The Last Shifter (a Loki romance)

Chapter 125

"Alright, what do you see?"

"Standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It's a good target."

"There's an ATM on the south corner, which means?"

"Cameras."

"Both cross streets are one-way."

"So compromised escape routes."

"It means our guy doesn't care about being seen and he isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out."

"See that Range Rover halfway up the block?"

"The red one? It's cute."

"It's also bulletproof which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody, probably us."

"You guys know I can move things with my mind right?"

"I second that."

"Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature."

"That too."

"Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?"

"Not to my face. Why, did you hear something?"

"You think she's paranoid? I thought you knew me better, Sam."

"Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months, I don't want to lose him."

"If he sees us coming, that won't be a problem. He kinda hates us."

"Sam, you have a talent for understatements." A commotion because audible not far from where we were.

"Sam, you see that garbage truck? Tag it." The garbage truck was heading away from the police station, but I still had a bad feeling about it.

"That truck's loaded for max weight, and the driver's armed."

"Want me to move in?"

"It's a battering ram." I looked farther up the street and saw the true target.

"All of you, go now."

"Why?"

"He's not hitting the police." Wanda began running towards the truck, and Natasha where she'd parked her bike. I waited a few moments after they left to get up and start wandering casually after the truck. Since I almost never went on missions, I was a secret weapon of sorts, not to interfere unless it became imperative.

Natasha had been correct in her assessment of the truck. It quickly picked up speed once it was beyond the crowded zone, and the driver dove out mere moments before it hit the barrier, taking it and the gate down. On cue, two big, unmarked yellow trucks came zooming around the corner and into the Institute for Infectious Diseases. I picked up speed to move with the crowd, at least, those who were venturing closer to the action. They quickly reversed their course when masked figures emerged from the trucks and began firing their machine guns. I dove behind a parked car. When the gunfire stopped, I rose and joined the small crowd of spectators that had gathered a safe distance from the gates. I watched as several of the terrorists entered the building.

"Steve, where are you?"

"Here!" He dove out of the sky and into action, quickly eliminating several of the terrorists.

"Body armor, AR-15s. I make seven hostiles. Peggy, get as close and you can, try to block their escape."

"Got it," I whispered, "They went to the third floor."