The reflective panels of the Quinjet were turned on, cloaking the aircraft completely from view. It hovered in near silence over the rough waters of the Atlantic that beat mercilessly against the prison that was known as the Raft. It was a huge, cylinder-shaped structure that was partially submerged below water. There were no windows in the dark gray steel, only drain ports that allowed water to pour out the sides and back into the ocean. The flat topside of the Raft was big enough to comfortably house two dozen, if not more aircrafts, but Natasha knew better than to land the Quinjet there. Instead, she kept the jet hovered over the dead center of the Raft, where a pair of thick metal panels served as the only door in and out of the place.
"Thermal readings show most of the guards in the command center," Natasha said from her seat. Steve stood behind her, looking over her shoulder at the display screen in front of her. "You'll have to pass through there to get to the cell block where they have everyone."
"And what about their gear?" Steve asked.
"It's in a containment unit one floor down," Natasha replied. She glanced up at him. "The second those cell doors open, the alarms are going to sound. You'll barely have time to get everyone topside, let alone go rummaging through lost and found. We can replace their stuff, Steve."
But she knew it was useless. She could see it in his eyes that he'd already made his mind up, and if Steve Rogers was anything, it was determined. She sighed and shook her head. "Fine," she said, "but if you're late, I'm leaving you here."
Steve smiled down at Natasha and patted her shoulder. "I won't be late," he said. Then, he turned and headed for the loading ramp. He pressed the side of his fist into a red button on a wall panel that dropped the ramp. Immediately, the sound of roaring winds and crashing waves filled the Quinjet.
"You and I both know you aren't exactly great with punctuality!" Natasha shouted over her shoulder to Steve.
He just smiled at her as he backpedaled down the ramp. He even threw in a little salute before he allowed gravity to take him. Natasha didn't think she'd ever get used to seeing him jumping out of planes with no parachute. Despite all his stars and stripes and moral codes, Steve could be incredibly reckless… and Natasha liked that. She had a history of being a little reckless, herself, from time to time.
Steve plummeted quickly, the air around him forming a sort of wind tunnel. He kept his legs straight and pressed together, arms pressed firmly down against his sides, pencil diving down toward the Raft. In the few seconds it took him to fall, Steve thought about what Natasha said. He knew he had a history of falling short on his promises to not be late. He was confident, though. Steve had no intention of finding himself trapped at sea. He'd done that once already and wasn't exactly looking for a repeat. Besides, he knew Natasha would wait for him. As much as she may have teased and threatened, Steve knew she wouldn't leave a man behind. Maybe, once upon a time, she might have left without a second thought, but that wasn't the Natasha he knew now. She was loyal and dependable. She would wait. He found himself wondering if Peggy had waited. For how long?
The ground came up to meet him a little quicker than expected. Steve hit the metallic surface of the Raft, knees bent to absorb the impact, and rolled several times to diffuse his momentum. After a few seconds of gathering his bearings, he righted himself, standing up and brushing some sea water spray from his suit.
"Not the best landing I've seen," he heard Nat say through his earpiece. "I give it a six."
"Yeah, I'd like to see you try." He replied.
He heard a small bubble of laughter. Then, "Tick tock, Rogers. Clock's ticking."
Steve jogged across the Raft's surface to the pair of huge floor panels that allowed access inside. He knew that the metal doors were too thick and heavy for even him to pry apart. Thankfully, there was a small service hatch situated in the right door. That was much easier for Steve to pull off. The hinges bent and broke easily beneath his strength, and he tossed the door aside to reveal a ladder that headed down into the structure. He wasted no time, opting to jump down the chute rather than take the ladder down. His boots hit the floor below with a heavy thud when he landed. He'd made it inside the prison. Unfortunately, there was no warm welcome waiting for him.
There were three guards caught completely unaware by Steve's arrival. They made shouts of surprise and tried to rebound from the shock by reaching for their weapons. All three of them had guns, because apparently everyone but Steve had guns nowadays. Steve was quicker than they were, though. He grabbed the hand of the first guard before he could completely free his gun from his holster. Holding the firearm in place, Steve leaned forward and delivered a quick, hard headbutt that knocked the guy out cold. He released him and spun to swat at the barrel of the second guard's gun that was already training on him. He pushed the weapon away from himself and used his free hand to punch the guard in the face. Another knockout. Steve grabbed the gun from the guard's grasp as he was falling and then threw the weapon at the third man. It hit him in the shoulder and sent him staggering back a few steps, knocking him off his center of gravity. Steve rushed him as he stumbled, grabbing his gun hand and lifting it up toward the ceiling. He kneed the guard in the stomach, wrenched his weapon free from his grasp, and pistol-whipped him with the butt of the gun.
Steve looked around to see if the commotion had drawn any unwanted attention, but all he saw were the three unconscious guards at his feet. He huffed out a little sigh and made quick work of disassembling the guns. He left the parts and ammo scattered around, so if the guards woke up anytime soon- which Steve wasn't anticipating- they wouldn't be getting armed too quickly. With that taken care of, he started off.
He remembered the details that Natasha had given him before their arrival. She'd pulled up a blueprint schematic of the facility, showing him the exact route Steve would need to take to get to their friends. He remembered it all perfectly. Steve had something of a photographic memory when it came to things like this. As a result, he was able to navigate halls and corridors with ease and avoid detection. That was, of course, until he came to the control room. There, five armed men sat at various stations in front of various screens and control panels. They were the only thing standing in the way of Steve and the cell block that contained Sam, Clint and the others. They were an obstacle, but Steve cleared them quickly.
Three minutes later, he was stepping over unconscious bodies and broken monitors to get to the door to the cell block. It opened when he got close, allowing Steve entry into the circular room that contained individual cells along the perimeter. He looked around, almost frantically, counting bodies and making sure everyone was there. Scott sat staring at a wall. Clint laid staring at the ceiling. Wanda was pulling at the power dampener around her neck, and Sam…
"Cap!" Sam exclaimed. "Is that you?"
Steve turned to see Sam standing near the barred and plexiglass-enforced edge of the cell, one hand held up to shield his eyes from the bright lights blaring in from the main room. Steve grinned and strode up to the cell. He ducked his head a bit to look beneath one of the bars and saw Sam standing on the other side. His friend was wearing one hell of a shiner under his eye, but he was also wearing a smile.
"Hey, buddy." Steve said. "Feel like getting out of here?"
Sam gawked. "Do I feel like-" He laughed and shook his head. "Man, open this damn door!"
By then, everyone else was standing up and peering out of their cells as well. Steve could hear Scott's triumphant laugh and could see Clint thumping his fist against the plexiglass. Wanda appeared… a bit more somber. There was a strange mixture of relief and fear on her face. Steve could understand why, what with that hunk of metal around her neck. He released Sam from his cell and then went to Wanda's while Sam moved to free Clint and Scott. The second her door was open, Wanda stepped out of the cell. She turned around and spit over her shoulder into the cell behind her, muttering something in Sokovian that Steve could only assume was colorful at best.
"Here," he said, gesturing her to step closer. "Let me take care of that for you."
Wanda moved closer and lifted her chin, exposing more of her neck. Steve grabbed the metal collar with both hands and pulled. It snapped like tree bark in his grasp, fizzling with dying electrical circuits as he threw it to the ground. No sooner was she free of the device did Wanda wrap her arms around Steve and hug him tightly.
"Thank you," she breathed quietly. "I didn't think I would survive in another cage."
Steve patted her back a few times and then stepped away to see the others approaching. He greeted them with handshakes and claps on the shoulders.
"New duds?" Sam asked. "I like 'em."
He was overjoyed to see his friends, but Steve knew they didn't have time for reunions. Already, alarms were blaring throughout the whole place. "Come on," he said. "We've gotta get topside. Our ride's waiting for us."
"Nat?" Clint asked.
Steve nodded. Barton smirked and, with a renewed sense of energy, fell into step with the others. Steve led the way, jogging back through the control room and through hallways. There was shouting in the distance that signaled the approach of more guards, but Wanda made quick work of that. With the twisting of her fingers, she bent metal and concrete alike, barring the way of anyone that might come to stop them. Steve was able to lead everyone back out to the main area he'd entered from, where the three guards were still passed out on the ground. He turned to Clint, Wanda and Scott.
"You three get up top. Nat will scoop you up from the roof. You," Steve said, looking at Sam, "are with me."
"What the hell for?" Sam asked. "The exit's that way." He pointed up the ladder.
"I heard someone took something from you. Don't you want to get it back?" Steve asked.
"Oh, I do." Scott said, raising his hand. "I very much do."
Sam understood and nodded a few times. "We got this," he told Scott. "You guys just get up top. We won't be far behind you."
The trio obliged and headed up the ladder. Up top, among the whipping winds and spraying sea, the Quinjet was waiting. Natasha had lowered the aircraft to hover above the landing pad, and a ladder had been tossed over to allow the others a way up. The Quinjet held steady in autopilot mode as Nat stood at the top of the ladder, watching and waiting for her friends to start the climb. She saw Clint, Scott and Wanda. No Sam or Steve, which meant Steve had taken help to go get the gear. Nat supposed that was a good thing. It meant he was being slightly more smart and less reckless about the retrieval. Still, Sam could be just as explosive as Rogers. She couldn't worry about that right now, though. The others were finishing the climb, and Natasha held out a hand to help pull them each up in turn. She hugged Wanda and Clint and was hugged by Scott, who was so happy to be off that damn Raft that he could hardly contain himself.
"This," Clint said, standing beside Natasha and looking down below, "is why I retired."
Inside the Raft, Sam and Steve made it to the elevator that took them to the containment unit one floor down. The doors opened, and four guards were waiting on the other side. Steve took the two on the left, while Sam made quick work of the ones on the right. Even without his Falcon gear and all of its gadgets, Sam was a soldier, a warrior, and a force to be reckoned with. Steve had chosen him to come along for a reason.
"So," Sam said as he lowered an unconscious guard to the ground, "Cap and the Black Widow to the rescue, huh? Not the likeliest of saviors, but I'll take what I can get."
"Yeah, well, we're a little short-staffed at the moment." Steve said with a grin.
The two men jogged down the hall until they came to a door marked 105D. Steve booted it in with one, hard kick that sent the thick, metal door flying off its hinges.
"Show off," Sam said as he marched inside.
As they were looking for everyone's things, Steve heard more movement from outside. "Looks like we've got guests incoming." He told Sam. "I'll keep 'em busy. You find the gear."
"Copy that, Cap."
Steve ran back out into the hall, grabbing the door he'd booted in and carrying it with him. As expected, the approaching guards had guns. Steve held the door in front of him, using it as a shield that deflected the bullets as he made a slow advance toward the shooters. The hallway was narrow, which meant they couldn't get around him to go past him. All they could do was go backwards, but Steve had to give the guys credit, they weren't budging. They held their ground and kept shooting. Then, when their clips were emptied and their guns were clicking uselessly, Steve tossed the door at them. The heavy metal structure took three of them out at once. A fourth had managed to dodge it by pressing himself up against the wall, but Steve was right there to make sure the guy didn't get far.
"Sorry about this," he said as he grabbed the guy by the back of the coat and slammed his face against the wall. He was knocked out cold.
"Don't move!" A voice shouted from behind.
Steve didn't listen and spun around to see another guard at the other end of the hall, holding an assault rifle. With nowhere to go, and no door to serve as a shield, Steve was thinking that maybe Natasha was right after all. Maybe he would be a little late.
The man opened fire.
But before his bullets could reach Steve, they met steel inside. Sam launched himself out of the containment room, his Falcon gear strapped to his back. He extended his metal wings and then wrapped them in front of himself, creating a shield that sent the bullets ricocheting back toward their shooter. A stray bullet caught the guy in the leg and brought him down, yelling and grabbing at his wound. Sam pushed forward and kicked the gun out of the hand of the fallen guard. Then, he turned around and jogged back toward Steve. He was carrying two bundles that, presumably, carried Scott's Ant-Man suit along with Clint's myriad of gear, bow and arrows. He tossed one bundle to Steve and tucked the other beneath his arm as they took off running again.
"He okay?" Steve asked about the guard.
"Yeah," Sam said. "Bullet hit his shin. He'll be fine, but he's not going anywhere, any time soon."
"Damnit," Steve said as he skidded to a halt. "Guess that makes two of us."
At the end of the hall, the elevator doors were opening, and a half dozen men, at least, were pouring out of it. Behind them, more heavy footsteps could be heard advancing their way.
"Shit," Sam cursed. "How are we supposed to get out of this one?"
Steve was already looking around for another option. He was envisioning those schematics in his head, and after a few seconds of panicked thinking, an idea came to him. He looked at Sam. "Those guns of yours have any explosive rounds in them?"
Sam nodded.
"Follow me."
Steve headed right, down another corridor that ran along the outer perimeter of the Raft. Reinforced steel walls separated the rooms that contained the drain windows from the rest of the structure. If they could blow a hole in one of them, it would give them access to one of those rooms. It would be a wet ride, but it would get them out. Steve just hoped the water that they would be allowing into the main concourse wouldn't be enough to bring the whole thing down. There were plenty of people on here, and he didn't particularly feel like drowning any of them. He trusted that they had some sort of failsafes in place for situations like these… or at least situations close to these.
They ran until they had put an ample distance between themselves and their pursuers. When Steve felt they were safe, he pointed to a wall. "There," he said.
"Alright," Sam raised one of his guns. "Might wanna step back, Cap. This is about to get loud."
Steve stood behind Sam, whose metallic wings were spread out to act as a shield for any shrapnel that came their way. He released a single, explosive round into the wall and blew it to hell. The heat and the concussive blast forced Steve back a couple of feet, but he remained standing and unharmed. Immediately, water began rushing in. The current was impossibly strong, and each step Steve took against it made him feel like it would sweep him away at any second. The two of them fought the current and made it to the outer wall. They stood below the window, looking up at it as water pelted down on them.
"Hope you can make yourself small!" Sam shouted over the sound of rushing water. "That's gonna be a tight squeeze!"
The water was cold and crippling as it pounded down against Steve in a relentless assault. He felt fear creeping up his spine and wrapping itself around his shoulders. Somehow, decades later, this was still all-too-familiar territory for him. He'd had more than his fair share of watery graves. The thrusters on Sam's Falcon pack roared to life and lifted him up into the air above Steve. He reached down with both hands, and Steve reached up to grip his wrists. Sam lifted them both up into the air and zoomed them toward the window. Steve closed his eyes, held his breath, and prayed for the best.
Seconds later, they were emerging out of the other side of the waterfall and zooming up into the air, away from the ocean and the Raft. Sam looped them around and brought them to the backside of the Quinjet. He released Steve just as they cleared the loading ramp, sending Steve rolling on the unforgiving steel floor until he smacked into the bottom of a seat. Sam followed with slightly more grace, though not much.
"That's one way to make an entrance." A smooth voice said from above him.
Steve looked up to see Natasha, sitting in the pilot's chair that he had, apparently, smacked into. She'd been watching the whole thing with nervousness, trying to keep the Quinjet in position for Sam and Steve to get inside. Once they were in, she hit the control for the loading ramp to close, and kicked the aircraft's thrusters into full gear. They sped away from the scene, going into ghost mode as they did so. She didn't think they would have to deal with a chase- the people aboard the Raft would be too busy trying to keep it afloat to pursue them- but she didn't feel like sticking around to find out.
Looking up at her, Steve swore he saw worry in those green eyes. The sarcastic comment, the half-smile, they fell flat in the face of that little bit of fear that darted across her gaze, quick as a shooting star. He thought he should apologize, or maybe tell her he was okay, but before he could say anything, she was looking away again, and Scott and Clint were hauling him to his feet.
"You alright, Cap?" Scott asked as he looked Steve over.
Steve did the same. He was soaked to the bone and just as cold, but it seemed he'd made it out without a scratch. Thanks to Sam. His blue eyes cut over to Sam, now, to make sure that he was alright, too. The former Air Force pilot was shaking out his wings and complaining about the water frying his thrusters, but other than that, he seemed okay. Steve released a heavy breath and looked back to Scott, nodding as he did so.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm alright." He handed the black parcel that he was still clutching over to Scott. "Sorry. It… got a little damp."
"So, now what?" Sam asked as he tossed the other bag to Clint.
"Personally, I would like to sink that god forsaken thing to the bottom of the ocean." Wanda said. She was staring out a window, down at the Raft as they continued to speed away from it.
"I think we've made enough noise for one day." Steve replied. He pushed his fingers through his wet blonde locks, slicking it back and away from his face. When he was finished, he shook his hand off to his side, sending droplets of water flying.
"We'll need to lay low for awhile." Natasha said from the pilot's chair. "I know a few safehouses that are off the books. We should be able to stay there for a bit."
"No," Clint said. "That's not gonna work for me, Nat."
Natasha perked a brow and looked over at her friend.
"I've got a wife and kids I've gotta get home to," Clint said. "I'm out. For real this time."
"Yeah," Scott chimed in. "I'm with Hawk Guy."
"Hawkeye…" Clint muttered.
Scott didn't seem to hear him. "I've got a daughter. Cassie. I've spent too much time away from her already because I've been locked in one cell or another. I don't want to waste another moment away from my little girl."
Natasha didn't know what that was like, having kids, a home, a life to go back to. She didn't know that kind of desperation, but that didn't mean she didn't understand. She knew that Clint and Scott were right. They needed to be home with their families; not jetting all over the world on every Most Wanted List there was. Still, it wasn't like they were just going to skate off without incident.
"You're fugitives," she reminded them. "We all are. The second they find you, they're going to lock you up again."
"I'll take my chances." Clint said.
Natasha could tell by the look in his eye that he'd made his mind up and had zero doubts about his decision. Scott was the same. He nodded eagerly along to Clint's statement. Natasha sighed quietly. If only she'd had a father as hell-bent on being with her. How different things might have been.
"Alright," she finally said. "I can get you back into the states. I've got someone at Border Patrol who owes me a favor. After that, you're on your own."
"Should I ask…?" Sam said.
"Probably best if you don't." Clint replied.
With the decisions made, everyone settled in for the rest of the ride. Clint took the co-pilot chair beside Natasha. Scott and Wanda sat along the wall seats behind them while Sam and Steve worked on drying out at the back of the Quinjet. Steve felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, now that the others were out of the Raft. He knew that they weren't out of the woods yet, and they might not ever be, but this was a good first step. Being together, even if only for a little while, was good. It made Steve feel like he'd done the right thing. He believed in these people, and they'd believed in him enough to help support his cause when he needed them. Now, it was his turn. He wasn't going to let them down.
