious bodies in a supply closet to one side of the room. When they finish their tasks, they see Fitz looking regretfully at the rows of gleaming machines, which control cameras and laser grids and Skye doesn't even know what else. Shark tanks, maybe. "Such a waste," says Fitz, ever the engineer. "If I had time, I could disable these by hand, and then we'd be able to study them. Imagine what advances Hydra may have made in the last seventy years."
"No time," says Bobbi, who's securing the main door with heavy furniture. "It won't be long before someone notices the cameras are all out and comes knocking." She looks around at them. "Once the defense system goes down, they'll come running to this room. You guys ready to hold down the fort?"
They all nod, and Bobbi pulls a small radio from her uniform. "AC, this is Mockingbird. We are in position; it's in the east wing, just where the Cowardly Lion had guessed it would be."
"I've told you," Fitz says, "that is not my codename!" Skye just laughs; the name has stuck for years now, and it's not going to change any time soon.
Bobbi smirks at him, then turns back to her radio. "We are ready on your mark."
"You've got the target?" Coulson asks.
"Right here," Skye calls.
"Good," says Coulson, and there's no mistaking the relief in his voice. "Bring the defenses down now."
Bobbi nods at Skye, who turns a table on its side and motions to the others to duck behind it with her. "In case of flying debris," she explains. "This can get . . . dramatic."
When they're all safely hidden, she returns her attention to the machines and closes her eyes. These are much smaller and less dense than many things she's destroyed before. But this time, it's vital that the destruction be thorough, that every component be rattled apart. So she picks through the humming, getting a read on every machine: where it is, what's it currently doing. And then she raises her hands and pushes.
The whole room seems to explode. Bits of metal pepper the table, and she's glad she insisted on everyone taking cover. The hum that filled the room earlier vanishes, the lights flicker, and they begin to hear shouting out in the hallway. As Skye goes to draw her weapon, she notices Ward staring up at her with awe in his eyes.
"That," he says fervently, "was amazing."
She can't help the pleased smile that crosses her face, but just then they hear the first movement at the door, so they turn their attention to the fight that's about to commence. There will be time for awe and admiration later.
. . . . . .