Chapter 2 - Stevie
January 8, 2014, 9:30 p.m.
The ocean was black below the quinjet as it raced at supersonic speed toward sixty-four captured scientists, twenty-five pirates, and a terrorist named, of all things, Georges Batroc. Over their headsets, SHIELD Commander Maria Hill briefed Stevie, Natasha, Rumlow and a four-man STRIKE team on Batroc's history and demands.
"He's a French Algerian," she said in her brisk, no-nonsense voice. "An adjutant in the Foreign Legion turned intelligence operative turned mercenary. According to his profile, he's a master of savate and kickboxing with thirty-six successful kill missions. He's asking for a million dollars right now to release the ship and all the scientists unharmed, and he's never been squeamish about killing hostages."
"And he's an arrogant son of a bitch," Rumlow added. "Or he wouldn't think he could pull this off."
Stevie grunted in acknowledgment. Batroc must be aware of the kind of resources SHIELD could bring to bear. And yet...he took this job anyway. For whom? Must be one hell of a payday.
"What about his team?" Natasha asked.
"A motley crew," Hill replied. "Pirates, mercenaries. Mostly French. No strange abilities or alien weapons that we know of."
"Garden-variety assholes," Rumlow said with his wolfish, crooked grin. "Didn't know there were still any of those left."
"Anybody else surprised it wasn't the Ten Rings?" Stevie asked. "I feel like they just dropped off the map after that actor disappeared."
"What's the matter, Captain?" Hill asked over the headset. "Feeling slighted? Dance card a little empty?"
"In my experience," Stevie replied, "the calm often comes before the storm."
Outside, thunder grumbled. Stevie's harness dug into her shoulders as the Quinjet lurched through a patch of turbulence. Something was nagging at her memory, something to do with the Ten Rings...a black-haired woman in a blue coat...she felt a sudden stab of pain in her head and rubbed her temple.
"Speaking of dance cards..." Natasha interrupted Stevie's thoughts. "How was your date with Raff?"
Stevie groaned. "Do we have to do this now? You're as bad as Pepper. Except she sets me up with vegan philanthropists and you set me up with tattooed guitarists."
"Raff didn't have a tattoo."
"Not where you can normally see it, no."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Did he…?"
"If you were going to say 'Did he decide to take his shirt off and jump in a fountain?' Then yes. Yes he did."
Natasha ducked her head, hiding a grin behind her hair. "Raff can be a bit...spontaneous."
In his seat, Rumlow wasn't even trying to conceal his laughter.
"You know who's a good friend," Stevie said. "Rumlow here. Rumlow has never – not once – tried to fix me up on a date with anyone. You could be more like Rumlow."
Natasha rolled her eyes.
The rangy man had finally stopped chuckling. "Hey boss, I almost forgot. I have something for you." He dug in a duffel bag and tossed Stevie a doll. Stevie turned it in her hands. It was made with the proportions of a young child – chubby arms and legs, a rounded face topped with white-blonde hair. She moved the doll's arm and a slightly tinny rendition of Let it Go filled the cramped airplane. The STRIKE agents turned from their own conversation curiously.
"Princess Elsa," Rumlow said unnecessarily over the music. Stevie had lowered the doll's arm, but it wasn't shutting off. "I got her for my nieces, but they have about four each already. I thought your girl might like it."
"Thanks." As always, when she was away on a mission, Stevie felt a prick of guilt for leaving her daughter behind. "You'll need to hold onto it for a bit, though. I didn't bring a pack."
"What did you think of the movie?" Natasha asked. "I mean, what was Disney doing back in your day? Sleeping Beauty?"
"Snow White was the princess movie of my youth, actually." She had been...what eighteen? Nineteen? Her father had still been alive. She had taken him to see it and he had fallen asleep halfway through, to her gentle embarrassment. She had thought it was magical – a fairy tale come to life. And in color! She smiled and shook her head. How easy it had been to impress people back then.
"The music was catchy," Stevie said. "I'm glad that the princess got to save herself."
"Agree," Natasha said. "You should see Brave. Great mother-daughter story."
"Tangled is more fun," one of the STRIKE agents interjected. "Flynn Rider is a great character."
"Are you done?" Hill's voice interrupted them. "You're one minute from the Lemurian Star. Also, the best princess movie is Mulan."
The team stood and the hatch was opened. Stevie checked her weapons, called up her mental map of the ship's layout. She would be going in up top to clear out as many pirates as possible, while Natasha would cut off potential reinforcements from below decks. Then, Rumlow and STRIKE would free the hostages while Stevie apprehended Batroc. Stevie could smell the ocean, feel the cold air whipping strands of hair out of her braid. It was time to jump.
"Captain," Maria Hill's voice came over Stevie's headset.
"Last minute info for me Agent Hill?"
"I have a cousin, you know. If you're looking. He's really nice. "
"Oh, don't you start," Stevie said, and jumped out of the plane into the darkness.
She had jumped without a chute so she could come up faster and go in first, with less chance of being seen. That was the tactical reason. But really Stevie loved diving through the air like a hunting falcon, nothing in her way. It was almost like flying. She cut through the water in a clean, arcing dive. The sea was icy cold, and her body felt effervescent with the shock of it, powerfully alive.
Her braid streamed water down her back as she scaled the chain of the sea anchor on the boat's bow and looked over the rail, matching the map in her head with the real boat in front of her. A sentry stood just a few feet from her, facing away. In her dark blue stealth suit, she blended into the shadows on the prow. She hopped lightly over the rail and dropped him without a sound. One down. Twenty-four to go. Speed and surprise were essential now. If Batroc found out she was here, he would kill the hostages.
She ran across the deck, came around a corner and hurled her shield at another sentry, catching it as she leaped over his prone body. Another, and another – kick, punch, slam – she barely slowed down. She flung one man into a wall and his partner came at her with a knife, slashing at her eyes. She seized his wrist and snapped it with one hand as she kneed him in the face. Behind her, the first man was moving, reaching for an alarm. She caught the knife before it hit the deck and threw it, pinning his hand to the wall. He barely had time for a gurgled scream before she kicked him in the head. Seven down. Eighteen to go. She was coming up to the edge of the forecastle. Batroc will be on the bridge.
She leaped from the forecastle to the main deck, four men immediately turning as she landed. She flung her shield hard at the wall behind her, and dove under it as it rebounded, hitting one pirate in the chest. In the time it took the shield bounce off the wall and back to her she had flung a second pirate over the rail and kneed a third in the head. She caught her shield just as the fourth man brought his machine gun to bear.
"Ne bouge pas!"
There was a shot, and the man dropped. Rumlow landed on the deck and unclipped his parachute.
"Thanks," Stevie said.
"Yeah," he replied dryly. "You seemed pretty helpless without me."
Natasha and the STRIKE team dropped lightly from the sky like blackbirds, immediately fanning out into their positions. Natasha jogged a few steps to catch up to Stevie as she strode toward the bridge.
"There's a guy I know who works at the VA. Former paratrooper. He's cute."
"How about you secure the engine room, and then find me a date?" Stevie asked.
"I'm multitasking!" Natasha called out, and jumped over a rail.
Stevie rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help chuckling. She'd probably end up going out for coffee with the paratrooper within the week. Maybe he'd even keep his shirt on.
The bridge was at the top of a four-story superstructure down at the stern. Stevie used walls and railings to climb to a catwalk and shot a tiny listening device at the window. She pushed the button that patched her headset into the device feed. Hope my French is still up to snuff.
"Call Durant," A deep voice said. Though the accent was strange to her ears, Stevie could still understand him. "I want this ship ready to move when the ransom comes." A deep voice.
"Yes, Batroc." Another voice answered. "Durant, start the engines."
Stevie checked the plan in her head, her mental countdown. By now Natasha would have engaged the pirates in the engine room. Rumlow and STRIKE would be approaching their positions outside the galley where the hostages were being held. Her body was tight as a piano wire, but her mind was calm.
"Radio silence from SHIELD, Batroc." They were getting edgy. The moment was coming. This was the edge of the knife. It all had to go off at the same moment, or the hostages could be lost.
Stevie opened a channel to the rest of the team. "Targets acquired," she murmured.
Rumlow answered. "STRIKE in position."
Nothing from Natasha. "Natasha, what's your status?"
"Hang on," she answered. There was the noise of impacts and a few strangled cries. "Engine room secure."
Stevie crept along the catwalk, closer to the bridge. Through the window, she could see Batroc pacing. He turned to face away from the glass.
Now. "On my mark," Stevie said. "Three. Two. One."
She hurled her shield through the window, launching herself from the railing after it. Batroc was lucky – and fast. He ducked and her shield hit his lackey instead. By the time she got into the room, he was sprinting out the door. She yanked her shield from where it was embedded in the bulkhead and followed as quickly as she could. The ship was like a maze – plenty of places for Batroc to disappear. She emerged on the deck between two high walls – no sign of the pirate.
Rumlow's voice came over her headset. "Hostages en route to extraction. Natasha missed the rendezvous point, Captain. Hostiles are still – down!" His voice was cut off by gunfire and shouts.
"Rumlow!" Stevie said. "What's happening?"
Something must have gone wrong with his connection. Through static she heard more shots, and someone said, "Man down!"
Shit. Was it a hostage? Or one of hers?
"Natasha, Batroc is on the move," Stevie said into her communicator. "STRIKE has engaged hostiles. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages." Nothing. Was she hurt? Dead?
"Natasha!"
Batroc leaped out from around a corner. Stevie barely got her shield up in time to catch his kick. He is fast. And strong. He turned a series of leaps into a spinning kick aimed at her head, followed up with punches, jabs, knees. Is this savate? She'd never seen anything like it before. She was forced to give ground, dodging and blocking with her shield. Finally, she got him in a lock and threw him over her head – but he cartwheeled out of the fall like an acrobat and came up grinning.
"I thought you were more than just a pretty face," he said. He had cold eyes, empty. Arrogant. The eyes of a killer. The eyes of Johann Schmidt, of Loki, of every bastard who thought he had the right to kill other people.
I'm going to put you away, you son of a bitch.
She holstered her shield behind her back, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Gave him a sweet showgirl smile.
"On va voir," she said. We'll see.
Stevie closed the distance fast, and attacked in an explosive flurry of punches, not giving Batroc space to use his fancy footwork. When he tried to swing at her, she ducked under the blow and punched him in the chest, knocking him back. He came at her low, trying to sweep her legs out from under her, but she snap-kicked him in the knee. He cried out in pain and stumbled backwards away from her. His eyes cut to the side. Looking for an escape route.
You don't get away.
Stevie launched herself at Batroc and tackled him around the chest. The impact drove him backwards into a door which burst off its hinges. They slammed into the floor, Stevie on top of him, the back of his head hitting with an audible crack. Stevie waited one breath, two. Her heart was hammering. Batroc didn't move.
"Well, this is awkward."
Stevie's head jerked around at the sound. It was, impossibly, Natasha. There she stood, at a bank of computers, blue light from the screen casting her face into strange lines. The shadows turned her habitual one-sided smirk into a sinister rictus.
"What are you doing?" Stevie asked.
"Backing up the hard drive," Natasha said dryly, eyes on the screen as she typed. "It's a good habit to get into."
Stevie felt a surge of anger at the other woman's calm. Someone had been shot – one of her men could be dead. She pushed herself to her feet and covered the distance between them in two long strides. Natasha shifted as she approached, but didn't back down. Didn't even make eye contact.
"Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?" On the screen, she saw file icons flicker open and closed, a green progress bar edging towards completion. Stevie didn't know much about computers, but she could recognize this. "You're...taking intel?"
"Whatever I can get my hands on," Natasha replied.
"Our mission is to rescue hostages."
"No, that's your mission" Natasha said. The progress bar was complete. She pulled a large USB drive out of a port and zipped it into a pocket. "And you've done it beautifully."
She tried to walk to the door, but Stevie seized her by the arm.
"Don't you dare patronize me. You've jeopardized this whole operation."
Finally Natasha looked at her, with that same damned smirk. For the first time, Stevie was tempted to slap it off her face.
"I think that's overstating things..."
Out of the corner of her eye, Stevie saw Batroc stagger to his feet, not as unconscious as she had thought. As he lunged for the door, he pulled something from a pocket and threw it. Stevie deflected it instinctively with her shield just as she realized what it was.
Grenade.
Stevie grabbed Natasha around the waist and jumped with her through a bank of windows, just as the grenade exploded, filling the computer room with fire and noise.
Thanks to everyone for reading!
This chapter follows the movie pretty closely - events will diverge from the movie, then reconverge, then...well, you'll see. :-)
The singing Elsa doll was one of the most popular Christmas gifts of 2014. Never let it be said that I don't do my research!
As always, I welcome your comments and reviews, both positive and constructive.