After the incident in the DIY store, Steve and Tony had grown quiet and frantic, yet understandably better friends. Tony, when stressed, often went numb, frozen to the spot, leaving Steve's surprising logic and intelligence to shine through. Tony probably owed the blonde his life a few times over. He'd repay him at some point, as for right now, keeping breath in his lungs and blood in his veins was his main priority.
Sneaking to the wall was easier, a simple case of moving from group to group of squatters, making sure not to let the children they took shelter with see their faces. It was almost like being an escaped criminal. Technically, should Reed ever actually come to power, they would be.
"Alright, I can see the fence," Steve whispered as they turned a corner. Unlike the taller boy, Tony couldn't see over the rows of heads of people that had gathered around a bonfire in the middle of the street.
"Okay, how on earth are we gonna do this?" Tony was panicking now. In a stable situation, he'd easily be able to think his way out of it.
"I have an idea," Steve replied. "You see those bushes over there? I'll push you back into one of them, when nobody's looking. I'll follow when conversation rises, and I can slip away without being noticed. Wait for me by the fence, and we'll start work."
Tony and Steve slunk over to the ring of children around the large bonfire, adopting the walk of malnutritioned teenagers. When a large flame rose up, Steve took the opportunity to shove Tony back into the bush, wincing as Tony made a high-pitched yelp. He hoped he hadn't hurt him too badly, though a bruise wouldn't be too bad.
When another high flame rose, drawing gasps from its audience, Steve 'stumbled' backwards and fell into the bush, hitting his elbow on a root and hissing. It earned him a whisper of "It fucking hurts, doesn't it!?" from Tony, who looked more than a little annoyed. He had lodged the cutters into the wall and had made two or three good-sized cuts in the plywood layers.
"Right, push down on that handle, I'll pull up on this one," Steve then gave a one-two-three countdown and a long, thick crack appeared in the plywood, extending to about Steve's shoulder.
"Okay, now we have to widen it," Tony turned the cutters and opened the handles, forcing the gap to widen by a few inches. Steve strained too, but it was only wide enough to reach an arm through.
"We have to make another cut," Steve said, lifting the cutters and making a small incision in the wood. Tony groaned, though the noise was mostly drowned out by a response to a large crackle on the bonfire. Sensing the urgency, he helped make another deep slice and twist and widen it. Steve then lost his patience, waited for a rise in noise, and punched down the middle strip of wood. It left a considerably large hole, easily big enough for all six to sneak out.
"Now we just have to find the others." Steve hissed. Tony grinned.
"One step ahead of you." He pulled out a walkie talkie. "Rhodey carries one of these everywhere, so I can radio him. As does Bruce; I told Rhodey to return his to him when we met at the alleyway."
Steve wanted to kiss Tony, as he had just saved them a huge amount of time, and probably their lives. If they stayed in the compound for too long, they'd no doubt be caught and killed.
"Rhodey, Bruce, meet me in West Avenue, in the holly bush against the wall. We've cut a hole and are waiting for you guys. Where are you?" Tony sent a message into the walkie, and a few seconds later, Rhodey responded.
"Pepper and I are on route, we're turning into West Avenue now. We saw Pietro and Bruce a few streets back." Rhodey and Pepper joined them, squatting in the leaves, a few moments later. Tony's heart felt ready to explode out of his chest as he awaited news on the other two.
"We're on West street," Pietro's voice was music to their ears. "Bruce isn't talking, his throat hurts."
Within a few long, long moments, Pietro and Bruce joined the four, and they began dispatching through the hole, Tony and Steve sharing a relieved hug once they had all exited. A few empty streets, passed through at full sprinting speed later, the group was running up the grass plains, all lights out, and the shadows of the very early morning concealing any silhouettes they produced.
The group ran over the bridge, admittedly one by one, and up to the house, where the lights were on, but the air was still.
Pietro swung around the door, running at hyperspeed, and froze at what he saw.
Natasha, Clint, Wanda and Sam all cowered in a corner, Clint holding a kitchen knife with the blade openly on display.
Crouching at the open kitchen window, the one that they were all cowering from, was a hulking black figure.
It was like Wanda had described, only more terrifying, especially silent with an undetectable gaze.
The person appeared to have talons, and the catlike ears Wanda had described. It's, or their, presence was blood-curdling to say the least, like looking at a rabid dog, eerie and silent as it decides how it is going to tear the life from you.
Slowly, acknowledging the presence of the full house now, the person, whose now defined figure proved male, placed one foot onto the floor, the curved black claws on his toes making a spine-chattering clack on the floorboards. Soon, the other foot followed, and the figure rose to his feet, standing at easily the same height as Steve.
There appeared to be a stalemate.