Light footsteps maybe ten paces away. The gunman. He was about to find out which.
The dead arm was pulled off his back.
"Rogers." He knew that voice.
"Romanoff?"
"Yeah. Come on. We're out of here." She took his hand as though to help him up.
"Wait, what? What the hell is going on?" She pulled him up
"What?"
"You just killed three agents of SHIELD. What the hell is going on?" There was a long pause.
"OK, we have catching up to do, we need to get out of sight. Take that thing off your eyes and follow me." She didn't know. But she'd been there. She'd been there when he'd been wounded.
"I'm blind, Romanoff." Another long pause. She swore quietly.
"We still need to get out of sight. Come on." She took him by the arm and led him four or five paces on. "Crouch." He did. "Feel forward, there's a ventilation shaft, three feet by three. Get in to it." Cold metal met his hands. He advanced on his hands and knees. "Turn right in a sec." He did. He heard Romanoff shuffling around behind him, hissing with effort, then a grating sound. What was going on? Romanoff had just shot those three guys dead, either they were the perimeter breach pretending to be guards or Romanoff had gone rogue. If she had gone rogue, he would probably pay with his life for trusting her. He didn't have a lot of choice. He'd always taken her down without too much trouble in training, but in training he'd had his eyes. "Feel to your right." There was a hole. "The shaft turns up for about ten feet. Climb up, then come out to the left. You shouldn't need to see to do that." Rogers wedged himself against the sides of the shaft and climbed. He could do this. One wall disappeared. He hauled himself through in to another shaft, sloping upwards, away. He moved up it a few feet to give Romanoff space to follow him. Whatever her intentions were, he had no hope against her blind. He heard her breathing coming closer, then heard her hands and feet on the metal close at hand.
"Twenty feet up here, then we're out. Stay quiet." She brushed past him. Rogers followed her, hoping she knew what she was doing. The metal changed to chipboard and levelled off. "Stand up. There's space." Cautiously, he did. Romanoff reappeared at his elbow and led him ten or so paces through the darkness, then sat down, pulling him with her. "Let's have a look at your eyes." Her hand appeared on the bandage. He recoiled and pushed her back.
"No. You can't. I was blinded by a chemical weapon, you can't touch my eyes."
"What?"
"You were there. Eight days ago, Loki's aliens had a chemical weapon. They killed Barton and blinded me."
"Rogers, Barton isn't dead. I spoke to him three days back. He's fine." Rogers froze. Either Romanoff had gone rogue and was playing a very strange game or Barton hadn't been killed. If Barton hadn't been killed, how much of what Grogan had told him had been lies? His eyes had been bandaged for days, was he really blind? "There was no alien attack eight days ago. Eight days ago, you disappeared from the road." So was this all a set-up? Who were these people who'd been looking after him for days? Why were they holding him? He was a super soldier. People had been trying for a lifetime to replicate Erskine's success, SHIELD had tried to work it out. He'd been knocked out every day for procedures he knew nothing about. Romanoff's story made at least some sense. "Will you let me look at your eyes?" Slowly, Rogers lowered his arm. This might be unbearably painful, but if Romanoff was telling the truth, he might not be blind. To find that out, he'd risk almost anything. He felt her hand on the side of his head. He felt sick. Either he was about to double over in agony or he was about to see again. He could feel the tension moving round his head as Romanoff undid the bandage. His breathing was quickening. "There's thick black cloth in this." She said quietly. The gentle pressure of the bandage fell away. Rogers lifted a hand towards his eyes and drew breath sharply. "What?" He passed his hand in front of his eyes.
"I see shadow." He wasn't completely blind. He tried to open his eyes. Something held them shut, that thick, solid gunk that had been there yesterday.
"Let me see." Romanoff tilted his head. "There's something… on your eyes."
"I know. I can feel it. They said it was discharge."
"It looks like… almost like candle wax. I'll be as gentle as I can." He felt her fingertips on his eyelid. The stuff pulled at his eyelids as she eased it off, but there was still no pain. She brushed the last of it off. "Can you open that eye?" He tried and recoiled from the stab of light. He'd seen. He could see. He wasn't blind. Rogers lowered his hand. Romanoff was kneeling opposite him, staring at him, the flame red of her hair, just about identifiable in the half-light creeping up through cracks in the floor. He could see. "You can see, can't you." She said, smiling. He nodded. "That makes things easier." He looked around. They were inside a roof, grey dust covered everything, including his scrubs, Romanoff was filthy.
"How long have you been up here?"
"I've been in the facility coming up for 24 hours, up here, maybe ten. I could see your door, I saw them put you in unconscious, I knew this would be easier if you could run, so I waited. Are you going to do the other eye?" He lifted a hand and felt the stuff on his eyelid. It did feel like wax, Romaonoff was right. He pulled at the edge of it and it came away. That eye didn't hurt as much when he first opened it. And it worked. He could see. His eyes had adjusted to the light now. He was fully sighted in both eyes. He could see. Romanoff was still staring straight at him. She smiled.
"So what now? Go back down and figure out what they were after?" Romanoff shook her head.
"My guess is thirty-five guards here, maybe more. I don't even have enough bullets. With just the two of us, it's too dangerous, and Fury said I'm to consider you compromised until you've been cleared. We're getting out of here, now." She got up. Rogers followed her.
"How long have we got until they're on to us?"
"Not long. Your eyes slowed us down." It was dark outside. "It's four AM, the night guards are all half-asleep, when they realise they're three men down, we're in trouble, when they find the bodies, we need to run."
"What did you do with the bodies?"
"They're in the shaft. It's not a great hiding place, but I couldn't think of a better one. She pulled herself through a gap in the roof and out in to the night air. Rogers followed her. As soon as he stopped moving, even for a second, he started shivering. His scrubs didn't do much for keeping him warm, but he wasn't cold.
"Where are we?" He asked Romanoff as they started to work their way down.
"Mexico." She whispered. "State of Chihuahua, 60 clicks out of the city. We've got a way to go north before SHIELD can pick us up. They don't wanna run in Mexican airspace if they don't have to."
"So what's your plan?"
"Can you run?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Look down there. Two jeeps ready to go. We sneak up along the fuel line there, prop a nail against the second one's tyre, jump in the first one and drive, ditch the jeep about four clicks south of the border, run that and meet up with SHIELD. We should be able to keep ahead of them." Rogers nodded. He followed her down the side of the building, from ledge to ledge, jumping through the pre-dawn. They got to the ground. Romanoff pulled him in to the shadow of a crate, waiting for a foot patrol to wander past. Then they ran at a crouch to the fuel tanker. Romanoff crawled under it, Rogers followed her. Torch beams swept the ground ahead of them. This felt so dangerous. He didn't have a better idea. She was right. Fighting their way out was not an option. There seemed to be a pattern to the torch beams, and Romanoff seemed to know it, she was counting under her breath. Then suddenly she pulled him forwards by the wrist, sprinting twenty yards to the second jeep, then stopping so suddenly he ran in to her and almost knocked her over. She dropped her backpack off her shoulder and pulled out two metal things, each made of four long spikes, welded together at their base in a pyramid, and handed them to him.
"One in front of each front tyre." She breathed. He dropped to a crouch and laid the spikes, pressed right under the tyres. As soon as the jeep moved an inch forward, they'd puncture its tyres, but how long would that take to actually stop the jeep? Romanoff had crept up beside the front jeep and opened the driver's door. She must have the keys. He slunk up the other side and opened the door as gently as he could, it still clunked. Romanoff was adjusting the mirrors, she hadn't latched her door, so he didn't either. She turned her head and grinned at him. "Ready?"
"Yeah." He felt very ready to fight, his heart and his breathing were quicker. His head was still spinning. Everything he'd been told, everything he'd believed for the past five days had been lies. He hadn't lost Barton in combat, he'd never been blind. Romanoff turned the key in the ignition. The jeep started. They had seconds. Romanoff slammed her foot on the accelerator, the jeep lurched forwards, picking up speed as it neared the guard towers. Of course. That was why Romanoff had lain spikes for the other truck rather than just slashing the tyres, she was banking on it getting stuck in this narrow bit so they couldn't get anything else past it. A shot went off, then a burst of gunfire. Rogers ducked instinctively. Romanoff hissed and leant forwards. They were out. Romanoff wheeled the jeep right sharply and kept on as fast as she could go. The shots stopped. They were out of range. Rogers looked back. He couldn't see pursuit.
"How long before they have a car out after us?" He asked.
"I give them five minutes? Ten if we're lucky."
"So if we're doing the last few clicks on foot-"
"I have a plan, Rogers. They'll lose us, they've lost the visual on us now, so they have to track. There's a radio in the bag, outside pocket. Can you pass it to me?" He picked the bag up from between them and felt for the radio. The sky was lightening to their right, the sun would be up soon. There was something else in that part of the bag, he pushed past it and found the radio. Romanoff held out her hand for it.
"Red Glass to Gulliver, over." It took Gulliver a moment to respond.
"Hear you Red Glass, what's your status."
"Objective complete, I have Procyon, he's alive, seems unharmed. Currently en route to waypoint A."
"Pursuit?"
"Negative Gulliver, not that we can see. They will be coming, but we're not in imminent danger. Head to the rendez-vous point, we'll be there in less than an hour. Tell Fury we're on our way home, call the other hunters back."
"Affirmative. Can you pass me to Procyon?"
"Sure." Romanoff held the radio out to Rogers. He took it, presumably Procyon was his call sign.
"Gulliver, this is Procyon, receiving."
"It's good to hear your voice, Sir. Are you fit to run?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Fury will want to debrief you when you get back." That would probably be uncomfortable. Fury would be cross that he hadn't noticed something was up, that he'd been willing to trust.
"Copy."
"Over and out, see you in an hour." He lowered the radio.
"Romanoff, is there water in here?"
"Yeah, do you want it?"
"If you don't need it."
"Go ahead." He took it and drank. He was desperately thirsty, hungry too, but thirst would kill him way before hunger did, and if they had a way to run, food wouldn't do him much good anyway.
When the first rays of sunlight started to appear, Romanoff pulled over and got out, but left the engine running. Rogers copied her.
"Stay there." She said. She pulled a brick out of her bag and reached back in to the footwell of the car. "Now, hopefully, when they do catch up, they'll go looking round the car rather than here." The jeep began to move forwards, Romanoff threw herself backwards as it picked up speed. She'd put the brick on the accelerator. Rogers grinned.
"Clever."
"It won't get far, but it'll buy us a few minutes."
"So now we run?"
She nodded, slinging the bag back across her back. "I set the pace."
"Sure."
She set off. The sun was bright on their right now, Romanoff's pace would have been hard for most people to keep up, but Rogers's stride was longer than hers, his breaths were deeper and his heartbeats were stronger. He could always outrun her. But he didn't feel right. He stopped feeling hungry soon enough, he felt ready to run, he wanted to run, or fight, or do something until he was tired. He'd been cooped up for days, he was spoiling for work, but that wasn't it. The shivering hadn't stopped until the moment he'd started running, and he was hot now the sun was on him, he was breathing harder than he should have been, as though he was panting to lose heat like a dog. His head felt light too, he hadn't been able to do much for a few days, now he was running with another super soldier, that was probably why. He'd be glad to be back in friendly territory. He didn't feel safe here, running in the open.
He could do this. Romanoff could not outrun him. He could run four clicks at this speed without any trouble. He'd only done one. This should not be difficult. By the time Rogers guessed they were half way there, his head felt so light it took conscious effort to keep his legs under him and he was breathing far harder than he should have been, almost gasping for breath. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to be able to stop. He should be able to do this. What was wrong with him? He forced himself on, staying at Romanoff's heels.
He had no idea how long he'd been running, he just knew that he wanted to stop, but he couldn't. He had further to run. His chest was burning, his legs were burning, every stride was an effort of will. All he could do was keep his eyes on the back of Romanoff's head, keep up with her. He could do this. This shouldn't be so hard. Then he could take no more. Rogers stumbled to a halt, hands braced against his knees. It only delayed what had to follow. His legs gave way and he fell to the ground. He didn't even put his hands out to catch himself, just fell on to his side.
"Rogers?" He heard Romanoff as though from far away. "Rogers!" Her feet appeared in front of him. "Come on, get up." He tried to pull his legs in, to roll over to get up, but he couldn't move. His body wouldn't obey him. He just lay there, gasping for air, chest burning. Romanoff crouched down. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Rogers." She moved as though she'd thought about pulling him up. He was too heavy for her. He couldn't move. She pulled out her radio. "Red Glass to Gulliver. This is a mayday." She sounded frightened.
"Gulliver receiving you, we're in position to pick you up, what's gone wrong?"
"Procyon is down, repeat: Procyon is down."
How much of this did you guess?
And, in as much detail as you like, what's wrong with Rogers?