January 8th, 2014; Lemurian Star, Indian Ocean…
Of all the exploits in his career, Tony had never crossed 'hijack a ship' from his bucket list. Working alongside Batroc –no matter his professional opinions of the guy or his men– gave him the chance to act out a fantasy he'd had since childhood. After all, how often did someone get to live like a pirate?
Some of his favourite stories as a kid had been about men like Blackbeard and Henry Morgan. Gentlemen of fortune who carved their own legends into history with nothing but their wits and a willingness for daring action. Tony may have been a criminal, but he preferred to think of himself as being cut from the same cloth as those great men, not thugs like Wilson Fisk or terrorists like the Mandarin.
Batroc worked up a decent plan for taking the Lemurian Star. He certainly seemed to have a lot of experience when it came to piracy. He'd lead his men in two skiffs to the ship's port side, distracting the crew, while Tony would infiltrate via the starboard side and cripple the defenses. This would also be the perfect opportunity to test out some new toys he'd been working on.
Sealing his mask, which he'd recently equipped with a rebreather for situations like this, Tony dove underwater. Grabbing hold of a mobile propeller, he used it to pull himself forward towards the ship. In the dead of night, not a single ray of light penetrated the water. All around and below him was a black, infinite abyss. He considered himself lucky not to suffer from Thalassophobia, but swimming in these waters long enough might give it to him.
Thankfully, he spotted the underside of the Lemurian Star on his HUD. The water ahead became more illuminated by the ship's floodlights. Reaching the hull, Tony let go of his propeller and let it drift. Clenching his hands into fists twice, he activated the magnetic gripping pads on his gloves. With a thunk, he stuck his hands onto the metal and cautiously rose out of the water.
He counted to 90 before the ship's alarm started blaring. That would be Batroc and his men, right on schedule. "Attention all hands," a gruff voice called over the speakers. Probably the captain. "We are being approached by armed pirates. Set condition red. All non-essential personnel rally at muster point alpha."
Tony began climbing the hull, hearing the odd sound of rushed footsteps and doors opening and closing. Nearing the top, he slowed down and peered over the edge. No one in sight. Deactivating the magnetic grips, he vaulted over the railing. Since this was just a satellite launch facility, there would only be a few dozen crew and technicians with maybe a handful of armed security.
Hearing a door open, he turned around and saw an agent step out onto the deck. The man flinched upon seeing Tony, but to his credit he drew his sidearm only a fraction of a second later. Tony held out his left arm, blinking twice at a symbol in the corner of his HUD. In response, the strip of metal attached to his left gauntlet unfolded itself until it formed a shield measuring one and a half feet in diameter. It was painted gunmetal grey, with a three-pointed orange logo in the centre.
The agent shot at him several times. The shield blocked the bullets, reverberating with each impact. Tony then cocked his arm back and threw the shield like the world's lightest, toughest discus. It struck the agent dead-centre in his chest, knocking him out cold. Stepping over to the unconscious man, he flexed his hand and held it out. The shield flew from the deck and attached to his gauntlet. Not being made of Vibranium like Captain America's shield, this one couldn't bounce or return to him, necessitating the use of magnets.
Turning around, he ran towards the balcony that overlooked the bow. Another armed agent came into view at the last second. Never breaking stride, he jumped and dropkicked the man's chest, knocking him over the railing. Attaching his grappler to the plating at his feet, Tony leaped over the side and swung down to the primary deck.
Ahead were half a dozen agents lining the ship's port side. Two were manning high-pressure water cannons, while the rest held assault rifles. Taking out a flashbang, Tony pulled the pin and tossed it towards the nearest group before finding cover. It exploded in a burst of blinding light and deafening sound, staggering four of the agents. Standing from cover, he charged forward and finished them off with quick strikes. Further up ahead, the remaining two men turned to face him. One aimed an assault rifle, while the other let go of a water cannon and drew a pistol.
Ducking behind an open door, Tony reached into the metal pack strapped to his back. He took out a thin rectangle of carbon fiber. With a flick of the wrist, it extended at both ends and became a recurve bow. Selecting an arrow, he knocked it then leaned to the side and loosed it at the agent with the assault rifle. It struck him between the eyes, delivering a non-lethal electric shock that rendered him unconscious. Tony knocked a second arrow and loosed it at the last man standing. It split in mid-air, revealing cables that wrapped around the agent's body, pinning his arms and neutralizing him as a threat.
Looking out at the water, he spotted the two skiffs keeping pace with the ship. Opening a channel to Batroc's radio, he said, "Targets eliminated. Port side clear for entry."
"Entendu," ["Understood"] came the reply.
As the skiffs began their approach, Tony loosed an arrow up at the bridge windows. It released a burst of brilliant light, enough to temporarily blind the captain and his officers. Then, he used a grappler arrow to ascend three levels until he came to the bridge door. Folding the bow and shoving it back in his pack, he drew his twin pistols and stepped inside the bridge. "Sorry, boys," he told the four men present. "We'll be taking possession of this lovely lady."
"Stand down," the captain told the others, his eyes red and blinking. "We're done."
The helmsman reduced the ship's speed until they came to a stop. Once Batroc and his men were aboard, the crew didn't have any chance. Tony had taken care of all those with combat training. The rest were technicians, unable to put up any kind of fight. It became a simple matter to round up the crew and restrain them all in the galley. Batroc and his lieutenants set up shop in the bridge, leaving Tony to supervise the hostages.
He paced in front of the zip-tied group as the pirates brought in the last ones. "Now, being agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., I'm sure you're all used to a certain level of stress. And despite their appearance, my associates are professionals. Our purpose here is to hold you and this ship for an obscene ransom. Once your organization has given us the payment, you'll all be returned safe and sound. As long as no one does anything stupid, like trying to be a hero, we'll get through this as quickly and painlessly as possible. Cooperate, and you have my word you won't be harmed."
A grunt drew his gaze to the left, where one of Batroc's men entered with the last hostage. Tony recognized the bald head and glasses of Jasper Sitwell. Even now, held at gunpoint, the man acted cool as ice without a hint of worry.
"J'ai trouvé celui-ci en train de se faufiler devant un ordinateur." ["I found this one skulking by a computer."]
Tony crossed his arms. "And here I thought 'egghead' was just a nickname for people like you. Is that all natural, or do you shave every morning?"
Sitwell gave him a scornful glare. "Whatever you're hoping to accomplish here, it'll never work. S.H.I.E.L.D. does not negotiate. Never has, never will."
One of the pirates scoffed, drawing a pistol and aiming it at Sitwell's face. "On devrait peut-être l'exécuter pour envoyer un message," ["Maybe we should execute him to send a message"] he said with a cocky grin.
Tony grabbed him by the wrist and pointed the gun at the floor. "I thought your boss and I were clear: pas d'exécutions." ["No executions"]
The pirate scowled, but holstered his weapon.
Tony placed Sitwell beside the others and wrapped zip ties around his wrists and ankles. "If you could all refrain from mouthing off like your cue ball friend, you'll get back to your loved ones in one piece. My associates don't run away from a fight, despite being French. So don't antagonize them."
Leaving the galley, he made his way up to the bridge. Batroc sat comfortably in the captain's chair, staring out into the darkened ocean.
Their client had been specific: hold the ship and crew hostage, demand one and a half billion in ransom from S.H.I.E.L.D. to get them all back. A payday like that would be beyond his wildest dreams, but the more rational part of his brain told him Fury would rather try to recapture the Lemurian Star than pay.
"You send the ransom demand yet?" Tony asked.
"Oui."
He nodded, then leaned against the wall. "Well, guess we've got nothing to do but wait."
Washington, D.C. …
The black sports car pulled up to the curb, engine purring like a kitten. The passenger side window rolled down to reveal Natasha Romanoff. "Hey, fellas," she greeted. "Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil."
Steve Rogers rolled his eyes as he got into the passenger seat. "That's hilarious."
Sam Wilson, sweatshirt damp with sweat, crouched as he gave the spy a charming smile. "How you doing?"
"Hey," Romanoff said.
Steve looked at Sam and shrugged. "Can't run everywhere."
Sam nodded. "No you can't."
Romanoff pulled away from the curb and spirited her and her ancient passenger away to another mission.
Indian Ocean…
"Target is a mobile satellite launch platform, the Lemurian Star," Rumlow explained.
Ellen stood beside him, Cap, and Romanoff in front of the monitor as the Quinjet soared through the cloudy skies. The call came in to deploy just over an hour ago. Given the quick notice, the threat must have been urgent.
"They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago."
"Any demands?" Cap asked.
"Billion and a half," Rumlow replied. Ellen gave a long whistle.
"Why so steep?"
Rumlow paused, looking at Ellen. She shrugged. "Because it's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s," he said.
Cap's brow creased, and his lips pressed together in a frown. "So it's not off course. It's trespassing." He turned to glare at the back of Romanoff's head. For her part, the redhead seemed unfazed as she stroked her chin.
"I'm sure they have a good reason."
That didn't satisfy Cap, who replied, "You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor."
"Relax, it's not that complicated."
He sighed in slight exasperation. His gaze fell on Ellen, who offered an apologetic smile. "How many pirates?" he asked.
Rumlow tapped the monitor. "25. Top mercs led by this guy: Georges Batroc." A face appeared, lean and threatening with a trimmed mustache and goatee. Ellen recognized him by reputation only, and his was the kind built on piles of corpses. "Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He's at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty six kill missions. He's got a rep for maximum casualties. And then there's this guy."
The next image that appeared made Ellen's blood freeze. She clenched her jaw tight so she wouldn't gasp.
On the monitor, as if extracted from her brain, was an image of Taskmaster. No mistaking that skull mask and grey hood. In the years since he'd trained her, she'd heard scattered stories of his exploits. Some were a little far-fetched, but then again they were centred on a guy who dressed in such a…unique fashion. The only other person on the Quinjet who knew about her previous association with the mercenary was Rumlow, who effortlessly kept his cool and acted like he didn't know the man.
"Calls himself 'Taskmaster'. No other ID. First popped up about nine years ago. Made a name for himself schooling gangbangers and corporate security, hence the name. Rumour is, he knows every martial art on Earth, and he's meticulous when it comes to his clients. Back in '08, S.H.I.E.L.D. got word that one of the biggest human traffickers in Asia wanted to hire him for security. Three days later, he's found in his apartment, drowned in a fish tank. Then the authorities get an anonymous call leading them to rescue the trafficker's victims."
"So he's a scumbag, but one with a code," Ellen said sardonically. That code and professionalism were what she respected most about Taskmaster. Unlike so many people in this line of work, he had honour and standards.
"Pretty much," Rumlow said, keeping up the ruse. "He's wanted in over a dozen countries, and the People's Republic of China have put out a million-dollar bounty on his head."
Cap nodded, his expression focused. "Hostages?"
"Uh, mostly techs. One officer. Jasper Sitwell. They're in the galley." Sitwell's bald head appeared. Ellen knew he'd been assigned to the Lemurian Star to oversee the launch of Project Insight's final targeting satellites. They were so close to their final goal; they couldn't afford pirates jeopardizing the most important operation in HYDRA's history.
"What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship?" Cap asked. Ellen and Rumlow shared the briefest of glances. "Alright, I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc and Taskmaster. Nat, you kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, Pierce, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life pods, get them out. Let's move."
"S.T.R.I.K.E., you heard the Cap. Gear up," Rumlow ordered.
The Quinjet shifted from using main engines to rotors for stealth, relying on the clouds for cover on their approach. Everyone dispersed, and Ellen started equipping her gear. Rumlow did the same beside her. Keeping his voice low, he said, "You'd better keep your head in the game."
"It will be," she whispered back. "Just worry about yourself."
"Taskmaster might have been an ally once, but that was then. This is now. He had a job to do, and he completed it. End of story. When you see him, you take him out. Otherwise we're going to have a lot of uncomfortable questions and loose ends. Remember what I told you: if you screw up, I don't care who your daddy is, I will–"
"Put a bullet in my skull," Ellen finished. "Yeah, I remember."
"Good."
With her gear on and M4 in hand, she strolled towards the rear of the Quinjet. Romanoff and Cap shared a quiet conversation as she approached. "Coming up on the drop zone, Cap," the pilot announced. In response, he hit the release button for the boarding ramp, which began to lower.
"You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she'd probably say yes," Romanoff said.
Ellen felt her hackles rise at the comment, and tried not to let her annoyance show.
"That's why I don't ask," Cap said as he strapped on his helmet and stepped to the edge of the ramp.
"Too shy, or too scared?" Romanoff teased.
Cap looked over at Ellen, giving her a smile. "Too busy!" He then leaped into the air, disappearing from view. Ellen couldn't help the bashful smile that crept onto her face. They hadn't spoken about their kiss since the night of the charity dinner. In the weeks that followed, he'd become withdrawn. At first she thought he might be avoiding her, but after a while the thought ceased. Something was occupying his thoughts, something that made him nervous to spend more time with her. It might be something else, or someone else. For the time being, she'd give him all the space he needed.
Beside her, Jack Rollins stared dumbstruck at the opening. "Was he wearing a parachute?"
"No," Rumlow said, shaking his head in amusement. "No, he wasn't."
They all gathered in two lines by the ramp. After four minutes, Rumlow gave the order and they all jumped out of the Quinjet. Pulling her parachute, Ellen stared down at the Lemurian Star as it came closer and closer. If she focused hard enough, she could make out a small shape moving quickly, knocking out other shapes. Even after working with him for over a year, his Herculean strength and lightning-quick reflexes never failed to astound her.
Ellen and the others closed in on the helicopter landing pad near the bow. Cap dispatched the last of the mercenaries, only for two more to take aim at his back with their weapons. "I got right," Rumlow said through comms.
"I got left," Ellen said. They shot both targets in unison, dropping them just as Cap turned around and noticed their presence.
The S.T.R.I.K.E. teams and Romanoff then landed, disconnecting their parachutes. "Thanks," he said, nodding to the two of them.
Rumlow smirked. "Yeah, you seemed pretty helpless without us."
Ellen and her team followed Rumlow's team towards the aft. Romanoff strutted beside Cap and said, "What about the nurse that lives across the hall from you? She seems kind of nice." Ellen glared at the back of the other woman's head, then forced herself to focus on the mission. All she needed was to kill something, and Batroc's mercs would do nicely.
"Secure the engine room, then find me a date," Cap said dryly.
"I'm multi-tasking," Romanoff said before hopping down into the bowels of the ship.
Tony checked the clock display on his HUD. 98 minutes since they'd sent the ransom demand, and S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't even sent a 'No thanks, go fuck yourselves' message. Every instinct told him company would be on its way sooner rather than later.
"I don't like this," he said. Batroc, still sitting in the captain's chair, regarded him with a raised eyebrow. The pirate had given the order to prep the ship's engines, but without any payment, going anywhere felt pointless. "It's been too long without any word. And your boys get more trigger-happy by the minute."
"Que suggérez-vous?" ["What do you suggest?"] Batroc asked.
Tony sighed, mulling over their options. "Check for any incoming transmissions,"
The pirate gestured to his lieutenant, who stepped over to the main console. After a few seconds, the man said, "Silence radio du S.H.I.E.L.D., Batroc." ["Radio silence from S.H.I.E.L.D., Batroc"]
Huffing, Tony said, "I'm gonna head down to the galley. Make sure your goons aren't using the hostages' blood for face paint." He opened the door and stepped outside.
Ellen and her team assembled by the starboard aft, overtop the galley. Attaching their cables to the railing, they stepped over the side and rappelled down. Closing in on the galley windows, they slowed down and cautiously stepped along the hull until they were in position. Ellen held up a fist, and the others stopped. From here, she could see nearly all the pirates guarding the hostages.
"Targets acquired," she whispered into her earpiece, taking aim at the nearest pirate.
"S.T.R.I.K.E. in position," Rumlow reported over comms.
"Natasha, what's your status?" Cap asked. After a few seconds of silence, he repeated, "Status, Natasha?"
"Hang on!" She sounded tense, and judging by the grunts in the background, she was in the midst of taking down one or more of the pirates. Several masculine, agonized cries later, she reported, "Engine room secure."
Ellen and her team braced against the hull, pressing the suppressors of their weapons against the glass of the windows. She hovered her finger over the trigger. "On my mark," Cap said. Ellen centred her reticle on a pirate's head, his body glowing in the thermal sights. "Three…Two…One."
She squeezed the trigger, and the man dropped dead.
The other pirates all died instantly, except for one that moved out of sight. Luckily, Rumlow and the others breached through the galley door and shot him before he could do anything. With the hostages secure, Ellen and her team entered through the now-open windows. "Everyone relax, we're here to get you all out," she said, watching the crew visibly relax.
"Oh, thank God!" one of the techs said.
Tony headed down the walkway, silently hoping none of the hostages were dead or otherwise maimed. In a delicate situation involving precious cargo, the first basic rule was never damage the cargo. It only motivated any potential rescuers to move faster, thus adding more complications.
Reaching for the handle of a door, he paused as something caught his eye down below. It looked like a hand, but none of Batroc's men should have been sleeping or slacking off. His stomach knotted in concern as he grabbed the railing and swung down to get a closer look. Scaling the levels with masterful acrobatics, he landed beside the hand. It belonged to a shaggy-haired pirate named Phillipe. Or Jean-Paul. Whatever. The thing that grabbed Tony's attention was the sight of the man laying unconscious.
Looking left, he saw two more pirates knocked out, one of them propped against the bulkhead half-pretzeled. Whatever took them out hit them hard and fast, so fast they couldn't react.
Glass shattered nearby, in the direction of the bridge. Tony ran in that direction just in time to see a dark shape leaping through the open window. He briefly caught a star and stripes, which could only mean one thing. Fury sent in America's Golden Boy. "I hate being right all the time," he muttered, drawing his bow and knocking a grappler arrow. He loosed, and the arrow stuck into the metal above the window. Putting his bow away, he hooked the cable to his belt and retracted it, lurching upwards.
Reaching the bridge, he landed inside as Batroc bolted out the back door. Captain America himself stood near the consoles, shield imbedded into the wall. "It's rude to enter without an invitation," Tony scolded, lunging forward.
Hopping over the console, he aimed a kick at the other man's face. Captain America ducked, then hit Tony with a punch to the chest that sent him reeling back. Using the momentum to roll back onto his feet, he drew a pair of throwing knives. He threw one as he charged forward, then another as he closed in. His opponent dodged both, then obliged him with a good 'ole round of fisticuffs. Tony blocked the first few punches, threw one of his own, then ducked as Captain America came at him with a haymaker that likely would've cracked his mask.
He followed up with a savage uppercut that connected with the other man's jaw, knocking him onto his back.
In the time that it took Tony to blink, his opponent had already gotten back to his feet and launched a fresh attack. He'd studied Captain America's moves a little in old war footage, but ever since the frozen icon had joined S.H.I.E.L.D., he'd made it a priority to memorize the move set and combat style. Clearly, Captain America had been studying and improving himself. But Tony's photographic reflexes allowed him to predict the other man's next move.
"So predictable," he chided, blocking the flurry of punches that came at him. "I guess you really can't teach an old dog new tricks." Twisting around, he aimed a few roundhouse kicks at his opponent's chest and knee. Captain America blocked the first with his arms, then the second with a raised shin. He dropped low. Tony moved in to strike, but an elbow flew up and hit him in the face, knocking him back a few steps.
"Never mock the classics," Captain America said.
"Fair enough."
The next punch Tony dodged, then grabbed his opponent by the wrist and drove an elbow into his face two times. Any normal man would've suffered a broken nose or bruising. But not this man. Face undamaged, Captain America head-butted him then, slipping free, dropkicked him in the chest.
Tony fell onto his back with a grunt. He felt every blow even through his top-of-the-line armour. Flipping back onto his feet, he had just enough time to realize his opponent had pulled the shield out of the wall when it came flying at him. Jumping, he oriented his body parallel to the floor as the shield sliced the air mere inches below him. As it passed, he attached a nickel-sized disc onto it. The shield bounced off the wall and returned to its owner's grip.
"Don't make this hard on yourself," Captain America said. "Just surrender, and I can promise–" The disc on the shield exploded, throwing him back as a cloud of black smoke filled the bridge.
"Thanks, but prison jumpsuits aren't that flattering," Tony said. Wasting no time, he bolted out the door behind him and swung down to the main deck. Panting, he pressed himself against a bulkhead. "On the plus side," he said to himself, "I just fought Captain freaking America and lived to tell about it. I'll get to double my fee now."
Off in the distance, he heard several gunshots.
"Pierce, watch our six!" Rumlow ordered. "Everyone else, follow our lead. Stay close and keep your heads down."
"Copy," Ellen said. The hostages all filed out of the galley after Rumlow, while she and her team took position in the corridor. "Michelsen, Perkins, on point. Wyatt, Newport, stick with the hostages." The first pair positioned themselves in front and crouched, while she and Samuels stood behind them. They arranged themselves on either side of the corridor, leaving a gap between them. The other pair moved behind the last hostage, keeping pace.
A pirate came into view up ahead, rifle in hand. "Contact!" Perkins cried.
All four of them shot the pirate in the chest. Then, more appeared. "Fire at will," Ellen ordered. She and the others shot any targets dumb enough to step into view, while doing their best to handle the ones that took cover with suppressing fire. Glancing behind her, she saw the main group rounding a corner towards the nearest exit. "Fall back."
Michelsen and Perkins smoothly turned and took position behind her and Samuels, who crouched. The standing pair used suppressing fire, while the crouching pair moved back. One, two, one, two. They moved like well-oiled engine parts, retreating into the other passage in the others' wake.
"Pierce," Rumlow called from the far end of the corridor. "Any sign of Romanoff?"
Taking a quick scan of the area, Ellen replied, "I got nothing!"
Rumlow cursed under his breath. "Fine, new plan: we get everyone to the landing pad ASAP. The Widow can find her own way back."
"Fine by me," she muttered.
They kept moving, and Ellen spotted more men coming at them. As she and her team exchanged gunfire with the pirates, she heard Rumlow over the comms. "Hostages en route to extraction. Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play."
As if to demonstrate they point, Ellen shot a bearded pirate in the chest.
"Natasha," Cap called. He seemed winded, which meant he'd probably encountered Batroc or Taskmaster. "Batroc's on the move. Taskmaster is still in play. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages. Natasha?" Next came a metallic ring and a grunt, then his line went dead.
"Cap?" Ellen called, tapping her earpiece. No response. She and her team followed the others outside into the crisp night air. Once in position at the landing pad, they'd signal the Quinjet for extraction. "Cap, do you read?"
"Contact!" Perkins barked. Ellen and the others looked towards the starboard side across the way. Taskmaster himself came bursting into view, stopping when he noticed them.
'When you see him, you take him out,' Rumlow's voice echoed in her head.
"Take him down!" she ordered. All six of them shot at the mercenary.
Taskmaster crouched and held his left arm up, deploying a silver and orange shield. The bullets bounced off the shield, which clanged with impressive reverb.
Ellen stared at the sight, not quite believing what she saw. "What?" Apart from the colour scheme, his new toy had the exact same shape as Cap's iconic weapon. She knew he had a tendency to copy others' moves, but even this took her for a loop. Taskmaster rose to his feet and charged at them. He then jumped, performing a horizontal spin worthy of an Olympic gymnast. Mid-spin, he hurled his shield at them. Ellen realized he used that move to build up momentum.
It struck Newport square in the chest, bouncing off and hitting Perkins in the back. They both went down like bowling pins. Instead of returning to its owner's grip, the shield simply landed on the deck. So, there were some things he couldn't copy.
"Rumlow, get the hostages out of here!" she called. "We'll hold him off."
"Copy that," he said. "Everybody move!"
Taskmaster drew a pistol in his left hand and fired a few shots at them. Samuels grunted as he took two bullets to his vest. The impact knocked him against the railing. Jumping, Taskmaster pushed one foot off the nearby bulkhead and brought his armoured fist down in a savage punch that knocked Michelsen out cold.
Perkins, who'd just gotten up after being hit by the shield, drew a combat knife and lunged at him.
The mercenary expertly weaved and dodged in a manner that reminded Ellen of old Wuxia films. Avoiding another strike, he kicked the knife out of Perkins' hand, then kicked her across the face in a spinning Capoeira move. Ellen, Wyatt, and Newport switched to full auto on their weapons and started spraying bullets. He flinched and grunted, which meant he at least felt the impacts. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Taskmaster retreated in a triple handspring, then held his left arm to the shield on the floor. It stuck to the arm with some sort of magnets. Then he crouched and took cover behind it.
The move puzzled Ellen, until she noticed the live flashbang grenade by their feet.
"Get down!" she cried. Her words were cut off as the grenade went off in a blinding flash of light and deafening screech. Her head ached as she stumbled, ears ringing as her eyes saw triple. The disorientation almost made her vomit, and she had to grip a nearby bulkhead to stay on her feet. Turning back to look at the others, she saw vague afterimages of Wyatt and Newport as they fell to a dizzyingly fast animation of Taskmaster.
As the seconds passed, Ellen started to regain her senses just in time to see him throwing a punch at her head. Body acting on autopilot, she dodged out of the way. Her head still pounded and ached, but she shook it to dispel the last traces of the flashbang's nasty effects. She drew a combat knife in one hand and a taser rod in the other.
"Nice toys," he commented. "Let me guess, you one of those kids who played with a stick and pretended it was a lightsaber?"
"Well…" Ellen said, shrugging. With all the speed she could muster, she lunged for her old mentor. He weaved out of the way, but in a moment of triumph, Ellen jabbed him with a glancing blow from her taser rod. The voltage should have been enough to knock out a Rhino, but it seemed the mercenary's armour was insulated against such things.
He threw an elbow at her face, and she leaned back just in time to dodge it. Not wanting to stay on the defensive, she slashed with her knife while strategically jabbing with her taser rod. Memories of her training came screaming back, the endless months of sparring and drilling. Her old mentor had the uncanny ability to adapt and appropriate everything he saw, which made it frustrating to fight him. Not once in all their time together had she managed to beat him in that abandoned mining town. This time, she swore, she'd cross that annoying little item off her bucket list.
With a cry she threw herself into the attack, slashing and jabbing between his armour plates. She switched fighting styles with every attack, tossing in the occasional kick or elbow. It seemed to be working, as Taskmaster slowly retreated. Just as they passed near a bulkhead, the mercenary suddenly lashed out, grabbing her right arm and knocking her knife into the air. Catching it, he landed a kick to her gut, knocking her into the bulkhead. The impact jarred Ellen, and she dropped her taser rod as the back of her head pulsed.
Before she could recover, she felt her own knife held to her throat as Taskmaster pushed her head down, back bent at an awkward angle. "Ready for game over?" he asked, skull mask leering over her like the face of the Grim Reaper himself.
Breathing hard through her nostrils, Ellen replied, "Never did like losing." Stretching her leg, she found purchase on the bulkhead and used it to flip in a somersault before landing on her feet. In the same motion, she grabbed Taskmaster by the arm and flipped him over the edge of the ship.
Quick as a blink, he grabbed the railing and slid back onto the deck, knocking her feet out with his. She landed on her back, grunting as the air was driven from her lungs. Breathless, sore, every muscle aching from the night's exertions, Ellen tried to get up. But a heavy metal boot pressed on her chest, keeping her pinned. "Sorry, kid," Taskmaster said. "You lost this one."
"You've…" she said, straining against the weight on her sternum, "learned some new tricks."
"It's like John Wayne used to say: "Tomorrow hopes we have learned something from yesterday." Somewhere in the near distance, an explosion thundered. Taskmaster looked behind him, then back at her. "That's my cue. See ya later, kid." With that, he took off and sprinted around the corner, disappearing from view. Ellen sat up, rubbing her chest and coughing. Up ahead, Cap and Romanoff emerged from the ship's interior. They looked scratched from broken glass, but otherwise unharmed. The two of them rushed over to Ellen and her unconscious team, checking pulses.
Cap helped her to her feet. "You okay?"
Clearing her throat, Ellen replied, "Could be better. But I'm alive."
"Taskmaster?"
She shook her head. "In the wind. Batroc?"
Cap shared a dark glance with Romanoff, one which she returned with an expression smelted from iron. Whatever happened between the two, it was a sore point. He helped Ellen walk towards the waiting Quinjet while Rumlow's team assisted hers. "He's gone. But we rescued the hostages and recovered the ship, and that's what's important."
Ellen snorted. "Hooray, us."
January 9th; Triskelion…
After they touched down on the landing pad, the hostages were escorted into a recovery wing. Rumlow and his team went to the armoury to change, while Ellen and her team were taken to the infirmary. Cap and Romanoff accompanied them, and Ellen couldn't help but notice the two weren't speaking to each other. Just what had happened between them on the ship? And had they managed to glean any sensitive information from the Lemurian Star's computers?
Stripping out of her vest and combat gear, Ellen sat on one of the beds in the infirmary. Her team had taken quite a beating from Taskmaster, but luckily the worst injuries were limited to concussions. They'd make full recoveries before long. Cap made a point to check on everyone, knowing all their names and acting like the perfect leader.
As one of the doctors shone a penlight in her eyes, Cap stood beside her and asked, "You gonna be okay?"
"Definitely. It'll take more than some merc in a costume to take me down."
The doctor looked at the super soldier and said, "Far as I can tell, she's got extensive bruising but no broken bones. She should be out of here in an hour."
"See? I'll be right as rain."
Cap nodded, some of the tension in his face melting away. "That's good to hear. I'll see you soon." He turned and headed towards the door.
Romanoff, still looking uneasy, said, "Steve, I–"
"Not now," he said curtly, opening the door and walking out. Romanoff sighed, shaking her head, then walked out a moment later.
The doctor performed several tests, checking to see if there were any internal injuries after the mission. Ellen felt pleased to hear that she had none. Considering her opponent had been covered head-to-toe in thick Kevlar and better-trained than most countries' armed forces, she'd escaped with only minor injuries. After receiving a clean bill of health –with a stipulation of taking it easy for a few days– she left her team to recover in the infirmary.
Bringing her gear down to the S.T.R.I.K.E. armoury, she shoved it all in her locker. She'd have to stay in the Triskelion until Fury had a chance to debrief her. So, she decided to head up to her father's office. He tended to worry whenever her missions didn't go as planned, especially when she got injured.
Stepping out into the hall, she heard her phone beep. Taking it out, Ellen saw an alert from the Insight Bay. Given her clearance level, she shouldn't have known about the project at all, but her father had given her admin access to the security systems. Something unusual was happening down there. Clicking on the alert icon, her phone screen filled with camera footage from the bay. It zoomed in to one of the moving platforms in front of the three Helicarriers, where Fury appeared to be giving a private tour to none other than Cap.
Ellen frowned.
"You know, I read those SSR files," Fury said, taking a half step towards Captain America as he stared at the Helicarriers overhead. " 'Greatest Generation'? You guys did some nasty stuff."
Captain America met his gaze, his jaw tight. "Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so that people could be free." He pointed to the Helicarriers and their awe-inspiring arsenals. "This isn't freedom. This is fear."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. takes the world as it is, not as we'd like it to be," Fury countered. "And it's getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap."
The super soldier didn't blink. "Don't hold your breath."
Tony stood in line at the cafeteria, tray in hand. He whistled the tune of 'John Henry' from Disney's American Legends as he received large spoonfuls of food. After sweet-talking the septuagenarian lunch lady into an extra helping of lemon chicken, he walked off in search of a seat. Not even noon, most of the tables were full. Whether they be agents leaving or returning from an op, techs on a break, or scientists researching between bites, S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel didn't maintain a typical eight-hour work day.
At the far end of the cafeteria, he spotted none other than Natasha Romanoff. She sat against one of the large windows, staring out onto the Potomac River. Still whistling his tune, Tony strolled between the tables and the crowd of fellow agents. Romanoff noticed him as he approached, her red tresses straightened instead of her usual curls. She wore a black leather jacket and a pair of jeans that lovingly conformed to her gorgeous legs.
"Hey Masters," she greeted. "Been a while."
"Romanoff," he said, nodding to her. "Mind if I join you?"
She gestured to the space beside her. "Pull up some floor."
He snorted, sitting to her right. Balancing his tray on crossed legs, he started digging in. "Enjoying the view?" he asked.
Romanoff looked back outside. "I find it relaxing. I grew up in a lot of enclosed spaces, so it's nice to enjoy views like this."
"Let me guess: your parents had you do a lot of gymnastics? No, ballet! That has to be where you started training. No one's that graceful without experience."
She smirked at him. "That's the only freebie you're getting, Masters."
He snapped his fingers. "Damn. One of these days, I'm gonna figure you out."
"Knock yourself out." In a pool of people specifically trained to lie and employ subterfuge, Black Widow stood head and shoulders above them all. She played her cards so close to the chest no one knew how many cards she had. Apart from Fury and Barton, not a single person knew her beyond the persona she wore. Every time the two of them spoke, he tried to glean some bit of information, some tiny morsel that could help reveal more of the stunning redhead's history. He'd started treating it like a game, giving himself a certain number of guesses to get it right. She didn't seem to mind that much. In fact, she seemed to almost enjoy the game.
After washing down a mouthful of chicken with orange juice, he –making sure to sound casual– said, "So, I heard you and Rogers had an interesting time last night."
Romanoff nodded absently. "You could say that."
"Must have been pretty cool, taking down a pirate crew. And what's this I hear about a guy in a skull mask being there?"
"Taskmaster. He was working with the pirates."
Forcing himself to look out at the crowd of agents, Tony said, "He's supposed to be quite the badass from what I've heard. Intel has him pretty high on the watchlist, don't they?"
"Threat level blue, last I checked," she said.
Threat level blue, usually reserved for persons of interest that didn't pose a risk to global security, but still warranted significant resources for their capture. Tony felt a warm feeling of pride in his chest, knowing he was in a class of legendary figures. To gain the interest of an organization as large as S.H.I.E.L.D. was an achievement only a few people on Earth could boast. And he was one of them.
"Good thing you succeeded, even with a guy like that on the scene."
Romanoff crossed her arms. "I never saw him, but he did a number on the S.T.R.I.K.E. team." Tony flashed back to the Lemurian Star, remembering his fight with Pierce and her team. He'd done his best to stick to non-lethal takedowns. After all, they were just doing their jobs. His former protégé might have been secretly working for HYDRA, but she didn't deserve anything more than a standard ass-kicking. She'd performed well in their scrap; against any other opponent, she would have mopped the floor with them. "He even held his own against Cap for a minute," Romanoff continued.
Tony nodded, making sure to look impressed. Even with his extensive skills, he still hadn't managed to beat the world's greatest soldier. Someday he would.
Her brow creased at the mention of Captain America.
"Something wrong?" he asked, finishing his last piece of toast.
She shrugged. "We rescued all the hostages and retook the ship, but along the way I had my own mission. Cap didn't know, since Fury told me to keep it to myself."
Tony said, "Ah. I bet the Golden Boy didn't appreciate that."
"He's idealistic," Romanoff replied. "Still thinks he's a soldier in the army. In this line of work, information is compartmentalized. No one knows everything. You understand that."
He thought of his double life, and the lengths he'd gone to in order to keep that part of himself hidden from the people he loved. She was right; sometimes, people didn't need to know for their own good. Looking her in the eye, he nodded. "I'm sure he'll get used to this work eventually. I know you two have gotten close since New York."
"You've never been deployed with him," she countered. "He's like a boy scout who wished on a Zoltar machine, just like–"
"Tom Hanks!" Tony said, leaning forward in excitement. "You've seen Big?"
She blinked in surprise. "Of course I have; it's one of his best movies."
"It certainly is." He leaned back against the window, chuckling. "Well look at you: beautiful, deadly, and you have excellent taste in '80s movies."
She arched an eyebrow.
He held his hands up. "Okay, I'll stop. This time."
Romanoff rolled her eyes, then stood up with a slight smile. "I'll see you around, Masters."
Tony sat there, fork in hand, watching her make her way out of the cafeteria. He shook his head, sighed, then said to himself, "God, I love watching her walk."
After her initial panic at seeing Cap in the Insight Bay, Ellen sequestered herself in the women's bathroom. Watching the two men's conversation unfold, she realized Fury was trying to convince the super soldier of the project's ultimate good in stopping threats. Cap, true to his image as a moral icon, looked disgusted with the implications. They soon left the bay after a few more minutes, and that appeared to be that.
Ellen shut off the camera feed on her phone, stuffing it in her pocket. Her initial relaxation gave way to a creeping fear. Cap dismissed Project Insight out of hand, recognizing Fury's hypocrisy. By the same token, that meant he'd likely never see the benefits of HYDRA's plans for the project and, by extension, the world.
She and Cap had a good thing going between them, and ever since that night they danced and kissed, she'd held out hope they could one day become something…more. But as always, the looming possibility of her affiliation with HYDRA overshadowed her hopes. Barring the unexpected or miraculous, her biggest secret wouldn't be revealed until a time of her choosing. But even then, would the man most famous for beating HYDRA back in the day accept her and her reasons for joining? Or would he dismiss them out of hand and feel compelled to tear down everything she and her father had built?
The thought left a gnawing, twisting ache in her gut. And so she sat in the bathroom stall, her finely tuned mind running through all the worst-case scenarios.
Having refused to live a life ruled by fear, Ellen forced herself to brush those thoughts aside. They were on the cusp of reshaping the world order for good, HYDRA's dream for nearly a century. It wouldn't help anyone to focus on things that might never happen. Taking deep, measured breaths, she stood and walked out. To any outside observer, she'd appear calm and collected. Good thing she'd spent the last twelve years perfecting her ability to lie and deceive the greatest spies in the world.
Splashing her face with some cold water, Ellen stepped out of the bathroom and proceeded to make her way up to the executive levels of the building. Turning a corner towards her father's office, she saw Fury walking away from it. He must have just seen him, but according to her father's schedule, they didn't have a meeting. Looking him over, Ellen saw his brow creased, his eye looking at the floor. He must have been bothered by something, and anything that bothered Nick Fury warranted attention.
"Hey, Nick," she greeted as they approached each other.
He looked up and offered a polite smile. "Ellen. Glad to see you're doing well. Heard you ran into a few complications on the op."
She nodded. "It was touch and go for a minute, but you did send in the best of the best." Jerking her thumb to indicate the office door, she asked, "How's dad doing? Did he ask you to get Iron Man to come to my cousin's birthday party?"
Fury nodded, smirking. "As a matter of fact, he did."
"Cassie's kind of obsessed," Ellen said. The best –and only– way of getting information from a man as seasoned as Fury was to put him at ease with jokes and polite conversation. If she prodded too much into his affairs, he'd get suspicious and shut her down. "You'd think a nineteen year-old would focus on the Jonas Brothers or Justin Timberlake. As soon as she heard the Avengers were working with S.H.I.E.L.D., she's been bugging dad non-stop to get you to pull favours."
He chuckled, though she could still see dark thoughts lurking in his eye.
"Is he okay?" she asked in a quieter tone, glancing at the door. "He worries himself silly when I'm on missions, especially when there's complications and I get injured. After that op in the Coral Sea, he wouldn't let me out of his sight for weeks."
Fury looked at the door, the edges of his mouth tugging in a frown. "Your dad's the same as he's always been: sharp as a tack and strong enough for anything. Just like someone else I know."
Ellen smiled, simultaneously pleased by the comment and guilty for having to lie to someone who'd known her for so long. "Thanks, Nick. Not that I'd ever tell him, but sometimes I worry about him, too. His job is about as high-stress as can be."
"Everything's fine," Fury assured her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll head back to my office. There's probably a few more world-ending crises on my desk by now."
"Talk soon," she said, watching him walk away. As soon as he was out of view, she dropped her smile. She recognized when he was lying –or at least, she thought she did– and the fact he lied to her just now about everything being fine told her all she needed to know. Turning on her heel, she walked to the office door and stepped inside. Her father turned to look at her as he stood at the window, the concern on his face plain as day.
"Activate encryption protocol, full blanket," he said.
The windows tinted black, the lights dimmed, and the electronic voice gave a confirmation. He sighed, and they both spoke at the same time.
"We have a problem."
"We have a problem."
Ellen blinked. Her father sat down at his desk and said, "You first."
"I got an alert from Insight Bay," she said, crossing her arms. "Fury took Captain America down there for a private tour. Showed him the Helicarriers and everything. When I talked to him just now, he was evasive. I'm assuming your problem is the reason why?"
Her father nodded, scowling. "He came here and asked me to delay Project Insight."
She frowned. "Delay? Why?"
"Didn't say. Just wanted me to get the council to vote while he confirmed a suspicion."
Ellen's blood went cold. "You don't think he knows, do you?"
"No. We made damn sure of that. But the last thing we need is Nick Fury peeking behind the curtain, especially when we're so close to completion."
"So what should we do?"
He clicked his tongue, strumming his fingers on the desk. "Given the critical stage of the project, we can't afford any half measures." Looking her in the eye, he said, "He's left us no choice. Nick Fury has to die."
And so, it begins!
To this day, Winter Soldier remains one of my favourite MCU films, as is the case with many people. The action, the intrigue, everything's top-notch. I've been waiting to cover the events of the film for this story for so, so long! I can't wait for you guys to see how it all unfolds!
Until next time, please drop a review and let me know what you think. I'll see you next time!