Surveying a digital map of the layout of Novi Grad, the team grouped around the display near the front of the quinjet, JARVIS autopiloting it to their destination. Sokovia, an Eastern European country, was nestled in the Carpathian mountains. Expanding down into a valley, the country was squarely set between Romania, Hungary, and Ukraine. It had broken away from all three nations at some point in the early nineties, but had recently started asserting itself, subsequent riots and political hand-changing making the news over the last few years. Currently, though, it housed more than a disquieted populace and an ineffective government.
An abandoned military base, left over from the second world war, had been purchased and inhabited in the last eighteen months. Since money was sorely needed, the government had no qualms selling it, no matter whom the highest bidder was. It was the most likely location of a base for the illicit organization: three foot thick walls that stretched high enough to keep people out—or in, depending on the viewpoint—with a marked upsurge in electrical output, with building schematics from a survey done in the seventies showing deep passageways and cells. Little did the Sokovians know it was in the care of HYDRA, under the control of a man of horrible stature and vision. Any and all operations within the structure were secret, and therefore nobody in the surrounding city had any information to contribute to the files forwarded to the Avengers' database. But, much like Baron von Strucker, the team had not been idle. There was more than enough compiled evidence over the last year from other bases they'd taken and destroyed to charge him with heinous crimes and to shut down the organization for good. First, however, they had to breach the fortress he'd created, expose him and his crew what he truly was, to the populace.
The building itself was built into the mountain, surrounded by dank forest and snowy terrain (that spring was a particularly cold one, JARVIS had noted, and as such snow had fallen the evening before). The ground would be wet, hard, and at times rocky, but they could work around that. The captain's eyes flicked over the map, extending a hand to point at a region to the right. An outcropping, a break in the treeline that would allow for a craft the size of the quinjet to land, was there, close enough to reach the fortress in good time and yet far enough away so they would not be spotted immediately.
"We should land in the woods, here," he said, with Tony murmuring quietly to JARVIS to alter the course as suggested. He swept his hand over the layout, jabbing at the outlined building, the fingerless gauntlet on him highlighting the movement. "We'll infiltrate from the east, eliminating any and all enemies that choose to attack."
"Odds are there will be plenty of foot soldiers working the perimeter," Barton interjected, taking the time to open his pack and retrieve several arrowheads. As he loaded them into the rotating end of his quiver, he missed Natasha's concurring nod.
Steve grimaced. "Hopefully, we'll get the jump on them, and then cut off Strucker and List before they can escape. If they haven't moved the scepter—"
"And if they have?" Bruce asked suddenly, perching in a seat, his dark eyes looking over everything, committing it to memory. If he turned...when he turned...he wanted to at least have that to draw on so he wouldn't become lost in his rage.
The doctor had raised a valid point, one that none of them were willing to acknowledge until then. For so long, they had been searching for the scepter. For so long, it had been a tool exploited by the wrong people, held beyond the reach of the right. It was one of the things SHIELD had unfortunately packed away and overlooked, and with its fall, it was lost. It was not of the earth, and brought irreparable damage the longer it stayed. For the good of everyone, it needed to be found, taken away. But if it was gone, taken away and hidden once again...the thought rankled. Thor in particular found it distasteful, his lips drawn into a deep frown and his gaze turning stormy. Steve and Tony shared a glance, no words exchanged, but their thoughts running on a similar line (for once).
"Same drill as before," Steve told him, a sour taste in his mouth at the idea of possible loss. "Mine any data, take anyone who surrenders into custody, and then try to pinpoint the next target. Like we've been doing for the last several months. But if it's still there..."
If it was still there, they would take it back. Thor could remove it, Loki's last remnant on the world, and place it where it could do no damage. It would break HYDRA once and for all, remove future alien threat by not having there to beckon them to the earth. It would end everything. The mission would finally be over. None of them needed to be reminded of that.
The quinjet started its descent a little over an hour after the discussion, the craft guided smoothly as Clint took over from JARVIS and settling down in the outcropping as directed. The team, kitted out in their uniforms and armed to the teeth with their weapons of choice, waited on the edge. The platform opened, all but Banner perched and ready. He would follow behind, discreetly, and if a code green was necessary, he would "suit up" as well, but for the moment he would trail and watch. Slipping on his helmet, Captain America glanced out the corner of his eye, viewing Barton shake out the sleeves of his overcoat, and Black Widow's charging lines along her suit lit up bright blue. The tinny click of Tony's feet as he maneuvered behind him rang in his ears, through the earpiece tucked inside, and Mjolnir whistled slightly as Thor adjusted his grip.
It was time. Time to end this.
Gesturing to the trees, Steve took the first step forward. "Let's move out."
xXxXxXx
The outpost was silent, the barren path that served as a road littered with nothing but pine needles and snow. For the soldiers commanded to be there, it was nothing short of boring. Everything that happened, happened in the fortress itself. However, everyone had to do rounds, be dispatched now and again to guard the outskirts of the property. It was too dangerous to leave it unattended, particularly for their organization. Risking discovery now would be disastrous, and they could not afford to take chances.
Still, the few there could not help but sigh impatiently, checking timepieces in their Jeeps and in the outpost building, waiting for a call to return to the base. It was nearly; they were ready to break for some food and to warm up. The April air was chilling, even through their heavy uniforms. One man, a lieutenant, was busy looking over his motorcycle in between rounds, hoping the inclement weather would hold off long enough to allow spring to actually gain a foothold and give him the chance to better utilize the vehicle.
Clouds were rolling in, blotting out the sun and drawing muttered curses from the others. The shadows darkened slightly, moved...Moved? Squinting, the lieutenant focused on the treeline ahead, noticing something flitting to and fro in the shade of the canopy, a muted crunch reaching his ears. Staring harder, he caught the outline of something—someone—darting between the trunks, the shape of a man.
"Vas ist...?" he mumbled, taking another step forward. A blast suddenly pelted the ground at his feet, sending him flying backward in shock. A streak of red and gold whizzed over him, the whine of shots arcing and hitting the other soldiers as they ducked and ran for cover. Clanging sounds echoed; as he rose up sharply, he could see a streaming cape of crimson and a current of electricity stunning a group who was returning from the outer perimeter. Followed swiftly by three others, two were blurs in black while the last was bedecked in armor of deep blue, red and white on his torso and a star at the center of his chest. No doubt was left in the lieutenant's mind as to the identity of the attackers when the final man flung his shield towards him, something he narrowly avoided and rolled out of the way of.
"The Avengers," the lieutenant breathed, horror rising in the pit of his stomach. Turning and dashing to the outpost building, he jabbed at the unfortunate soldier within, shaking him out of his stupor. "Call the base, now! Everyone, out!"
Belatedly remembering the gun hooked via strap over his shoulder, the man jumped out of the building, the call made in a desperate voice as he lifted the gun to his shoulder and began to take aim. The stock pressed firmly into him, he began to pepper the air with bullets, shooting straight at the grounded members of the enemy. Pings of metal hitting metal rang through the air, ricocheting away from the captain, but forcing the archer and the Black Widow to scatter for shelter. Confident in his attack, the remaining soldiers of his outfit began to follow his example. The clamor rose as they starting aiming into the air, driving back the two that were able to achieve forms of flight.
That is, until a great roar in the distance made them pause in their efforts.
"Oh, no," one groaned, a great green blur exploding from the thicket, gnashing teeth and meeting them full force.
xXxXxXx
The alarm rang through the facility, the announcement delivered in a wavering voice as the remaining staff inside the base were alerted to the sudden presence of the Avengers. Wanda, who was waiting on Doctor List to perform yet another examination on her, raced away, finding her brother in an alcove, staring into the command center, his eyes dark and hooded. Rooting beside him, her gaze traveled to the surveillance displays, watching in silence as the swirl of nervous activity surged around them.
A camera on the eastern side showed one of the issued Jeeps, stolen now, rapidly tearing up the service road, coming up and cresting hills at an startling rate. Pulsing lights streaked around them as they disappeared off camera, red and gold followed by a streak of blue on a motorcycle. The camera was shaking as something trundled past it, a giant hand reaching into frame and crushing the lens violently as the feed went dead.
It was true. They had come. In spite of herself, Wanda began to tremble, her hand linking with Pietro's as they looked on. Their time had come, it seemed.
Strucker arrived then, clattering into the room and demanding to know which person had made the blatant announcement. Determining to have his troops concentrate on the weaker ones in the hope of stalling them, making them close up on one spot, he issued the order. The soldiers flew around, rushing to battle stations and tanks, desperate to stop the onslaught before they made it too close to the interior. List had arrived then, after searching fruitlessly for Wanda for a few moments before finding his commanding officer. His white coat did not mask the shake of his legs, his hands linked behind his back to still them. The baron bent his head, light reflecting off his installed monocle from the high window. Using the milling fear and shouts as a shield, they conducted a private conversation, one that Wanda and Pietro were close enough to listen in on. Curiously, they glimpsed one another, breath bated as they waited for the baron's pronouncement.
"The Maximoffs could do it," List recommended, his eyes bright at the prospect of the two proteges finally engaging in battle. However, Strucker gave him a dark look, quelling his excitement.
"Not yet, not now."
A cold, sick feeling sprang into Wanda's gut, her face a portrait of disbelief. It was one thing to understand the possibility of Strucker's distrust in their abilities; it was another to hear it confirmed. List's weak protests could not sway his mind, as she knew they wouldn't, her lips pressing into a thin line. Months and months of training, of agonizing experiments, of blood and tears and terror one day to the next, and they weren't ready? How could he say such a thing?! Glancing at Pietro's she noted his expression mirrored her inner feelings perfectly. However, he said nothing, did not raise so much as a word of protest. His hand went to her elbow, drawing her back and out of the room with him.
"Our chance, sister," he whispered to her, bringing her along as they shuffled down a set of stone steps. Pietro was going low into the fortress, towards the unused tunnel that led to the outer bunkers. The set of his jaw, the gleam in his eyes, told her all she needed to know of what he planned to do. "No matter what he says or orders."
Her words thrown back at her, she nodded, determined to keep her side of the promise. Clasping his hand hard for a second, she pulled away from his grasp. The time had come, for their revenge, to go home. And they would do so without Strucker's aid, the aid he had all but swore he would give them, so long as they did his bidding first. No more of that.
"I'll be back," Pietro told her.
Wanda nodded once more. "Go, now."
As he vanished into the darkness, she turned her attention to the floor above her, sensing the souls on the other side. Escaping the fortress would not be simple, but it was doable. Red mist swirled about her fingers as they twisted, and her eyes glowed an unearthly scarlet.
xXxXxXx
Up until that point, Clint had thought the fight was going somewhat well. Better than some, worse than others, but still manageable. Along the road, they'd had to abandoned their stolen ride, he and Natasha, leaping into battle with their comrades over a blockade, the captain rising up on his stolen motorcycle and jumping over it as well. The others literally flew over it, the Hulk on a rampage while Tony's repulsors rocked around their foes. And Thor, well, he was driving forward, his purpose and intent clear as he went. Stark's cursing aside (boy, Steve would never hear the end of his reprimanding slip once this was over), there was little to distract from the fight, and he was glad for the focus. The detachment of the Iron Legion soared overhead, straight to their objective in protecting the citizens, barely registered as he ducked between trees, avoiding sprays of dirt and plying his trade well. As his arrows flew, he felt razor-sharp, his aim true and a sense of accomplishment beginning to flow through him. His friends were holding their own, even with heavy attacks and fire. All told, it wasn't so bad.
That feeling didn't last long.
When he spotted the camouflaged bunker unearthing itself from the snow and dirt, he was certain that one of his detonator arrows would be enough to disable it. From the shelter of the tree trunk, he waited, the lack of explosive noises jarring him. A dud, he'd thought at the time, a dud arrowhead. Stringing up another, he never saw it coming.
Never saw him coming. That kid...smug smirk, eyebrow cocked as he sauntered by, silver hair falling along his brow as he taunted him. All tight energy, all fire in his gaze, that all went into disorienting him, forcing him to the ground. In a flash, he was gone, well before Hawkeye could even think to notch another arrow, to even speak. And in a flash, pain ripped through Barton's side, white-hot fire burning through his suit as he fell to the ground. Distantly, he heard Nat call his name, felt her press a pocketed bandage to his wound as she groused about the bunker. Not able to help himself, Clint wheezed as the pain dug deeper, muscles and skin frying with the nerves. Attempting to stand, Natasha planted her palm firmly against his shoulder, forcing him to stay put.
"Damn punk..." he growled, wincing and groaning again as she withdrew a small bottle of antiseptic from a pouch on her hip, pouring some of it onto the wound. The chatter in his earpiece went unattended by him, Cap's assent to join Stark in the facility in the search for the scepter not enough to distract him from the pain. That kid...enhanced...hurt...
It wasn't part of the plan. It shouldn't have happened, and he was mighty angry with himself for letting some jerk like that young man destroy his focus in such short order. Weakly, he pushed against Nat's arm, muttering for her to stop, to go away and keep fighting. She refused to heed his demands, stepping away only when a crunch of boots forced her to her feet, running through the frost.
"It will be alright, Barton," a rumbling voice cut into his thoughts, an arm encircling his shoulders and hoisting him up off the ground. As the other steadied him, Clint let out a sharp breath, hand immediately pressing against the cloth on his torn side. Moaning, he shook his head as Thor began to walk him away from where he'd fallen to a more open spot in the tree canopy.
"Shouldn't be here," he grumbled, hissing as they went. The god should have been with Natasha, apprehending the remainder of the conquered stragglers. Local authorities had been called in, and they would need help getting them loaded up and hauled away. Taking time out for him was not necessary. "Go, I can handle..."
Thor shook his head, beginning to swirl his hammer and sending shocking reverberations through his body, shaking the archer. "My friend, it has already been decided. Come, now."
Not left with much of a choice, Clint hollered as they rocketed through the air, the pull on his body agitating the wound even more so than before. In a short amount of time, they'd made it back to the quinjet, Thor's other arm slinging behind his knees and sweeping him up. God, he hated traveling Thor's way. God, he hated how weak this all made him feel. Pressing a button along the wall, a thin stretcher sprang from within, and Thor assisted him in the removal of his overcoat, divesting him of his quiver quickly after settling him atop it. He pushed the archer to the center of the jet, two of the side seats removed so that the stretcher could be attached and stabilized to the console there. Waving towards the end, Barton recalled that the healing supplies were down towards the end. With a little difficulty, the god had located clean bandages, more antiseptic and other accoutrements as needed.
"Do me a favor, will ya?" he asked Thor as he started to replaced the soiled handkerchief with a proper dressing. As a seasoned warrior, the god had had plenty of experience binding wounds, and was a sight better at it than he. The god, surprisingly gentle as he peeled the blood-soaked cloth away, paused in his ministrations.
"Certainly."
"If this happens again, do me a solid and don't carry me anywhere bridal-style, okay?" Clint told him, grimacing as air hit the wound again. Struggling to keep his breath even, he went on, "It's weird."
The god snorted, nearly rolling his eyes. "And here I thought you would request that I not tell the others how much you screamed like a child on the way here. No matter."
Barton attempted a snicker. "Well, that too."
A moment passed, both of them chuckling a little at that. Seriousness flooded Barton's features, the pain beginning to subside as he was passed some painkillers. Swallowing them, he looked up into the bigger man's face, dipping his chin.
"I'm sorry."
Taking Thor away from that mission, even for a moment, was not something he'd wanted, and yet it had happened. It seemed liked ages that Thor had been searching for the scepter, and to have the chance ripped away...Barton felt like an ass. However, the god merely shook his head once more, standing tall as he began to assemble the pole needed for the IV drip.
"You've done nothing wrong," he murmured. Casting him one significant look, he continued with his task, muttering, "It would be more shameful to abandon a friend in need."
They could have left him, should have left him. Back in the day, when he was working for SHIELD, there were times when they'd had to leave someone behind in order to achieve the objective. No matter how broken, no matter how near to death and vulnerable, going back wasn't always an option. With this team, with these people, that would not happen. Clint could appreciate that, his head leaning back as he tempered his breathing further, lulling himself into a calm state.
xXxXxXx
The truck rumbled as she started it up, warming the engine as she tossed in the two travel bags they'd had to make due with for months. With the remaining HYDRA soldiers in the base either dead or injured, Wanda was able to secure hers and her brother's belongings, her shimmering mist driving anyone in her way back or into madness as she went. However, she could not just leave yet. She had to find Pietro, somewhere in the labyrinth of a building. Jogging up an outer stairwell, she followed along the twists and turns of the halls, silence filling them where discord had only minutes ago. The light fall of her feet broke it, filled her with unease as she hunted for her brother, ready to flee for freedom. Voices, a harsh cry, grated on her ears, and slowly she changed course, headed down a hall with little illumination.
"Looks like I found the top dog of HYDRA," a man said, his baritone voice strong and unyielding. She heard feet shuffle, a little closer, and she stopped in her tracks, heart thumping in her chest.
"Last I looked, I was employed by SHIELD," the baron replied, his tone slightly flippant. The other man, by the sound of his answer, wasn't about to be humored.
"Check again. SHIELD doesn't exist any longer," he responded sharply. Resuming her slow pace, she could see at the end of the hall, leading into a foyer. Strucker stood facing her direction, expression sobering and smoothing down his dark clothes. The other man was of a height with the baron, perhaps a little taller, a shield decorated with a star and red bands on his arm, causing her to recognize and remember who he was swiftly. His blond hair was mussed; the captain had removed and discarded his helmet. She smirked to herself; the Avenger would regret doing that. "Where did you hide the scepter?"
The smile was wiped from her face. The scepter? Did he not care what all else Strucker had done, what HYDRA was doing? Was that all they wanted, the tool that had warped her and her brother into shades of their former selves? She felt slightly vindicated when Strucker offered himself up, with the hope of being treated better through his cooperation, and the captain coldly informing him that experimenting on humans would not do much in that regard. She shook her head, chastising herself for forgetting how single-minded people could be. As ever, the Avengers had an agenda; everyone did. It was just unfortunate to have that proven right. Staring at Strucker, she calmly, carefully moved into the room, the anger and determination beneath the captain's cold exterior flowing off him in waves. No, there was more to it than that. HYDRA had done more than just hide the scepter, transform others...they had threatened someone. Someone he cared for, someone he loved, if she was reading him correctly, and threatened them recently. However, he was keeping a tight hold on that anger, and it was causing her to only see a haze of the facts in his mind. The sentiment would not sway her, though, no matter what. He was still Captain America. He did not deserve to be spared. None of the Avengers did.
Gathering strength, Wanda inhaled deeply, the red mist manifesting in her right palm as she came closer. With one strike, she sent the American toppling backward, head over heels down the staircase behind him. Strucker looked at her, a myriad of emotion in his face breaking the calm facade for a moment. In it all, she saw the briefest surge of hope. Sidestepping him, she glared at the baron as she left, barely avoiding tripping over the unconscious grunt on the floor. Backing through an open set of doors, she used her powers to slam them tightly and slide the bolt shut.
He was wrong to look to her for hope. Wanda Maximoff was friend to neither HYDRA nor Strucker, and now he finally knew. She would leave him to his fate, the fate of his own making.
The captain's voice filtered through the door, warning his team of her presence and to leave her be. Her eyes narrowed at the panels separating them. Good. He would not hope to survive another encounter unscathed, she mused, abruptly clattering down the hall behind her. Passing an open door, she spotted something tall and shiny standing, an arm extended out and sweeping left to right. Iron Man...or at least the armor. Stark was nearby. Wanda froze, unsure of what to do. She needed to find Pietro, needed to get them out of there before they were arrested or worse, but...her promise...
"Stark first," she whispered to herself, boldly stepping into the room. Flexing her fingers, the mist in her hand shot through the head of the armor, the eye slits of the mask dimming as the power was shut down. Temporarily, at least; she only did enough damage so that she could slip by without being noticed. A gaping hole was in the far wall, and she ignored the chirping computers to the side in favor of it. Another long descent, another long stairwell of stone, and she barely managed to repress a gasp. When they had moved from base to base, she knew that extensive cargo shipments followed them, bulky things that took up trucks and tanks and made the baron swear in pure rage when they were delayed, but she was never allowed to know the contents. Looking up at the massive creature, dead, suspended from large cables, she knew now. Something recovered from that battle three years ago, with the aliens...the metal bodies the scientists and researchers had been working on before jumping ship, they were all down here. And at the end of the room, she could see it, the object of so much torment and change: the scepter. Highlighted even in the low lamplight, it glowed, beckoning. Beckoning her...beckoning Tony Stark, who was taking hesitant steps towards it. Her face hardening, her wrists twisted, the aura strong around her as she traced behind him, silent as a shadow.
He called out to one of his teammates, enthused about his discovery, and his eyes were riveted to the object before him. The exuberant nature in him made him more susceptible to her power, open to the possibilities. He did not see her, did not hear her. She had the advantage, and would take it.
Beneath his smarmy exterior, she could practically smell the fear in his soul. It had burned his mind like a brand, never to be removed, never to be ignored. Fear...fear of losing everything...fear that everything he could lose would be his fault. That he was leading his friends and loved ones on a path of destruction, destruction that would leave them all open to death. All his fault, all his fault...
Wanda couldn't help the tiny grin that splayed across her lips as her fingers surrounded his head, pouring mist in one side and out the other. Stepping back, she slipped away, using the darkness to hide and to observe. Trapped in his own mind, Stark looked forward, helpless, lost in a nightmare fueled by the deepest, blackest parts of his soul. A whimper emanated from his mouth, tremors shooting down his body. His dark eyes were wide, his head and shoulders dipping down, bringing him to the floor. It only lasted for a few seconds, but to see the horror on his face, the terror in his eyes, it was enough for her for the moment.
Suddenly, he snapped up, breathing hard as he looked back, the leviathan hovering silently as it had been since he first entered the chamber. Looking forward again, he passed one hand over his brow, removing the sweat that had cropped up and and extending his hand out.
Another presence surfaced behind her, but she did not panic. Rather, Wanda preempted him from taking a step further, one hand raised and her eyes still glued to Stark. Pietro had found her, the tunnel entrance actually an off-shoot of the hidden chamber. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she saw the question surface in his eyes, unspoken. Her hand lowered, his gaze becoming just as riveted as hers as they watched Stark move. Circling the scepter, the older man had a grim set to his jaw, strength returning to his step.
"You can't just let him do that," Pietro crowed, a bit of a reprimand in his voice. They had made a promise to end Stark, and Wanda was willing to let him walk away? An armored gauntlet flew through the air, the suit most likely powered back on shortly after she had followed the older man down. It landed, spreading mechanically over Stark's arm, giving him the wherewithal to snatch the scepter up from its suspended case, out of the magnetized strips holding it upright.
Looking sideways at her, Pietro was slightly alarmed at the sudden, mad smile stretching Wanda's mouth, the fierce glint in her gaze.
Yes, she had made a pact with her brother. They would finish Tony Stark...and she would do it from the inside. She would let him ruin himself. Pivoting on her heel, she seized her brother's wrist, forcing him to follow. She had done her part. It was up to Tony to finish the work she'd started; she and Pietro would be waiting for it. For that to happen, though, they needed to leave.
"Let's go," she said, her brother following her light jog as they found another way out of the room, out to their freedom.
A/N: Yes, we have arrived my friends. Hello, Age of Ultron! And since we have arrived, I will say this from the outset. I am going to do my level best NOT to make this a word-for-word transcript of the movie (if you want to see that, please just watch it, then). However, that doesn't mean I'm going to not use some plot points from the movie...I'm disclaiming as not being mine. And as such, I have chosen to write the opening sequence from the movie from different perspectives. Namely, Wanda and Clint. We all know what happens, but I wanted to at least get into the minds of a couple of the ones who weren't totally the center of attention during that fight.
Sokovia's location is a guesstimate on my part. I could not find a fictionalized location for it other than "Eastern Europe", so I made one up for it.
No Holly in this chapter, save by the briefest of mentions (not by name), but she'll be back.
As always, I don't own anything from the MCU. I merely borrow...and make up character motivations as I go.
And because I've been asked, I want to clarify—Holly has known about and kept quiet about Bucky's protection for around a week and a half by this point. Not a month, or so it seemed I had indicated. I'm sorry for any confusion; I try to be as clear as I possibly can!
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one.