In my days at S.H.I.E.L.D, I was never the one to deal with prisoners. Never before had I seen the inside of a transport van. While in there, as a prisoner, I inspected the van curiously, looking for a way out that a criminal had never thought of. Because it was a S.H.I.E.L.D issued van, I obviously wasn't very successful in my findings.
The four of us were separated into pairs, chained by feet and hands to the benches. Two guards dressed in riot gear sat facing the four fugitives.
Natasha pushed her head against the wall of the van. She closed her eyes, forehead scrunched minutely. The bullet in her shoulder was starting to display discomfort, despite her preference.
Sam kept an eye on her. His knee was nervously bouncing, indicating he was in a mental debate about mentioning something about her condition to the guards.
"It was him," mumbled Steve, "He looked right at me like he didn't even know me."
"That was, like, seventy years ago," said Sam.
"How is that possible?" I asked.
"Zola captured Bucky's whole unit in '43. He experimented on him. Whatever he did helped him survive the fall. They must have found him and..."
"None of that's your fault, Steve," muttered Natasha.
Steve's face didn't change. "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky..."
I touched my knee to his. His head moved an inch, a thankful nod in my direction. I didn't blame him. Processing such information sent into a silence that was difficult to wade out of.
"We need a Doctor," said Sam, at last, "If we don't put pressure on this wound--"
I heard a flicker of electricity; Sam was threatened with the taser. I didn't have to look to know. I did look when fighting reached my ears. One of the guards had flipped the taser, stabbed it into the other guard, then swiftly kicked him in the head.
"Gah," panted Maria Hill, tearing the helmet from her head, "That thing was squeezing my brain," she admitted. She looked at Steve, myself, Natasha, then stopped when her eyes landed on Sam. "Who's this guy?"
"Sam Wilson," he introduced, "Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise," said Maria. She released Sam first, then came for me.
"You know I can't get us out without..." I fell silent when she set a picture of a dam in my freed hands.
"Get us there," she said, "We'll be safe there."
I twisted my fingers. After she finished freeing the others, Maria confirmed it was the correct place. I stretched the portal. One by one, we hopped through. Maria led. Steve and Natasha helped Natasha to walk. I brought up the end, on the look out for potential threats.
A keypad granted us entrance into the dam. From there, we followed Maria into an expansive dimly lit hall. From the end, a man emerged. He ran to help.
"GSW, she's lost at least a pint," yelled Maria.
"Maybe two," corrected Sam.
The man reached us. "Let me take her."
"No," declined Maria, "She'll want to see him first."
Our collective suspicion changed into mild annoyance when we found who Maria was referring to. Surrounded by hospital machines, Nick Fury opened his eyes halfway, enough to see us. "It's about damn time."
Natasha took a seat next to him, allowing the Doctor to stitch her wound. Maria, Sam, Steve, and I lingered around the hospital bed, waiting on an explanation.
"Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collar bone, perforated liver, and one hell of a headache," began Fury.
"Don't forget your collapsed lung," the Doctor chimed.
"Let's not forget that," he said sarcastically, "Otherwise, I'm good."
My confusion continued to remain. "The surgeons, they cut you open."
"Your heart stopped," added Natasha.
"Textrodetoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute," continued Fury, "Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work for him, but we found a way to use it."
Deciding to speak up, in an understandably annoyed tone, Steve spoke: "Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?"
"Any attempt on the Director's life had to look successful," explained Maria.
"Can't kill ya if you're already dead," continued Fury. His eyes rolled between Steve and I. "Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust."
I suppressed a sigh. "Whatever the plan is, we need to be briefed on it. Insight's supposed to launch in less than sixteen hours."
With help from Maria and Steve, Fury transitioned from the bed and into a chair at a table. Maria and Natasha sat. Steve, Sam, and I stood. We waited silently for Maria's tablet to power on. The briefcase she drew it out of accidentally flung a photo of Alexander Pierce across the table. Fury stared at it in remembrance.
Sam leaned into my ear. "Who's this guy?" he whispered.
"Head of S.H.I.E.L.D.," I said.
"Thought to be dead," added Steve under his breath.
"But clearly isn't," said Sam. He nodded, to himself, and stood straight again, not entirely phased by the false news.
"This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize. He said, 'Peace is not an achievement. It's a responsibility,'" quoted Fury. His eyes turned droopy with aggravation. "It's stuff like this that gives me trust issues."
Natasha fell straight to the point: "We have to stop the launch."
"I don't think the Council is accepting my calls anymore," said Fury blandly. However, the attack on Project Insight had been more than a mere thought to him. From the chair beside him, he pulled a briefcase of his own and wiggled it open. Three chips sat within the case.
"What's that?" asked Sam.
"Once the Helicarrier's reach three-thousand feet, they'll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized," said Maria.
Fury continued. "We need to breach the carriers and replace their targeting chips with our own."
For a visual explanation, Maria turned the tablet to face us, showing a 3-D model of a Helicarrier. It zoomed in on the spot the chips needed to be placed, on the underbelly of the ship.
"One or two won't cut it," she said, "All three need to be linked for this to work. If even one of those carriers remains operational, a whole lot of people are going to die."
"We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers are HYDRA. We have to get past them, insert the server blades, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage--"
"We aren't salvaging anything," said Steve. He raised his eyes from the table. "We're not just taking down the carriers. We're taking down S.H.I.E.L.D."
"SH.I.E.L.D. had nothing to do with--" defended Fury.
In the particular situation, Steve wasn't one to argue with. He had been acting tense, grim, for a good reason. It was only a matter of time before he snapped. "You gave me this mission. This is how it ends. S.H.I.E.L.D has been compromised, you said it yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed."
"Why do you think we're meeting in this cave?" asked Fury, "I noticed."
"And how many paid the price before you did?"
Fury sat straight in his chair. For once, he sounded honest, as he admitted, "I didn't know about Barnes."
"Even if you did, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too?" asked Steve, "S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA... It all goes."
Ready to comply with Steve's orders, I stood tall. I wanted to salvage my job, but with a reminder of how many lives were at stake, if we were to fail, I lost the urge to fight for my old life. One way to destroy HYDRA remained, and doing so meant losing S.H.I.E.L.D.
My frame was enough to let Fury know I was on board. He looked at Natasha and Maria for confirmation. They agreed.
"Don't look at me," said Sam, hands in the air, "I do what he does, just slower."
Fury reclined in his seat. He failed to hide his annoyance. "Well, Cap... Guess you're giving the orders."
Nothing could be put into action until Natasha was able to gain back the feeling in her arm. We waited. Steve excused himself to get some air. After a few minutes, Sam followed, then I joined. My actions on the bride caused a slight tenseness between Steve and I. It needed to be terminated before it jeopardized the mission ahead.
I exited the dam. Steve automatically caught my eye. He diverted his gaze. I frowned.
I disobeyed orders; that's how I saw it. How Steve saw it, well, that differed. Since we became fugitives, he felt responsible for me, as though it was his duty to ensure I stayed safe. That was his justification behind assigning the easy task to me, instead of allowing me to handle our team mate.
"I'm not happy with what you did," he said.
"I don't want to fight, I want to talk," I said, "Natasha was in need, so I went. I'm faster than you. By playing it safe with my life, you didn't think about the rest of the team. I'm new to the whole unplanned action dynamic, but I'm not helpless. I'd like you to understand that."
"He could have killed you."
"He could have killed all of us," shot back Sam.
Steve moved his eyes to me. I ducked behind Sam, uncomfortable with being the focus of his disappointed gaze. I made him laugh.
"Gear up, you two," he said, "It's time."
"You gonna wear that?" asked Sam.
I glanced at my own clothes. "What am I going to wear?"
"If you're going to fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform," he said, "Clara, have you ever been to the Smithsonian?"
"I was a history teacher, of course I've been to the Smith..." I stopped. My eyes widened. "No way!"
"Yes, way," said Steve.
He hopped through a portal to the museum. When he returned, he returned with the vintage Captain America suit from the '40s. I almost went into cardiac arrest when he allowed me to hold it.
On the ride to the Triskeleon, Steve debriefed us. He and Sam were going to insert the three chips into the carriers.
Natasha was going to use facial software to change her face into the council woman and infiltrate the Council meeting, keeping an eye on Pierce, but also gaining access to a high level computer. If she could manage it, she was going to dump all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets onto the internet, and essentially, HYDRA's secrets as well.
From inside the building, Maria was going to monitor the status of Project Insight and grant us with frequent updates.
My part of the plan was something never before attempted, although I didn't exactly mention that to anyone.
"If we fail at switching the chips, Clara, we need you to put the carriers through portals. Crash them, before they receive the chance to shoot anyone."
I raised my eyebrow. I knew there were two types of portals I could access, the maximum I could hold open at one time was four, and the biggest portal I had opened was about ten feet tall and wide. Extents of my capabilities were not known, and had not been reached, at that point in time. I was rightly doubtful.
"Can you do that?" asked Sam, noticing my pause.
"Uh, yes," I stuttered.
"'Uh?'" repeated Natasha.
"It can't be that hard," I said.
Confidence was the key in waving away their doubt. It didn't wave away Steve. He took my trembling hand in his own. I gazed into his comforting crystal blue eyes.
"You've been trained well enough to do S.T.R.I.K.E. missions every week and come back unharmed. This is only a little different. With your portals, your brains and your fighting capability, I have immense faith in you," he whispered, "Besides, we've made it this far together. It's been a pleasure being a fugitive with you. You can't quit on me now."
I let out a giggle, nodding my head. "As long as you don't quit on me after this is all over," I chimed, happy to get off the real reason I was worried.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Clara."