The air whipped outside the Quinjet as it tore through the midnight skies.
Charlotte gripped the controls, her knuckles white with tension as she soared toward the source of the attack. The roar of the engines drowned out the pounding of her heart as she focused on the task at hand.
"Agent Rossi, you're approaching the enemy aircraft. Be advised, they're heavily armed," a voice crackled through her comm system. "This is an unmarked, unregistered vessel, probably harboring illegal weapons units."
"Copy that," Charlotte responded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She adjusted the throttle, guiding the Quinjet with precision as she closed in on the target.
The enemy aircraft came into view, sleek and menacing against the dark backdrop of the sky. Charlotte's eyes narrowed in determination as she assessed the situation. She could see the weapon systems bristling on its hull, unleashing blast after blast at the base of the shield. The ship shook with the force of each blast, but remained steadily airborne. She remained in stealth mode, slowing her speed and stalking closer to the other craft, so close the force of their blasts reverberated through the Quinjet.
"Agent Rossi, you're clear to engage. Stay on target and watch your six," the voice in her ear instructed. "There's another bird out there, but they're flying above the radar."
Charlotte gritted her teeth, her focus sharpening as she maneuvered the Quinjet into position. She could feel the tension building in the silence over comms, the anticipation of the impending clash. The dozen or so agents who worked the night shift had joined those monitoring the team's mission in the control room, as she'd instructed Calla to orchestrate. They'd secured the main building, so in the event that Charlotte failed and the shields fell, they'd be safe. The team had been contacted and were racing back from their bogus mission on the other side of the world, thankfully not having flown into an ambush, but a distraction. She'd given herself a brief moment to thank God and Thor and anyone else who would listen for their lives, and then returned her attention to the job at hand. They might be unharmed, but they were still over an hour away even at the Quinjet's top speed. This was up to her.
With a deep breath, she engaged the Quinjet's weapons systems, locking onto the enemy aircraft with precision. The hum of energy filled the cockpit as she unleashed a barrage of firepower, the blasts streaking through the air toward their intended target.
She hit them dead on. Their ship rocked enough to stop their onslaught on the shield generator, turning their sights on her instead, or at least where they thought she was. Confirming stealth mode was still intact, she let another round rip before they could lock onto the Quinjet. The barrage of shots peppered their hull, smoke almost immediately coming out of their engine, but they remained airborne. The ship was different from the Quinjet, but boasted enough similarities to give Charlotte an idea. She furrowed her brow and ran through her first lesson in flying, merely two days ago. Running through everything Agent Rodriguez said about the makeup and manufacturing of a Quinjet, there was one thing in particular she was hunting for.
"The engine for the Quinjet model is actually in the center of the aircraft. For most fighter vessels, it's in the front of the jet, right in the nose. The original thought was that the front of the jet was least likely to be hit, because most attacks come from behind. We took that a step further and embedded the engine, literally, in the middle of the craft. It's only accessible, even for maintenance, from the inside. This not only gives it an extra layer of protection from any exterior attacks, but allows us to maintenance the Quinjet from the air, if necessary."
Bingo. With determination in her eyes, Charlotte pushed the Quinjet to its limits, flying beyond the safety of the shield's perimeter. She could hear the protests of the other agents on the comm, but she tuned them out, focusing solely on her objective.
Charlotte yanked on the controls, pulling the Quinjet sharply to the right, directly in front of their ship. Ignoring the panicked voice coming through her comm system, she locked her sights onto the nose of their ship, taking a gamble. Thumbs squeezing down on the top of the joysticks, she released two short range ballistics directly at them before pulling into a steep climb. She was speeding into the air, putting as much distance as possible between herself and - BOOM.
A massive explosion sent shockwaves through the air, jarring the Quinjet. It had worked. The screen showing her a visual from behind the aircraft showed nothing but plumes of smoke and fire billowing from where she'd hit their engines dead on.
"One aircraft down, Agent Rossi, nice shot!" The agent's smile was apparent through her ear, she could hear cheering and high-fives behind him in the control room. She fought back her own smile, relief washing through her.
"Oh shit, Agent Rossi, roll roll roll!" Exhilaration turned to panic in his voice, for reasons unbeknownst to Charlotte. She listened, pulling the jet into a tight and nauseating side roll maneuver, turning end over end and tumbling to the right. Not a second later, the second ship came tearing down through the air, soaring right through the spot she'd just been. They disappeared down into the smoke, but she knew enough to know she only had seconds before they'd be climbing back.
"Do we have a read on them?" She fought to keep her voice steady, an effort as she made herself think of every possible option. They could shoot from below, I should climb. No, if I climb, they'll just follow and shoot from behind and potentially damage the jet. I should follow them down. Best defense is a good offense, right? I think Bucky said that. Or was that Star Wars? She shook her head, forcing herself not to be distracted by the last movie night the team had before their mission. Pushing the controls forward, she steered the jet into a nosedive, taking another gamble for the evening. I've always loved a good bet. She thought to herself as her stomach began to flip.
"Anything on radar?" She grit her teeth against the nausea.
"They're just above the treeline, banking, and shit they're climbing, Charlotte you're on a collision co-" His voice was drowned out by the shrieking of metal on metal and the impact of the other aircraft colliding with the left wing of the Quinjet. Her gamble had been wrong. She'd bet on them going after their fallen ship, retrieving whatever was left of the team she'd just shot down. Wrong. She should have known these people weren't the sentimental type. They'd just been turning around to come right back for her, and with stealth mode and the smoke, they hadn't even known they were about to collide.
"Direct hit on the left wing! Enemy aircraft severely damaged but still operational," the voice relayed. "Stealth mode is down, as well as all ammunition on the left side. You have three jets still active, but navigation will be difficult down two thrusters."
"You could say that," Charlotte murmured, pulse quickening as she tried to regain control of the ship, spinning out of control. The other ship, barely visible through the smoke, appeared to be doing the same thing. The damage was more extensive on their hull, a massive fissure snaking through the windshield and heavy damage to the entire front of the ship. She wasn't sure how it didn't destroy the engine completely, but she chalked it up to bad luck and refocused herself, attempting to lock onto their location with her sights. It was proving to be even more difficult with the minimal control she had over the Quinjet.
"Fuck it," She squeezed down onto the triggers, sending a barrage of shots blindly ahead. Enough of them found the windshield to completely shatter it, but not before she clocked two things. First, the hatch at the top of the aircraft opening and ejecting the pilot into the smoke above. Second, the now-empty jet flying directly at her.
Her focus was suddenly shattered by the blaring alarms in her cockpit. She glanced at the monitor and her heart sank as she saw the shield generator's energy levels plummeting rapidly. There was a multi-ton aircraft gunning for her in a suicide mission, she had about 30% steering capacity and her shields were failing. Thirty percent would have to do. She yanked hard on the controls, pulling left with everything she had, relying on the remaining thrusters to move her. The Quinjet made a pitifully slow turn to the let, engines screaming. It was enough to get her out of the direct collision course, but only the cockpit. The other aircraft crashed into the side of her ship, effectively destroying the other jets.
"Charlotte!" Calla's voice called through the comm system, gutteral and panicked. She didn't have time to think, to plan, to assess. She only had time to suck in a labored breath and pray the harness around her chest kept her from being ejected as she Quinjet plummeted to the ground. She closed her eyes as the treeline rushed up to meet her, catching a glimpse as the jet tumbled end over end towards the ground. A small, tinny voice said, "Initiating impact minimization protocol."
First, she felt it in her chest. The feeling of freefalling suddenly being replaced by a bone-crushing impact. The loudest, most deafening noise she'd ever heard followed by haunting silence. Taking a breath felt like lifting a semi-truck off of herself.
"Agent Rossi?" The voice was cautious, but it was there. She heard it. She heard it. Charlotte wasn't well versed in religion, but she was pretty sure comm systems didn't reach to Heaven or Hell or wherever she was destined to go.
"Nhmm," She groaned, cracking an eye open. She was suspended by the harness around her chest, still somehow in her seat, dangling at an angle over the shattered glass of the cockpit. Limbs and greenery were visible below her. Attempting to look around, she felt something hold her head in place. She went to feel around for it, but realized something restrained her arms too. Opening both eyes, fighting the burning sensation from the smoke, she glanced down. Thick, neoprene straps had extended from the seat to bind her to it. One around her forehead, preventing her neck from snapping forward. Two around her shins, two around her wrists, all in addition to the criss-crossing straps across her chest. If it weren't for this maneuver, she'd likely be skewered on the branch jutting into the cockpit below her.
"Thank God, okay, you landed outside the shield but you aren't far. Both enemy aircraft are down, we'll send someone to come retrieve you."
"No," She grumbled, tasting blood in her mouth. Even the extensive impact protection hadn't been able to keep her from nearly biting through her lip.
"Pardon, Agent Rossi?"
"Don't come, s'not safe. Other pilot ejected, he's still alive."
"Agent Rossi, the shield took heavy fire, we're at critical levels," Calla's voice sounded in her ear, gentle but concerned. "We need to get out there and repair it in case of another attack."
Charlotte hesitated, weighing the risks in her mind. "Negative. S'too dangerous. I'll handle it," she responded firmly, spitting blood out below her.
"But Charlotte, you're—"
"I got it," Charlotte interrupted, her voice curt as she writhed against the straps. "Just tell me how to get out of this straight jacket."
The agent's reserved voice came back in her ear. "You have to instruct the jet to withdraw impact minimization protocol, but Agent Rossi, I'd advise you to be specific about only withdrawing one side at a time so you don't—"
"Withdraw impact minimization protocol," Charlotte grunted. Instantaneously, all the straps withdrew and she tumbled to the ground, landing with a crunch on limbs and broken glass.
"Okay," She climbed to her feet, grimacing as she cracked her neck. "I deserved that one,"
"You're about one hundred yards out from the edge of the shield. Your suit has our security coding embedded in it, so you should be able to pass right through. The generator is directly inside."
"Copy that," She kept her voice low as she knelt to crawl through the gap between the broken windshield and the ground.
As Charlotte emerged from the wreckage of her downed Quinjet, she took a moment to assess her surroundings. The night air was thick with tension, and the former sounds of battle had been replaced by a thick silence. Despite the bruises that blossomed across her ribs and the undoubted glass shards peppering her leg, Charlotte forced herself to push through the pain. With each step, she drew closer to the edge of the shield, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger.
Suddenly, she heard a rustling in the underbrush, and before she could react, her assailant lunged at her from the shadows. Instinct kicked in, and Charlotte deftly sidestepped his attack, countering with a swift strike to his midsection. He grunted and doubled over, taking a step of retreat before righting himself. She lowered herself in a defensive position, waiting for him to make a move. Eyes flicking down his body, she didn't see any weapons, to her shock. They must not have expected to encounter any close range combat, which made sense, considering they planned their entire attack in the dead of night after drawing out all the Avengers. Not so luckily for them, close range was her favorite.
Her opponent was dressed in an all-black flight suit, a mask extending over his mouth. He probably had about fifty pounds on her, but was slowed down by the cumbersome suit. Finally, he lunged at her with a heavy jab that she easily dodged. He advanced, throwing a series of punches that she danced around, retreating carefully but quickly through the brush. With each exchange, Charlotte analyzed her opponent's fighting style, committing his moves to memory with a keen eye. Just like always, it felt like a key in a lock. A few moments later, the predator became the prey. Her head snapped up from where she'd been watching his body and locked onto his face. He must have seen the bloodlust gleam in her eyes because his own widened. She kicked directly for his left side, one she'd noticed he was favoring. Sure enough, his arm was slow to raise and didn't block her in time. Her boot collided with the side of his face, sending it snapping to the right. Her momentum carried her in the same direction, where she planted her foot and sent her right elbow back into his jaw, snapping it back. Finishing it off with a knee right between his legs, he sucked in a breath before tumbling backwards onto the ground. She fidgeted with the various pouches on her utility belt, trying to remember where there was a set of nanotech cuffs that would keep him here while she repaired the shield. She wasn't above killing someone who'd likely had the same intentions for her, but she figured he might have useful information and she'd leave that for the others to determine when they got back.
The man on the ground in front of her grunted—no, chuckled. "Cut off one head, and two more will take it's place." He flicked a tooth loose and bit down. "Hail…Hydra." He choked out as foam began to fill his mouth.
Charlotte took a jarred step back, fumbling for footing. She had come face to face with a Hydra agent for the first time since escaping captivity. Bile rose up in her throat and she fought the urge to vomit, even as her shoulders began to tremble. She was vaguely aware of a voice ringing in her ear, but it sounded a million miles away. She fought to return to it.
"Agent Rossi, do you copy?"
"Yes," Even her voice trembled. "Yes, I'm here."
"Are you okay?"
"Yes," She lied, clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking. Finally tearing her eyes from the body in front of her, she turned and continued on her path.
As Charlotte reached the edge of the shield, she felt a surge of relief wash over her. With the technology embedded in her combat suit, she was able to pass through the barrier seamlessly, although the hum was significantly louder than usual, indicating the effort the generator was expending just to keep this part of the shield operational. She picked up her pace, making the final few steps to the sleek, small building where the generator was housed.
"I'm here," She paused outside the door, hearing the locks whir and click until the deadbolt opened with a thud.
"It should be ready to open."
In her ear, Calla's voice guided her through the process of repairing the damaged generator, her instructions clear and concise. Thankfully, everything needed to repair the generator was stored in that building, in the event of an emergency situation just like this one. Charlotte sent up another wave of thanks to the Powers That Be that people smarter than her were in charge of this operation. As she clicked the panel back into place on the side of the generator, she heard the loud whine of the shield fade to a dull hum, the sign that it was no longer on the brink of failure.
"Shield Alpha appears to be working at 95% capacity," The agent's grin was back in his voice. "98%...100%. Fantastic work, Agent Rossi." She allowed herself a relieved smile as she heard the cheers in the background.
"Charlotte, we're sending a medical cart out to meet you. Stay where you are." Calla's voice came back online. "You did it. You did it."
"Wait," She waved her hand at no one in particular, stepping back outside into the cool night air. "There's something else I need to do." Her steps felt labored as she worked up to a jog, heading right back in the direction she'd come from. Right back towards the downed aircrafts.
"Charlotte…Char, where are you going?" Calla's voice was tight. "There's nothing else on the radar, you got them all."
She didn't respond, conserving her tight breath to maintain her urgent jog. Blood pounded in her ears as the crash site same into view, the ship still lightly smoking. The Hydra ship.
"Agent Rossi? Your suit's vital readings are dropping, you're losing blood." The agent's voice had lost its cheeriness from a moment ago, the room quiet behind him. "You need to come back, get a medical evaluation,"
"It can wait." Twigs crunched under her feet as she approached the ship, smoke burning her eyes and nose. Sure enough, her left leg felt warm and damp, surely from the glass embedded in it. She wanted more than anything to pull the jagged pieces free, to stop the stinging peppered up her body, but she knew pulling them out would lead to even more blood loss. She didn't have time for that.
"Charlotte, what the hell are you doing?" Calla's voice was stern now, authoritative.
She grit her teeth. "They were Hydra." Silence on the other end of the comm system. "Hydra vessels are all equipped with self-destruct features, timed for thirty minutes after the pilot goes offline. The whole ship will blow up and we won't have anything to show for it, no intel, nothing. I have to get something, anything."
Calla must have heard the urgency, the desperation for answers in her voice. "Okay," More of a pause as Charlotte reached the aircraft. "We're at minute twenty four and counting Charlotte. I don't want you anywhere near that ship when it blows, do you hear me? That is an order. If you get to sixty seconds left on the clock, I want you gone, I don't care what you get."
"Deal," Charlotte murmured, knowing full well that she wasn't leaving without what she came for. She crawled into the open side of the ship, ripped apart by the collision with the Quinjet, careful to avoid the jagged metal and wires still sparking. The interior was modern, but the technology wasn't nearly as sleek as anything from the compound. She swiftly made her way to the instrument panel, seeking out a place to dock the data mining device she tugged from her utility belt. The belt on her suit was the slightly more rudimentary version of Natasha's, largely due to Charlotte not knowing the full extent of technology at her disposal. Her belt was full of what Tony had recommended she use, insisting Natasha would give her instructions. Ordinarily, the belt would sit forgotten in her equipment locker. It just happened to have been on the suit from the last training simulation, where she threw it on for the hell of it. She sent a third round of thanks up into the universe for that lucky break.
Pulling the small black device free, she flipped the cover open and plugged it into the ship's console. It resembled a standard USB device, but from what she understood, it had the capability to hack into just about any computer system, decrypt and download all the files, as well as infect the system with a nearly undetectable malware that would grant SHIELD access indefinitely. Something that could prove very handy if she could get the information to download just a little faster.
"Charlotte…" Calla's voice warned. "Minute twenty six."
"It's downloading now," Her brows furrowed as the little red progress bar inched along the device's screen. 50%...60%...come on…
As the device worked, Charlotte scanned the interior of the aircraft, looking for anything else that might be useful. Spotting a small roll of documents, she crossed the cockpit, her movements swift and sure despite the pain throbbing in her side. With each passing moment, she could feel her strength waning, but she refused to yield, driven by a sense of duty, determination, and a hell of a lot of spite. She tucked the rolled documents into her belt, intending to look at them later, and knelt down in front of the device again. 80%.
"Charlotte, you're at minute twenty eight. You better be ready to get the hell out of there." There was a hint of panic in Calla's voice.
"Believe me, I'm ready." Charlotte murmured, eyes locked on the device. All she had to do was take it out, run through the opening, and veer left towards the closet tree. If she could get behind that, she would have enough cover to keep moving away from the detonation—
"Minute twenty nine. Charlotte, time to go."
Charlotte's eyes remained locked on the device. 90%.
"Agent Rossi, I am giving you an order. Get the hell out of there."
95%.
"Charlotte, please, for the love of—"
100%.
"I got it!" Charlotte cried, half in panic and half in relief. She yanked the device free from the console and gripped it so tightly it bit into her palm. She limped to the opening and all but threw herself through it, stumbling on the brush but steadying herself before beginning to run. She'd gotten all of ten yards away when her heavy, bleeding leg snagged on a fallen limb, sending her tumbling down before she could catch herself. Instinct took over as she rolled into the tumble, putting more distance between herself and the explosion. The tree was still another twenty yards away, and at this point she knew she had less than ten seconds.
"Calla," She willed steadiness into her tone. "Ping my coordinates, now. I'm holding the drive with the data and I need someone to come get it when the blast clears. I'll protect it, but the fire—"
"Charlotte!" She heard the break in her newest friend's voice and tried not to think about it as she braced for fire and shrapnel and the inevitable end. How ironic, that she'd escape Hydra and make it all the way to the United States, to the Avengers' Compound, no less…and they'd still be the reason she died. In her final prayer out into the ether, she begged, pleaded with whoever was listening that the information she'd gotten would be worth it. That it would be worth the end of her short, tragic life. She held onto that hope in her final moments.
Then it hit her.
Well, something hit her. Not a wave of heat and debris, but something warm and solid. A body.
Before she could process what was happening, the rest came. The heat crashed around her like a tidal wave, smoke filling her lungs and burning her eyes, even as she clenched them tightly shut. She felt the ground shake and heard the ground peppered with fallen scraps of metal. It was deafening, all encompassing. Then, it was just…over.
She wasn't sure how long she lay there, body curled into the smallest fetal position she could manage. Her limbs were squeezed so tightly together that they ached. It was a labor to take a breath between the smoke she'd inhaled and the bruises on her ribs from her own crash landing. So she laid still, afraid even her slightest movement would trigger more. More explosions, more Hydra, more fear.
After several long moments had passed, she felt the presence behind her, wrapped around her body, begin to move. It slowly uncurled from behind her, a low groan filling the otherwise silent air. A familiar groan. Charlotte whipped her head around, pushing up onto her hands.
Bucky.
Covered in dirt and blackened from the smoke, he sat up onto his knees, letting Cap's shield fall to the ground beside him. His breathing was heavy, but she couldn't see any blood, any protruding bones. He was okay. Her eyes raked over him, struggling to process that he was in front of her in the first place, let alone in one piece. Unless…was she dead? No. Surely her body wouldn't feel like such complete and utter shit if she was dead. Plus — why would Bucky be here?
"Wh—" She opened her mouth to speak, but a coughing fit interrupted her, immediately turning into a groan as she gripped her abdomen, nearly doubling over at the pain.
"We need aerial pickup in the woods outside the generator, my coordinates. Get medical ready, tell them we have an incoming Avenger."
Her eyes flicked up to him at the last word, surprise lighting them up. His face was a standard mask of annoyance mixed with…was that relief? Blue eyes trailed over her body before meeting hers once again. He regarded her for a moment before speaking again.
"So when were you gonna tell me you learned to fly a Quinjet?"
As the Quinjet soared through the night sky, Captain America and Black Widow sat in the cockpit, their expressions tense as they listened to the live feed from the SHIELD agents at the compound.
"Minute twenty nine. Charlotte, time to go."
The entire atmosphere of the team was somber, panicked. They'd been sent halfway across the world for a bullshit mission, only for one of their own to be in the face of imminent death defending their home. They'd gotten the distress call a little over an hour ago and had raced home. Even the Quinjet's top speed couldn't get them there as quickly as they wanted to be.
"She's in trouble," Natasha said, her voice tight with worry as she glanced at the monitor displaying the compound's perimeter. "We're not going to make it in time."
Steve's jaw clenched as he nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen. "I know," he replied, his voice heavy with concern. "But she'll get out…she'll get out." No one could tell if he was comforting Natasha or himself, or if he even believed what he was saying. As he spoke, Steve couldn't shake the nagging sense of unease that gnawed at him. It was an impossible situation, but no good would come from telling the team that.
"We have to do something," the agent on their ship's comm system pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "She's not going to make it."
Nat's jaw clenched as she urged the jet faster, though they both knew it would be no help. She was down to only a minute left.
"Steve," Bucky spoke from where he stood behind Steve, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "I need to borrow the shield."
There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone processed his words. Natasha's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Steve's expression remained impassive as he unhooked his shield and handed it over without hesitation. Without another word, Bucky moved to the side door hatch and threw it open, wind whipping through the interior.
"Barnes!" Nat yelled, her voice drowned out by the slipstream. "What the hell are you doing!?" Behind her, Wanda and Peter clung to the straps on their seats, Sam looking like he was going to be sick. All of their eyes locked warily on Bucky.
Sparing one glance over his shoulder, Bucky met Steve's eyes. "She needs help."
And then he jumped.