Author's note: Thank you all for your wonderful feedback. It's very encouraging to know that people out there are reading my work. There have been some questions as to whether Phil Coulson will be involved. Rest assured; he's in chapter 9, though his part is smaller.
One of the first things new agents at the Academy of Operations are taught in hand-to-hand combat classes is grab releases, and one of the first grab releases taught is something called the snake. It's pretty simple. Say someone grabs your wrist. You hold your hand out flat and twist against the thumb, breaking the grip, just like a snake slithering up a tree. Then, if you are so inclined, you can keep on slithering up the tree until your thumb is in the person's eye, though I myself don't like doing that. It's gross, trust me.
But the snake, the snake is endlessly useful.
As the guards took me to the interrogation room, I made one last final sweep of the hallway, looking for anything relevant I might have missed (nothing). I made a mental note of where the guard with the keys kept them (left pocket). I walked slowly, but on my own two feet, so they'd keep their grip loose. My mind was racing as I mentally reviewed everything I'd have to do. The plan was Swiss cheese to begin with; I couldn't afford to mess anything up.
Bodho was waiting for me in the interrogation room, leering. Mentally, I leered back. He had a big surprise headed his way this time.
"Well, Agent May. So nice to see you again," he said, picking up his favorite knife, a four-inch double-edged blade with a carved handle. I suppressed a smile, thinking how nice it would be to eviscerate him with it. Poetic justice if I've ever seen it.
Bodho gestured to the chair, and the guards began leading me towards it. But one of them would have to let go in order to strap me down. That would be my opportunity. I took a deep breath. This was it, the moment of truth.
Quick as lightning, I twisted my hand against the guard's thumb, breaking his grip. I slammed my elbow into his face and felt cartilage smash. He reeled back, clutching his nose, and I took the opportunity to drive my knee into his groin. He doubled over and screamed in pain. Another quick kick to the head knocked him unconscious.
That left one more guard and Bodho. I grabbed the first thing I could off the tray, a glass bottle of hydrochloric acid, and threw it at the guard. My reaction time was off thanks to dehydration and blood loss, but it smashed against his chest anyway. He staggered back and howled in agony as the acid ate away at his flesh.
Now there was just Bodho. A frightened, almost desperate look ghosted across his face. I know that look; it's the look men get when the possibility of a woman beating them at their own game occurs to them. I resisted the urge to take him on hand-to-hand; he had a weapon and I was in no shape to be taking risks. Instead, I grabbed the longest knife I could from the table and took up an offensive stance. His eyes widened in fear; I was no longer his helpless captive, but an agent of SHIELD, ready to fight for my freedom and take back what was mine. Adrenaline was singing through my veins, and I barely felt the throbbing ache from all my badly healed cuts.
"You'll regret this!" he shouted. "I'll kill you, slowly and painfully!"
"You won't get a chance," I muttered, and went in slashing, intending to go straight for the abdominal aorta. If I cut it deep enough, he'd bleed out in under a minute.
Then a huge combat boot swept my legs out from under me, and I yelled in surprise. Instinctively, I tucked my chin and slapped the floor to break my fall, wincing as my palms struck concrete. My knife went flying, and I lay there, momentarily stunned. The guard I'd splashed with acid staggered to his feet, smirking at me.
Great. I should have made sure he was down for the count before I went for Bodho. I didn't even have the keys yet and the plan was already going south. Not ready to give up just yet, I turned over on my side, propped myself up on my elbows, and kept one foot in the air in a ground fighting stance. The two men moved in, predatory looks on their faces. Much as I hate to run away from a good fight, my priority was getting myself and Hand the hell out of Dodge. I crawled over to the unconscious body of the first guard, surreptitiously reached into his left pocket, and pulled out the keys.
"You've just made a very big mistake," Bodho said menacingly. He twirled his knife in his fingers. "I will take great pleasure in hearing you scream."
I curled up, keys clutched in my right hand, and waited for them to come in close. As soon as Bodho was in range, I kicked out as hard as I could, my foot slamming into his knee. My aim was off; the joint didn't break, but it was enough that he fell to the ground, yelling in pain. Staggering to my feet, I stumbled out the open door into the hallway. There was no turning back now.
My hands were shaking so badly from adrenaline that it took me several tries to unlock the cell door. When I opened it, I saw Hand waiting for me. I motioned for her to follow me, and we left the prison cell behind, hopefully for good.
This was the part where everything got vague. We had no idea where to go from here. It had sounded simpler somehow when I was going over it in my head the night before. Unless you counted the keys, we had no weapons, and despite their injuries Bodho and the guard I'd failed to incapacitate were no doubt headed our way now.
Realizing that the worst thing I could do now was hesitate, I began running down the corridor, heading away from the interrogation room. There was barely enough light to see by, but I trusted my instincts and kept going. I wedged the keys in between my fingers, the way my mom used to do when she was walking through a parking lot. It wasn't much, but at least I felt like I was doing something. Behind me, I could hear Hand's irregular footsteps on the concrete as she stumbled after me. I prayed she'd be able to keep up; I couldn't lose her. The new Melinda was distant, aloof, even unfriendly sometimes, but she wasn't heartless. She'd never abandon a fellow agent to die, not even an annoying rookie with bright red highlights in her hair.
We turned a corner, then another, then another, breath coming ragged in our chests. I heard angry shouting behind us, getting closer. I forced my feet to move faster, spurred on by the thought of freedom. Then my heart sank as we almost ran straight into a door with a tall, beefy man guarding it. He smiled menacingly, showing us a row of ugly, crooked teeth.
To my horror, Hand leaped forward and aimed a punch at his nose, telegraphing by a mile. He caught the punch easily and held her fist in mid air. I held my breath in horror; she was going to blow this whole thing. I'd told her yesterday to stand back and let me do all the heavy lifting. Then, to my surprise, she raised her foot and slammed it into his knee. I heard an ugly crunching sound, and he fell on his side, howling in pain. A quick kick to the head rendered him unconscious.
"Wow," I breathed. I almost couldn't believe it. The punch had been a feint; she'd wanted him to think she was inexperienced. Maybe I hadn't given her enough credit.
"Level three advanced in hand-to-hand," she said, breathing hard.
With the guard incapacitated, our next problem was the door. I'm a little on the impatient side, so my default method for dealing with doors is kicking them down, but this one was made of the same kind of reinforced steel as the one in our cell. We could hear our pursuers getting closer; they'd be here any minute.
"Try the keys," Hand said frantically, even though I was already shoving the first one into the lock. It didn't work. I tried the second. I could hear the men getting closer. There was only one key left. If there was a time to believe in God, it was now. I slid the final key into the lock and felt relief spread through my chest as the tumblers aligned and the mechanism turned. I muscled the door open with my shoulder, wincing as raw flesh connected with cold steel. It opened onto a concrete staircase, which ended in another door. We stumbled up the steps, Hand almost falling several times. Luckily, the first key I tried opened the second door. I dared to let myself believe that this might work, that we might go to sleep that night as free women.
If the new Melinda were one to smile, she'd have smiled when she stepped through the door at the top of the staircase. Lazy jungle breezes blew through the hot, muggy air. A thousand birds called through the trees. Sunlight poured down from the sky, bathing our faces in warmth. I drank it all in, feeling like I hadn't been outside in a year.
I shook myself mentally; this was not the time to be getting distracted. I glanced around me, assessing the situation. We were in a pseudo-military compound crawling with men and trucks and crates of supplies, all draped in camouflage netting and dotted with spare boxes of ammunition, most of it hollow-points. A lazy dirt road snaked away and vanished into the tree line.
Voices shouted in French, and I turned and saw three men running towards us. One of them walked with a distinct limp, and I had a nasty feeling I'd dislocated his knee a few days earlier when we'd been captured.
"Let's get out of here," said Victoria tensely. I noticed some military trucks a few hundred yards to our left and gestured to them. There were only a few people between us and them, and if we could get there fast enough and hijack one, we were in the clear. Adrenaline still pumping through our veins, we took off across the compound. We'd barely made it ten yards when Victoria began falling behind. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her along, but she stumbled and fell to her knees. Looking back, I saw the three men gaining on us.
"Come on, Victoria," I shouted. "Get up! Let's go!"
"Go without me," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
"Can it," I muttered, and hauled her up by her shirt collar. Most of my cuts had opened up again, but I barely noticed. I had bigger fish to fry.
One of said bigger fish apparently had a gun, because as I was pulling Victoria along by her hand, a shot rang out across the compound and I came perilously close to losing a large chunk of brain matter. More adrenaline surged through me, and yet I felt a strange sense of calm. Victoria and I ran, zigzagging across the open space to make ourselves harder to shoot. I had my eye on a Hummer parked near the edge of the forest; we had a clear path to it and it was only another dozen or so yards ahead.
Another bullet whined past my ear, and I put my head down and ran faster, still holding onto Victoria's hand. We were so close, ten yards from the truck, five, three—
A fist slammed into my face and knocked me flat on my back. I instinctively tucked my chin and broke the fall, but it was still enough to stun me. The same fist smashed into the side of Victoria's head and sent her reeling sideways. She fell to her knees, clutching her temple. I rolled into a ground fighting stance, readying myself for a fight, but the click of a gun safety being turned off stopped me.
I looked up the barrel of a .45 caliber semi-automatic into the smiling face of John Bodho.
"I told you that you would regret this," he said, his smile broadening. "Now, Agent May, I believe we shall finish what we started before we were so rudely interrupted." I felt strong hands pick me up. "Take her back to the interrogation room," Bodho ordered the hands. "Put the other one in a separate cell. She'll be next."
As the hands dragged me away, I looked back at Victoria, who was still rubbing her temple where Bodho had punched her. She raised her head and met my gaze, and the look of sheer terror in her eyes made me sick to my gut.
It was over. We'd lost.
Author's note: Once again, reviews are always appreciated, and I tend to update faster when I receive feedback.