Chapter 28:
[Spartan POV]
[1 week later, AVENGERS HQ, New York City]
[Mission-room.] It's been a week since the disastrous mission in Berlin, where CERBERUS launched a devastating attack. Amidst the chaos and tragedy, I managed to retrieve Bucky, currently undergoing treatment at a SHIELD psychological center. The team remains hopeful that, with time, Bucky will recover from the ordeal. However, the weight of the casualties rests heavily on my shoulders. I can't help but blame myself for the lives lost. The guilt gnaws at me, knowing that I couldn't save everyone. Each day, I am consumed by an unwavering pursuit to find CERBERUS, the organization responsible for this senseless violence.
Rest has become a luxury I rarely indulge in. The relentless drive to bring justice and dismantle CERBERUS occupies my every thought. Sleepless nights are now the norm as I pour over leads, intel, and any scrap of information that could bring me closer to them. My determination fuels me but also affects my physical and mental well-being.
As Bucky receives the care he needs, I'm grateful for that small glimmer of hope. But I can't shake the feeling that I let my team down, that I failed to protect them. The loss we suffered on that fateful day haunts me, driving me forward with an unyielding sense of responsibility. Deep down, I need to find a balance—a way to reconcile my guilt and the relentless pursuit of justice. It's a difficult path to navigate, but I have the support of my team, who remind me of the importance of self-care and healing. They understand my weight and stand by me, ready to help me shoulder the burden. I long for the day when I can bring CERBERUS to justice, not only for the sake of the fallen but also to find some semblance of peace within myself.
As I sit there, consumed by my thoughts and the weight of my mission, a sudden flash on one of the monitors breaks my focus. A high-priority SHIELD operation demands my attention. With a sense of urgency, I lean forward and study the information on the screen. Every detail is crucial, and I absorb it all, committing it to memory.
Turning my gaze to the team, I know we can't afford to waste a single moment. I raise my voice, "We're up. Get ready." The room springs into action, and I can feel the energy shift as everyone straightens up and begins preparing their equipment. There's a sense of purpose in the air, a collective understanding that the time for rest or self-doubt is momentarily suspended. We have a job to do, a mission that demands our full focus and unwavering commitment. Each member of the team knows their role and swiftly moves to gather their gear. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation and a touch of adrenaline. We've faced adversity before, and we come together in these high-pressure moments, relying on our training and camaraderie to push through.
As the team readies themselves, I take a final glance at the monitor, etching the mission details into my mind. Pursuing justice for those we lost and the need to dismantle CERBERUS fuels my resolve. We may be battle-weary, but we are a force to be reckoned with. With each member prepared, we exchange nods of assurance and make our way to the mission briefing room. The weight of our past experiences and the casualties we carry will accompany us, but in this critical moment, our focus is solely on the operation at hand. The mission calls, and we answer, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
[Spartan POV]
[Javits Center, New York City]
[Quinjet.] As we soar through the night sky, the falling snowflakes create a serene backdrop against the window. Winter has never been my favorite season; its initial charm quickly fades, giving way to slush and messiness. I gaze out, lost in thought, until Cap's voice breaks the silence, commanding our attention. "Alright, people, listen up. The Javits Center is under siege by a group of armed terrorists," he informs us, his voice firm, "They have taken 30 hostages, and local law enforcement has been unable to neutralize the threat. It's up to us now."
I load a fresh magazine into my assault rifle, preparing for the mission ahead. Beside me, Karai does the same, a hint of improvement visible since last week, though a shadow of sadness still lingers. I had suggested she seek therapy, but she refused. "I've got your back," I assure my best friend, needing her to understand that she's not alone and that I'll be there to support her. Karai's eyes meet mine, and for a brief moment, we exchange a silent understanding. She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thanks, Spartan. Let's focus on the op," she replies, racking the slide of her weapon. 'Huh, she just used my own words on me. It's interesting to be on the receiving end.'
[Rooftop.] The Quinjet lands on a neighboring rooftop, bringing us closer to the Javits Center. Once on-site, Cap directs Falcon to send out Red Wing for reconnaissance. The aerial drone reports back, confirming the presence of 20 enemy combatants inside the building. After assessing their tactics and layout, Cap concludes that stealth won't be an option once we're inside. "Shock and awe," he declares, his gaze shifting to me, Karai, and Hawkeye, "The three of you take care of the sentries patrolling on the roof." We nod in unison, ready to carry out our assigned task.
Using my grappling hook, I hoist myself onto the roof of the Javits Center. Sentry-1 walks by, completely oblivious to my presence. With a swift strike, I render him unconscious. "Sentry-1 down," I report over the comlink. On the other end of the roof, Karai swiftly takes down Sentry-2 with a reverse headlock-throw, followed by a bulldog choke hold to incapacitate him. Hawkeye eliminates the remaining sentry with a well-placed electric arrow. Staying alert, Karai and I prepare to make our entry.
[Inside.] The situation inside the Javits Center is tense and tightly secured. These terrorists are well-prepared and organized. Every possible exit is guarded and rigged with traps. "I've located the hostages. They're in the basement level," Karai informs us, her heads-up display providing valuable information. Cap instructs Karai and me to hold our position until he signals to strike. I mark the enemy positions on my own display, highlighting them for the team's benefit. As a controlled explosion creates a massive breach in the south wall, Karai and I swiftly toss two flash grenades. In perfect synchronization, our team storms into the center.
AR at the ready, Karai and I eliminate four mercs with precision shots. Cap charges forward, his shield serving as both offense and defense, as he takes down an entire squad. Natasha displays her remarkable agility, darting through the chaos and evading incoming bullets with grace. She swiftly incapacitates the enemies with acrobatic kicks and well-placed strikes. One terrorist makes a desperate dash toward a nearby crate, unveiling a menacing minigun.
Bullets rain across the center, prompting the entire team to seek cover. I draw the gunner's attention, causing him to focus his fire on me. With his back turned, Karai attempts to shoot him, but his thick body armor protects him. Cap signals Karai, Natasha, and me to keep the man distracted while he flanks him. In perfect coordination, the three of us relentlessly fire on the armored adversary, drawing his full attention. Cap moves in swiftly, leaping into the air, and delivers a powerful shield strike to the man's head, rendering him unconscious. Once the area is secured, SHIELD and the NYPD move in to safely extract the hostages. "Good work, everyone," Cap comments, his voice filled with pride, "Today, you saved many lives."
[Natasha Romanov POV]
[1 Week Later, Nexus, New York City]
The team needed a night out, especially Steve. He had been tirelessly searching for CERBERUS, leaving little time for rest or respite. Convincing him to take a break was no easy task, but eventually, he relented. Karai programmed his OPSAT to alert him if there was any credible lead, easing his mind even in moments of leisure.
For me, it's not exactly my preferred way to unwind, but occasionally, it's nice to step away from the confines of headquarters and just have a good time. I find myself standing at the bar amidst the bustling crowd, waiting for our non-alcoholic drinks. Being a BIO-ENHANCED super-soldier comes with its drawbacks, and one of them is the inability to get drunk. It's a small price to pay, but there are moments when I miss the carefree abandon that comes with indulging in a drink or two.
My gaze flickers towards Steve, who sits at the table with Sam Wilson, quietly sipping on his club soda. I can't help but notice the lustful glances and whispers from a few women in the club directed toward the two Avengers. It's ironic how they claim that only men can act like pigs, yet here are these women, unabashedly flirting and making sexual comments. A twinge of jealousy manages to creep into my thoughts, catching me off guard.
At first, I dismissed the attraction I felt towards Steve as a passing phase, something that would eventually fade away with time. But the more time I spent with him, the more I found myself drawn to him. It wasn't just physical desire; it was a genuine curiosity to know the man behind the mask, the person beneath the title of Captain America. I wanted to unravel the layers of Steve Rogers and truly understand him.
Finally, the bartender brings my drink, and without thinking, I gulp it down like a shot. I chide myself internally for acting so uncharacteristically shy and childish. Before I can gather my thoughts, a voice interrupts my musings. It's the bartender offering the rest of my drinks. I realized that I had completely zoned out, lost in my own thoughts. If I were still part of the Widows, such a momentary lapse would have severe consequences. I nod in thanks, unable to trust my voice at the moment and take the tray of drinks.
Returning to Sam and Steve, I make a decision. I can't wait for Steve to make the first move; I know he never will. It falls on me to take a chance, to seize the opportunity that lies before us. Because if there's one thing I've learned about Steve, it's that he needs someone who will match his unwavering determination and offer support when he needs it most. And maybe, just maybe, I can be that person for him.
[Steve Rogers POV]
"Enjoying yourself," I ask Sam. He glances around the surroundings, taking in the sights, "The girls leave very little to the imagination nowadays, not that I'm complaining." "Of course, you wouldn't," I remark, smirking. As he was admiring the view, I stole a glance at Natasha. This time she catches me and gives me a wave. I return it. Part of me is hoping the poor lighting in this place can hide my blush. "Man, you should just ask her out," Sam says, noticing my expression. I drop my shoulders, "Really that obvious, huh."
"Painfully so," he remarks, "What's the deal, Steve? You clearly have a thing for the girl, so what's stopping you?" "I don't want to potentially ruin our friendship or the team dynamic," I tell him. Sam shoots me a dubious expression, "That's a lame excuse. Everyone on the team knows how to keep their personal affairs in check. Seems more like you feel you're betraying Peggy."
Maybe there's some truth to that. Peggy was the only woman I had ever been with, loved even. She was among the few people who saw me for me and believed in me. A small part of me still holds a flame for a love that will never come. 'Move on, old man. Move on. Let her go.' "Steve, you know she would've wanted you to live your life, to move on. She did. Move forward, never back," Sam says. "Yeah, you're right," I say, feeling slightly better.
Two ladies walk over to our table. The four of us start to talk. As the conversation continues, the two women become uncomfortably flirtatious. Despite their attractiveness, it's obvious their personalities leave a lot to be desired. Natasha strolls over. She passes the two girls and reaches out a hand, "Let's go dance." From the corner of my eye, Sam urges me to go. I stand, "Sure. I would like that very much." The two women shoot daggers at Natasha as we move to the dance floor, but they're ignored. "Thanks," I whisper to her. She beams a smile, "You looked like you needed rescue." "My hero," I remark with a laugh. We reach the dance floor, and Natasha turns to face me. 'Oh, she was serious about the dance.'
"I don't really know how to dance," I state, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. Natasha shrugs her shoulders, "Just go with the flow of the music. It's easy. At least that's what I always do." We take each other in our hands and start swaying, going with the flow of the music. As we danced, Natasha gazed up at me, her eyes locked with mine, "I have a confession to make. It is something I wanted to say for quite a while now. During the time we spent together, I developed strong feelings for you. If you don't feel the same, that's fine. I just need to get it out in the open." For a long moment, I didn't know what to say. I didn't have any experience with this. Yet, despite that, I'm ecstatic at what she confessed to me. Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I open my mouth to speak. "Natasha, I feel the same way. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't work up the courage," I tell her. Natasha beams a bright smile, taking my hands in hers, "Well, now it's out. All there is left to do is see where this path takes us." I nod in agreement.
[Spartan POV]
[AVENGERS HQ, New York City]
[Gym.] Wanda throws a powerful right hook; I swiftly block the strike and transition into a collar tie, sweeping her off balance and onto the mat. She quickly recovers and counters with a leg sweep, causing me to lose my footing and fall to the side. Wanda follows up with a capoeira-style downward kick, but I manage to roll out of harm's way and effortlessly kip up to my feet. Undeterred, Wanda unleashes a combination of punches, but I deftly evade the first swing, lean back to avoid the second, and successfully block the last attack. However, she catches me off guard with a well-placed push kick to the gut, momentarily staggering me. Wanda explosively launches herself into the air, landing a powerful jump elbow strike to my jaw. Before she can launch another assault, I counter with an arm-triangle choke, swiftly bringing the sparring match to an end. Retrieving a bottle of water, I offer it to Wanda.
"Well, that was quite the workout," she remarks, accepting the bottle. I grin, feeling the aftermath of the intense session, including a busted lip that quickly begins to heal. "You got me good with that elbow strike," I admit, noting the mark left by her blow. Wanda's face fills with concern, and she immediately apologizes, but I assure her that it's nothing to worry about. Nevertheless, she inspects my lip, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on it. "How's that?" she asks, her voice dripping with a seductive tone. Playing along, I smirk and respond, "Well, I'm still a little tender here and there. I think I'll need some special care." Wanda purrs in response, and we share a passionate kiss, our energies intertwining.
[New York City]
Hand in hand, Wanda and I stroll through the bustling streets of New York City, enjoying our first official date together. She gazes around, marveling at the vibrant cityscape. "This city is truly amazing," she remarks, captivated by the sights. I nod in agreement, realizing how far we've come since the Battle of New York nearly a year ago. Things are gradually returning to normal, although certain areas, like Hell's Kitchen, are still grappling with a high crime rate. Almost as if on cue, we overhear a nearby conversation discussing the enigmatic vigilante Daredevil, who has become a symbol of hope in the neighborhood. Wanda smiles and turns to me, acknowledging his growing popularity. "Seems like the vigilante has quite a fan base," she observes. I nod, "Indeed. And he's not the only one. There are other heroes emerging as well. The Harlem hero, the masked individual with glowing hands in Chinatown, the Spiderling in Queens—those are just a few we know of." Wanda raises an eyebrow, curious. "You've been keeping tabs on these heroes?" she asks. I shrug nonchalantly, "More or less."
As we continue exploring the city, I have an idea. Stepping in front of Wanda, I take her hand and lead her toward the end of the block where my motorcycle is parked. I mount the bike, and Wanda gracefully hops on behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her laughter fills the air as we speed down the street, and I steal glances back at her, unable to contain my own grin. I pat myself on the back for coming up with this idea; she deserves to have more fun and adventure in her life. Revving the engine, we speed off to our next destination, stopping at the heart of New York City.
[Central Park, New York City]
The snow from the previous day still blankets the park, creating a picturesque scene. Walking side by side, Wanda takes in the wintry landscape. "It feels like stepping into a different world," she muses, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia, "It reminds me of Sokovia during the winter before everything went so wrong." I follow closely, my hands in my pockets, captivated by Wanda's joy as she twirls around, fully embracing the magical atmosphere. Feeling a lightness in my heart that I haven't experienced in a long time, Wanda wraps her arms around mine and places a tender kiss on my cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, expressing her gratitude for the beautiful moment we're sharing.
[Steve Rogers POV]
[1 Day Later, AVENGERS, New York City]
[Room.] As I lay in bed last night, sleep eluded me, but it wasn't the familiar torment of anxiety or the haunting visions that kept me awake this time. No, it was a different sensation altogether. An electric surge of excitement pulsated through my veins, rendering rest impossible. The anticipation of what lay ahead had me unable to settle. The prospect of forging new dynamics with Natasha Romanov filled me with a sense of exhilaration that I hadn't experienced in a long while.
A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips, betraying the bubbling enthusiasm within me. It's moments like these that make me reflect on how vastly my life has transformed since the days when I made the choice to join the army. Back then, I couldn't have fathomed the extraordinary path that awaited me—a path interwoven with astonishing comrades, astounding abilities, and incredible adventures.
The simplicity of my previous existence has given way to a whirlwind of exhilarating experiences, each one propelling me further into this marvelous and unpredictable journey. Life, it seems, has an uncanny way of transforming in the blink of an eye, unfolding into a fantastical odyssey beyond anything I could have ever imagined. And here I stand, on the cusp of another thrilling chapter, ready to embrace the unknown.
[Spartan POV]
[New York City]
Patrolling the city, EPYON tags a 9-1-1 call, reporting a violent shootout. Without hesitation, I swiftly maneuver my way through the bustling streets, guided by the grapple-line toward the designated waypoint. [Rooftop.] Arriving at the scene, perched atop a nearby rooftop, I take in the chaotic scene unfolding below. Police cars and emergency vehicles flood the street, their flashing lights illuminating the darkness. It's evident that a notorious mob gang has been ruthlessly targeted, their club now a grim canvas painted with bullet holes. The sheer brutality of it all hits me—there are no survivors. This massacre marks the latest chapter in the ongoing saga of gang violence plaguing the city.
As I survey the scene, my attention is drawn to a neighboring rooftop, where I spot Daredevil silently observing the aftermath. My instincts compel me to join him, to seek insight from the masked guardian of Hell's Kitchen. Making my way towards him, I crouch down next to him. Whispering in hushed tones, I inquire, "Any ideas on who might be behind this ruthless attack, wiping out the gang?" Daredevil lets out a weary sigh, his masked face betraying the weight of the situation, "No, but the tactics and weaponry used suggest a skilled and well-equipped force. These are bona fide killers. It's reminiscent of what happened to the Dogs-Of-Hell just a few days ago."
Taking in the information, I nod, grateful for the valuable intel. I turn my head, my eyes locked on the masked defender of Hell's Kitchen as he continues to enlighten me. "These new players are systematically striking against various gang organizations, eliminating them one by one. It's clear that this is the start of a full-blown gang war, with the intention of seizing control and expanding their territories." I absorb Daredevil's words. A new and formidable threat has emerged, a force that not only possesses deadly skill but also the resources to orchestrate a calculated campaign of violence. Together, we witness the unfolding chaos, realizing that our task as city protectors has become even more arduous.