Chapter 12 - Stevie

January 10, 2014, 5:45 a.m.

Stevie almost ran down to the daycare center, heart racing the entire time. She burst through the door to the center's small lobby, where children would be signed in and out, and almost sagged with relief. Through the glass door, she could see the children all sitting in the story corner; hear a muffled, electronic song. She turned to the desk to tell the attendant she needed to take Maggie, but there was no one there.

That's odd. Stevie turned back slowly. The person in the storyteller's chair was wearing the black uniform of a STRIKE agent. His back was to her, but she could see that he was holding a child in his lap. She could see the child's hair – curly and brown. Her stomach clenched. Now that she was paying attention, she could hear the song. It was "Let it Go."

Stevie opened the door and walked into the center, slowly, like someone walking through water. She had always found it so charming – child-size furniture, dress-up trunk, toy food made out of wood. Now, the air itself seemed full of menace, every book and chair threatening. In the story corner, the staff sat with children on their laps, frightened eyes darting to her as she entered. One woman was silently crying. Stevie knew she should try to look brave for them - it was her job – but she felt like her veins were full of ice.

There was Rumlow, where she knew he would be - sitting on the red ottoman they used for storytelling, Maggie on his lap with the Elsa doll. Maggie laughed as she banged the doll against Rumlow's knee. He held a gun loosely in one hand, barrel pointed at the floor. The other children were beginning to pick up the fear of their caregivers, squirming and fussing.

Stevie stopped in front of the man.

"Brock."

"Captain," he smiled his crooked smile. It was exactly the same smile he'd given her a dozen times. A hundred times. How could she have seen him so often and not known that he would do this?

"What are you doing?"

The gun was the biggest thing in the universe. It kept dragging Stevie's eyes away from Rumlow's face.

"You need to come with me, boss," he said. "The chief wants to see you."

"We just spoke."

She had to get him away from the children, get Maggie away from him. How? She couldn't stop looking at the gun.

"Yeah, well." He shrugged lazily. "He wasn't too happy with your last conversation. There's no need to make a scene, right? No need for anyone to get hurt."

The gun twitched a little, and all the adults in the room flinched. Stevie's mind pushed through panic, into icy clarity. She couldn't go with Rumlow. She'd never get out alive. She had to take him out without him shooting anyone. She'd only have one chance.

Stevie allowed her fear to show. It wasn't difficult.

"Alright," she said. "Alright, I'll come with you, just please don't hurt anyone."

Rumlow began to stand.

"There, that wasn't so hard -"

He didn't finish the word. As he stood up, he had to balance Maggie in one arm. That wasn't easy to do. He lost focus for a second. That was all it took.

Stevie struck like a viper. She grabbed his gun hand and squeezed. He barely had time to cry out as the bones crunched. Reflexively, he let go of Maggie, and as the child fell, Stevie punched him in the throat, seized the back of his head, and slammed his face into the arts and crafts table so hard the wood split in two. She staggered backward, taking great, shuddering gulps of air as if she had been half-drowned. Rumlow's face was covered in blood.

Her hearing came back all at once. An alarm blaring, the workers screaming. Children crying.

Maggie!

Stevie ran to the girl, picked her up. She was howling, but there was no time to soothe her. The workers were frozen in panic.

"Run!" She barked at them. "Now!"

She fled into the lobby. The alarm was even louder here – the lockdown alarm, used for attacks on the Triskelion itself. SHIELD workers were well-trained. No panic, no confusion. They were proceeding briskly to their stations...and a STRIKE team was coming across the foyer.

Stevie turned and jogged briskly as she considered her options, hoping to blend in with the crowd at least for a few moments. The only entrance by land was the bridge, but that would never work. It was too easy to close off. Thanks to the lockdown alarm, it was being closed off automatically.

By land won't work...maybe by air?

She thought of something she'd read – foxes laying down false trails, doubling back on themselves to lead hunters astray. She heard someone call out from across the foyer, and she started to run, unholstering her shield.

Pierce had barely walked into the command center when he got the bad news.

"Rumlow failed." One of the analysts greeted him when he entered. "Rogers is still in play."

He nodded matter-of-factly. Fix the problem first. He could fix the blame later.

"Where is she?" Another analyst pulled up camera feeds on the room's oversized monitors, four to a screen. "It can't be too hard to find a woman with a star on her chest."

"There!"

The agent said it as soon as Pierce himself had seen it – one square turning black. Another. Pierce caught a glimpse of the shield for just a second before the third one went dark. She was smashing the cameras as she ran. Interesting...

"Call up the building map. I want to see where she's going."

More cameras blacked out. One monitor had become a wireframe diagram of the ground floor, the destroyed cameras marked in yellow. There it was. Her destination. The fire stairs, where there were no cameras.

"Send teams to that stairwell. Do we have anyone on the roof?"

"Negative."

"Well, get them there. I want a team every ten floors. Keep her from getting out."

There was nowhere for her to go, certainly not carrying a baby. What are you planning, Captain Rogers?

Stevie had made a point of memorizing the building layout of the Triskelion, relying on her serum-granted photographic memory to help her. If you were under attack, the best defense was to know the terrain better than your enemy did. Around the corner from the fire stairs was the service elevator, disabled automatically along with all the other elevators in the building thanks to the lockdown alarm.

She set Maggie down in the corridor so she could use both hands to pry the elevator door open, then snatched the girl up before she could toddle away down the hall.

How am I going to do this?

She fashioned her jacket into a rough sling, tying Maggie to her chest. It wasn't pretty, but it let her balance on the handrails while she punched through the roof of the elevator with her shield. She pulled herself through as quickly as she could, protecting Maggie's head from the ragged edges of the hole with her arm. A few blows from the shield snapped the cable, and the elevator jerked before the emergency breaks engaged.

Stevie looked up…and up. Fifty floors. This was not going to be easy. She looked down at Maggie's face, adjusting the makeshift sling as much as she could. The baby squirmed and pointed up.

"Da?"

"Da," Stevie replied, holstering her shield at her back.

"Floor 10 clear. Floor 25 clear. No one on the stairs so far."

"Why not let me help, Mr. Secretary?" The boy, of course. He and his sister had been waiting in the control room with the agents, he pacing in constant, restless motion, occasionally blurring from one edge of the room to the other in a burst of uncontrolled speed. "I could sweep the whole building in minutes."

"Mr. Maximoff, do you play cards?"

"I've played a little sedma..." He said with a smirk. Ah, the arrogance of youth. Soon enough, it would be wiped away. Enough pain would do that to a man.

"You are a trump card I am unwilling to reveal at present." He turned to the girl. She sat on the edge of a chair, picking at her black nail polish. "What about you, Ms. Maximoff? Not going to offer to help? What is it you do again?"

"I have to be close to her to sense her mind," she said, not looking at him. "I can't tell where she is going any more than you can."

"In that case, I suppose you're stuck in here with me." Of course, that was the plan of the twins' shadowy master. Keep them close to watch him, to make sure the alliance held. To gather intelligence and report back, he had no doubt. Well, the Mandarin would see how well Pierce could play the game.

"There!" One of the agents called out.

The doors of the service elevator opened with a jerk, and Rogers forced her way through. She was carrying something, a bundle on her chest – the baby. Pierce whistled, impressed in spite of himself. She'd climbed fifty floors before his men could run them, all while holding an infant. Not too shabby. He felt sorry that he would have to kill her. What an asset she would make.

She threw her shield, and Pierce's view of her dissolved into static.

Stevie almost fumbled her shield when it bounced back to her, arms burning and trembling form her climb up the elevator shaft. She had pulled herself up the cable hand over hand, singing "Frere Jacques" in rhythm with her climbing to keep Maggie happy. She kept looking into her daughter's green eyes, smiling and making faces and praying that the girl wouldn't fling herself suddenly to one side. The jury-rigged sling was not what Stevie would have chosen for a fifty-story climb with a toddler.

She shook out her hands. She had managed to get to the roof before the STRIKE team at least, but she probably had only moments to spare. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a quinjet sitting on one of the landing pads. She ran to it, pressed her thumb to the lock and gave her authorization code.

Thank goodness I've learned a thing or two since I woke up.

There was only one reason for Rogers to be on the roof. She couldn't escape on the bridge, so she was trying to escape by air. A clever little misdirection, with the staircase, but it wouldn't work.

"All teams cease pursuit," he ordered. "We need fighters in the air, now. Tell them to fire on all other aircraft leaving the Triskleion."

"But..." It was the girl.

"Yes? You have an objection?"

She turned her face away, hair hiding her expression. Her brother put a hand on her shoulder. Ah. The baby. Who would have thought an agent of the Mandarin would be so squeamish?

"Who's in the air?" He asked.

"Bravo."

"Tell me something, Bravo."

"One jet, sir. Shot it down just North of Kent Island."

"Thank you, Bravo," Pierce said. "Alpha, send a recovery team to Kent Island. I want this confirmed. Tango, we need some quick PR work. The usual training exercise yarn should do it."

"Yes, sir."

"And now," Pierce turned to the twins. The girl was still hiding behind her hair. "I have a job for you. If you still want to help, that is."

The brother nodded, jaw clenched as if he was trying to keep his words in check by force.

"Find me the Black Widow." He smiled to himself as he left the command center. That should keep the kids out of his hair.

He had a feeling the recovery team wouldn't find anything. Rogers had been clever – much more than he'd expected. Surely she would have anticipated the counterstrike.

He'd have to keep the Soldier awake after all. Pierce almost laughed at the thought. Yes. He'd be perfect for this assignment.

An action packed chapter for you!

The dramatic escape of male Steve obviously would not work so well with a toddler in tow, so I tried to emphasize Stevie's cunning and strategic ability.

The disarm Stevie uses against Rumlow is a Krav Maga technique. I've been looking up a lot of MMA videos and martial arts on YouTube, LoL.

I also used this chapter to get into Pierce's head a bit. Please let me know if the POV swapping was difficult.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa and a good Winter Solstice to you all.