Chapter 4
"I'm just glad you made it out in one piece, Steve." Sharon Carter said, nursing her latte across the table from him. The bright lights of Stark Tower lit up the sky behind her. The night air was nippy, much to Steve's discomfort.
His metabolism burned hot, rendering his body warm to the touch, but his aversion to the cold—based on years of illness before the war and not at all helped by seventy years spent under ice—was as strong as ever. He preferred to stay indoors this time of year. Steve glanced down at his own steaming mug of coffee, but didn't reach for it.
"How did you get out?" Sharon asked, watching him.
Steve shrugged. "I...honestly don't remember. I guess Rhodey found me. Next thing I know, I'm waking up here in New York."
She smiled. "Well, like I said, I'm glad. It's been a long time. You've been busy this past year."
He nodded. "It's been...tough since Washington."
"I hear you spent a lot of that time raiding HYDRA bases." Sharon replied. "You should be commended for your success."
"I, uh, I can't really...we shouldn't talk about that." Steve said, casting a wary eye around the cafe.
She smiled. "It was hardly a secret, Steve. But, I understand. If you don't mind me saying, it seemed a little personal for you. Why were you determined to go after them?"
He bit his lip. He hadn't told many of his friends about Bucky, or his alter-ego the Winter Soldier. Rhodey, Tony, Thor, Bruce...people who could help either with his search or picking up the pieces of who or what he found, but for the most part he'd kept his quest to himself. "I...I was looking for someone. Someone who got caught up in the mess with HYDRA in D.C.."
"Ah," Sharon said with a slight nod. "Did you find them?"
"Not yet." Steve said, looking at his coffee again. The air really was too cold for his liking.
"Well, maybe I can help?" Sharon blushed slightly. "We don't get to see much of each other...it would give us an excuse to work together."
Steve blushed slightly himself. "Sharon...thank you, but...you don't want to be involved with this, trust me. It's too dangerous."
"Still, I'd like to help. Why don't you give me a name? I can at least help you run down some information. Talk to me, Steve, please..."
The lights of Stark Tower flickered behind her head. Steve glanced up, but the building was gone before his gaze could sweep over it. He looked back at Sharon's smiling face. She seemed to genuinely want to help him... He looked back to his coffee, and went to reach for it.
His hands barely moved an inch before the metal shackles pinched his wrists and clinked against the metal arms of the chair. Steve blinked, the bright flashing lights irritating his eyes. The two men were standing in front of him, one with a tablet, the other working the controls of a machine.
Steve shook his head. His words slurred. "N-nnoooo..."
The room. He was restrained. They kept jabbing needles into his veins. When they weren't injecting drugs or taking blood samples, the guards were coming at him with crowbars and cattle prods. The air was cold.
The two men glanced at each other. The one on the right wrote something on the tablet with a stylus. When he spoke, Steve discerned a faint German accent. "Increase the dosage, he's resisting. Go two levels higher with the visual stimulation."
"I'm glad you got out of their in one piece, Steve." Sharon Carter said, smiling over her latte. "I was so worried about you. How did you escape?"
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Insurgent Encampment
Eastern Ghudaza
2:00 PM, Local Time
"I was hoping that this accomplishment may persuade HYDRA to contribute more to our cause." Achebe said.
"Your soldiers have performed extremely well, Reverend. The Captain's capture will no doubt be a significant public relations coup."
Achebe frowned at the non-answer. "Yes, I am sure he will, Mr. Bakshi. But, I was hoping—"
"We were under the impression that you already had sufficient aid to continue your fight for Ghudaza's independence. Were we mistaken?"
"No," Achebe said quickly. "We have enough soldiers and arms to hold the Wakandan army, but if we are to advance back into Wakanda we will need more equipment and supplies than we have on hand. T'Challa's attacks over the past few months have depleted our resources."
Bakshi looked away, speaking quietly to someone Achebe couldn't see on the monitor. He returned to the conversation with a slight frown. "You should realize that even our resources are stretched rather thin after recent events, but I give you my assurance that we will do what we can to provide you aid."
Achebe smiled at the concession. "That is all I ask, my friend."
Bakshi didn't return the smile. "Have you interrogated the good Captain, yet?"
"Some of the...advisors you sent us have been with him for several hours, but to my knowledge he has not yet said anything of import. I was hoping to announce his capture before they continue with their...procedures."
"Do as you see fit, Reverend. However, we would like you to forward to our lab any samples already taken. Our scientists are eager to examine them, and such an opportunity does not come along often."
"Of course."
"We would also consider the capture of the Iron Patriot to be of paramount importance."
Achebe frowned. "The Captain has not provided any information on his comrades' escape. We have men out searching the forest, but they have yet to find anything."
"I suggest consulting the Doctor. He has experience in facilitating cooperation."
"I understand." Achebe replied, waiting until the monitor went dark to sigh in exasperation. He did not like dealing with...it. But, HYDRA's suggestions were not to be ignored lightly. He had little choice if he wanted their continued support.
Another monitor on his right flickered to life, an eerie green pattern resembling a man's face appearing. Achebe suppressed a shudder. Has it been listening the whole time, or is this a coincidence? A scratchy Swiss-accented voice filled the silence.
"Achebe, Michael Ibn al-Hajj. Born: 1971."
Taking a deep breath, and trying to suppress his discomfort, Achebe turned to face the screen. "Doctor, we have captured Captain Steven Rogers, also known as—"
"There is no need for explanation. The captain and I have...history..."
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HYDRA Research Facility
Undisclosed Location, North America
"He does seem adamant in his need for assistance, doesn't he?" Doctor Whitehall mused from the other side of the desk.
Bakshi stood by the monitor, having already cut the connection. "Yes, sir."
Whitehall turned to watch the city skyline outside his office window. "The good Reverend seems to be the only person who doesn't realize that the Americans are about to overrun his country."
"Should we withdraw our remaining assets?" Bakshi inquired.
Whitehall smiled. Always thinking ahead. "No. We must maintain at least the appearance of support. Let Achebe parade Rogers on television, and it will be yet another body blow to the Ellis Administration. When the Americans do come, our soldiers will fight to the last man."
"And Achebe, sir?"
Whitehall glanced at him. "I'm afraid his usefulness is at an end. Recover the samples our specialists have already taken from Rogers, if possible. After that, let events take their course."
Bakshi frowned slightly, but nodded.
"Worry not, we still have control of the Sandbox and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s former East Africa facilities." Whitehall sat behind his desk. "Now, tell me, what progress with the Obelisk?"
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Chinook Crash Site
Eastern Ghudaza
1500 Hours, Local Time
Over the three years since he took command, Staff Sergeant Damien Knox's search and rescue team had been in a lot of action, rescuing many soldiers and Marines out of some often bloody messes, but the crash site he stood in was probably one of the worst he'd seen.
The entire forward half of the Chinook had been reduced to shards of metal, none bigger than a boot. The rear section was mostly intact, but about fifty feet away, and the forest floor in between was a junkyard of doors, wheels, and engine fragments.
Worst was the bodies. Knox's Marines had just loaded the ninth onto the chopper.
There were no signs of Colonel Rhodes or Captain Rogers. Three other members of the squad were unaccounted for—they weren't even sure who most of the dead were, given their state.
"Comms are still being jammed, Staff Sergeant!" Corporal Soto reported, having to yell over the whump-whump of the Hueys' rotors and the Cobras that were hovering nearby, guarding their position. "Every channel is down, can't raise Command or the Harriers."
Knox nodded, then motioned for his second in command to join him. "Taylor, we're going to fan out from this position, search the area for—"
His orders were cut off by a sudden popping, then bullets were slamming into the trees and chopper debris around him. Knox dropped down behind the charred remains of one of the Chinook's engine cowlings. "Cover!"
His team hit the deck as more soldiers and several vehicles appeared from the tree line to their south. Fortunately, in the air above them, their Cobra escorts didn't need communications to figure out the situation. Two of the attack birds surged forward across the clearing, cannons blazing.
Knox knew, however, that it was only a delay. More vehicles and a few dozen more armed men had appeared. He had to get his team and their vulnerable transports off the ground. He made a hand signal for his group to fall back to the LZ. "Balleto, suppressing fire!"
Their machine gunner, an unapologetically gun-happy South Carolinian, dropped to a crouch near the first Huey's nose and laid down a steady barrage from his heavy machine gun while the rest of the SAR team raced for the choppers. The other two Cobras maneuvered in front of them, shielding the Hueys from enemy fire as they lifted off.
They were off the ground one minute later. As the helicopters turned north and headed away from the battle zone, Knox glanced back at his crew. Four of their fallen comrades were secured on the cabin floor, his Marines in the seats behind. He noticed that the leftmost seat was empty. He frowned. "Where's Corpsman McGee?"
"I—I think she's on the other chopper, Staff Sergeant." Sergeant Kirby yelled back.
Knox glanced out at the receding crash site, but saw no movement except for the four Cobras that were holding back the enemy troops. No one was left behind that he could see. He gritted his teeth. The corpsman was green, a new addition to the team.
She'd better be on the other Huey...
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Insurgent Encampment
Eastern Ghudaza
Steve squinted against the blinding lights. He tried to raise his heavily shackled arms to block his eyes, but the guards responded by sweeping his legs out from under him and dropping him to his knees in front of the three television cameras.
Whatever his captors had been pumping into him kept him dizzy and wobbly. He couldn't stand back up. The shackles felt like they weighed a ton, so he just closed his eyes and tried not to fall face-first to the floor.
The man before the cameras was ranting in what sounded to Steve's ear like a Somali dialect. He'd only just started picking it up when he and Natasha had been working with Rumlow's S.T.R.I.K.E. team, and he could only pick out the accent, not the words.
Natasha was probably worried by now. Steve knew little rattled her, but he also knew that she didn't like it when her friends were in danger without her. She was probably waiting back on the carrier with a big "I told you so" for him.
He wanted to talk to her, to make sure she knew he had forgiven her for...something. He knew it had to do with Bucky...back before Christmas. His brain wasn't working right...
Someone gripped him by the hair and yanked his face up for the cameras to see. He still didn't understand most of the speaker's words, but "Captain America" came through clearly enough just before a canvas bag was forced over his head once more.
Great...
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Just Outside the Village of Abaya
Northeastern Ghudaza
1630 Hours, Local Time
Natasha shed Corpsman McGee's helmet and outer camouflage jacket, but retained the black Kevlar vest. She felt slightly bad about knocking the unsuspecting medic cold back at the camp, but there hadn't been any other options. "Lieutenant Roman" wouldn't have been let anywhere near the SAR mission, after all.
She'd studied the maps of the area that her new friend Kris had so happily provided back at the communications hut. Abaya was the only settlement in the area that Steve and the rest of the spec ops team could have reached.
Abaya was a small village, composed almost entirely farmers and a concentration of local tribesmen if her intel was accurate. About five hundred souls altogether, isolated and—thankfully—reportedly neutral amongst all the fighting around them.
Now that she knew for sure that Steve and Rhodey hadn't been killed in the crash, the village was the next logical place to search...aside from the insurgents' camp, which would need some more careful planning and considerable reinforcements.
If nothing else, maybe someone in the village would have a landline where she could get around the radio jamming and contact New York.
First things first, however. Natasha had to find her missing friends, if they were there, but she needed to avoid getting captured in the process. Just because the village wasn't playing an active role in the war going on to the west, didn't mean there wouldn't be spies or informants among the townspeople. She'd wait for nightfall, then start her search.
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Montclair, New Jersey
11:30 AM, Local Time
"I...think...I've...got it!"
James looked away from the newscast he'd been watching on Hiram's muted television—something about President Ellis' foreign policy—to find the teenager grinning and pointing at a group of lines on his computer monitor.
"This is the jackpot! I've unlocked the medical files." The boy proclaimed proudly.
James moved over to the desk, leaning over the boy's shoulder to get a better look. There were hundreds of files on the list, and judging by the names, they covered everything from the design of his arm to the cryogenic chamber to details about the mind-wiping machine they developed.
"Am I good or what?" Hiram said happily. When James looked at him silently, the smile dropped away. "Oh. Sorry...I didn't— I guess this isn't fun for you to— I'm sorry."
James frowned, but took pity on the kid. "No, it's...good. Thank you for helping me with this."
Hiram went back to scrolling through the files, looking uncomfortable. "Maybe these'll help fix...whatever they did to you, you know?"
"Maybe," James muttered noncommittally, studying the file names as they went by on the monitor. "Wait. Go back. That one."
Hiram opened the file he pointed out, then whistled softly as he scanned the pages. "Wow. I stand corrected, this is the jackpot. Storage units, camps, bases, addresses...there's got to be a dozen places listed here. Practically a map of HYDRA throughout Eastern Europe. The old bases anyway, I guess."
James was grateful that the kid had left out the awkward truth. It was a list of all the places where HYDRA had operated on him or kept him in storage over the decades. If Hiram was aware of that, he politely declined to mention it. James nodded. "It's more than I had when I came here. Can you print this?"
"Yeah, sure." Hiram nodded, already clicking the mouse to do so.
"What about the rest of it? The medical files?"
At that, Hiram looked at him like he was joking. "Uh, no. That's thousands of pages. But, I can put it on a thumb drive for you."
At James' perplexed look, he sighed. "Right. Luddite." He held up a small device. "I can copy it all onto this, you can plug this into any computer and read the files. That way you don't have to carry big box of papers with you all over the planet."
James considered him for a moment, then nodded. "That will work."
Hiram looked around his desk for a moment, then stood. "I have a blank one around here somewhere...whoa. Hey, James, look."
Turning, James found him staring at the television and reaching for the volume. On the screen was a banner that read "Breaking News" over a grainy video of...Steve?
"...we have confirmed that this video is authentic. Captain America has been taken hostage in the African nation of Ghudaza. It is not clear at this time what role he was playing in the American-led military intervention there, but—"
"What the hell is Steve doing over there?" James murmured to himself.
On the screen, a guard kicked Steve's legs out from under him, dropping him to the floor. James frowned. It made little sense. Steve should have been able to eliminate the whole crowd around him, but he wasn't. Then he noticed the hooded eyes, and the slack jaw. Drugs? Has to be.
"...there is no comment yet from the Pentagon or the White House on this latest turn of events, Judy, but we have received word of a press briefing scheduled for later today..."
James scowled. He turned to find Hiram watching the television with rapt attention. "Copy the files. I have to leave."
TBC
A/N: I wanted to tie in just a little with season 2 of Agents of Shield. They recently mentioned that the mysterious Dr. Whitehall was directly involved with the capture of Shield's "Sandbox" base in Africa. Seemed a good way to connect the dots to this story.