Agent Raven of S.H.I.E.L.D. (COMPLETE)

Deduction

The walk back to my car wasn't entirely pleasant, and I got more looks coming out of the building than I got going in. Once I shut the door and locked the vehicle, I realized that it was my pedal foot that had gotten stabbed. Great. Fantastic.

Honestly, I probably could have managed to drive myself back to the airport, but I set the GPS and turned on autopilot anyway. Reaching into the center console for the medkit, I shifted my seat back and took a better look at my leg. I unwrapped it and discarded the bandage, knowing there would be another one in the kit. My boot came off and the pant leg went up to reveal where the knife had sliced open the skin. First things first, I had to disinfect it. I didn't know where that assassin's knife had been. 

It wasn't the easiest thing to in a moving car, but I wiped up the mess as best as I could. That's also when I figured out that the muscle was definitely damaged because skin-deep cuts didn't hurt this bad. I didn't really want to submit myself to the medical wing because they would probably make me rehab for a week, and I didn't want to get benched just because of a cut. Maybe if it was feeling better by the time I got back, I could hide the limp well enough to slide by. 

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked for the next flight back to headquarters. It wasn't for another three hours, so I would have time to stitch it up in the parking lot before I boarded. Better than trying to do it while the car was moving. For the time being, I grabbed a gauze pad out of the kit and held it firmly to the wound. 

Opening Youtube, I looked for a live stream of the President's dinner. From what I had gotten from the group text, CROS was still planning to sabotage the event. SHIELD wasn't about to divulge mission details, but the press definitely would. Fox News was about to start streaming in half an hour, but the dinner wasn't until 6, so there wouldn't be much to watch until then. Depending on what CROS's strategy was, they might attack before, during, or after the actual event itself. CNN wasn't streaming for another two hours, so that was a no go too. 

I was about to look for other sources when Fury called. I was getting lots of attention from the Director today. Answering the call, I held the phone up to my ear. "Sir?"

"Talk to me, Raven," he ordered, sounding extremely done with the day already. "Watson said you found intel and you have already uploaded it to the system. What do you have for me?"

"A cell phone with a group chat," I reported. "I think it's between the four leaders of CROS. The mole, which you already have in custody, the assassin I just killed and took the phone from, a senator in the White House, and a fourth unidentified member who just went dark a few hours ago. The intel I uploaded was a link to CROS's database, which has more details and logistics. It might have the plans for tonight, but I didn't take the time to find them. I figured someone else more skilled with computers would be faster at that."

He didn't talk for a minute, and I assumed he was checking the download link. My car merged onto the freeway, and I looked out the window while I waited for a response. Fury was probably just making sure someone was beginning to sift through CROS's dirty secrets. "You already called for Retrieval?"

I nodded, even though there was no way for him to see that. "Done, and I called for Forensics too."

"Good. Get on the next plane back, Agent. Watson and I'll take it from here."

"Yes sir," I replied, knowing that was the end of the conversation. The line went dead, and I threw my phone onto the passenger seat. 

Was that how Natasha's phone calls with him went? Just constantly feeding him information, and then ending the call with nothing other than her next instructions? Or was this how he treated regular agents, and she was an exception? I guess I had been too until I joined the rodeo. I was another set of eyes and ears for Fury, already groomed for the role. I guess someone had to be.

With nothing better to do, I turned on the radio to a local country station and waited until the car pulled into the parking garage of the airport. When the engine shut off, I finally removed the gauze, which was a deep red by now, and got to work on stitches. The blade hadn't been that wide, but it was still going to need at least five or so. Now that I wasn't being protected in the field, I was finding myself having to do a lot more first aid. 

After six stitches, a bandage, and a full wrap around the whole shin, my leg was feeling a little more stable. I opened the door and tried standing on it, which was a little easier, but still not great. Hopefully, if my pant leg was rolled back down, and my boot was laced back up, no one would look too closely at it. I did not want to get pulled after my first two weeks of actual combat. 

Still, I knew that if I did get pulled, it was my fault. There was no one else to hold accountable for my mistakes, no one else to blame. This was a deduction and a consequence entirely on my conscious. Not to mention, I needed to get used to it if I was going to take solo missions like this any more often. What if I had been in a third world country where SHIELD didn't have an airstrip to operate from, or a headquarters to get patched up at, or backup to call? This is what solo agents did: They went in completely alone, with no expectation of allies and no one to cover for them. 

If that was the case, maybe I should submit to rehab. It would give me some time to get into the gym and build up my reflexes. Unless I wanted to get stabbed again, most likely in a more vital area, then I needed to train. My unit wasn't going to be deployed for a week or so anyway. Now was the perfect time to fix this flaw.

Climbing back in the car, I opened my profile and signed up for an appointment in the medical wing 15 minutes after the plane was supposed to land at headquarters. All that was left to do now was watch the live streams and wait. There was nothing else for me until the plane took off.