The landed the jet a mile from the base. As they stepped out into the snow, they were hit by a bitterly cold gust of wind, and Bucky shivered, trying not to be reminded of cryo-chambers and the chill that lingered for hours after being pulled out of one.
Brock rubbed his hands together and breathed on them. "I'm regretting my suggestion we leave Africa," he muttered.
Clint chuckled. "You do have only yourself to blame. If you hadn't said anything, we'd be in Gabon by now, enjoying the rain forest."
"And not risking hypothermia. That will teach me to keep my mouth shut in the future."
"Oh, I don't think anything could ever do that." Clint grinned and Brock shot him a look.
"One of these days Barton…"
They started the hike through the snow with Bucky, familiar with the terrain, leading the way. As they neared the compound, Bucky raised a hand and they all stilled, crouching and crawling the last few yards to an embankment that looked out over the base site.
Brock pulled out a pair of binoculars and surveyed the large steal doors built into the snow and ice. He was unusually silent for a long time. "There's no one outside on patrol but…here, look for yourself." He handed the glasses to Clint, who in turn surveyed the entrance.
Clint frowned. "Are those footprints in the snow, near the entrance?"
Brock nodded. "That's what I thought too."
"The base is occupied?" Bucky tensed. Of all the bases, this one couldn't have been deserted as well? He signed. "Okay, there's a vent system around back. There's a lock, but Wanda should be able to bust it."
"Without blocking the way in?"
"I've been practicing," said Wanda, her gaze flickering for only a moment in Bucky's direction. "I can do it."
Clint nodded. "All right. We'll cut around then. Once inside, everyone be on the alert. We don't know how many men could be inside. If it is Strucker, he had a sizeable number with him. Wanda and Pietro, you make one team. Bucky and I will make the other. Brock, you stick with the twins until you reach the server room."
He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I remember. I'll hack in and download any files they're storing."
"Right. If this is Strucker, we want to know any damage he may have already done, and anything he may have already set in motion, and who he's in contact with. Remember," he turned to the twins and Bucky. "Our priority is that scepter. Second, Strucker if we can grab him. We've got to stop him if it's possible. Keep your radios on at all times. Let's go."
Skirting around the base in a wide circle, they moved, slowly, keeping low. Bucky lead them to the vent entrance. It was covered in snow, but he could walk through this base blindfolded, so had no trouble locating it. He and Brock knelt and dug the snow off with their hands as Clint covered them.
"Here," Bucky stood up, "it's ready."
Wanda came up beside him, he gave a nod, and she raised her palm. A small, precise blast of red energy shot out from it, perfectly hitting the lock and knocking it off.
Clint nodded approval. "Good going."
Brock pulled the grate open, and one by one they slipped into the vent. It was a long, slopping tunnel, and slow going. The last ten feet was a straight drop down, that required bracing against either side of the pipe. But they reached the bottom, dropping down into a room somewhere in the bowels of the base. A large crowded room full of pipes, equipment and a huge heating system that rumbled ominously.
Clint drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and nodded to Bucky who, being familiar with the layout, took lead, his own weapon cocked and ready at his shoulder.
They reached the end of a hallway without encountering anyone. Clint nodded the others down another hall and he and Bucky turned, and took right. There were two different sets of rooms in the base that had been used for lab work, and Bucky hadn't been sure which of the two the scepter was more likely to be found in, if it was at the base, so Wanda and Pietro were taking those in the east wing, while Clint and he made their way towards the west.
The pair reached a staircase and slowly climbed up.
At the top, beyond a shut door, they heard their first sounds of movement and voices. Something was muttered in Russian, followed by laughter. The voices seemed to be coming on either side of the door. Bucky took one side, and Clint moved to the other. They exchanged one brief look, a short nod, and then Bucky grabbed the door and yanked it open.
Clint rushed, one fist colliding with the jaw of the right guard, while he landed a kick into the man on the left. Bucky grabbed one of the two men, wrapping his metal arm around his neck, before ramming his head against the wall.
Gunfire sounded from down the wall. Clint let lose an arrow, while another punch from Bucky incapacitated the second guard.
Stillness filled the room.
Together the two men moved on.
As they rounded another corner, an alarm suddenly started sounding throughout the building.
"What's happened?" demanded Clint, speaking into the radio.
There was a pause, then Pietro's voice: "Ran into a little trouble. We've got it taken care of. Moving on."
Bucky and Clint exchanged glances and then sped up. Up another staircase, round another hall, and suddenly gun fire rang out behind them. Bucky whirled, firing back. He ducked behind the corner, flatting against the wall.
"How many?" asked Clint.
"I counted five. I've got this."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. It's only five." He fired several times round the corner. "Go. If the scepter is here, we can't risk losing it."
Clint nodded, and as Bucky fired again, he moved on, rapidly running through the directions in his head. One left, next right, one staircase…
There was shouting on the other side of the door, running footsteps. He nocked one of the special arrows, took a breath, and then kicked the door down.
He let the arrow loose. There was an explosion, enough cover to allow him to roll in and to the side. He was barely on his feet again, before he let loose two more and then swung out, taking out a man with a solid punch.
It had once been a lab space. Crates and boxes were scattered around. Weapons strewn across them. There were a couple of metal tables and chairs scattered around, as if the room had been converted into some central common area. As Clint had entered, chairs had been knocked back, men leapt to their feet, reaching for weapons.
A bullet whizzed past and he ducked, throwing himself to the side, shooting another arrow. He ducked behind a pillar, using it as cover to take out two more men before rolling forward. He came up in a group of three, bringing his bow up sharp into the under jaw of one, kicking out at a second. The third man got a blow in, knocking Clint back, but he returned the punch with two of his own.
"Clint! Look out!"
He heard Bucky's shout form the doorway and reacted instinctually, throwing himself to the side. An explosion rocked the room, concrete flying through the air. There was gunfire, Bucky crossing the room, metal arm out. Clint had already risen to his feet and was engaging two more guards, but he heard the sound of metal hitting flesh and the crack of bones, and, as he laid his two out, stillness filled the room once more. He turned to Bucky.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. You?"
He nodded curtly.
There was a pair of large metal doors at the end of the room and the two approached them. Bucky slammed his fist down on the open button and they slid too.
The room beyond was lined with and equipment that Clint did not immediately recognize. Nor did he pay much head to it. His gaze was arrested immediately by the man in the center of the room, rummaging madly around on a worktable cluttered with papers and scrap metal.
Strucker.
Strucker whirled at the sound of the doors sliding open, pulling out a handgun, but Clint was already across the room. He grabbed the man's wrist and twisted.
Strucker let out a yell and dropped the weapon, as Clint, reaching for the cuffs on the back of his own belt, restrained the man's wrists and then, turning him back round, shoved him to the ground.
"I bet you didn't expect to see me again," he said coolly.
"Clint?" Wanda's voice came on over the radio, elated and thrilled. "We have it. We've got the scepter!"
"Good work. We've got Strucker. Head to the meeting point." He turned back to Strucker. "It's over."
Strucker looked up at him, a smile playing on his lips. "Agent Barton. What a pleasant surprise. It seems you are quite persistent."
"You can say that. It's over Strucker. You. Hydra. It's all over. We've got the scepter. And the very pair you hoped to use for Hydra helped us do it. It's over."
"Clint." It came from Bucky, a sharp, urgent hiss.
Clint looked up. "What?"
"We have a problem." He was looking around the room. And for the first time Clint took it in more fully as well. There were five pods spaced through it, each connected to control systems. These seemed to be taking Bucky's attention. He'd moved over to one of the control panels and had started pressing buttons.
Moving away from Strucker, Clint came up beside him. "What are these things?" he asked, staring up at the pod in front of them.
"Cryo-chambers."
"Five of them?"
Bucky nodded curtly. "And they're empty."
"Shouldn't they be?"
"No," said Bucky grimly, "they really, really shouldn't be." He stared at the information displayed on the screen. "And they've been emptied recently." He turned sharply and crossing over to Strucker, punched him, hard, brutally across the jaw. "Where are they?" He followed this with a sharp kick in the side. "Where are they?"
"Bucky!" Clint moved forward, but Bucky had already grabbed Strucker, pulled him to his feet, and punched him again.
"Where are they?"
Clint froze. Strucker was laughing, even as blood dripped from a split lip. "You're too late," the man murmured. "You're much too late. Hydra will rise again."
Behind Strucker's back, Clint noticed something glint in the man's palm. "What's that in his hand?" He demanded.
At once, Bucky reached round and wrenched the object out of his grasp. It was a small detonator. For only one split second Bucky and Clint's eyes met and then:
"Grab him!" ordered Clint, "Let's go."
Bucky hauled Strucker to his feet and propelled him towards the exit as Clint ordered over the radio: "Get out of the base! Now!"
"I've nearly got the files uploaded," Brock's voice replied.
"Leave it! Strucker just initiated a self destruct. Get out now!"
"I just need another minute."
"I don't know that we have another minute. Out Brock! Now! That's an order."
Clint gripping one hand tightly at Strucker's collar, pushing him before them, they made their way towards the main exit of the base. Two guards were posted there, but Bucky shot them both before either had even processed that anyone else was in the room.
And then they were out in the snow, running away from the base. Fifty feet away, now a hundred. Wanda and Pietro met them behind an embankment.
Wanda held the scepter.
Clint stumbled to a halt, panting, staring at the scepter in sheer relief and elation.
Strucker fell to his knees, panting himself. He stared up at the twins. "What a disappointment you both have been," he said, the sardonic note somewhat lost as he struggled to catch his own breath.
Both twins ignored him.
"Where's Brock?" asked Wanda, looking round.
Clint swore. "Brock?" he snapped over the radio.
"I've got it. The files are just downloaded. I'm on my way."
Clint glanced towards Strucker and saw the man chuckle. He swore again and looked desperately, back towards the base. "Come on…come on," he muttered under his breath, every nerve tense and straining and completely unable to do a thing to speed Brock along.
He didn't see Pietro and Wanda exchange a glance. He didn't see the unspoken question in Pietro's eyes or the responding flicker of fear and reluctance in Wanda's. He didn't see the slight shrug Pietro gave.
"Brock! Where are you?" he snapped.
There was crackle of gunfire over the radio. "A bit pinned down."
"Get out of there! I don't know how much more time-"
"Trying!" came back the sharp response.
Wanda reached out a hand, perhaps to try and stop Pietro, and he murmured something in Sokovian. Clint, not speaking the language, didn't register it, still tensely watching the exit. Bucky however looked up sharply, understanding the words.
"I have to," Pietro had said. "I'm sorry."
And suddenly there was a woosh. And at this Clint did look around, but Pietro had already gone.
He sped into the base. He strained his ears for the sound of gunfire to lead him. The alarm was still ringing through the building. Clint was yelling over the radio in his ear, but he yanked it out and tossed it aside. Down two stairs and a hallway. There. There was the sound he'd been listening for. Down another staircase and he found them. Four gunmen had Brock trapped in a doorway, firing, not moving forward or giving Brock an opening, pinning him down whenever he tried to duck out. Two bodies lay to the side, guards he'd already hit, but his progress out was much too slow.
Pietro zoomed up, knocking out the first, grabbing his weapon and shooting the other three. There was no time for anything else.
He threw the gun away, staring for a moment at the bodies. But there was no time for that either, or for the crashing realization that he'd never shot a man before.
Brock was running up to him, shoving a flash drive into his hand. "Take this," Brock ordered, "it's got all the files. I'm right behind you."
"No. I'm not leaving you."
"I said I'll be right behind you! You've got to get out of here and we don't have time to argue!"
"You're right. We don't." Throwing all his speed into it, Pietro punched him hard, sending him to the ground, out cold from the velocity of the impact. Pietro crouched, quickly pulling off some of the man's tactical gear to lighten the load and then, with more than one oath, pulled Brock up and over his shoulders. The man was muscled and strong and heavier than even Clint had been when Pietro had carried him from the Sokovia base. But urgency and adrenalin gave him extra strength.
Gritting his teeth against the strain in his muscles, he once against raced at a speed beyond comprehension back down the hall, and up the stairs, his thighs screaming in protest, his shoulders aching under the weight of Brock.
He could see the exit now, just a few more feet, and now they were out in the cold and the snow. At last the snow was too frozen to allow his feet to sink, but he stumbled on the terrain just the same. He just had to push that last stretch-
Pietro heard an earth shattering, booming crack behind him. He threw Brock down behind a snow embankment and cast his own body across him. He could feel the heat, something slashed across his back and he yet out a grunt of pain. There was another booming explosion, another flair of heat, much too close for comfort, and then it receded and there was only the crackle of flames and the occasional smash as portions of the base caved in on itself, his breath knocked out of him and his ears ringing.
Beneath him, Brock let out a groan and began to shift.
"Pietro! Pietro!"
He could hear Wanda screaming his name as she dashed across the snow. He pushed himself up and off Brock, winching in pain from his back.
"Pietro!"
"I'm okay!" he yelled, wavering his arm towards her, at least he thought he did, he found he was shaking and he couldn't quite command his own voice. "I'm okay…"
She reached him in another few seconds and threw herself down on her knees beside him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug, holding on for all that either of them was worth apart or together. But then, they'd always been worth so much more together. He wrapped his owns arms around her.
"I'm okay," he whispered into her ear. "I'm okay."
She buried her face in his neck and breathed deeply. He could feel her heart racing and her body still trembling from its panic. "I thought I'd lost you. I can't lose you. I can't."
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."
"You're bleeding." This was from Brock. He'd pushed himself up against the embankment and was massaging his jaw when he'd caught sight of Pietro's back.
Wanda at once pulled away. She glanced down and realized blood covered one palm. She looked up at Pietro, horrified, and then quickly moved round him.
The cut was long, some shrapnel having caught him as it flew past. Brock moved to kneel beside Wanda and examined the wound, Pietro letting out a hiss of pain as he touched it.
Clint had reached them by this point. "Is it bad?" he asked,
Brock shook his head. "It's not deep. We can patch it up at the jet. What on earth were you thinking? I told you to get out of there!" he snapped.
"If I had, you'd already be dead," said Pietro evenly.
Brock shrugged. Clint frowned, aware that he wouldn't be shocked if Brock had responded with something about that not being much of a loss. He snapped, "And I ordered you to leave a lot earlier."
"I would have been out in time if I hadn't been pinned down by the guards. And I got the files."
"It wasn't an acceptable risk."
Brock opened his mouth to argue but Wanda cut in. "Can we argue about this once we get Pietro to the jet?"
Clint sighed. "Of course. I'm sorry. Come on." He held out a hand to Brock who, after a second, took it reluctantly and Clint pulled him to his feet. Wanda stuck close to Pietro's side as he rose and they began to walk back towards where Bucky was waiting, guarding Strucker.
Brock massaged his jaw again. "You've got a mean left hook," he muttered. Pietro chuckled. "…Thank you."
"The Rogues do not leave anyone behind."
Brock stopped dead in his tracks and glowered. "And just as I was beginning to like you. We are not The Rogues."
AN: My weakest link is trying to write action sequences. I'm sorry this didn't turn out better. I tried.