For the most part, emergency briefings were the same; dark corners of jets or vans illuminated only by the mission brief that was displayed on the screen. The fact that Lucie knew about the mission eight hours before it the emergency was declared told her that the mission wasn't as hush hush or as unexpected as SHIELD wanted it to appear. To her right, Natasha seemed to be devoting her attention to the briefing as if everything was brand new information to her. To everyone else, it looked as though the spy was simply watching and listening but Lucie knew better. Natasha traced her bottom lip with her finger and as her eyes skimmed the text onscreen without taking any of it in. She'd scaled-down the severity of Black Widow since the encounter with Rumlow, using a careful balance of practicality and aesthetics. There was a certain look that went with the Black Widow that Lucifer came close to emulating in her early days. It came in tiny details, held together by confidence and unobtainable desire that was sewn into the fabric of her tactical clothing and the way her belt hung on her hips, finished off with that signature smirk that was so often terrified those who opposed her. Lucifer had traded in the bodysuit for a fitted pair of black pants and an equally dark t-shirt that clung to her as tightly as her skin. Rumlow made no secret of inspecting her from every possible angle, filing the images away inside his brain and comparing them to the memories he already had.

"The target is a mobile satellite launch platform. The Lemurian Star, They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them 93 minutes ago," Rumlow said, facing the screen that showed live footage of the ship along with a manifest of its passengers and the schematic of their cargo.

"Any demands?"

"A billion and a half," Rumlow said.

It wasn't an amount that was unheard of when it came to hostage negotiations but even Lucie winced. Even with the careful redistribution of her funds, she wasn't even close to that amount. Still, it was a dizzying amount of money. "So they know more than your average pirates."

"Why so steep?" Cap asked.

"Because it's SHIELD's."

"So it's not off course. It's trespassing."

"I'm sure they have a good reason," Natasha offered, watching the screen carefully as she tapped her half gloved fingers against her lip.

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor," Steve muttered so only Natasha was supposed to hear, his frustration practically dripping from each word.

Lucie watched the pair, it was obvious that they were familiar with each other outside of work which made sense given that Natasha had assumed the role of liason.

"Relax. It's not that complicated," she said to Steve but shot Lucie a smirk, goading her into a reaction.

"Stop saying that!" Lucie felt the deep groan in her throat as Natasha tempted fate.

Steve did his best to ignore Lucie's comment or the playful banter that she and Natasha had so easily fallen back into, instead of focusing his attention on the briefing.

"How many pirates?"

"Twenty-five. Top mercs, led by this guy, Georges Batroc. Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He's on the top of Interpol's Red Notice."

"So he's got a habit of causing maximum damage?" Lucie asked.

Batroc didn't look like much; not that they ever did, a balding man with a couple of nasty looking scars and a deeply embedded chip on his shoulder. Without even meaning to, Lucie found herself composing half a dozen ways that she would enjoy incapacitating him, some ways more fun than others. Of course, there was the standard capture and bring in but it was always so much more fun when plans went sideways and she had to improvise on the spot. When she delicately toed the line between life and death.

"And casualties," Rumlow added.

"Hostages?" Cap asked.

"Mostly techs, one officer. Jasper Sitwell."

"What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship?" Steve murmured under his breath before slipping back into the role that he had accepted, back into Captain America. "Alright, I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you'll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Stark, head for the bridge, make sure that there are no nasty surprises and secure the payload. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages and get them on the life pods. Let's move."

Lucie tried not to tense at the way Cap said her name but she gripped the buckle of her belt a little. Hearing her surname from him sounded like an insult that held every ounce of hurt and distrust he had wallowed in for the past few weeks was bleeding out in that one name. Lucie forced herself to stand a little straighter, awarding her diverted attention back to the briefing as if the name didn't bother her.

"STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up," Rumlow ordered. While it was the Captain that was in charge of the mission, Rumlow had the final say over STRIKE, his consolation prize after years of pining after Rosetta.

"Secure channel seven," the Cap said into his cuff as he came to stand beside Natasha.

"Seven secure. Did you do anything fun Saturday night?"

"Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead so… no, not really. Did you and Stark have a good weekend?"

The pilot's voice came over the jet's intercom, interrupting them from speaking further. "Coming up on the drop zone, Cap."

"Things are going to get confusing quickly if you keep calling her Stark," Natasha half-joked.

Steve didn't even look up, securing his shield to his back in preparation for his jump and walking straight for the ramp as if it led somewhere other than a 10,000 feet drop that eventually ended up in the rocky waters of the Indian Ocean.

"Well Agent St. James doesn't exist does she?" he asked, giving her no time to answer before he made the jump, sans parachute.

"Is he always this dramatic?" Natasha threw a smirk over her shoulder once Steve was out of sight.

"Were you planning on telling me?" the accusation was thick in Lucie's tone, not at all happy that she had been.

"Would you have come if I had?"

"Don't push this." It wasn't so much an order as a plea as she grappled with what little control she still had over her personal life. "Secure channel twelve." It was a half-hearted attempt to steer the conversation back to the task at hand and they both knew it.

"Channel twelve secure. You know that if you cooperate then I don't need to push."

"Tasha," she warned, determined not to let her win the ongoing argument.

In a moment, Natasha's entire demeanour changed, no longer jovial as she tightened her jaw and fixed Lucie with an icy stare that already had STRIKE diverting their eyes. Nobody with half a brain wanted to be on Black Widow's bad side.

"I gave you time. We all gave you time. All it did was make you worse, time to get back to work."

"Was this an independent decision or a plan cooked up by you, Clint and my father?"

"Have you spoken to Tony?" Natasha asked, a hint of genuine surprise lingering on her lips as the hardened expression started to fade.

Lucie rolled her eyes, taking a final opportunity to loosen the laces ever so slightly to swap out her seax for a more versatile blade. For a split second, she searched for the blade that Clint had given her before she remembered the last time it had been in her hand. That split second that she had taken the knife in hand and launched it in rage at the Director of SHIELD. Knowing Fury, it would probably be living in the top drawer of his desk where it would wait for the perfect opportunity to illustrate his point.

"Time to jump!" Rumlow yelled down the plane, sending STRIKE one by one to leap.

Natasha and Lucie went last, parachute packs secured as they ripped through the air. Together they had made countless jumps but the burning adrenaline while hurtling towards the earth at speed never went away. It made them feel alive, something that they never failed to take for granted, not when every mission could be your last.

Natasha, as always, made sure to make her entrance stylish, shrugging off her parachute when her feet had barely made contact with the deck. Carrying on their earlier conversation as if it hadn't been disrupted by him jumping out of an aeroplane.

"What about the nurse across the hall from you? She seems kind of nice."

"Secure the engine room, then you can meddle in my life."

"I'm multitasking!"

While Natasha threw herself over the railing onto a lower deck, Lucie released herself from her parachute and made her way up to the bridge, keeping a careful lookout for any grunts that may have escaped the Captain's initial attack. She walked on the balls of her feet to minimise any sound keeping a practised hold on the two blades she held. A three-inch push dagger that rested comfortably in her left and matte black, six-inch karambit in her right.

Reaching the top of the metal stairs, Lucie tested her grip before peering into the window to get a decent look without alerting the occupants to her location. It made sense for Batroc to be on the bridge, to be able to oversee his entire operation while still maintaining contact with his employer.

"Batroc is on the bridge. Repeat, Batroc on the bridge," she said into her

"Stay out of sight until STRIKE engage."

"Copy," she agreed, not wanting to spook the mercenary until the perfect moment.

"Targets acquired."

"STRIKE in position."

"Stark, status?"

"Ready when you are."

"Natasha, what's your status?" When he was met with nothing but silence, he pushed again for an answer, not used to having to wait for a response. "Status Natasha?"

"Hang on!" Natasha shouted, breaking cover and engaging

she knocks out the remaining pirates. "Engine room secure."

"Stark, how many on the bridge?"

"Batroc plus three. Two out of STRIKE range," Lucie whispered, crouched low as she slowly made her way towards the bridge, sliding her push dagger behind the laces of her boot.

"Going dark."

"On my mark. Three. Two. One."

While STRIKE rained down bullets on the bridge, Lucie took on two from behind before they even knew what was going on. There was no need to kill them so she quickly decided to aim her blades at major muscle groups to incapacitate and then follow up by rendering them unconscious. It didn't take long for her muscle memory to kick in, evading and parrying with fluid elegance while glissading into a low sweep to slice across the back of her opponent's calf with her karambit. He hissed, his hand automatically flying to the damaged flesh. Lucifer took advantage split second he was distracted, slamming his forehead into a nearby desk where he quietly slumped to the floor.

The second man was more of a challenge. He had seen her coming, had a moment to prepare and properly arm himself. He grinned when he saw her, a female operative that he would enjoy crushing. A few teeth were missing from his grin and he had taken his share of blows to the face judging by the way the bridge of his nose zigzagged just off centre. He was bulky, all strong muscle and body armour. A semi-automatic rifle hung against his back but he made no move to use it, instead of taking out a machete style blade the was serrated along the spine of the blade.

Lucifer sneered in return, wiping her blade against her thigh as she locked eyes with her new challenger. Slowly they began to circle the floor, vying for a better position in the fight. He teased her, beckoning her forwards with two fingers. He shot quickfire glances to the knife in her hand, trying to guess what her move would be. There was no stabbing with a curved blade, not in the conventional sense anyway.

"Come, little whore," he baited, making sure to keep his guard high to avoid any lethal attacks. He waited for her to take the bait, to lurch forward at the insult. He was wrong.

"Your mother taught me everything I know," she shot back, knowing immediately from the explosion of rage behind his eyes and the harsh grinding of his teeth that she had already won her the fight.

He lunged forward, leaving himself wide open to a counterattack. Anger was the quickest way to lose a fight and Lucifer couldn't help but smile at his beautifully textbook example. She easily stepped out of his attack, taunting him with a slap to the back of the head as she stepped around him. As a wide set man, he was slow; no match for the speed that Lucifer employed in her attack and while her challenger was breaking out in a frustrated sweat on his forehead, Lucifer didn't have a single hair out of place only adding to his rage in her indifferent demeanour as she perched herself on the ship's console, sliding her karambit back into the holster at her shoulder and essentially leaving herself unarmed. He rushed forward again, a frenzied war cry leading him right into the trap that she had laid. Lucifer remained perfectly still until the final moment before dropping to the floor between his legs and using his own momentum to slam him face-first into a computer screen that shattered upon impact.

With both of her targets down, Lucie quickly scanned the room for Batroc, taking the chance to catch her breath. The captain's seat was empty with nobody in sight. STRIKE had stopped firing but given that their target was no longer on the bridge, all she could assume was that he had somehow escaped.

"Batroc's still in play," she said into her cuff.

"Hostages en route to extraction. Romanoff missed the rendezvous, Cap. Hostiles are still in play."

Lucie didn't think anything of it. They missed the rendezvous all the time, Rosetta was known for it since they were the ones willing to take on the half baked missions with the occasional extraction plan.

"Natasha, Stark. Batroc's on the move, circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages," the captain panted, keeping a trained eye out for the remaining hostiles that were onboard.

"One minute. Securing payload." She tapped away on the main computer until she found the details of the satellite that was supposed to be launched. The details showed that it was still on board and the system checks showed that it was still operational.

"Payload secure."

"Circle back," Cap ordered.

"Copy," she agreed, taking out a handgun, with the element of surprise well and truly blown there was no need for her to be quiet and it was unlikely that she would get close enough to use any of her knives again and as good as she was with a knife in her hand, she couldn't use one as a shield to repel bullets that were fired in her direction.

No sooner had the word left her mouth than the door to the bridge swung open. Lucie fired against the door casing in warning, the bullet harmlessly ricocheted away.

"Christ, Nat," she spat, immediately lowering her weapon.

"Whoa, don't shoot the messenger."

Then it dawned on her, a penny that had been hanging in the air for a while had finally dropped. This was how Natasha knew about the mission. It had all been an elaborate diversion orchestrated by the Director.

"That's how you knew this was going down. Fury gave you a little side mission."

"Are you going to complain or are you going to help?"

Lucie huffed, looking at the ceiling for some kind of divine inspiration or perhaps the will to not strangle the woman beside her. "What are we looking for?" She took her place beside Natasha, waiting as her trojan started to work.

"Everything."

Lucie didn't have time to reply with a snappy comeback before the door was ripped from its hinges; she drew her gun, aiming at the disturbance. Other than a curious glance towards the fallen door, Natasha didn't move, trusting Lucie to handle the situation as she completed her mission. Immediately, Lucie lowered her sidearm, stowing it away in her thigh holster.

"Fucks sake," Lucie muttered, frustrated with herself for making herself look like a liar.

"Well this is awkward," Natasha joked.

"What are you doing?"

"Backing up the hard drive. It's a good habit to get into."

"Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?" Steve demanded, inspecting the information that Natasha was siphoning, watching as the information bar how much time was left until the download was complete. At the top of the screen, the SHIELD logo was easily identifiable. "You're saving SHIELD intel?"

"Whatever I can get my hands on."

"Our mission is to rescue hostages!"

"No, that's your mission," she contradicted, taking the memory stick out and securing it in her utility belt. "And you've done it beautifully."

"Enough, let's get out of here," Lucie huffed as she turned her back on the pair, already starting towards the door that Steve had crashed through to secure their prisoner.

When Natasha went to follow, Steve grabbed her arm, holding her back so that she could see how enraged he was at once again being lied to.

"You just jeopardized this whole operation. Both of you!"

"Hey! I had nothing to do with this!"

"I think that's overstating things."

Lucie had nominated herself to arrest Batroc, probably the only thing she could have done to stay out of the inevitable argument between her two teammates on the way back to the States. She crouched to secure his hands above his head, pulling out a pair of electromagnetic handcuffs from her belt and sliding the first one onto his wrist. Batroc had all the telltale signs of being unresponsive and unconscious. His eyes didn't shift under his closed eyelids and his chest rose and fell in a perfectly steady rhythm, there was no reason to think he was awake until he grabbed both her hands in his and flipped her so that she was flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her and the edges of her vision blurring. While fighting for a solid breath, she pulled a slim throwing knife from her belt and slammed it hard into Batroc's thigh until it hit bone. Batroc grunted in agony, fighting the urge to rip the blade from his leg knowing fine well that it could cause him to bleed out.

Struggling to get her balance, Lucie tried to pull herself a filing cabinet nearby but Batroc was too quick. He took out his knife and thrust upwards as he hauled himself to his feet, barely landing his strike into her shoulder blade. Lucie screamed in pain, falling against the filing cabinet face first when Batroc removed the knife and her knees buckled under her.

Without another look in her direction, Batroc took a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin, launching it in the direction of Natasha and Steve who were rushing over to help.

"Hit the deck!" Lucie roared, using her one functioning arm to shield her face from the coming blast.

Using his shield, Steve batted the grenade in the opposite direction and away from Lucie's prone form, rushing to take Natasha by the waist to move her out of the blast zone.

Natasha clung to him with her arm around his neck, taking out her sidearm and shooting through the window of the office next to the bridge, lessening the impact as Steve tossed the pair of them through it as glass and fire rained down around them.

"Okay. That ones on me," Natasha panted

"You're damn right," he agreed in venom, pushing himself to his feet, shield in hand as he rushed to Lucie's side.

"Luce?" he asked, hand hovering just above the blood-soaked gash in her body armour and severed weapons strap.

"This is what happens when she tempts fate," she answered with a faint chortle that immediately halted when it sent a new surge of pain through her shoulder.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

"I'll live," she grunted, accepting the helping hand the guided her to her feet.