Chapter 10:
[Drake POV]
[2 weeks later, SHIELD HQ, UK]
I move to the central command room, leaving a trail of bodies in my wake. In the center of the room stand the five SHIELD agents, a squad of STRIKE commando at their side. Despite the brave faces, I can see the terror in their eyes. The troopers start to fire their weapon, ripping me to threads. I drop. After a few seconds, my heal-factor kicks in. I get back to my feet, grinning sadistically, "My turn." At lightning speed, I slaughter the commandos. From behind me, a squad of 6 steps out into view. "It's your stage now, boss," I say to the man leading the charge. The man outfitted in a tactical combat suit and a purple mask stalks to the five. Each of them eyes him with fear. The old man in the middle eyes go wide in disbelief, "Baron Zemo?" It can't be..." Zemo laughs, "Zola's variation of the super-soldier bio-enhancer transformed my body beyond its limitations. "What do you want?" the man asks, voice shaking. "For an empire to burn," he tells the old man. Zemo draws his sword and strikes them all down. The CERBERUS unit watches in Glee as Zemo works. The screams of agony echo through the central command room. With a blood-soaked sword, Zemo turns to face us, "Soon, everything will be as envisioned. Through the ashes of the old world, an empire will rise to rule the new world."
[Steve Rogers POV]
[Washington DC, USA]
It's a cool morning to go for a run. As usual, I started early, around 6 AM. The streets are generally empty this time of day; people are either still asleep or just waking up. On my run, I spot another runner, an African American man. I never got his name or struck up a conversation, but I always see him on the same path. The man was clearly military by the way he holds himself. "On your left," I call out. It's courtesy to let another runner know you're about to pass them.
The man eyes me, noticing I'm going fast. Really fast. Like a full-on sprint. I shoot ahead of the man, turning on a counter. I run for 4 miles. On the 3rd mile, I passed the guy again. "On your left," I say. The guy stops for a quick moment to do a double-take, confused. I pass him again a third time. "On your left," I say again. At this point, I'm sure the guy was feeling a little insulted. No doubt the man is fit, but no one likes to be shown-up, especially other soldiers. He picks up the pace. Despite his best attempt, he couldn't catch up with me. On the fourth mile, I spot the man sitting under a tree, completely exhausted. I walk over to him, "Need a medic?" The man turns his head to face me, the look of realization hitting his features.
"Well, that explains a lot. I think I need a new set of lungs," he says, half-serious, "Dude, you just ran 13 miles in 30 minutes." I smile, "Had a late start." He laughs, "Really? You should be ashamed of yourself. Should take another lap. Did you just take it? I assume you took it." I reach out a hand, "What unit are you with?" He takes my hand, and I help him to his feet, "58th para-rescue. But I'm working at the VA now. Sam Wilson." Steve Rogers," I introduce myself. "Yeah, kind of put that together," Sam says, "Must've freaked you out coming home after the whole defrosting thing." I shrug my shoulders, "It took some time getting used to it. Good to meet you, Sam." I turn to leave, feeling a little uncomfortable. Maybe it's because he mentioned the defrosting. I still hadn't completely gotten over that. Hell, I still feel the cold at night.
"It's your bed, right?" Sam says behind me. "What?" I say, turning back to him. "Your bed, it's too soft. When I was over there, I slept on the ground, used rocks as pillows like a caveman. Now, I'm home lying on my bed, and it's like..." Sam starts. "Lying on a marshmallow. Feel like I'm going to sink right through the floor," I finish. He nods. "How long?" I ask. "Two tours," Sam tells me, "You must miss the good old days." I thought about it. There's a lot I miss, mostly Howard, Peggy, and Bucky. I quickly change the subject. "It isn't bad. The food is a lot better. We used to boil everything. Internet, so helpful. Been doing a lot of web surfing to catch up on everything," I say. Sam licks his lips, "Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man soundtrack. Everything you missed jammed into one album," Sam tells me. I pull out my notepad and write it down, "I'll put it on the list."
My phone goes off. It's a text message from Natasha. 'Got a mission. Meet you at the end of the block.' "Alright, Sam, duty calls," I say, heading out. "Hey, anytime you stop at the VA, do me a solid and make me look good in front of the girl at the front desk," Sam says, Jokingly. The two of us laugh a little. "In all seriousness, you should check it out. It may help," he voices to me. "I'll keep that in mind," I tell him. A black sports car pulls up, Natasha at the wheel. I jump in the car.
[Spartan POV]
[New York City]
Patrol the city via rooftops. EPYON tags an op. Switching on stealth-camo, I go to check it out. [Waypoint.] [Rooftop.] Down below, an armored van drives into an isolated Street. Suddenly two cars pull up, boxing in the armored vehicle. Eight armed masked goons exit the cars, move toward the armored van, weapon ready. The masked man on point barks out orders to the driver. But the driver doesn't comply with the goon's demands, mostly out of a state of shock and fear. These security guards are not trained to deal with high-stress situations like these. Just everyday civilians with little to no real combat experience, only doing a job that pays very little money. One of the goons fires a warning shot. The bullet cuts right through the bullet-resistant glass, piercing the wall near the driver's head. 'So they're using armor-piercing rounds? Good to know.' From my pack, I toss a smoke-grenade, jump down to ground-level.
[Ground-level.] The narrow street is quickly engulfed with a cloud of thick white smoke. Using both the stealth-camo and the smoke as cover, I make quick work of seven of the goons. When the smoke cleared, it's only one left. I signal the driver of the armored van to escape, he does. Now it's just me and the last goon. Quick-drawing my pistol, I drop the masked goon with a stun-bolt. Once the goons are cuffed and secured, I leave them to the cops. EPYON tags a high-priority mission from SHIELD.
[Indian Ocean]
[Quinjet.] Brock Rumlow briefs us on the mission, "The target is a mobile satellite launch platform. Lemurian Star. They were sending up the payload when the pirates took over the ship 96 minutes ago." He works on a touch screen in the quinjet passenger compartment. "Any demands?" Cap asks. "Billion and a half," Rumlow tells. "Why so steep?" he asks. "It's SHIELD. If I was a merc, that's what I demand," I say, half-serious. "How many pirates are we dealing with?" Cap inquires. "Twenty-five. Top merc led by this guy," Rumlow says, displaying the mercenaries' leader's image, "Georges Batroc. Ex-DGSE, action division. He's at the top of Interpol's red notice. The guy has a rep for maximum casualties." "Hostages?" Karai questions. "Mostly, techs. One officer. Jasper Sitwell," he tells us. 'Sitwell? He's usually never on an op.' "What's Sitwell doing on a launch-ship? Cap wonders out loud. We all study the layout of the ship on the screen. "The PARAGADES and I will sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get them out. Let's move." STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up," Rumlow calls out his squad.
"Comlink check," Cap says into his mic, testing it. "Checked," I, Karai, and Nat all echo in unison. Nat eyes Cap as he comes to grab his gear, "Did anything exciting Saturday night?" "Well, all the guys from my barbershop are dead, so, no, not really," He tells her matter-of-factly. Nat gives the man her famous and notorious knowing look, "I'm sure if you ask Kristen out, from statistics, she'd probably say yes." Cap rolls his eyes and says nothing. The 40s super-soldier leaps out the quinjet. Karai and I follow after him. Over the open comms, I hear Jack asks, "Were they wearing a parachute?" "No. No, they weren't," Rumlow tells the man.
[Lemurian Star]
We stealthily get onto the ship. Cap knocks out a passing sentry with back-choke-hold. We need to keep up the element of surprise as long as we could. Together we go counterclockwise around the ship, taking out the mercs in our way. Everything's going smoothly until we make a complete circuit of the vessel; all three of us skid to a halt as a squad of mercs covers us with their weapons. "Don't move!" a merc demands. The mercenaries have an overlapping field of fire. Under my mask, I smile. 'If only they knew who they were fucking with.' In lightning speed, Cap throws his shield, striking down a merc. The shield goes back to Cap; he gracefully catches it and slings it at another merc. In sync, Karai and I quick-draw our pistol and double-tap the last batch of mercs. A merc comes around the corner, aiming his rifle at Karai's head.
There's a soft pop. The merc collapses to the ground, dead. I look up to spot Rumlow, Nat, and the rest of the STRIKE team parachuting down. "Nice shot," Cap comments. It isn't easy to be accurate when hanging from a parachute on a windy night shooting at a moving target. Rumlow is one of SHIELD's best. "For the record, I let you take that shot," Karai tells him. He smiles, "Sure, you did, sweetheart." Karai growls. Like Ward, the guy is known to be an asshole. We move to the next mission objective.
"What about the nurse that lives across the hall from you?" Nat asks Cap, acting as Cap's personal Cupid. Unfortunately for her, Cap's mind is on the mission. "Secure the engine room, then get me a date," He tells her. "I'm multitasking," Nat says, vaulting over the railing to the lower level. Behind Cap, we got to the lower level of the bridge tower. Using HUD, we listen in on what the mercs are saying. "I don't like waiting," a merc complains, "Let the others know I want this ship ready to move once the ransom comes." Through the comlink, Nat voices, "Engine room is secure." "STRIKE is in position. Holding on your word, Cap," Rumlow says. "On my mark," Cap says, getting ready, "Hit it." Slinging the Shield, Cap takes one of the merc at the main control panel. Karai and I leap into the command room, taking out four merc. One merc makes a run for it. Batroc. Cap gives chase. "We're moving to the extraction point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play," Rumlow says over the comlink. "Copy that. Spartan, Karai, provides backup. I'll link with you once I get Batroc," Cap orders. "On it," I say.
We circle back to rendezvous with Rumlow and the STRIKE unit. Getting to the life-pods, there a firefight between STRIKE and the mercs. I signal to Karai to flank them. Using stealth-camo, we take out the mercs one by one. I tap my comlink, "Cap, all enemy targets are eliminated. What's your status?" Via comlink, Karai and I could hear fighting. "Rumlow, get the hostages out of here. We're going back for Cap," Karai says. We both bolt to Cap's last location. Coming around the corner, Cap is in a hand-to-hand fight with Batroc. Cap gets a drop on Batroc with a leaping-kick, dropping him on his ass.
As Batroc gets back to his feet, Cap charges him, slamming him through a door into a room full of computers, then knocking him with a punch. Walking to the control-room, we see Nat at one of the computer stations. "Well, this is awkward," she says. Cap looks up at her, "What are you doing?" "Backing up the hard-drive. It's a good habit to get into," She tells him. Cap stumps over to her, clearly irritated, looks over her shoulder to the computer screen, "You're saving SHIELD intel." "Whatever I could get my hands on," she states. "Our mission was to rescue hostages," he says. "No, that was your mission. My mission was to provide backup and save SHIELD intel. Spartan and Karai reported they cleared the ship of enemy threats. So, I'm doing my second objective," She says.
Despite not wanting to take a side, I understand why Cap's upset. He wasn't informed about Nat's side op. A soldier has to trust and work with his/her partner with full transparency in a unit. Movement catches my attention. Batroc is back on his feet. I turn and stun-blast the merc. "Now, the ship is completely secure," I say.
[Steve Rogers POV]
[Triskelion, Washington DC, USA]
[Office.] I stroll into the office, "You just can't stop yourself from lying, can you?" Fury is facing the window, "I didn't lie. Natasha had a different mission from yours." "Info you didn't oblige to share," I snap. He turns to me, "I'm not obliged to do anything." That's true, and I know it, but I didn't have to like it. "Those hostages could've died," I tell him. "I sent in four super-soldiers and STRIKE commandos to make sure that didn't happen," Fury says. "Soldiers trust each other; that's what makes it a team. Not a bunch of guys running around shooting guns," I voice.
Fury cracks a humorless laugh, "Tell that to a few dumbass politicians." He stands up, "In this life, trust is not an easy thing to gain. I didn't want you doing anything you weren't comfortable with. Natasha, PARAGADES, they're willing to get their hands dirty." I wasn't backing down, "I can't lead a mission when the people I'm leading have a mission of their own." Fury sighs with vexation, "It's called compartmentalization. Nobody spills secrets because nobody knows them all." "Except for you," I sass. Fury's demeanor softens. "You're wrong about me. I do share. I'm nice like that," he says. He walks out of the office to the elevator, motioning me to follow him.
"Insight bay," he orders, stepping in. The elevator computer scans me, "Captain Rodgers does not have clearance for project insight." Fury overrides the computer, granting me access. The elevator starts to move. "You know they used to play music on these things," I say. Fury smirks, "Yeah. My grandfather operated one of these things for 40 years. Granddad worked in a nice building. Got good tips. He walked one every night with a roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He'd say hi. People say hi back. Time went on; the neighborhood got rougher. He'd say hi. They'd say, keep on stepping. Granddad gripped that lunch bag a little tighter." There was a quick pause.
I knew plenty of neighborhoods like that back in Brooklyn. "Did he ever get mugged?" I ask. Fury sniggers, "Every week, there be a punk that says, what's in the bag?" "What he do?" I ask, curious. "He showed them. A roll of ones and a loaded gun. Yeah, granddad liked people. He just didn't trust them very much." 'I guess not. Neither does his grandson.' The elevator rides down into a massive hanger, housing three helicarriers. My eyes go wide in astonishment. "Yeah, I know. They're a lot bigger than a 22," Fury comments.
Getting on the floor, Fury gives me a rundown on what SHIELD has been up to, "This is Project Insight. Three next-gen helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites launched from the Lemurian Star. Once in the air, they never need to come down. Continuous sub-orbital flight, courtesy of the new repulsor engine." "Stark?" I ask, walking with Fury. I wasn't surprised to hear Tony had a hand in this.
"He had a few suggestions when he got an up-close look," Fury says, referring to the battle on the old helicarrier. We walk underneath one of the new helicarriers. "These long-range precision guns could eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellite can read a terrorist's DNA before he steps out of his sniper hole. Neutralize a lot of threats before they happen," he says. For a moment, I could almost hear the cynicism in his tone. He doesn't even believe what he is saying. Like he's rehashing what he was told. "I thought the punishment normally comes after the crime," I say, serious.
"The higher-ups can't afford to wait that long," he tells me. "The higher-ups?" I question. "After New York, the World Security Council decided to put in place a quantum surge in threat analysis," Fury tells me. "Holding a gun to everyone on earth and calling it protection," I say bitterly. Fury drops his head, peer over to me, a stern look in his eye, "I've read those SRR files. You guys did a lot of nasty stuff. Let's not pretend you're morally superior here, Captain. We live in the land of the gray." I sigh, "Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so people could be free," point to the helicarrier, "This isn't freedom. This is fear." I walk away.
[Nick Fury POV]
'Some of us take the world as it is, not what we want it to be. But it doesn't mean we can't make it better.'