Once the loading bay door was closed, there was no more movement on any of the exterior cameras.
"Gas masks and ear protection on, everybody," May's voice crackled quietly through the comms.
"It'll take a few minutes to get the Retrievers booted up," Fitz reminded them.
That suppressed anxiety reached icy fingers into Skye's chest again, and she took a deep breath. "Be careful out there, guys."
"Copy that," Hunter replied, and she took it as a promise. I'm holding you to that, she thought at him fiercely.
The Retrievers slowly came online, and Skye organized the video feeds into rows on her screen, mirroring them into the Command Center for Coulson. She could see the hallway where the team was camped out, Martin and Ramirez gearing up, and the other Retrievers hovering in midair. A few seconds later, the tiny drones faded from sight.
"Oh, nice job miniaturizing that cloaking technology, Fitz," came Coulson's approving voice.
"They're the perfect spies," Fitz mumbled proudly. "Completely undetectable."
"Okay, we're going to send two down each hallway," Coulson directed. "Whoever this is, they'll be getting into position. Let's watch them do it."
"Copy that," confirmed the Scot.
The Retrievers began their journey down the hallways, invisibly surveilling, and Skye breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. She was starting to feel better about this operation, now that they were in the middle of it. The action felt more familiar, more manageable than the interminable waiting.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement on her other screen, the one that was surveilling the building's exterior.
Another van was pulling in on the south side of the building.
"Um, guys," she interrupted. "We've got movement in the south parking lot. Another vehicle just pulled in."
Coulson's reply was tense. "Are they staying?"
The van parked, and a few seconds later, an SUV pulled in to park alongside it.
"Two vehicles, both parking," Skye reported, tapping through video feeds to zoom in on the new vehicles.
A Chevy Tahoe and a Ford Econoline cargo van.
Neurons fired in Skye's brain. "Coulson, these are the same vehicles from Mt. Vernon. Or at least the same models."
"What the hell...?" she heard him mutter. "Let me see that image. Fitz, put the Retrievers on pause for a minute."
Doors on the vehicles began to open, and a team of eight in tac gear piled out, all wearing gas masks.
"Are they here with the others? Or...what?" Coulson mused.
Skye shook her head as the ghost of a suspicion occurred to her. Gas masks for a tech buy was a SHIELD protocol. And there was only one organization, other than SHIELD, that would have any reason to take that precaution.
She zoomed the camera in further, examining the team's backs. Where Hydra would have had a Hydra logo and SHIELD would have had an eagle, she saw three letters: WCA
World Counterterrorism Agency.
"Damn it," Coulson muttered, and Skye knew he'd seen it, too. His voice came through the comms forcefully. "All right, everyone, we have a third party on site. Bobbi's people are here, probably after the plasma particle beam that they don't realize isn't actually here."
Hunter's voice came back, his tone unreadable. "Is Bobbi here?"
Skye swallowed hard. She'd caught a glimpse of blonde waves under the helmet of the lead agent. "Yeah. She's here."
"What do you want us to do, Phil?" May asked urgently. "They're walking into a trap."
Seconds ticked by in silence, and then Coulson spoke up decisively. "We can't blow our cover. We need to find out who's behind this."
"Are we gonna let them walk into it?" Hunter asked, incredulous.
"If we have to," Coulson replied. "But we'll try to minimize the damage. Fitz, get those Retrievers moving. I want to know where everybody is."
Skye watched, heart hammering, as Bobbi's team disappeared into the southeast entrance of the building.
The Retrievers began moving again, more quickly now. Fitz directed several of them into the main open area of the warehouse, the rest into the hallways circumnavigating it. As they crossed onto the south side, the lights grew dimmer, and Fitz switched the image over to infrared.
Skye's eyes flicked quickly back and forth amongst the feeds, watching for any sign of life, until a yellow infrared flare appeared on the feed from the north end of the east hallway.
"Got a hit," Fitz reported.
As the surveillance drones entered from both ends of the hallway, Skye could see it clearly: Bobbi's team, spread out across the corridor, weapons in hand as they slowly advanced northward; 100 feet away from them, lurking in alcoves, five glowing yellow figures on the infrared scan.
"Crap," Skye whispered. "They know they're here." She mirrored the images over for Coulson.
"They're walking into a bloody ambush," Hunter said tersely.
"Hold your position," Coulson ordered curtly. "We can't afford to find ourselves fighting both groups." After a moment, he added, "Bobbi's team outnumbers them. We'll see how it plays out."
Skye held her breath as the WCA agents came within fifty feet of the waiting attackers, who were standing motionless. She found herself counting the seconds as they continued to advance, until only ten or fifteen feet remained between Bobbi's team and the ambush that was lying in wait.
Suddenly, the video feeds dissolved into static; and a split second later, she felt a shudder pass through the metal under her feet.
Coulson's voice came through sharply. "What was that?"
Fitz's reply was a stammer as he scrambled for data. "U-uh..."
"Talk to me, Fitz. What just happened?"
"It, uh - that was some kind of sonic pulse, sir. It disrupted the Retrievers, but I'm rebooting them...we should have video back online in a moment..."
"Damn it, Bobbi," Coulson breathed. "They didn't have ear protection."
The Retrievers at the south side of the corridor flickered back online, their infrared apparently non-functional, and Skye took in the scene all at once. Agents lay on the ground in the dimly lit corridor, and one-two-three-four-five shadowy figures were crouching over them, silhouetted against the light coming from the windows further down the hall. Skye assessed them quickly - one burly figure who looked like he'd be a challenge to take down; the other four of average height and build, except one taller figure she assumed was Sunglasses.
"Five hostiles," Coulson bit out. "Bobbi's team is down."
"Bloody hell," Hunter muttered.
At first Skye couldn't tell what the five hostiles were doing, poking around at the downed agents. Then she realized.
"They're taking off their helmets and gas masks," she reported.
"What do you want us to do, Phil?" May asked tersely.
"This is not the way this was supposed to go," Coulson growled. He paused for a split second, then gave the order. "Engage."
"Copy that," May barked.
The SHIELD team began to move, Skye watching through Ramirez' body cam as they cleared the south side of the building, approaching the southeast corridor.
Coulson and May were hastily establishing a plan of attack, but Skye's attention was dragged back to the other screen as the Retrievers silently drew closer to the unconscious agents and their assailants. Skye was vaguely registering that something seemed off about the shape of one of them, when one of the figures glanced up sharply, looking directly at the camera.
Why was he looking at the camera? Skye thought absently. He wasn't supposed to be able to see the cloaked Retrievers.
And then all her video feeds went dark, and May's voice cut off abruptly, mid-sentence.
"May?"
Nothing.
Her voice grew frantic. "May? Coulson? Fitz?"
Silence.
"Hello? Does anyone copy?"
No answer came back.
Skye tapped out frenzied keystrokes, rebooting the comms, rebooting her connection, but nothing came through.
"Damn it!" she spat out, panic welling up in her chest. Her team was in there, and everything was going to hell, and she had no idea what was happening. She had never felt this intensely powerless in her life.
Impinging on her frenzied thoughts came a familiar sound from outside the Cage - a click, and then a low rumble that shuddered through the plane.
The cargo hold was opening.
Skye's mind raced. If the team had run the instant the comms went down, she didn't think they'd get here that fast. Was Coulson going in? Could he have even gotten down there that fast? Wouldn't he have told her if he was going in?
What if someone else was overriding the system and boarding the Bus?
Adrenaline shot through her arms and legs, her heart rate spiking, and she desperately reeled in the vibrations that threatened to start spilling out of her. Okay - if armed hostiles were boarding the plane, what could she do from inside the Cage?
Not a damned thing.
Skye let out a feral cry of frustration, then stopped short as a wild idea occurred to her.
Standing and turning toward the door, she focused her attention on the locking mechanism, feeling the low buzz of her powers beginning to activate. She increased the intensity, then thrust them desperately toward the lock, hoping that it would shatter. But it was like trying to break water with a stone; the vibranium alloy absorbed her strongest efforts without so much as a ripple.
She was about to start cursing again when, from the hallway, she heard a soft shuffling sound, and then a beep - beep - beep - beep - beep - scrape.
The door clicked open quietly, and Skye stiffened, expecting someone to come in. When no one did, she rose and swiftly made her way over to the door, pulling it open soundlessly. She cleared the hallway toward the lounge, her heart pounding in her ears. No one was there.
Next to her was the blast door to the cargo bay. She tried to pull it open, but found that it was jammed shut. Someone must have overridden the locking mechanism, she realized.
She was studying it carefully when from the other side of the door came the sound of an ICER blast, overlapping with an answering, different blast. A new urgency gripped her.
To hell with it, she thought furiously. This had to be a door she could handle. She took a step backward, concentrating her focus deliberately on the blast door's lock, and barely remembered to avert her face before it splintered into a hail of metal shards.
She burst through the doorway and took in the scene in a flash: Coulson slumped on the catwalk a few feet from her, wringing his hand; his ICER on the floor six feet away from him; below, standing on the ramp between the SUV's, a figure with a gun aimed at the Director.
Her heart rate skyrocketed, and her internal buzzing increased to an uncontainable pitch. Skye barely had time to notice that there was something off about that figure on the cargo ramp before she instinctively flung her arms toward it, desperately channeling the pent-up energy of her vibrations.
The figure dropped like a stone.
The world narrowed to the sound of her heart beating and her breath rushing in her ears, and Skye felt numb, as if her body were inhabiting a different space than her mind. She stared at the crumpled figure on the ramp, and slowly it trickled into her consciousness what seemed off about it - it was humanoid, but its skin was green and rough, maybe even scaly, and there was some kind of weird structure on the side of its head and neck. It reminded her of the gills on fish.
Suddenly her brain wrapped itself around the fact that she had just taken it down.
"Holy crap," she whispered. "What just happened?"
Coulson's wide eyes swiveled from the downed creature to Skye and back. "I don't know." He picked the ICER up off the floor and pressed it into her hand, saying tersely, "Cover me."
She followed him quickly down the spiral stair, then stood, keeping the ICER trained on the creature as Coulson pressed two fingers to its neck, then to its wrist, hunting for a pulse. "I don't know where to look," he murmured, leaning in closer to the chest to check for any breathing movement. "The anatomy might be different."
Skye hardly realized she was holding her own breath.
She watched, transfixed, as a trickle of blood began to ooze from the creature's right nostril and traveled slowly down its cheek, crimson drops splashing onto the metal floor of the cargo bay.
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
Coulson looked up at her grimly. "I've got nothing."
With his words, the reality of what she had just done sunk in, and Skye gasped, one hand flying to cover her mouth as she recoiled in horror. The world seemed to spin, the ground lurching under her feet, and she felt Coulson grasp her arm firmly to steady her. Her vision cleared, and she realized she had taken several involuntary steps backward. The ICER lay on the floor where she must have dropped it.
Her breath was coming in ragged gasps now, her limbs shaking, and corresponding tremors were shivering through the fuselage of the Bus.
"Skye," Coulson said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of her face as she looked around wildly. She dragged her eyes to meet his. "I need you to pull it together right now. You can do this."
She nodded, trying to catch her breath.
"This threat has been neutralized..." he went on, and her head began to spin again.
Oh my God...
Coulson saw her losing it and got up in her face assertively, holding her cheeks in both hands. "Our team is still in there. We need to get them out. It's already been -" he broke eye contact momentarily to check his watch - "three minutes since we lost radio contact." His eyes bored into hers. "I'm going in, and I need you with me."
"Okay," she whispered shakily, squeezing her eyes shut and grabbing on to his wrists for dear life. She dug her fingers in so hard she was sure she'd leave bruises, desperate for something to ground her. "Okay."
She drew several gasping breaths, forcing her mind and body back under her control. The tremors in the plane quieted, and the chaos in her thoughts began clearing, snapping her back to the now, to the urgency of what they needed to do. "Okay," she repeated, loosening her fingers from Coulson's wrists. "What's the plan?"
They found Fitz at the secondary rendezvous point in the northwest corner of the building. He was crouched in a shadowy alcove, clutching his sidearm so tightly that he almost shot them both when they came in.
"Whoa!" Coulson said softly. "It's us."
Fitz collapsed back against the wall, breathing heavily.
"What happened?" Skye demanded.
Fitz shook his head. "An EMP or something. Knocked out the Retrievers and the comms. I came straight here."
"Nobody else is here," Skye pointed out unnecessarily, dread settling into her gut with a burn like cold iron. If they weren't there, it was because they couldn't be.
Coulson was thinking fast. "Okay, what do we have? We can't go up against them with two agents, not if they just took down twelve. Skye?" He looked at her hopefully.
She shook her head abruptly, an icy chill going down her spine. "I don't have anywhere near enough control. I'll bring the whole building down and kill us all."
Fitz snapped his fingers. "Maybe we can scare them off."
Coulson looked at him sharply.
"They don't know how many men we have. The Retrievers are dead, but they're equipped with a self-destruct mechanism that's EMP shielded. I can trigger it from here. They'll make a fantastic noise and some fireworks. Maybe Skye can add a little shimmy, and we'll scare them off? They seem like they want to avoid being discovered at all costs."
Coulson nodded. "It's a risk. But it's worth a shot."
Thirty seconds later, they had relocated to a windowed room near the north loading bay, where the van had come in. At Coulson's signal, Fitz activated the self-destruct function on the Retrievers, and explosions began to ring out from around the interior of the building. Skye closed her eyes, allowing her tension to leak out in tremors, and the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Coulson shot her a warning look as the shaking grew stronger, and she reeled it in, keeping her emotions as tightly controlled as possible, given the situation.
She had to admit that, between the explosions and the shaking, she would think an army was busting in if she didn't know better.
And it worked. A handful of shallow breaths later, they heard the slam of car doors in the nearby loading bay, and Coulson nodded in confirmation as he watched the van peel away.
"They're gone; let's go."
Skye ran, pelting to the southeast hallway where the teams had collided, gasping for breath and with a stitch already tearing through her side when she got there and pulled up short, taking in the bodies strewn all over the ground. Her mind flew to the worst.
Oh my God.
Fitz and Coulson came up beside her, and Coulson immediately knelt down to check for a pulse on the nearest agent, a man from Bobbi's team, who had blood trickling from his ears. "Alive," he reported tersely, and air flooded back into Skye's lungs.
The WCA people were all in a heap, looking as if they'd been downed by the sonic blast and had fallen right where they stood in a group; most had bloody fluid leaking from their ears and no other obvious damage. Skye's eyes flickered wildly past them, searching for her own team.
She spotted two figures crumpled on the floor about 15 feet away and sprinted to them, aware that Fitz was right behind her. It was Martin and Ramirez, both taken down fighting, both bloodied, bruised, and unconscious, but with reassuring vital signs. Their helmets and gas masks had been stripped off.
Skye stood up, scanning the hallway with something approaching panic.
Where the hell were Hunter and May?
Coulson came up beside her. "All alive," he muttered quietly. "Bobbi's jacket was removed, and she has needle marks in her right arm."
Skye looked at him with wide eyes.
"I haven't found Hunter or May," she murmured.
Coulson paled. "Let's go."
They headed down the hallway quickly, but didn't have to search for long. About thirty feet away, a smaller hallway branched off from the main one, and in the dim light, Skye saw two figures crumpled on the floor.
"Coulson!" she choked out, freezing as she tried to figure out which one to run to first.
Coulson spared her the decision. He vaulted past her and flew to May, who was sprawled further down the hallway on her stomach. Coulson turned her over gently, quickly checking for a pulse and nodding reassuringly to Skye before beginning to assess May's injuries.
Skye sank down beside Hunter, who was bare-headed, blood trickling from a gash high on his forehead. Her heart skipped a beat. She unzipped his jacket quickly, her fingers pressing against his throat to feel the reassuring warmth of his skin, the strong thump of blood pulsing through his veins. She squeezed her eyes shut, the wave of relief almost making her dizzy. He was alive. God, he was a mess, though - bruised and bloodied, probably taken out by a blow to the head.
He definitely wasn't going to call this a successful mission, she thought, repressing a slightly hysterical laugh. She sat for a few beats, just watching the faint rise and fall of his chest, before she began carefully checking him over for injuries.
"Skye." Coulson's soft call broke her concentration, and she turned to him, her heart quickening at the tone in his voice. He beckoned her over, his brow creased with concern, and she sucked in her breath abruptly when she saw what he'd found.
Needle marks in May's veins.
A/N: Whew! Definitely the most intense chapter I've ever written. I would LOVE to know your feedback! Action/suspense is a different style for me, and I want to be able to do it well. :)
PS - If you're a Marvel comics aficionado, and you're thinking to yourself, "That guy that Skye took down really resembles a Saurid" - yes. Yes, he does.
And there is a reason for that.