0734 HOURS | NOVEMBER 15, 2014 | THESSALONIKI, GREECE
The morning came far too early and Rhiannon had slept like absolute shit.
This was, in part, because she had spent the majority of the night keeping a watch over Barnes after they'd had quite a troubling and difficult conversation. He'd been having second thoughts and Rhiannon would've been lying if she hadn't been having them as well. The fate that awaited them both was far from what they had been hoping for. But, in the same vein, it was quite a bit better than their absolute worst expectations. Ultimately, they had both agreed to continue with their original plan. Though, should their conditions prove to be intolerable they would simply escape.
Surely between Barnes, Rome and herself they could manage such a feat?
And if Barnes truly began to suffer during their period of containment, Rhiannon was more than certain that Rogers would be willing to help them bust out as well.
It was well past midnight when they'd finally settled in for the night and tried their best to fall asleep, but both been restless and slept fitfully. Even poor Oddy had been unable to settle down with all of the tossing, turning and the numerous times that they'd both woken up gasping for breath. And then, in what seemed like the blind of an eye, the phone alarm was going off shrilly and it was time to wake.
They rose, ate, showered, dressed and finished packing their belongings in near silence for the hour and half it took for Oddy's owners to arrive at their door. The young couple ready to retrieve both their precious fluff-dog and borrowed tableware. It was only through the consumption of copious amounts of coffee that they emerged from the apartment in any semblance of alertness.
Both were dressed in their casual civvies, with Barnes taking his usual care to hide his titanium arm with long-sleeves and thick gloves, as well as keeping his face somewhat obscured under the brim of a hat. And while the mid-November weather in Greece was often still fairly temperate, even Rhiannon had pulled a hat over her own head to keep her sensitive ears warm. With arms laden with their bags – two backpacks and three duffels – they made their way down the stairs and towards the car.
In the prior weeks, with what money she had to spare on expenses, Rhiannon had taken her roommate shopping for more clothes and other such hygienic essentials. The man had only one spare shirt and pair of jeans in his go-bag when he'd arrived and barely anything in the way of toiletries. But now at least, due to her insistence, he had about a week's worth of outfits for a variety of weather conditions and supplies enough to keep himself clean and well-groomed for the foreseeable future.
While Barnes loaded their things into the trunk of the SUV, Rhiannon made her way to the landlord's unit on the first floor. When she came jogging back after sliding an envelope with the key and her last rent payment under the door, she found her dark-haired companion sitting in the driver's seat and ready to go. Rhiannon guessed that this was his way of offering to drive and she wasn't going to argue, handing over the car keys and making herself comfortable in the passenger seat.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Rhiannon messaged the Avengers on the phone number they'd given her the previous weekend to let them know that they were on their way. Her next message went to her Titan, who had been accomplishing his own task in preparation for their departure. She could've used her helmet to speak with him personally, but it would've been an odd sight and completely defeat the purpose of remaining inconspicuous. And so, texting it was.
The drive proved to be unremarkable and the half an hour or so it took to drive to the airport passed by without issue. They parked in an all but empty lot, tossing the car keys in the glove compartment for her former boss and the previous owner of the car to find later on in the day, and burdened themselves with their bags once again.
The one to meet them – Clint Barton – was leant up against the sliding front doors of the terminal.
"Morning," he greeted. "Good to go?"
"Yeah," she said, covering her mouth as a yawn accidentally slipped through. "We're ready."
"Rough night?"
"Wasn't great," Barnes grumbled after shifting the duffels to lay more comfortably atop his shoulders. The archer looked unsurprised, but wisely didn't comment or ask any further questions. He gestured for them to follow him, leading them to skirt the outside of the building and slipping them through a gate and onto the tarmac without anyone being the wiser.
True to Rogers' word, the Avengers' Quinjet was waiting for them in one of the few private hangars kept slightly off to side of the main runways. The Captain and Wilson were lingering near the open doors with travel mugs of coffee in their hands, while Rhiannon assumed that the Black Widow was inside the jet to prepare it for their departure.
"Good morning," Steve said as they approached, holding out one of his hands in a friendly offer to take one of the duffels from Barnes. But the attempt was rebuffed as the darker haired man swerved to the side to avoid Rogers entirely, skirting wide and entering the plane without a word. Barton followed just behind the darker-haired man, leaving only Rogers, Wilson and Rhiannon outside of the hangar. The confused and hurt expression on the blond super-soldier's face was enough to have the blonde woman stopping momentarily to give an explanation for her companion's apparent foul mood.
"It wasn't a good night, Steve, and we're both in not the greatest of moods," she said, rubbing at her forehead and eyes with her free hand while resisting the urge to yawn once more. "Frankly, you're lucky I managed to convince him to still go along with this at all. It was pretty touch and go."
His mouth began to open, likely with another round of apologies ready on the tip of his tongue, but she just really didn't want to hear it right then.
"We know and understand that you got outvoted. We're still here, aren't we? Just don't be expecting him to be very talkative for a while. He's still wrapping his head around it all and coming to terms, "she said. "Now let's get this show on the road," she prompted, making her way past the blond and into the interior of the plane.
She heard two pairs of boots following in her wake as she made her way over to Barnes to set her bags down beside his own. Rhiannon bumped into him lightly with one of her shoulders, drawing his focus with a raised brow, questioning where his head was at out of honest concern.
"I'm fine," he grumbled unconvincingly, but she wasn't letting it go just yet.
"You're really not fine," she argued quietly. "You can't just shut everyone out because we're a grumpy bitch and bastard today. Try to talk with them at least a little bit. They won't bite and saying more than five words won't kill you."
He looked wholly unimpressed with her well-meant suggestion, but she wasn't going to let his progress with socializing stagnate just because he wasn't entirely comfortable with the people in the room. Nonetheless, they worked together to store their bags in one of the empty storage compartments built into the walls of the Quinjet. With their luggage dealt with, Rhiannon urged Barnes to get settled into one of the seats while she made her way to the front where Barton and Romanoff were switching off.
"So, Lastimosa, where are we going?" Clint asked as he settled himself into the pilot's chair, while the red-headed woman stood nearby with a curious and thoughtful expression.
"About forty-five kilometers northeast from here," she offered. "Coordinates 40.9223 latitude and 23.3023 longitude. It's a national park. Have to admit that I got real lucky with crash landing in the middle of nowhere."
"Still, it's very surprising that you went completely unnoticed by everyone. Does your ship have stealth capabilities?" Natasha asked as Rhiannon turned her head to look at her, wondering internally why the international spy was so curious all of a sudden.
"Nothing beyond the normal suite of sensor baffles and dampeners," she explained. "It's a heavy dropship-gunship hybrid meant to deploy forces – troops and armor – into active combat zones. Not really meant for covert infil or exfil. If it gets noticed before the LZ and is met with AAA that it can't handle, standard procedure is just to jump out of system and jump back in at a secondary location."
"Sounds like it's pretty big to be carrying all of that," Wilson commented as he strapped himself into his own seat of the far side of the aircraft.
"Oh, yeah. It's big. Easily four or five times bigger than this," she said, gesturing around the interior of the Quinjet as she made her way back towards Barnes' seat with the shorter woman following along behind. "Almost forty meters from nose to tail and two-thirds of that length from side to side. The design was upscaled from the original so that it could carry a full team of Pilots and their Titans."
"How many is a full team?" Rogers asked as he also sat and Romanoff took a seat next to him.
"Six is the usual count – that's what the ship is rated to carry at max load – but it can really be anywhere from four to eight depending on preference." The bronze-skinned blonde took a seat next to her metal-armed companion, who was actively listening and had a far less fearsome expression on his handsome face than earlier. Maybe the small-talk was calming him? She couldn't say for sure, but was glad to see that he was less stressed out than before. "SRS Pilots tend to work solo or in pairs, however. Unless there's something real big going on."
"Think I'd shit myself if I saw six of you and your robot heading my way," Sam admitted and she couldn't stop the satisfied grin that spread across her face at the darker skinned man's response.
"That'd be the appropriate reaction. You see six Pilots and their Titans heading your way and you're on the opposing side? You're straight up fucked and can kiss your ass goodbye right then and there."
Barnes chuckled at that and she gave him a friendly nudge, glad to have lightened his mood further, catching Rogers' eye across the cabin and taking notice of the small, but warm, smile on his face.
There was so much being left unsaid between those two. So much important history that was shared and the remnants of a relationship that had been so strong once upon a time, or so she had learned from a reluctant Barnes on one of his good days. Between that knowledge and just watching Rogers pining after the darker haired man she knew that they had been so in love once. They deserved more than anything to get back what they had once had, but she knew it was absolutely none of her business.
She was the interloper. The third-wheel. But she was stuck in her spot until such a time came that she could safely remove herself from the equation.
She knew that Barnes was emotionally attached to her, just as she was to him. There was no way they could've spent nearly three months living together and not form some sort of connection. And Rhiannon was just as equally well aware that she was physically attracted to Barnes. Though, she couldn't guess as to whether or not he found her appealing and rather doubted that he had yet to achieve the correct headspace to be thinking of such things. She knew of people who suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and had heard that sometimes their sex drives all but vanished in the wake of their trauma. But, nonetheless, someone would've had to have been completely blind to not acknowledge how good-looking Barnes somehow managed to be on a nearly constant basis.
Waking up with a truly horrendous case of bedhead and a week's work of unshaven scruff?
Handsome.
Drinking coffee and watching mindless reality television at six something in the morning in his pajamas?
Gorgeous.
Fresh out of the shower with little drops of water dripping from the ends of his hair onto his impossibly broad shoulders and smelling like a dream?
Mouthwatering.
Shoveling astounding amounts of food into his mouth like it was to be his last meal and without any semblance of table manners?
Breathtaking… In more ways than one.
It would be a sad day when she returned to her reality, but it would be for the best in the long run. She and Rome and all of their belongings didn't belong here. She had sworn oaths of loyalty to the Militia – and to the SRS – that she could and would not forsake. Not even for the chance to spend more time in Barnes' enjoyable company.
But, most of all, she couldn't find it in herself to leave Cooper and BT all on their own.
Those two were basically the only real family she had left.
She was shaken from her introspection as the Quinjet rumbled to life – astoundingly quiet for an aircraft of its size – around them and Barton announced that they had just been cleared for take-off. With a brief rolling journey out onto the tarmac and a surge from the VTOL engines, they were up and away. They ascended rapidly to a safe cruising height, beginning to make the turn northeasterly and activating the cloaking technology that the craft was equipped with to make them invisible to the naked eye.
And, luckily, it would be an incredibly quick flight.
Rhiannon pulled out her phone, checking in with Rome via text to let him know that they were inbound. The Vanguard-class Titan was quick to respond, as always, and claimed that everything was on schedule with only those few things that needed human hands left to accomplish. For the past two nights he had been clearing the debris from the dropship under the safety of darkness, removing those trees that were far too large for her to shift on her own and digging away at the thick layer of covering dirt as well.
All of the engines would undoubtedly need to be visually inspected and she was half tempted to do a walk through of the entire powerplant just to be on the safe side. The ship hadn't been powered on fully or airborne since January, after all. Only the slightest amount of power had been needed to run the internal lighting and the hydraulics on the cargo bay door.
So much to do and so little time.
But with any luck, and the helping hands of Barnes and the other four, they would be ready to fly to New York and the Avengers Base at some point around midday or early afternoon.
That flight, in contrast to this one, would be several hours longer. As enticing as it was to use the jump drive to cut the trip down into a matter of seconds, she wasn't wasting the drive's precious fuel on an in-atmosphere jump that wasn't an absolute emergency. Not to mention that the piece of alien tech was still onboard, tucked away in a containment unit, and Rhiannon hadn't a blessed clue as to if it was still capable of fucking around with the jump drive again.
Oh, hell no! She wasn't running the risk of sending herself somewhere else. The wrong Earth in the year 2014 was bad enough, thank you very much.
"So, when did you crash exactly?" Natasha asked, breaking the silence as the Quinjet leveled out.
"Early January, I think. Why?"
"Just trying to figure out why no one noticed your arrival. Early January," the red-head mused, clearly deep in thought before her green eyes widened in sudden realization. "That's when…"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. fell," Rogers supplied gravely as he came to the same conclusion. "And HYDRA was exposed to the world."
"Between all that shit in Washington with Project Insight and all the other stuff around the world going down… Damn! No wonder nobody noticed. Everyone was too busy dealing with all that shit to see a spaceship falling out of the sky and go to investigate," Sam added in conclusion.
A silence fell for a minute as Rogers, in particular, began thinking deeply about something. Though, Romanoff merely settled back down in her seat with a satisfied expression. "Well that's one mystery solved," she said.
The rest of the brief flight passed by quietly and without any other momentous realizations, before they began making their gradual descent towards the crash site. Breaking through the light cloud cover, Rhiannon just briefly caught a glimpse of the ground as Barton began to angle them in for a landing in the clearing that the dropship had created.
"Damn, Lastimosa. This was quite a crash," the sandy-haired archer commented as the Quinjet settled down with a gentle bump in a suitable spot, closer to the beginning of the trench the dropship had carved into the ground. "How your ship came out flight-capable after this sort of a wreck, I couldn't even begin to guess. They must make 'em tough as nails where you're from."
"I'll have you know that I'm an excellent pilot. Of both Titans and ships," she quipped, unbuckling from the seat and standing to reach for her backpack. She wanted to have her helmet and data knife nearby should she need them. "And I got lucky. Emerged from the jump pretty low in the atmosphere, barely three thousand meters up and we just coasted in while decelerating gradually with what remained of the power."
She led the way out of the jet with the rest on her heels, Barnes trailing at the back of the pack to keep an eye on them all and their surroundings, with her backpack slung over her shoulder. True to her Titan's message, the majority of the trees had been removed and stacked off to the side in an orderly pile, while the dirt had been dug away from the side mounted thrusters. It looked as though there were only a handful of trees that remained on top of the ship and it was those they were would have to remove by hand, or at least shift them close enough for Rome to reach.
The cargo door hissed open and the Vanguard-class Titan emerged into the morning sunlight.
"You buried it?" Rogers asked, walking faster to that they were side by side. "That's how you prevented it from being spotted by any satellites?"
"Yup," she said. "It was already covered in dirt and trees after the crash. So, until there came a time when we found a way to leave, Rome and I just covered the whole thing and powered it down."
"That's pretty smart," Natasha added.
"I do have my moments."
"Good morning, Pilot Lastimosa. It is good to see you again," RA-5172 greeted as they drew near. "There are six remaining trees that need to be removed from the ship before flight will be possible without running the risk of causing any further damage."
"Thanks, Rome. We'll get right on that. You've done good work so far." Rhiannon turned to look at Rogers, who had his head craned up and was studying her Titan with undisguised fascination. In fact, Romanoff, Barton and Wilson were doing much the same. True enough they had seen him during the attack on the HYDRA Facility, but it was a wholly different sort of experience to see a Titan under an open sky and the light of the sun.
"Damn. I forgot how big it is," Sam commented in quiet awe as he studied the armored behemoth.
"He. How big he is," she corrected. "Rome is a fully functional artificial intelligence developed by the Frontier Militia and has identified himself as male, hence the overwhelmingly masculine voice."
"He's an AI? Not just an operating system?" Romanoff asked in astonishment. "I'd imagine Stark would love to compare his programming to J.A.R.V.I.S."
"Who's J.A.R.V.I.S?"
"Tony's AI," Rogers offered helpfully. "He's in the Tower and will probably be installed in the upstate Facility too. Runs a lot for both Stark's company and the Avengers. Security, comms, you name it."
"Oh," she said simply, tucking that little nugget of information off to the side. "Good to know, I suppose. Well, the first thing that needs to be done is getting those trees off and then I've got to make sure the engines are clear of any dirt or debris before I even trying to get the ship off the ground."
"That shouldn't take too long with all six – or rather seven – of us," Steve said with a nod of his head. It was fortunate that all of them were dressed appropriately with boots, jeans and sweatshirts; clothing suitable enough for a bit of physical labor.
"That's the idea. I figured you, Barnes and I can move the trees over so that Rome can take them," she explained, turning around to fix her expectant gaze on the others. "I'd appreciate it if you three could circle around and check the main four thrusters for anything glaringly wrong or any sort of debris stuck in the intakes. Is that doable?"
"Yeah, we got it," Wilson assured with a wave of his hand.
"Good. Then let's get started. Rome, open up," she said, turning back to her Titan as he crouched and opened the doors to the cockpit. She tossed her backpack inside for easy storage, before he closed the doors and she stepped up onto one of his extended hands. She leapt upwards with Rome's assistance and grabbed ahold of one of the bars that bordered the ejection hatch before pulling herself up onto a crouch atop the Titan. "All aboard, kiddos. Time to get to work."
The Vanguard-class offered his right hand to Barnes, who was by far the more comfortable around the giant mechanical marvel, who stepped onto the hand with almost as much practiced grace as she had. The left hand was held out for Rogers, who hesitated only briefly, before clambering into the four-fingered extremity of blackened metal and holding on as RA-5172 began to move.
In that instance they both reminded her of Jack, back in those early days when her father had just begun mentoring him for his Pilot Certifications. So unsure of himself around Titans and how to properly clamber around on their bodies. Steve and Barnes proved to be no different than Cooper. For all their enhanced physiology, the two were struggling to keep their balance in Rome's grasp. Not that the Titan would have ever let them fall. And even if they did, they were definitely both capable of landing without issue from a five-meter drop.
But in a stark contrast, with all of the years of experience under her belt, Rhiannon merely swayed gently from side to side atop her perch in sync with Rome's loping stride. It was as easy as breathing for her to keep her balance; what with having spent well over a decade around Titans.
RA-5172 brought them to the exposed wing of the dropship, the easiest place for them to disembark onto the hull and Rhiannon leapt across the two-meter gap with ease. The two men joined her shortly afterwards, their boots thumping onto the metal of the hull as they made the jump. None of trees on top of the ship looked to be beyond their combined strength to lift and they really only needed to be shifted close enough to the edge for her Titan to grab.
"This one first," she prompted with a gesture at the closest and the three arranged themselves along the trunk. On a synchronized count of three, the trio of super-soldiers hefted the tree up and onto their shoulders. In an awkward and slow shuffle, they moved towards the edge of the dropship and her Titan took the tree from them without issue.
Rinse and repeat.
Just under an hour later, they were done and had worked themselves up into a nice sweat. Rogers had long since taken his own sweatshirt off and tied it around his waist for lack of a better place to put it, but neither Rhiannon nor Barnes had followed his example. She had chosen to keep her sweatshirt on just because the sensation of bark scratching against her skin was far from pleasant. The brunet, however, she knew did not like to have his titanium arm out in the open if he could help it. She knew that he was more likely to sink into negative thoughts when the gleaming silver of metal was exposed, especially is his mind wasn't already fully engaged in some other manner.
Like in a fight.
Just after the last tree had been deposited onto the pile with all the rest, an exclamation of shock came from below followed by a long string of heated and profane swearing. It came from nearer to the back of the dropship, rather close to the still open cargo door. It was nearly ten meters down to the ground, but Rhiannon made the jump in an instant without fear to go and investigate the cause.
"Rhia, what're you…" she heard Barnes call out as she dropped from the edge.
She landed hard, absorbing the shock as best she could with her knees bent and then quickly falling forward into a roll, before bouncing back up onto her feet. There were two thumps to follow, but she paid it no mind, assuming that Barnes and Rogers had decided to follow her down. The three of them were turning out to be rather similar in regards to their physical capabilities. Rhiannon made her way around to the back, peering around the corner and noticing that Barton, Romanoff and Wilson had gathered at the entrance to the cargo hold.
"Dear God, woman, do you think you have enough guns!" Wilson exclaimed horrified by the sizable armaments on display within, while in comparison Barton and Romanoff looked entranced. But it was not normal human sized guns that were mounted to the cargo bay's walls, but rather a varied selection of Titan weapons. Eight of them, to be exact.
She sensed rather than saw as Barnes and Rogers arrived and placed themselves on either side of her, but she was too busy finding a sense of enjoyment over the Falcon's shock over the oversized firearms.
"There's no such thing as too many guns," she snapped playfully and saw Barnes nod in agreement.
"Accurate," Natasha chimed as the red-head and Barton wandered around the bay, in an awed daze. Wilson followed along behind them and the trio began to peruse the gigantic collection of guns and the enormous sword mounted with industrial-grade magnetic clamps.
"It does beg the question, why do you have so many guns? I'd imagine you have at least an equal number of normal sized firearms," Steve wondered. "And surely RA-5172 can't carry this much?"
"No, he can't," she admitted. "We were shipped out with a full armory because that last mission was lacking in proper intel and we didn't know what to expect beyond the basics. We had no knowledge of the IMC's forces or what sort of defenses they had around the installation. It was decided by HIGHCOM that it was better to have a full range to choose from. Once we were on site and able to assess the situation, we came back to the ship and equipped ourselves properly."
"That's sloppy," Barnes said and she hummed in agreement.
"It was. But sometimes that's the best we can manage. The Militia may be better organized now and for the most part we're winning the war, but we're still a bit rag-tag even at the best of times. Just look at what happened on Typhon…" she said, her voice heavy with sudden sadness and the lingering embers of her intense hatred for that fucking planet.
It was a good thing the implosion of the Fold Weapon had shattered it into pieces.
"Typhon? Is that another planet where you're from? Out on the Frontier?" Rogers asked innocently, his voice bright with curiosity, but she was far from willing to elaborate at that moment in time.
Barnes seemed to notice the resurgence of her foul mood – aware of enough details about Typhon to know that she didn't like to talk about it – and said, "Leave it alone, Steve."
"But…"
"Shut it, punk," the dark-haired man hissed. "Or I'll shut it for you."
Rhiannon suddenly felt inescapably guilty, knowing that it was Barnes' attachment to her that was causing him to lash out against Rogers, when instead they should've been getting to know one another again. Reforging their close friendship in the hopes to one day spark their romance once again. She hissed out a heavy sigh, wishing absentmindedly that things could be simple for at least a day, and lay a hand on Barnes' arm – the normal one – to calm his rising temper.
"It's okay. He doesn't know," she murmured softly, before turning her eyes over towards the wounded looking blond super-soldier to provide a brief, but hopefully satisfactory, answer. "Typhon was another planet, yes. The Militia jumped in system and launched an all-out assault on an ARES Division operation sponsored by the IMC. It was thought to just be an archeological dig with moderate defenses, but it wasn't. A fourth of the fleet was nuked out of existence before we even touched atmo. Vaporized like that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis. "Thousands dead in the blink of an eye."
"But…" Steve began, but she cut him off before she could lose her nerve.
"It was also the planet where my father was killed. Hunted and gunned down by a group of mercenaries that call themselves the Apex Predators."
Rogers looked down at her dumbstruck, before he began to babble with apologies.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I never – I didn't mean to make you… If I'd known…"
"You didn't. I get it, Steve," she said sympathetically. "Just leave it alone, yeah? I don't like to think about it. For obvious reasons."
The blond stood there seeming to be looking for something to say, but couldn't manage it. Barnes shifted ever so slightly closer and she took instinctual comfort in his proximity.
"Lastimosa, give us a tour! What're all these called?" Barton hollered excitedly in their direction, unaware of the conversation that had just been had, and Rhiannon latched onto the distraction with overwhelming gratitude.
"Glad you asked," she said, gesturing to each weapon in turn as she walked towards them, prepared to give them an overview much like a teacher would to her students. "They're ordered by what range they're most effective at. So, first here is the Broadsword, obviously. Saw that in action last weekend. This is the Leadwall Shotgun, fires three shells – shot or slugs – with each trigger pull. And then we've got the XO16A2 Chaingun with its forty round drum magazines. Next is the TPAR, but we just call it the Splitter Rifle. It's a cyclic particle accelerator, good for taking down shields and melting through armor."
She continued moving down the line to by far the largest weapon on the wall, which was a personal favorite. "This is the Predator Rotary Cannon, capable of close or long-range firing modes and has a deployable gun shield. All about aggressive sustained counterfire in target rich environments. Next is the T-203 Thermite Launcher, which launches canisters that ignites large sections of an area on fire. Very good for crowd-control and area denial. Here's the 40-millimeter Tracker Cannon; specializing in mid to long-ranged engagements. It can fire either Depleted Uranium rounds or Armor Piercing, Depleted Tungsten M20 explosive shells depending on the target."
And then there was the final gun.
"And this is the PR-01 Plasma Railgun. Basically, it's an anti-materiel sniper rifle for Titans. The projectile goes so fast on a full charge that it can actually bend the light around it."
"Holy…" Wilson whispered, his eyes gone wide and jaw slack from the astounding firepower on display.
"And you've got still more guns – for you personally – somewhere else?" Romanoff asked, looking around and Rhiannon nodded in confirmation.
"Yes. The armory for the normal guns is on the deck above us," she said. "So, how did the thrusters look? Anything going to cause trouble?"
"Couple of rocks were jammed into the front right and some sizeable branches in the rear left, but we managed to pull them out without issue," Clint said and Rhiannon was glad to hear that there hadn't been anything worse than that. But if the thrusters were clear, as Barton had claimed, then it was time to run the system diagnostics and try to get this bird off the ground.
"Well, in that case, I suppose we should be just about ready to go," she said. "I can take three others besides myself on the upper deck, but the other two will have to stay with the Quinjet." She looked around the cargo bay and knew that Barnes would be coming in the dropship with her regardless. He wouldn't be able to tolerate being stuck in the jet for several hours with people that he wasn't familiar with. It was more of a question as to which two of the Avengers would be riding along with them; most likely out of curiosity and as a security measure.
Another one of them could've ridden in one of the troop bays on the lower deck, but it would've been a lonely ride – even with Rome not too far away – so she failed to mention it out of kindness.
On a hunch, she guessed that Rogers and Romanoff would volunteer and she was proven correct.
Barton and Wilson returned to the Quinjet shortly afterwards, returning briefly with Rhiannon and Barnes' bags, and it was agreed that Rhiannon would simply follow the Quinjet during the course of the flight. RA-5172 entered the cargo bay after they had left for good and went to anchor himself down in one of the wall-mounted magnetic clamps for Titans. After making sure that her partner was buckled in securely, she gestured for the others to ascend the ladder that led to the upper deck.
"See? Look at all of the normal human guns," Rhiannon prompted as she emerged, gesturing towards the four sections of wall that were just as equally covered in weaponry as the lower deck had been. Stacks of ammunition crates and stacks of boxes containing grenades, throwing stars and pulse blades. The walls mounted with sidearms, shotguns, submachine guns, light machine guns, rifles of all shapes and sizes, grenadier-class weapons and even Anti-Titan weaponry.
Guns upon guns upon guns.
The blonde woman happened to catch sight of Barnes making eyes at the pair of Krabers again and couldn't help but allow a smile to curl at her lips. Maybe before she left, she'd give him one of them as a parting gift? He'd like that, she bet, and maybe it would soften the blow that she undoubtedly knew that her departure would cause.
Maybe one of the Wingman Elites too?
She settled into the pilot's chair, musing over what guns Barnes had shown favor towards, as the other chose their own seats. The dropship started with a gentle hum as she brought the power online and began to run the necessary diagnostics on the systems necessary for flight. Every system came back clean, or if they did have a problem it was harmless and just a side-effect of the ship sitting around doing nothing for eleven months. A nice hard burn would clean everything out in a matter of seconds.
The engines roared to life as she opened up a comm channel with the Quinjet.
"We're good to go on this end, Clint."
"Okay," he replied. "I'll take off first and circle until you're in the air. We're still good on flying at sixty thousand feet, right?"
"Yeah," she said. "All of the air circulation and generation systems are green and that way there will be less traffic to deal with since this thing can't stealth to avoid detection."
The archer confirmed and the channel fell silent.
Rhiannon waited for a couple of minutes for the Quinjet to clear the airspace before she gradually increased the power to the VTOL thrusters and slowly, they began to rise. Up and up and up, before she transitioned the thrusters into a more horizontal position and began to follow in Barton's wake. Flipping through the screens, she looked in on her passengers as she unable to turn around and see them from the pilot's chair.
Romanoff was looking at the gun walls, but on occasion flicked her eyes to either side to study the two men sitting across from each other in wary curiosity. Barnes, with their bags gathered around his feet in a protective circle, had already engrossed himself with a book - They had taken the motley collection of books from the apartment with them on a whim. – and was doing his level best to ignore them both.
The Captain was similarly occupied, but was hardly ignoring Barnes. He had his phone out. Scrolling along the screen at a sedate pace as if reading something, but she didn't miss the way his chin would tilt ever so slightly upwards when his eyes looked up at the dark brown-haired man.
Rhiannon huffed a quiet sigh with the realization that they were both honestly hopeless and it was going to be slow going getting Barnes to let Rogers back in.
She leaned back into the pilot's chair, settling herself in to get comfortable.
It was going to be a very long flight.