"Broad to sharp, do you copy?" Rogers asked his radio.
"Sharp responding. Sitting pretty." Romanoff's voice returned. "Awaiting signal."
"Fire on any armed hostile." Rogers replied. "We are in position to proceed. Expect first shots within five minutes."
"Copy, over and out."
"Your sniper's a lady?" The police chief asked. Rogers nodded. "Is she that Black Widow person?"
"Yeah." Rogers replied. "We've got Hawkeye too." He gestured to Barton, who was studying a map with Wilson. No need to mention the third sniper, who was sitting on the same derelict roof as Romanoff.
"Gosh." The police chief said. "We just need that big green guy and we've got the whole set."
"Well, technically, that's not Iron Man." Rogers gestured to Rhodes, who was already suited up. "He's busy. That's War Machine." Rhodes saluted. "Your boys all happy with the plan?"
"Yeah."
"They let us go first, take the majority of the fire. We're aiming for zero casualties. Your job is to keep our rear secure and deal with any that hole up or surrender."
"Yessir, we got your – Hey! Walker! You quit that, now!" Rogers turned to see a young man holding a phone up. "No selfies with the Avengers 'till we're done."
That was, in Rogers's view, a necessary evil of involving the cops. Everything was slower, more lives were risked, being filmed the whole time was inconvenient, but this was how they made sure the files they got wouldn't be thrown out of court. So they put up.
They had a passable Avengers Crew: him, Rhodes, Wilson, Barton, Romanoff, and (strictly off the record) Bucky. He'd refused to stay behind, so he was sniping with Romanoff. Romanoff's theory was that with two snipers lying two feet apart on a roof, using the same model of gun, nobody would be able to tell that it wasn't just her.
.
"Definitely nothing flammable under us." Barnes said, hauling himself up by the metal arm. "We should be pretty safe here."
"Thanks." Nat replied. "Rogers just called, they're ready to go."
Barnes grunted in acknowledgement
"Do you like the kit?"
"What, Dragunovs?" Barnes asked, dropping prone and fiddling with the sight. "Don't love them, they'll do for something like this."
"What would you choose?"
"I like a Barett, Kar 98Ks are solid, but they couldn't handle this range." Barnes seemed to finish fiddling with the gun. "I learned on a Johnson."
Nat laughed. "Relics."
"In 1943."
"Relics." Nat repeated.
A flash of light. "We're go!" Barnes said, lowering his head to the scope.
.
Rhodes flew up to the rusted iron of the outer door set in to the hillside. No doubt there was something more substantial underneath. Rogers saw something flicker in his wrist and the door caved.
Rhodes pulled the misshapen door clear and set a charge on the second. He turned and walked away, trusting the suit. Still no resistance. So either they genuinely had surprise, or HYDRA had abandoned ship since yesterday morning. They'd sent men out looking for what they thought was The Winter Soldier, Nat had tracked them to here.
Rhodes made it thirty feet before the door blew. The Stark Tech shaped charge did its work, the grass beside Rhodes was barely ruffled. Rhodes turned and started back towards the door. His job was to draw them out. He was virtually bullet proof. Rhodes disappeared inside the hill.
Rogers waited, in cover with the cops, he heard the click of a phone camera behind him. He didn't bother to scold.
.
"So what would you pick? Is the Dragunov your favourite?" Barnes asked her
"Among rifles, yeah, I like it." Nat replied, "I guess it feels like a childhood friend."
Barnes sniggered.
"But, honestly, I'd rather not use a rifle most of the time."
Barnes looked at her. "What then? Pistols? Knives? Bare hands? Do you like feeling blood on you?"
Nat shook her head. "For me, it's about finding the-"
Gunfire.
.
Rhodes came flying out of the hillside, bullets scattering around him. Rogers stood up, raising his shield. If he ran in too soon, he'd bottleneck them. He could hear their feet under the gunfire. He saw the first footsoldiers run in to the sunlight, as Rhodes turned to land facing. He vaulted out of cover and started running, hoping none of the cops had bad enough aim to shoot him in the back. He caught up with Rhodes and started to overtake him. The HYDRA gunmen were dropping ahead of him, even before the police opened fire.
They weren't even masked. The HYDRA goons were just realising how far under they were. They must have stood up from whatever they were doing and gone to shoot at Rhodes. Rogers hit their front men. He backhanded the first with his shield, hard enough to throw the man to the ground. Rogers stamped on his chest and felt something snap. He grabbed the next man's rifle and hit him in the neck with the edge of the shield. He set his eyes on his next target and the man's head snapped back, red mist spraying. Bucky. Bucky liked to pluck targets right out from under other soldiers' noses.
He brought his shield up in to gunfire and kept forwards. War machine wasn't three paces behind him. He plunged in to the dark.
.
"What were you saying?" Barnes asked Nat.
"That for me, it's about finding the perfect tool for the perfect job." She lifted up her shoulders and rolled them out. "We should take turns at scope."
"I'll stay on it for now." Barnes said. He hadn't moved a muscle. "The perfect job." He prompted.
"So, to start, what are the rules? Does he just need to die? How likely am I to get caught if I'm in close and personal? How quickly can medical help get there? Does it matter if anyone knows it was an assassination?"
Barnes made an indistinct noise in his throat. "That's a few grades more technical than I usually got."
"Insulin's a good one."
"What?"
"If nobody can know it was murder. High dose insulin by injection, just before the target goes to bed."
"Don't they feel that?"
"Depends on what else is going on at the time."
.
The tunnel sloped sharply downwards. He just ran forwards, shield up, waiting for his eyes to adjust. There was light round the next corner. One gunman in the way. Rogers just charged him down, ignoring the pistol shots rattling off his shield. He felt ribs crack under his feet.
Rogers turned sharply right again, then again.
"They've broken through!" The shouter was in cover to his right.
"Shit! Avengers! Shit!"
Someone screamed above the gunshots. There were computer desks everywhere. Rogers vaulted one and brought the edge of his shield down on the man behind it.
"Verbrennen!" Someone shouted. "Order Verbrennen. Do -" The shout was cut short. Rogers tucked down under his shield as bullets hailed down, then stopped. An arrow was sticking out of the gunman's neck.
"Verbrennen means burn!" Rogers shouted. "We gotta move."
Cops were filing in behind Hawkeye.
"Guard position!" Rogers shouted. "No one touches these machines. Handcuff the dead."
"What?" Someone asked.
"You heard me. War Machine, front up to the left. Falcon, support. Hawkeye with me." He started running again. Rhodes and Wilson would be able to handle themselves. He threw himself at the door, shield first.
Barton had shot the first gunman before Rogers had even really understood that he was there. Rogers threw the second back in to the wall, hard enough to break bones. He kicked the man's gun away. He could hear running water up ahead. He carried on moving. He heard a final gasp from the man he'd just downed, then Barton picked up speed.
The water was dead ahead. A man straightened up and locked eyes with Rogers. White coat, glasses. Seemed unarmed.
"Hey!" Rogers called. The man dropped what he was holding and put his hands up. That was odd. HYDRA didn't usually surrender. Rogers slowed down. "You don't have to die right now." The man nodded. "Hawkeye, do you have cuffs?"
"Near enough." Barton approached, keeping his bow trained on the man. "Go fish in my belt."
Zip ties. They'd do. Rogers bound the man's hands behind his back. Barton was looking at Rogers questioningly, then he turned his attention to the room.
"Generator." Barton said. "We should check that this isn't part of the 'burn' thing."
"Go ahead."
Barton started looking over the controls of the machinery. "Oh, hydro power. So the water turns the turbines, generates the power. That line's marked… Son of a bitch!" Barton slammed two switches.
"What?"
"Their self-destruct is built in to the generator. The coolant lines sit right between the top of the turbine axels and that." Barton pointed to something in the low ceiling and made to climb. "Nah, I'm not touching that. That's TNT, packed in to the ceiling there. Stop the coolant, the heat from the axels rises, there's probably an accelerant in there…"
Rogers blew out. "Let's just check there's no other way in or out of here."
There was a choked gasp. Rogers turned. Their captive was frothing and twitching against his bonds.
"That's why he surrendered." Barton said, barely looking round. "He was hoping this would blow while we were securing him."
.
"Barnes, look there." Nat pointed. A couple of hundred feet along the hillside, men were running. She lowered herself to her scope. A dozen men, some dressed some not, were bolting out of low bushes. She picked up her radio. "Sharp to all, we have runners. Repeat: We have runners eighty yards west of the door, heading West. Over."
"Copy that, Sharp." Rhodes said. "We are chasing the runners. Open fire if they turn and face. Over."
"We're coming." That was Rogers. By the sound of it, he was already running.
War Machine broke the hillside, flying.
"Just give me a reason." Barnes breathed. "Just go on and give me a reason."
Falcon was in the air too. Nat saw a bullet knock his wings. Barnes fired barely a heartbeat later. Nat glanced at him. There was a fixed, murderous stare on his face. Nat felt she understood. She picked her own mark and started shooting.
