Plans have been made. Armies have been gathered, and a few old friends have returned for the big fight. Johann Schmidt is about to rue the day he underestimated Steve Rogers.
Steve didn't think he'd ever seen a larger army than the one gathered in the woods at the foot of the mountain that led to Schmidt's base. When Phillips told him numbers wouldn't be a problem, he hadn't been kidding around. Every single student team from Hogwarts was here, as well as several from other schools. Every fighting unit under the S.S.R.'s command was here, along with what had to be every Auror and magical soldier in Europe. Steve saw several familiar faces, including Alistair from Ethan's old unit, and Donovan, who was gearing up with the medical corps.
"Steve!" he said happily, making his way over. "It's good to see you!"
"You too," Steve said, patting him warmly on the back. "How have you been?"
Donovan nodded. "Not bad. I've put off Healer training to work with some medical units on the field until the war's over—looks like today might be the day, hey?"
"Sure hope so," Steve agreed.
"Listen," Donovan said, lowering his voice. "I heard about Bucky. I'm really sorry."
Steve nodded his thanks, not trusting his voice to say anything else.
"When we've finished with this," Donovan went on. "Let me know when the service is, yeah? I can take some time off, and I'd like to be able to talk to his parents and all."
"I will," Steve said. He hadn't had time to devote much thought to Bucky's memorial service, or even to what his parents would say, and he refused to do so now. A little voice that sounded remarkably like Bucky echoed in the back of his head and reminded him to keep his head in the game. But he would let Donovan know. It would be good to have as many people there as they could who'd fought alongside Bucky, and Steve thought the Barneses might like to meet him.
Colin came over then to greet his old unit leader, saving them from going down too emotional a road. He'd been cleared for active duty the week before, and this would be his first mission since losing his leg.
"Don't worry about me, Captain," Colin assured him. "I've been practicing, and I've got the feel now for running and moving with this thing. It won't slow me down, and I'll no' be in anyone's way. In fact, I've learnt a maneuver or two that might come in handy." To demonstrate, he walked over to a nearby tree and kicked at it, flexing the claws at the end of the limb as he did so and gouging a series of deep slashes in the wood.
Donovan let out an appreciative whistle. "I'd hate to be the Hydra soldier on the receiving end of that one."
Colin grinned. "Just let me at them."
Steve smiled and patted him on the back. "It's good to have you back."
"Captain!" Monty said, running over. "Listen, we're passing out charms from the magical creatures unit—has anyone given you one yet?"
"No," Steve said. "And the what, now?"
Monty grinned, handing him what looked like a little brass coin, then passing one to Colin and Donovan as well. "There's a unit of wyvern wranglers here. Came in on a special favor for Phillips. They're quite the fighters in tight spaces, but the wyverns get a bit frenzied once they get going. Just put this in your pocket or somewhere on you, and if you run into one once we're inside, they'll let you be."
"That's bloody fantastic!" Colin said, stuffing the coin into his pocket excitedly. "Where are they?"
"Over that way," Monty said, waving to the left. A distant reptilian screech accompanied the gesture. "And Dugan's looking for you," he added, turning back to Steve and pointing in the direction of the wyverns again.
Steve nodded. "Okay. Thanks." He patted Donovan on the shoulder. "I'll see you later. Good luck."
"You too," Donovan replied.
Steve headed off to find Dugan, who was, reluctantly, functioning as the Howlies' new second in command. He met up with him and they went over the Howlies' plan of entry and Steve's route for the initial assault, adjusting for the weather, which was cloudier than anticipated, and making suggestions for where the wyverns should go.
"Sounds good," Steve said when they were done. "I'm gonna check some last-minute stuff with Howard and the bike, but I think we're ready. Can you find Phillips and get the status from the rest of the unit leaders?" Steve had come up with most of the plan, and was more or less in charge of combat, but each fighting unit still had their own commander and objective, and Steve was glad he wasn't personally responsible for so many extra people.
"Aye, aye, Captain," Dugan said, shooting him a salute and walking away.
Steve walked over to where Howard was tinkering with his bike, which happened to be across from where the wyverns had landed and were being corralled. They were small for being related to dragons—only about the size of a horse—but Steve supposed you needed something small to fit through human-sized tunnels. He could definitely see why you'd want to keep out of the way of those claws and teeth, even if they didn't breathe fire like their larger cousins. Howard showed him the modifications he'd made to the motorcycle—adjustments for speed and steering sensitivity, as well as a couple of nasty surprises for anyone who might get too close chasing him.
"Now, the explosives are all in here, but they won't go off until you trigger them," he said, pointing at a button he'd added to the handlebars. "You sure about that part?" he asked. "I know you've put a lot of work into this bike."
Steve shrugged. He had put a lot of work into the bike. He loved this bike, but, well…he was having a hard time caring about that right now. They needed something big and explosive for the plan, and, who knew, maybe, maybe building a new one later would be good for him. "I'm sure."
"Alright," Howard said. He clapped Steve on the shoulder. "We're gonna get this, Steve."
"Steve?" came a vaguely familiar voice from the direction of the wyvern pen. Steve turned and saw a tall, red-headed woman climbing down from the back of one of the wyverns. She grinned. "I thought someone said you were here. But you're never the same wee thing that came flyin' out my cupboard five years ago! Bloody hell, but you've grown!"
Memory clicked into place and Steve's mouth dropped open. "Miss McCrimmon?"
She laughed. "Ach, call me Katie." She walked over and gave him a hug, pounding him on the back. "Well, look at you, then," she said, stepping back and looking him up and down. "Leading an army and everything. I never would have thought it." She smiled.
"Oh, well," Steve said, blushing a little and not really sure of what to say.
"I hear you've got your friends along as well. Is your mate, Bucky, here? I should like to meet him after all you had to say about him," Katie said.
"Oh." Steve's face fell. "No, he, uh…" He swallowed down a knot in his throat. "He's not…"
"Oh," Katie said, going nearly as red as her hair as she figured out what he was trying to say. "Oh, I'm sorry, lad. I didn't—"
"It's okay," Steve said quietly. "You didn't know." He swallowed the knot back down and squared his shoulders back. This wasn't the time. "So, uh, what are you doing here?"
"I've a knack for wyverns," she said, latching on to the change in topic. "My mates and I," she went on, waving at the group of people assembled around the animals. "We work with them a good bit, and yon Alec there," she said, pointing at a short man with a thatch of gray hair. "Is a friend of your Colonel Phillips. He thought we might be able to help raise a little hell for Hydra."
Steve did smile at that. "Good. The more the better."
"Aye," she said. She walked over to the pen and a bluish-green wyvern approached with a gait that could only be described as a ridiculously fast waddle. "This one's mine. Look at the teeth on her, eh?" she said, patting its snout. "And the claws, too," she added, pointing down at the reptile's two legs, each encircled with some sort of ankle bracelet connected by a series of little rings to vicious-looking metal extensions of the talons. She leaned forward and kissed its scaly nose. "She'll cause plenty of havoc, she will. My Pancake's a feisty wee thing."
Steve blinked. "Her name is Pancake?" That was an awfully cute name for a giant two-legged snake wearing brass knuckles.
"Aye," Katie said proudly.
"Okay."
"We're ready for you, Cap," crackled Dugan's voice in the radio in his ear.
"On my way," Steve said. He smiled over at Katie. "Good luck in there. And thanks for coming."
"Good luck to you too," Katie said. She shot him a salute. "Captain."
He took the bike and rode over to where Phillips and the rest of his team were waiting, startling the wyverns as he gunned the engine.
"See you inside, Cap," Dugan said. Steve was the one who was going to be knocking on the front door, drawing Schmidt's attention while the rest of his group snuck in the back.
"Be careful," Peggy said, kissing him quickly on the cheek.
"You too," Steve told her. "I'll see you in there."
He revved the engine and took off, breaking through the magical barrier they'd all been hiding behind and hitting the road that would take him straight to the front door of the base. He felt a tingle rush over his body as he broke through an alarm spell, then heard the far-off gunning of at least two motorcycles starting up somewhere behind him. He tightened his grip on the handlebars. It was time.
Steve dared a quick look behind him as the noise caught up with him. Okay, that was a lot more than two. He veered between a couple of trees, and it was hard to hear over the noise of so many engines, but he picked up the whine of a Tesseract weapon, and leaned a little to the left, letting the shield strapped to his back take the hit of blue energy. Another quick look back showed him that no one was holding a gun—they appeared to have had some modifications made to their bikes as well, with the barrels of the energy weapons mounted to the front of each one.
He checked his mirror as he approached a thick growth of trees on either side of the road, then flicked one of the switches Howard had installed by the handlebars. A thick cable flew out from the back of the bike, sharp spikes on either end impaling themselves in two of the trees and creating a neck-high line across the road. The first four soldiers chasing him ducked down underneath it, but the two in the back, unable to see around their comrades, drove directly into it, clotheslining themselves and flying from their bikes with undignified squawks of pain.
Two down.
Steve slowed down, letting the two bikes behind him get closer, then pushed another button and fire spurted out of the back of the machine, catching his pursuers in the blaze. One engine exploded, and then another one, and he zipped up ahead, extinguishing the inferno before it could catch his own engine.
Two more down.
The remaining two behind him zoomed off to the side, gunned the engines over a rise, and dropped back down into the road in front of him. Steve could see them moving to cut him off, so he put on a burst of speed, getting between them before they could close the gap. He leaned in and ripped the cap off the coolant tank on the nearest soldier's bike, then sped forward as the liquid gushed out onto the forest floor. At the speed they were going, it was less than fifteen seconds before the engine dried out, overheated and exploded, sending the Hydra bike careening out of control and into its companion. Steve looked back to make sure they were both down, and allowed himself a small smile of victory.
The last two were down, and just in time, as he rounded a bend and the trees cleared out to reveal a massive gate blocking the road, a snow-capped mountain rising up beyond it. The entrance to the gate was completely blocked by a large tank, and Steve smirked to himself—they definitely knew he was coming. Sending a tank out to meet one attacker seemed like overkill, but it was just one more obstacle he could clear that the team behind him wouldn't have to. He pulled his shield off his back and latched it onto the front of the bike, ducking down as he heard the turret powering up to fire.
Blue bolts of lightning shot out of the cannon, and he weaved back and forth, out-maneuvering the giant machine as it struggled to follow his path, though debris from the pieces of forest that it hit were raining down on him. He pushed another of the buttons Howard had installed, and two tiny, naquadah-powered missiles shot out of a barrel mounted around the front wheel. They'd thought he might have to blow the front gate open, but the missiles worked just as well for destroying a tank, and the giant machine went up in a blaze of fire. Steve ducked behind his shield as chunks of shrapnel flew his way, then he veered to the side, driving up the sloping wall to the side of the gate and shooting out to land beyond the blazing remains of the tank with a bone-jarring crash.
The Hydra soldiers in the yard, though momentarily stunned by the explosion, were quick on the uptake, rushing forward and firing more bolts of blue lightning at him. Steve ducked and dodged, weaving around soldiers, stationary tanks and trucks, until he had a clear view of the second gate, set into the base of the mountain. He lined the bike up, flicked a final switch, then stood up on the seat, grabbing the shield off the front and leaping into the air. He came down with his foot squarely on the head of one of the Hydra soldiers, whirling his shield around into the face of another. Glancing up in the direction of the bike, he was just in time to see it slam into the metal gate and go up in a ball of fire that took out not only the gate, but part of the wall too. He did feel something then, a sharp sting of emotion at the demise of his beloved motorcycle. But it had given its life for a good cause—there was no way the guards would have that hole fixed by the time the assault team arrived—and people were trying to kill him, and that was all the time he had to devote any thought to it.
He threw himself into the melee of guards rushing at him, and he lost himself for a little while in kicking and punching and flinging spells and hurling his shield. His anger and rage at Hydra fueled him, and he fought his way through the crowd with a ferocity he'd never felt before. Punching away the pain wasn't the healthiest way to deal with his grief, and he knew that, but right now, when it was Hydra on the receiving end of those punches, it felt pretty good.
He stopped short as a burst of orange flames shot by his face, so close he could feel the heat. In front of him was a Hydra soldier with some sort of shoulder-mounted fire-cannon, twin barrels shooting flames out on either side of Steve. The same flame and heat sounded behind him, and a second soldier with the same weapon appeared, the four jets of flame pinning Steve in the center of them. He looked around, gauging the approaching soldiers gathering beyond the flames. Alright. He lowered his shield and the flames died down, dozens of Tesseract guns training their barrels on him in their wake. Time to stop.
He set down his shield and his wand, slowly raising his hands. A guard darted forward to grab them, two more jumping forward to cuff Steve's hands behind his back. The rest of the soldiers stayed where they were, guns on Steve. He stood still, not making any moves that could be construed as fighting. Their message was pretty clear.
His captors walked him inside, another guard following behind keeping his gun trained on his back. Steve was pleased to see another guard trotting along beside that one, bringing Steve's wand and shield. Good. He didn't want to have to look for them later.
Steve and his guards walked down the long hallway. Steve noted turns and counted doors, and he allowed himself an internal smile of satisfaction when they led him into a large, domed room with a window overlooking the rest of the mountains. So far, everything was where Zola had promised it would be. And while Steve still didn't trust the little scientist, it did make the next part of the plan easier.
"Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say, you do it better than anyone," came a familiar voice from the shadows on the side of the room. Steve's eyes snapped around, and there he was. Schmidt. The lines of his blood-red face were sharp, a cavern of darkness where his nose should have been, and his teeth, though partially obscured by a frown, gleamed stark white and predatory. Steve swallowed down the rage boiling in his stomach, along with the desire to lunge forward and punch the head of Hydra until every one of the bones in that skinless face shattered into dust. Not yet. He made sure his face was schooled into something stoic. Not yet. Let him think he'd won.
Schmidt came to a stop in front of him, a glare reminiscent of a disappointed teacher on his face, and Steve fought down the absurd urge to laugh.
"I know you have ignored my warnings in the past, but there are limits to what even you can do, Captain." Schmidt said clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?"
"He told me you were insane," Steve replied, pleased to see the smug look disappear from Schmidt's face.
"Ah," Schmidt said, recovering quickly and lifting one shoulder in a shrug, as if he'd been expecting a reply like that. "He resented my genius and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine, but he gave you everything," he said, a tiny note of puzzlement creeping into his voice. His head was tilted to one side, studying Steve as if he were some sort of lab experiment. "So, what made you so special?" he asked, a mocking smile on his face.
"Nothing," Steve said, enjoying the perplexed line that appeared between Schmidt's eyebrows. (Eyebrows? Were they technically eyebrows if there wasn't any hair on them?) He smiled, knowing refusing to answer was pissing Schmidt off. "I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."
Schmidt snarled and swung out first one fist and then another, knocking Steve's head to one side and then back again before plowing a fist into Steve's gut and making him double over and drop to his knees. Steve coughed and drew in an inhale that sounded suspiciously like a wheeze, trying to catch his breath. Schmidt's super-juice was flawed, but he still packed a hell of a punch. Ow.
Schmidt stood over him now, glaring down at him, and Steve raised his head, his breath back under control. "I could do this all day," Steve said.
"Oh, of course you can, of course," Schmidt agreed, condescension dripping from every word. "And while it would be fun, unfortunately, I am on a tight schedule." He pulled a pistol from his belt, the familiar whine of Tesseract energy humming inside it, and pointed it at Steve's face.
Steve's ears caught the quiet sounds of hooks chipping into rocks outside, and Schmidt must have picked it up too, the way his head snapped around to the window. Steve saw the silhouettes of his teammates approaching through the window, then turned back to Schmidt. "So am I," he growled.
Steve spun his body, yanking the Hydra guard at his right elbow around in front of him in time to take the shot from Schmidt's pistol. Glass shattered as bodies came flying through the windows, then the air was alive with the snap of bullets and spells as Gabe, Monty and Dugan unleashed their assault. Schmidt turned and ran for the hall, leaving his guards to handle the fight, and Steve sprang to his feet, snapping the cuffs around his wrists and snatching his wand from the hand of the guard who'd been holding it. He flung an elbow back behind him, along with a well-placed kick and a couple of spells, eliminating the guards who had been standing behind him.
"Steve!" Monty called, snatching up the shield that had rolled in his direction when the guard holding it fell. "You might need this!" He hurled the shield at Steve with one hand, tossing curse bombs with the other.
"Thanks!" Steve yelled, then turned for the door in pursuit of Schmidt.
He hurried down the corridor, and he heard a distant explosion and then Jim's voice yelling in the radio in his ear, "We're in! Assault teams, go!"
"Move out!" came Phillips' voice over another line.
Steve picked up the pace, knowing the battle was heating up behind him as all the S.S.R. soldiers who'd been waiting outside burst in. They had the Hydra guys, though. Steve's target was Schmidt, and he wasn't letting him get away.
He rounded a corner and ducked down behind his shield as Schmidt fired another burst of lightning at him. Looked as though he'd gotten himself a bigger gun. The corridor curved too sharply for Steve to get in a good shot with his wand, so he flung his shield into the wall, where it bounced and arced out of sight. Steve didn't hear the sound of it catching someone in the head, but he did hear a metal clanging that told him the shield had wedged itself between two doors that had been closing, and he hurried forward.
Another one of the guys with the flamethrowers appeared before Steve could get to his shield, and he ducked into a doorway to the side to get out of the heat. He tried shooting water out with his wand, but it just hissed and turned to steam as it hit the blaze. It made sense that they'd be shooting magical fire, but it had been worth a shot.
The flames got louder as the guard wielding them got closer, and Steve waited, thinking he could roll out under them when the guy got close enough and pop up and punch him in the face. They were extinguished abruptly in a burst of gunfire and an explosion, then he heard the heavy sound of a body dropping to the floor. Steve leaned out from his doorway to see Peggy rushing in, a group of guys from the 107th and 89th behind her. He smiled. "Nice shot," he said as she stepped forward, and she grinned. She opened her mouth to say something, then Steve grabbed her and dived back into his doorway as a reptilian shriek echoed down the hallway. He heard the 89th and 107th guys diving out of the way as a flash of scales and teeth and claws filled the corridor, followed by the snapping of fangs and the screaming of Hydra soldiers as the wyvern rounded the corner.
"I guess the charms work," Steve said, stepping back out into the hallway. No one on their side had been attacked by the wyvern, though they'd all had to scramble to get out of its way.
"Fortunately," Peggy said with a smile. She nodded in the direction Schmidt had gone. "Weren't you about to…"
"Right," Steve said, and darted off after Schmidt. The hallway was on fire and there were angry wyverns running around, but Peggy could take care of herself. Steve grabbed his shield out of the doors it was wedged between and put on a burst of speed as he headed for the hangar.
Once he got there, it was chaos. The air was glowing with blue lightning and spells, crackling with bullets and vibrating with the shrieks of at least three of the wyverns flying around in low circles and snapping at Hydra agents. Steve could see the Valkyrie, a massive hulk of metal turning slowly toward the opposite end of the hangar where a tiny pinpoint of light marked the end of the runway and the beginning of the open sky. Steve couldn't let him take off, but how could he cross the madness in front of him and get to the plane in time?
He spotted a familiar blur of red hair in the air above him and he ran forward, slamming his shield into a couple of Hydra helmets as he went. "Katie!" he yelled, and she and the wyvern veered in his direction.
Steve ran up a stack of boxes and leapt into the air, and he heard Katie yell, "Pancake! Catch!" The wyvern swooped lower, making a fist with one foot as Steve's hand reached out, allowing him to grab hold without tearing his hand to shreds on the talons. The wyvern continued its loop, circling back as it reached the edge of the melee and flinging its foot out to the side, giving Steve some extra momentum as he jumped. He landed clear of the fight and poured everything he had into his legs, running after the retreating airship.
As if Schmidt sensed what he was doing, the plane picked up speed. Steve ran faster, but he was no match for the machine, and it was pulling away. Despair that he'd been too late started to expand in his chest when a car screeched to a halt beside him and Phillips barked, "Get in!"
Steve leapt into the passenger seat without hesitating, wondering briefly where Phillips had found a car in the first place, then noticing the octopus emblem on the hood ornament. It must be Schmidt's. Phillips gunned the engine and they took off after the Valkyrie. Steve shot a quick glance back to the backseat where Peggy was sitting, determination burning in her eyes as the airship drew closer.
The Valkyrie started to pull away again, the dot of light at the end of the runway getting larger rapidly, and Phillips jabbed a button beside the steering wheel that sent the car rocketing forward as flames shot out the sides. They were gaining on it now, and Steve stood and slid out onto the side of the car, holding onto the door to keep his balance on the running boards. "Keep it steady!" he called to Phillips. If they could get level with the wheel, Steve could jump and catch the mechanism above it and pull himself up inside.
"Wait!" Peggy called, and Steve looked back as the car surged forward. She grabbed one of the harnesses across his chest and tugged him forward and kissed him, deep and fervent and passionate, and Steve couldn't do anything but gasp for air and stare at her stupidly when she let go. She'd never kissed him like that before. "Go get him!" she said fiercely.
He looked at Phillips, as if he was seeking confirmation for what had just happened, and Phillips rolled his eyes. "I'm not kissin' ya!" he declared.
That snapped Steve out of his haze, and he turned back to look at the Valkyrie, the wheel drawing ever closer, but still not quite in reach. He threw himself against the hood as one of the propellers slashed down at him, hearing the snap of glass behind him as it crunched through the windshield. He glanced back, and Peggy had ducked down out of the way. Phillips had barely flinched. Steve stood up again as the wheel drew closer. The road beneath them was rapidly running out. As they burst out into open air, Steve threw himself forward, hearing the tires of the car screech behind him. He caught on a cable and pulled himself up quickly onto the wheel and then grabbing the metal of the landing leg. A quick look behind him showed him the car safe and mostly still on the ledge, Peggy standing up to keep him in sight as he disappeared.
The edge of the mountain was out of sight before he could blink, and Steve had a moment to be impressed with the speed of the thing—he could already see the rapidly widening glitter of the ocean on the horizon—before pulling himself up a little higher and tucking himself into the spires of the landing leg as it started to fold up inside the plane. He climbed up, wriggling out as the bits of machinery started to flatten and the hatch beneath it closed. It was suddenly quiet, out of the roaring wind.
Steve jumped off of the mechanism and pulled himself up onto a thin catwalk and looked around. He was in the bottom of the plane, in what looked like the weapons bay. Bombs were nestled into little crevices all around the bottom of the plane, and as he stepped closer, he realized they weren't just bombs, but smaller planes. These must be the kamikaze planes they'd been using the naquadah for. Steve could feel the magic and destructive power humming off of them even here in the middle of the room. It looked like Schmidt was going to fly to the east coast, and then pilots would take the little plane/bombs and head off for specific cities—the names of the cities he was targeting were painted on the sides, and Steve swallowed down a knot of fury as his eyes caught one labelled 'New York'. Oh, hell, no.
The catwalk to his left rattled as boots landed on it, and several Hydra soldiers came running into the bay, tromping along the catwalk toward their assigned planes. Steve jumped up, grabbed onto a rail in the roof, and swung over, knocking the last soldier off the catwalk and down into the machinery. The rest of them spun around at the sound and moved toward Steve, the one in the front pulling out a knife and lunging at him. Steve dodged him, sent him to the ground with a punch, then took out the second one with a kick. He grabbed the knife out of the hand of the first one, who was getting back up again, and flung it at the third one, who was retreating for one of the planes, catching him square between the shoulders and dropping him like a rock.
The first one scrambled away and dove for the nearest plane, pulling back the hatch to get in. Steve lunged for the control panel in front of him and jabbed at the biggest button, opening the hatch below the plane and sending it tumbling out into space to explode harmlessly in the ocean below. The soldier who'd been trying to climb in flailed at the wall, caught it, lost his grip, then fell out after the plane.
More soldiers came at Steve before he could drop any more of the planes, and he fought with two of them while the third dove for the 'New York' plane. Steve threw off the soldiers and jumped forward, but the third one had already gotten into the plane. Steve raised his shield to bring it down and crack the canopy, but one of the soldiers jumped at him and caught him in the middle, knocking him to the side and making him drop his shield. He got back on top of the plane just as it dropped, and Steve, the soldier he was fighting, and the pilot dropped out into the air.
Steve clung to the outside of the canopy, his fight with the other soldier momentarily forgotten as they both fought to keep their grip. The pilot started to roll and spin the plane, trying to knock Steve off and evidently not caring if his comrade fell with him. He pulled the plane into a sharp upward turn, and Steve and the soldier both fell back. Steve managed to catch onto one of the fins behind the cockpit, but the other soldier did not, falling into the propeller and vanishing in a pained scream and a spray of gore. Steve grimaced.
The plane levelled out, and Steve could see the pilot inside craning his neck to see if he'd managed to knock him off. Steve inched forward, pulling out his wand and tapping the edge of the canopy to undo the lock. It sprang open and Steve reached inside, grabbing the eject lever and sending the pilot flying out of the ship. He hauled himself forward and down into the cockpit, waving his wand at the canopy to close it again. He was down lower than he should have been since the seat had flown out of the plane with the pilot, but Steve was tall, and he still had good visibility of the Valkyrie up ahead.
Steve wasn't sure on the specifics of how to drive the little plane, but the controls looked an awful lot like a steering wheel, so he pointed it in the direction of the Valkyrie and caught up. Bolts of blue lightning shot out at him from the gun turrets on top, and Steve figured Schmidt must have figured out that it wasn't one of his guys driving the plane. He aimed for the back of the plane and braced himself, hoping the little craft wasn't going to explode on impact as he crashed back into the weapons bay.
It was a bone-jarring landing, but no explosions were forthcoming, and Steve threw the hatch open and jumped out, scooping up his shield from where it had fallen earlier. He looked back at the plane he had crashed, the propellers in bits and the little craft no longer air-worthy. Well, that was New York's bomb taken care of, but he wasn't done yet. He glanced at the control panel, contemplating just dropping the rest of the planes out into the open ocean, but he didn't know how long it would be before more soldiers came at him. He'd taken out six, but there were way more than six planes down here. There might not be time, and Schmidt could still cause plenty of damage with those gun turrets and whatever other weapons were on board. No, his best bet was to make for the cockpit and stop the whole show.
Steve put up as many wards as he could think of quickly across the door to the weapons bay—at least that would slow down anyone who headed down there after he left—then hurried up toward the front of the plane, stopping to take out any more soldiers he came across. No matter how far he got from the weapons bay, he could still feel the naquadah humming in the air—it must be worked into the walls of the ship itself. The cockpit, when he reached it, was eerily quiet. There was no one in sight, but Steve didn't need a Revealing spell to tell him Schmidt wasn't far off. He'd known he was coming. He was just waiting for him now.
Carefully, Steve inched forward, shield raised. Schmidt was in here somewhere, but the closer Steve could get to the controls, the better. Soft, white light played through the cabin—they were up high enough they were above the clouds, and Steve could see the curve of the earth below them and the dark of space above them. No wonder they were moving so fast. If it hadn't been for the imminent danger of death and all, Steve might have taken a second to admire the view. It was kind of amazing.
He was more than halfway up, level with a bulk of machinery in the middle that was glowing blue and no doubt housed the Tesseract, when the familiar whine of an energy gun powering up behind him had him spinning around. The bolt of lightning flung him back and ricocheted off his shield to blast a hole in the front window, sending loud, freezing wind flying through the cabin.
"You don't give up, do you?" Schmidt asked, a manic smirk on his face.
"Nope!" Steve declared, lunging forward, shield still up, as more bolts of energy came flying his way. He made it to Schmidt and plowed into him, fists and shield flying. He landed some solid punches, but so did Schmidt, and a knee to Steve's gut sent him flying back again. Steve landed on his knees and stayed there long enough for Schmidt to come flying forward with a kick, then Steve grabbed his leg and hurled him around and into one of the support struts as he jumped back to his feet.
Schmidt was barely fazed by the impact and lunged forward again, and they exchanged several more ferocious punches and kicks, Schmidt hitting too hard and moving too fast for Steve to get his wand out. He managed to get an arm around Schmidt's neck, but Schmidt lunged to the side, yanking Steve with him and turning in the air so that Steve took the force of the collision as they landed on the casing around the Tesseract. Steve lost his grip on impact and Schmidt rolled away.
Steve grabbed up his shield by the straps and swung it at Schmidt's face. Schmidt grabbed at the other strap and tore it out of Steve's hand, spinning it around and bringing it in for a blow that would have shattered Steve's cheekbone if he hadn't ducked out of the way. He wrenched the shield out of Schmidt's grip and slammed it into his face, sending him staggering back into the control panel, slamming against the controls and sending the plane into a sharp dive amid a shower of sparks.
Steve flew up into the ceiling as the floor flew out from under him. Schmidt came flying after him, hitting him with a punch that sent him flying sideways into one of the support struts. Schmidt crawled down another support toward the control panel, kicking at it and hitting something that levelled the craft out again, sending Steve smashing into the floor. Schmidt flicked his wand at the panel, and Steve rolled behind one of the supports to catch his breath as Schmidt descended from the control platform.
"You could have the power of the gods!" Schmidt yelled, and Steve heard a soft whine of energy before a shot came flying in his general direction from Schmidt's pistol. "But you wear a flag on your chest and think you fight a battle of nations!" He fired again with both the gun and his wand, sending deadly bursts of energy at him so fast Steve could only leap out from behind his cover and dive for his shield. He pulled out his wand as he flew and shot a spell at Schmidt, pleased to hear him cry out angrily as it caught him in the ankle. "I have seen the future, Captain!" he cried triumphantly. "There are no flags! Only Hydra!"
"Not my future!" Steve yelled back. His wand out now, he was able to send several more spells in Schmidt's direction—the Stunning spell only dropped him to his knees, but Steve slashed out several times with the attack spell he'd learned from Peggy, and Schmidt hissed in pain as gashes appeared across his arms and chest.
Shoving himself back to his feet with a growl, Schmidt fired both a spell and a blast from his pistol at Steve, and Steve's reflexes were fast enough to keep him from getting hit by the energy bolt, but Schmidt's reflexes were fast enough to make sure the spell caught him in the gut, and that noise Steve heard might have been his own shriek of pain as the world went white around the edges for a minute. Vision returned just in time for him to roll out of the way of Schmidt's boot coming down toward his neck.
Steve slashed again with his wand as he rolled, catching Schmidt in the face this time, and the head of Hydra cried out and dashed a sleeve across his face to wipe away the blood dripping into his eyes. Taking advantage of his distraction, Steve sprang back up to his feet and hurled his shield at Schmidt with a yell. He caught him square in the chest and sent him flying back. Schmidt crashed into the housing of the Tesseract, and Steve's shield skidded off his chest and sliced through part of the mechanism. Blue lightning started to crackle all around it, sparking in the air and around the machine.
"What have you done?" Schmidt demanded, staggering to his feet and staring down at the machine in horror. At the top of it, the remains of a little metal containment box slanted off sadly to the side, and a blue cube, just a hair too big to fit comfortably in Steve's palm, lay to the side of it. It was glowing blue, the fire deep within it and the light something Steve had never seen, and he knew almost at once that that light belonged to another world. The Tesseract.
Schmidt reached out for it, picking it up, and Steve bit back the instinct to shout out a warning not to. It was beautiful, ethereal, otherworldly, and every cell in Steve's body was screaming that it was dangerous. The blue light shone brighter, turning white as Schmidt tightened his grip on it, highlighting the sharp lines of his face in stark light and shadow. Little tendrils of energy flickered and crackled in the air around him, increasing in brightness and intensity, and then with a flash, the ceiling of the airship and the sky above them seemed to rip in two and disappear, revealing a rich field of stars, nebulas and colored cosmic clouds swirling in the inky blackness of distant space above them.
Flashes of blue light continued to dance around them, more and more of them shooting out of the Tesseract and sparking through the air, dancing up and down the pillars. Steve stared in horrified amazement at the scene around them, while the look on Schmidt's face was nothing short of rapturous. He looked down at the Tesseract in his hand, his look of ecstasy suddenly warping into one of horrified pain. Steve's eyes went wide as the Tesseract continued to glow even brighter, white light shooting away into the sky and pieces of Schmidt's red skin flaking off and disappearing with it. Faster and faster the light enveloped him, and he was burning, screaming, and Steve threw up an arm to shield his eyes from the white-hot light pouring out of the little box, then there was an almighty flash, a bright beam of white light, and whatever remained of Schmidt was gone. The sky closed above him, and a rolling wave of energy that Steve could feel in his gut pulsed out from the cube. Then everything was quiet.
The bright light blinked off, leaving the Tesseract, glowing soft and blue again, to hover in the air for just a split second before dropping to the floor. The grating beneath it sizzled and melted away, as did the grating in the level below, and the flooring under that, and Steve stared down as the little box melted its way through the plane and fell out into the air. He could almost imagine it dropping with a soft plop into the ocean, and wondered if it would settle in the sand when it hit the bottom or keep burning its way through the earth. In any case, it was gone, and good riddance to the thing.
Steve pulled off his helmet, allowing the cold air whipping through the cabin to wick the sweat from his hair, and staggered over to the chair in front of the controls, suddenly very aware of every blow his body had taken. Okay. Schmidt was gone. But the plane was still here. It was still going too. He didn't know what any of the controls did, but there were a couple of displays that Steve was able to figure out were coordinates. He knew this thing was fast, but it was moving even faster than he thought. He was almost in the States, and it looked like, whether because that's what Schmidt's original target had been all along or out of some sort of spite for Steve, the Valkyrie was on a collision course with New York City. Another display showed there were a lot of bombs left, but even if he'd managed to eject them all earlier, the explosives in the gun turrets and the naquadah laced into all the walls would make the Valkyrie leave a sizeable crater when it landed.
Okay, well, he could just turn around, right? Fly in a circle and drop the bombs into the ocean and call Howard up somehow to stop the thing. He yanked on the steering wheel, but the plane continued going forward. He pulled it out in the other direction. Same thing. One of the switches below the steering column bore the label 'Autopilot'. Okay, so maybe that's what Schmidt had hit when he levelled the plane out. Steve flicked it, then tried turning the plane again. No dice. His knowledge of mechanical spells was limited, and restricted to car and motorcycle repair, but he tried every one he knew in hopes of getting the autopilot to unlock without success. This thing was going to hit the east coast whether he wanted it to or not. Unless…
Curious, he angled the controls down. The plane went into a sharp dive, correcting itself as soon as he let go. So, the autopilot was locked somehow, whether through mechanical failure or something Schmidt had done to it, or maybe that final wave of energy from the Tesseract had done something to the plane, but either way, there was no turning this thing. A glance at the map showed him there wasn't time to get help either. Maybe Gabe or Howard could make sense of the controls, but by the time Steve could get them on the line and describe the machine to them, he'd be over land and the plane would be making a beeline for New York. A knot formed in his throat, and he sighed deeply before swallowing it down. Okay. Okay. There was just one choice here. He could stop the plane. Millions of people were going to die if he didn't. So, really, it was no choice at all.
Steve closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He had to let them know. He wasn't going to be coming home, but he could let them know Schmidt was gone, and they were safe. He hit the button for the radio.
"Come in, this is Captain Rogers, do you read me?" Steve said. He knew he was calling back to the Hydra base, but his team should have taken it by now.
"Steve!" came Jim's voice, and relief surged in Steve's chest. They'd won. "What—"
"Steve, is that you? Are you alright?" Peggy's voice cut in.
"Peggy!" Steve replied. Relief and sorrow coursed through him. If he had to go, he didn't want to do it without telling her goodbye, though he didn't want to hear what would happen after he said it. But first things first. "Schmidt's dead!"
"What about the plane?" she asked.
"Uh," Steve said, looking down the controls in his hands. "That's a little bit tougher to explain."
"Give me your coordinates, I'll find you a safe landing site," she said.
"There's not gonna be a safe landing," he said. He swallowed. "But I can try to force it down."
"I'll get Howard on the line, he'll know what to do," Peggy said.
"There's not enough time," Steve replied. "This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York." He swallowed hard. "I've got to put her in the water."
"Please, don't do this," Peggy said, and Steve's heart clenched in his chest at the frightened, pleading tone in her voice. "We have time; we can work it out," she insisted.
"We don't have time," Steve said sadly, checking the map again. He was rapidly running out of ocean beneath him. "Right now, I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die. I don't know what else to do," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm sorry." He pulled his compass out of his pocket and flipped it open. Peggy's face smiled up at him from the inside of the case. He set it next to the steering column, took a deep breath, and tilted the controls down.
"Peggy?" he asked. She hadn't argued after he apologized, but Steve hoped she was still there. He was about to die, and he wasn't as scared as he thought he would be. But he didn't want to do it alone.
"I'm here," she said in a soft, sad voice.
"Peggy, I'm sorry," he said again. "This wasn't…" He swallowed down a lump in his throat. "This wasn't how it was supposed to be." He sniffed, dashing away the tears blurring his vision. "When this war was over, I was…" He sniffed again. "I was gonna marry you. We were gonna have a house and a nice life, and we were going to get old together, you and me."
The waver in Peggy's voice made the painful vice around Steve's heart clench even tighter. "I would have liked that," she said softly.
The sunlight disappeared as the Valkyrie hit the clouds. "I was even gonna learn how to dance," he said, dashing away the moisture in his eyes again. "I don't know how, but I always wanted to dance with you."
"I could show you how," she said, her voice cracking. "When this is over. Come back to me and I'll show you how to dance."
"I'll try," Steve whispered. A sob welled up in his throat as he realized he was never going to see her, never touch her again, and he choked it back down.
"Next Saturday at the Stork Club?" she suggested, her voice wavering as she tried to force hope into it. It didn't work, but Steve smiled. They could dream, couldn't they? And that…That would be a good dream. A beautiful hope to go out on.
"We'll have to start with something slow," he said. "I don't want to step on your feet."
"Something slow and easy," Peggy agreed. "I promise."
Sunlight pierced the cabin as the plane broke through the clouds, and there was the earth below him, the water and the icy coast coming up fast to meet him. The dream was about to end.
Steve opened his mouth to tell her he loved her one more time, couldn't get the words out over the lump of emotion that had formed in his throat. He swallowed it down. He had to say it, had to get the words out before he met the rapidly approaching ice.
"Peggy, I love you," he rasped.
"I love you t—"
.
