The Unknown Enemy ∘ Marvel [3]

Chapter 17: We All Break

A siren sounded from the left of the street. Red and white lights lit up the darkened street, an emergency vehicle pulling up to the hospital a few floors below me. I scoot closer to the window, peeking down as they unload the injured passenger.

Another car comes up, black and sleek. Natasha?

Shadows obstruct the light under my door, and pairs of feet speed past in the hallway. Voices murmur louder and hectic conversations pick up. People start running towards surgery.

I open my pillow up, grabbing three of the ten surgical items I've procured in case emergency. I get up, blinking my eyes as I steady myself on the bed. I take another step, the floor cold and my balance certainly not the best. The lack of physical exercise has made walking feel odd, but I make it to the door just fine. I turn the knob, peeking my head out as I slide another knife into the makeshift pocket I made when bored.

A half a dozen nurses run by towards surgery, each chattering among themselves. I hear a few words 'three bullets', 'clean exit wounds', 'internal bleeding bleeding'. I shut the door to my room, no one taking notice of me as commotion heightens.

If Natasha was here, something was up. Seeing as sleep wasn't going to come easy, walking around due to sheer curiosity seemed a better idea. The mass migration of the staff passed, letting me roam towards the impending crisis.

I made it down the hall towards the next corridor, seeing the last of the nurses disappear behind double doors. Silence commences for a few seconds before a set of heavy moving boots come from behind me.

I spin around, my hand going to my side where one of the knives are. My grip loosens and drops down to me side, trying to mask my sudden surprise. I inhale, releasing how tense my shoulders have become.

Steve stopped running, his breathing rampant from it before he realizes it's me. His whole face seems frozen, morphed in a fear I've never really seen displayed in him. Why is he afraid? Natasha's here, so is he. What's going on?

"Steve?" I echo my thoughts, speaking to him for the first time in weeks, "What's happening?"

He shakes his head, finally slowing his breathing enough to speak, "It's Fury."

My stomach drops and I stand there for a second. My head becomes fuzzy and I remember the words of the nurses before. No, the thought is impossible. Director Nick Fury, head of SHIELD, has been shot. The man who I always thought untouchable has been shot.

Steve comes up as I collect my thoughts, my head again turning towards the surgery room. My partner takes my arm around his neck to help support me and we start moving down the hall.

"Is the shooter identified?" I ask, still trying to digest the news. The man who I always saw as untouchable now had internal bleeding. My mentor was dying.

"No." He responds immediately, "Three slugs came right through my apartment wall, no rifling. Soviet."

"Why was the director at your apartment?"

He turns us around the corner where the viewing window for the surgery could be seen, "Don't know. He was already bleeding pretty bad when I got there. The guy must have followed him there. He was fast, strong, Russian star on his arm."

"Tattoo?" I inquire, watching the staff prepare the tools and set up the monitors.

"No. His left arm was completely metal."