Song Choice: Nice To Meet Me by Zack Hemsey
Previously:
"We lost them, Sir."
"Don't you dare get your asses out of here before you have them; I expect their exact locations by tomorrow morning!" The team was dismissed for a quick power-break, albeit not without a distinctive grumble of deep annoyance. Only one agent was held back under the strict gaze of his superior. The first quickly closed the door and turned the room's communication systems off.
"Any updates on Project Limestone? Tell me you have good news, Adam."
"Yes, I do. The asset has reached the assigned destination. Plus, our associate requests a meeting, Colin."
Both men stayed quiet for a moment. Failure meant exposition. And that would be the end of them all. This had been planned for too long to fail now. Meeting here was impossible.
"Well, invite him to the upcoming security event in Amsterdam. It shouldn't be too hard to pull up a cover for him. No one will suspect anything, not after Wakanda opened up with the Accords."
"On it, Sir."
A man in a neat suit crossed a hallway, his busy phone right where it belonged, on his ear. He rolled his eyes before hanging up. The agents from the border were exhausting him with their usual whiny exception issues and special requests. He didn't have time for that today, but would have to deal with their shit for just a little longer, the break of dawn already on the horizon.
This would be it, he thought as his assistant passed him a coffee mug that he accepted, more or less grateful; he was so done with all this damn bureaucracy.
The screen of his computer glowed with a dim light, demanding his attention. After typing in his password, a direct response showed up.
"Amsterdam", he mumbled, eying the event's times and dates. A good cover, but problematic with his schedule. Too many meetings to attend. He shook his head. He'd come directly, to the CIA's subquarters in London. The reply was simple and introduced a short conversation that went back and forth.
"Meeting in London is impossible. Once the CIA notices, this could get very dicey very fast." The man snorted. Colin was overly cautious, but he was right.
"Then we stuff it under a cover. How often do you get visitors like me?"
"Still unsafe."
"Not if your investigations require superior intelligence."
"That could work. I'll send you the schedule."
His phone notified him of an incoming message with a loud pling. And another. The second message came from Remnant. This was more than confidential. Via one button, his windows tinted itself, providing his office with the highest level of concealment possible. He pulled his phone out, reading the secret texts.
The first message, the one from his guard at the hangar, read Phase Two of Project Limestone initiated. Project Limestone. Retrieve the Winter Soldier.
The second, sender Remnant, said Request: Parameters for meeting.
The man smiled. This was amazing. Everything was going as planned. He quickly typed in the directives and prepared for the plan to be set into action. Thankfully, everything else had worked out perfect so far, even the pieces he had not expected to happen so smoothly. Now, confidence filled his mind, confidence for tonight's success.
The Remnant never failed.
Natasha sighed. Steve's ear was a complicated case, looking more shredded than any ear should. He'd almost fainted in the car and only then they had realized how much blood Steve must've lost on his way through the train station.
Now, she sat on his lap to get a good position to stitch him up and tried to be as gentle as possible - which didn't really work that well, not while Sam was driving through the crazy Parisian traffic. Not that they hadn't offered to bring the soldier into a hospital - he insisted he was fine and didn't need to raise more attention than they already had, which, yes, made a lot of sense, but also limited Natasha in her options.
Sam stopped a little later, to buy some food and get a new shirt for Steve. Plus some alcohol to disinfect all their wounds. The super soldier felt better after his nap and mustered the shirt in his hands, eyebrows raised.
"Seriously, Nat, France? Out of all the possible places on earth you choose the one with zero clothes that would fit me?"
"Well, do you plan on taking them off, Cap?" Sam almost choked on his coffee, but managed to drive straight.
"No", Steve sounded a little offended, but Nat just grinned.
"Good. Now, quit moping and eat your croissant, I need to catch you up on the mission. I hope you remember your French, we'll need it."
They parked the car in an underground garage and left it there. The Russian spy got to her plan right away, spreading a map of the building on her car's trunk.
"We're here for a couple of files. Files that are dripping with details on Barnes, medical details as well as mission details." Steve and Sam exchanged a look, but stayed quiet. Were these the files that came from the Wakandan mole? Natasha continued.
"I believe they could be an important contributor to his recovery. They're in Russian, but you've got Clint and probably a few other smart people over there." Her hand played with her little arrow necklace.
"Okay, so how do we get in?", Sam asked, arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Did you bring your wings?"
"What kind of question is that?", he grinned.
She explained her plan that needed little to no correction. The only thing bothering Steve was the outfit she threw at him, not because of the size, but because his uniform wouldn't fit underneath.
"Okay, sure, leave the white shirt off. Close the blazer though", she said while tying the little scarf that made her look like a stewardess, but apparently was usual wear for the hotel next to Hydra's office building.
Steve turned towards Sam, still struggling with his clothes. He passed him a small phone.
"Call Lomawu. If we haven't called him in three hours from now, he'll know we're in trouble. It's a secure line."
The building Natasha had marked as target location wasn't far from the train station and looked like a regular office building, with a couple of stories and hundreds of windows. They wouldn't be able to walk in through the front door. That was the main reason she'd chosen to enter it over the roof, coming from the neighboring hotel, posing as staff.
Sam had already left the underground garage to take a look at the location. That left Steve and Nat to themselves.
It took a lot from Steve to not grab her arm and push her against a wall again.
"Really? Are we doing this again? What are you not telling us, Tasha? Who shot at us at the station?"
"The CIA. You don't watch the news much in Wakanda, huh? It was all over there."
"What was?"
She looked to both sides, making sure no civilians were listening.
"Last week, someone shot CIA agents during a classified file exchange in London. Took the files and the money. Apparently, they found my fingerprints. Funny part? I was with Pepper that week, in Miami. Figured out they were looking for me when I sat in a café and someone threw a grenade into my latte."
"Someone framed you. And now the CIA is hot on your heels."
"More so than usual. But we'll be fine. We're dealing with Hydra now."
"As if the face behind the gun makes the whole thing less complicated", Steve huffed and mustered Natasha's face. If she was hiding something else, he couldn't tell. But her eyes always held more secrets than he could think of and he was glad she was the one keeping them. Anyone else and there was a bunch of things to end in disaster. Although, with him, things always ended in disaster.
Their plan went well, for about twenty minutes. Steve and Nat had slipped into the hotel through the staff entrance in the back. Nat quickly disappeared, trying to get to the roof as quickly as possible over the west wing, which was further away from the Hydra office building. Steve ran up staircase after staircase but stayed in the east wing of the hotel. The difficulty in this task was not in staying undetected by the guests, however, but by the other staff.
Steve's heart hammered in his chest when a hotel guest stopped him. But the shock was groundless because the lady just wanted to know about room service.
"Oui", he answered, with the kindest smile he could offer in such a tense situation. "I will inform the hotel maids. Your room number, madame?"
She nodded gratefully and left, her hand gliding over the marble balustrades lining the edges of the hallways that provided an overview onto the main forum downstairs. Steve walked away but started running as soon as the lady was out of his sight. Luckily, she hadn't noticed his pants that really weren't appropriate for any concierge or other hotel employees.
Let's just hope no one else does, he thought.
Natasha had more luck in staying unnoticed and getting up to the roof. There had been another room maid that had tried to start a conversation with her, but she'd put her off with a few hushed excuses and a strict gaze that made the blonde incline her head in subordination.
So, without any big distractions, Natasha reached the roof first and met Sam there, already waiting for them with his wings on.
Grabbing her hand, he flew her over to Hydra's building.
"Where's Steve?", he asked.
"He should be here any moment now", she replied, but couldn't give him any more information than that. Goodness, she really hoped Steve didn't stop to catch a hotel thief or help a stumbling old lady to her room or something. Her hand shot up to her ear.
"Rogers? Where are you right now?"
"Go in without me", his voice replied. "I'll be right behind."
Steve was rushing up the hotel stairs, but someone followed him, he'd seen someone else when he'd taken a detour around that one crowded hallway. And he was sure that this person on his trail had a gun, at least one. He still missed his shield, but he reminded himself that he probably couldn't have taken it in here anyway.
Suddenly, there was a second pair of footsteps he could hear behind him. One look confirmed a second persecutor already aiming his gun on his back.
In his rush, Steve rammed his shoulder into the next door to his right, unhinging it and stumbling into the room. It was cold and dark in there, the windows were opened.
Behind him, Steve heard yelling and more feet. Snap. Hydra placed agents in here. He rushed forward, trying to find another way out the room.
He could see Hydra's building out the windows. The agents had almost reached the room. The balcony. Steve would jump.
Steve almost didn't notice the old man standing on the balcony. The man with the wrinkly hands was busy taking photos of the moon. He hadn't even realized there was a sudden intruder.
Just then, Steve saw the old man with the glasses and stopped himself. There was no way he'd overrun two people in just two days.
The guards came in. The soldier realized that they'd shoot the man too if he witnessed the death of Captain America.
I gotta protect him, Steve decided and grabbed a chair, throwing it full force to the agents. It got stuck in the wall, trapping one of them. His gun fell and the other decided to grab it before Steve could. That was his mistake - the next thing the agent felt was Steve's boot in his face.
Another agent stepped into the room, gun drawn and pointed at the old man. The chair shattered and the second Hydra goon trained his gun on Steve, who needed to make sure the man was safe.
Nobody in the room had expected the "Oh, man. Time to disappear" or the following "Excelsior!".
The old man seriously jumped. From the balcony. From the third story.
Everyone in the room stormed to the balcony, Hydra or not. Down there was a pool. And the man splashed into it, looking pretty satisfied with his great escape.
The agents looked at each other, but Steve used the opportunity, swinging himself over the stone. None of the bullets sailing through the air hit him on his way down.
When he reached the surface, however, the pool was surrounded. At least a six machine guns were pointed at him. The old man was gone. Steve noticed the faint rumbling of backpack jets. In the air was Sam, holding the enthusiastic man and flying him out of trouble, sending Steve a thumbs up.
But nobody shot him, even though they could've killed him with great ease. They seemed to be waiting for something or somebody. Suddenly, their radios started to come alive.
"Intruder in the archive section, all agen-", suddenly, very high pitched noises followed, noises not meant for the human ear. Steve went back underwater while everyone else dropped to their knees, losing their consciousness. One of them even slipped into the pool, the blood from his ears spreading in clouds. Thanks, Nat.
Steve didn't pull him up. Hydra did not deserve saving.
They waited for the redhead to come out of the building, but nothing happened.
"Location, Nat", Steve demanded, but there was no answer. "What the hell is she doing in there so long?"
"Maybe they took her."
"We're talking about Nat here."
"Gu... guys... my rad... brok...in a...minute...car ready", her voice crackled through the comms.
"Stay here", Steve said and started to run towards the underground garage. "I'll get the car ready, if that's what she meant."
He pulled the car up. As soon as he noticed Sam pacing around a house wall wide eyed, he knew something was wrong. Natasha still wasn't out. Had something happened?
Sam casually strutted over to the car, which was completely opposite to his behavior before.
"Sam! What's goin-"
"Go! Just go!"
Steve nodded and drove off, not speeding but definitely not crawling either. At the next crossing, he knew what was going on. There were police cars all over the place.
"Crap", he breathed. "Nat, where are you? Do you have the file?"
"Yes... eed... ore... tim.. hold ...n", she replied in a crackled whisper.
"There's no time!"
"I sai... hol...on!" Steve groaned. What was she doing in there?
He circled the house block at least three times before Nat finally came out of the office building, holding the file against her chest. Her hair was a sticking to her neck and she'd lost her guns. Steve was just wondering how she'd sneak past the five cop cars that had pulled up right before the office building when suddenly, all the other cars parked along the street started beeping wildly. Each head turned and the spy made her way to the side ally Steve and Sam were in. Both of them were close to criticizing her for taking so long, but there was no time.
"Just get us out of here."
The stupor the Soviet assassin raised himself from was overwhelming to all his senses, just like his mind remembered. His body felt like a mere silhouette of the human being he was and for a moment, he wasn't even sure who he was.
His mind and body dwelled in some kind of state close to dreaming, or more precisely, waking from a dream yet being half asleep. That state where the body still doesn't move and where the images in the mind are fragile, blurry things, far from reality.
The closer he came to regaining consciousness, the more he felt the awareness for that man inside him, the uncontrollable one, speaking and acting outside of protocols, implode, falling together like a building being detonated.
"Mission parameters?", he managed to croak, voice failing like so many times in the past, like every time his eyes opened after a procedure.
"Oh my God, you're awake!", a girl next to him proclaimed. She held one hand over her chest and the other touched his forehead. He flinched away. She hadn't woken him and for that, he considered protecting her, but he couldn't make any promises if she kept touching him.
Touching equals pain, his instincts screamed and his instincts were the only thing he could trust right now. She was clutching her arm tight to her body.
"Stay here for a moment, I'll get a doctor", she announced and with a few steps, she was out of the room, her brown hair swaying against her back. She left him with less than the mission parameters he'd requested.
The Winter Soldier needed them, had always had parameters, a mission, a target.
He looked around, felt his protocols, the analyses running through his mind like a computer boot. With a grunt, he sat up.
Maybe to the girl, a moment lasted longer than to him, but he'd waited longer than a minute now and she wasn't back. The conversation replayed in his mind. No signs or secret hints or code words had been communicated, so he determined this situation unlikely to be a distraction-run-situation. Stay here for a moment had been his only order, but the moment was clearly over, so he left.
Doctors were responsible for his arm, for his arm, for the wiping, the uncontrollable man inside him whispered from the ashes. He couldn't stay.
So he left, exiting the level his room was on, to find the girl. Maybe she had mission objectives for him now.
He did find her, an hour later, after taking out a few pairs of guards out who'd dared to cram their dark guns in his face. When people had started rushing through the hallways, he'd found a better way to remain invisible - he clambered up a wall from where his one arm could pull him onto the beams far above the rooms. It was a real effort with his silver arm missing, but he made it.
She sat on a couch, in a room that was too big and too open to provide cover for the soldier. Next to her a man he recognized vaguely, comforting her with tender touches and soft strokes on her back and with whispers that should probably make the crying girl feel better. The soldier noticed a slash on her arm that was now wrapped with gauze, but already showed blood seeping through. She must've been involved in a fight. The shreds on the backside of her shirt supported the theory.
The Soldier decided to stay in the air, only listening instead of interrupting for required mission intel from his new handlers.
"No. He's not Bucky. I can't tell Steve that."
Bitter tears rolled over her cheeks. What kind of handler was she? She wasn't even armed, wore clothes that wouldn't provide any advantages in combat. She was definitely not military.
The blond man wiped her tears away.
"Steve will understand, kid. You couldn't know he'd turn to killer mode again, it's not even your fault it happened. We just need to find Cap first."
Find Cap. Some alarm in his head went off. Steve Rogers. Captain America. SHIELD operative. He'd been a target before. The Asset knew what to do. That was a mission objective he could work with. Good. With that being determined, he left the level to retrieve his belongings, his gear that he would need for this mission. The voices of the girl and the man faded into the background.
"I couldn't even get into that intruder's head, Clint. It was like stepping into an empty room. And the few memories I could see where all scrambled up."
"Shit. Did Sam answer his phone?"
When all of the SIW agents had rushed out of their offices like they got stung by a horde of bees, Scott got curious. Nothing really interesting had happened in the last few days in this cell, every day was just the same routine boredom.
Clint rushed in. Before Scott could ask anything, a red suit was stuffed into his face.
"Come on, man! We don't have time!"
Apparently, someone had freed Barnes, turned him into Terminator again and now they needed help finding him. Great for a change, Scott thought when running over the desks of the empty SIW office, huge screens glowing and blinking around him, showing live footage from the conference. T'Challa was speaking before long tables of fancy politicians from all over the world.
Scott ran through the halls, he'd received orders to check on the radio silent 4th squad which had been sent to the labs to secure traces and hints as to where the Winter Soldier could've gone. He entered the big lab he'd need to cross to get to Barnes' chamber where he suspected the 4th to be. Everything was quiet here.
Instead, he was greeted by five corpses not even half the way to the separate cryofreeze tube, blood puddles all around them.
On the opposite wall, behind lab tables, stood the Winter Soldier, holding a doctor up by the throat.
"Where is my arm!?", he demanded harshly. Scott gulped, this man was not the same as the one he'd fought for at the German airport. This one, in his uniform, with all his weapons on his belt and ready to kill, scared him.
But Scott noticed that the Russian soldier had trouble with keeping his balance. Apparently, a metal arm makes quite a difference in weight distribution.
So Scott ran, jumping over the corpses. Gaining more speed, he jumped and just when the soldier pulled out his handgun, Scott shrunk. He hit the soldier on the cheek, giving him quite the lash. He landed a few more punches and it all went well until the Winter Soldier swatted him away and he flew right into the doctor's lab coat, into the one little pocket on the chest. It was a mess in there and he was stuck in between a phone and several pens.
The Soldier growled.
"Do you have the arm or not?" His demands continued to increase in both volume and tone and the doctor deemed him even more dangerous without the metal appendage. With his free hand, the assassin turned the doctor's face towards the fallen 4th squad. At the sight of Wakanda's fallen, all resistance crumbled; he nodded weakly.
"F-Follow me please", he whispered and guided the soldier through a labyrinth of rooms and hallways. The arm had been kept in a room that looked more like a scientist's storeroom. But they had repaired it and put it into a suitcase, that was all that mattered. It was fully functional, just like the scientist promised. Apparently, reattachment into the shoulder had been designed to be much easier than before, with a simple click that could be activated on the back.
Scott finally managed to get out of his little cage when the doctor leaned over and went back to his normal size in hopes of talking this man out of leaving or, if not, fighting him. But this was Steve's friend, probably just as stubborn as the walking American flag himself. And it was The Winter Soldier, trained to crush everything in the way to his next victim.
The doctor fumbled around with the arm, but Barnes detected Scott right away. Grabbing the empty suitcase, he tossed it at the intruder who ducked. Glass followed and when that didn't do anything, The Winter Soldier took a cable from the table in the middle and attacked. He almost had Scott strangled when the smaller man disappeared again and something heavy hit the Soldier's boots. Down there, a spanner had crushed his toes. More tools were thrown from the hooks on the walls and the Asset jumped out of the way.
The doctor had left the room, with the arm of course, and was running towards the elevators. The Winter Soldier sprinted after him and reached the elevator just when the doors closed. He needed the arm. He needed it now. So he jumped through the glass, landing on the ceiling of the falling cabin. It didn't stop until the third level, the Avenger's level, where more SIW agents ran through the hallways and secured the elevators.
The soldier didn't care. He needed the arm and he was going to take it back.
So another window shattered and a grenade flew into SIW's defense lines. He tackled the doctor clutching the arm from above and shot him in the head. He'd earned that for trying to keep what didn't belong to him.
The soldier disappeared through the hallway to his right, pushing everyone else aside. Behind him, the explosion went off. People screamed, but he just ran to the next elevator, getting to the underground level where emergency cars were parked.
He clicked his arm in and it whirred. There was a short electrical surge and the soldier's mouth felt raw. He spat out blood, but kept his straight face.
He was mission-ready.
Time to once more become invisible, to finish what needed to be done.
His right hand wandered into his pockets and to his surprise, he felt a paper brushing against his fingers. The soldier pulled it out. Was this a message from the girl? He'd seen her in the hallways, but she hadn't seen him when he rushed for the exit.
The paper read Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back. ;) He shrugged and decided to get going. Whatever "anything stupid" meant, he couldn't waste any more time.
"Good to have you back here, Lawrence", a man in a neat blue suit said while shaking his partner's hand. He guided him to the expensive looking chairs in his office.
"I'm never opposed to meeting you, Colin. Although I'd prefer to spend time together without carrying our political baggage around."
"Same over here. But the schedule's killing me, it's not 1986 anymore. How's Wakanda to you? Espresso?"
Lawrence laughed, his dark lips pulled into a wide smile.
"Thanks. No, it's not. 1986, those were the good times. Well, the SIW is not that different to the CIA", he said, continuing without any sign of personal attachment. These matters had to be discussed neutrally, he couldn't afford to give away any more information than he intended.
"But this problem is a shared one. Which is why we agreed to a deal. I kept my side of the bargain, it seems to be your turn again. You know exactly where they are and this time won't be like Paris."
His words were laced with expectancy. Colin couldn't understand the depth of the deal they made, but Lawrence's own future depended heavily on it and they couldn't fail again. He needed to fall in favor with his mentor, couldn't show up with empty hands.
This game was one of long planning and he'd been so sure they'd prepared everything perfectly. He hated keeping secrets from Colin, they had always stayed beside each other's side during their training at the CIA, years ago, but these things he couldn't share. Colin pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew this business was of highest importance to his friend and he did his best to fulfill him that favor.
"Paris was a catastrophe, but my unit is hot on their trail now. These boys don't want this to be their first failed mission. All the CIA is intent on finding Captain Rogers and the Black Widow, especially, but thanks to your Wakandan technology, we will be faster than the other units. Janet and Everett will be furious." Colin smirked to himself, but raised a brow. "Are you sure you don't need anything else? Granting your asset free reign and protection doesn't seem like much to me."
"Colin, I will stand in your debt. You outdid yourself in London already. May our alliance never wither." Lomawu nipped on his espresso.
"The deal is safe. So are you. Good travels, Lawrence. I hope to call you Councilman Lomawu soon."
They nodded and Lawrence Lomawu grabbed his business case, turning around to leave the building. He smiled.
The CIA was on his side, that meant one less factor to take care of in this complicated plan. Of course, he'd hoped to have Rogers, Wilson and the Black Widow out of the way by now, but this way, Project Awakening would just move a few days in the schedule.
But the Remnant was still in the game and he knew his asset wouldn't disappoint.
Now, he had to catch a plane.
Zola would be proud.
London
Despite the gray carpet plastered onto the office's floor, task force officer Henderson's sand-colored heels hit a booming rhythm against it on her way through the building. She subconsciously fiddled with the ring on the necklace she wore. Some of her agents' heads turned; not needing to ask what her sharp demeanor was about. Henderson's rivalry with Whittaker was no secret and her development of a rather determined mood not a rarity. Her team experienced her as a fair leader, however, not taking her anger out on the agents underneath her. They cleared the way immediately.
The redhead double-knocked on a glass door lined with the tag Ruben Kinney, CIA Sub-quarter Director. It swung open after the clear Yes and Henderson took determined strides towards the desk, not even bothering to take a seat.
"Sir, why do I only hear now that a team was sent to Paris!? You assigned me to handle the case involving Steve Rogers and his companions. Last time, General Everett Ross flew in and snatched it right out of my hands. I dropped a curtsy then, but this time I will not tolerate being kicked off the carriage."
Her reddish hair was bound to a tight ponytail and lashed against her neck with every movement of her head.
The man before her shifted in his office seat, not impressed by his staff's aggressive demeanor. Mr. Kinney raised a grayish eyebrow, running several scenarios and possible solutions through his mind. He had experience and didn't dare to blow this mission just because his staff asked him to. It would be fatal to the sovereignty of his position.
But if there was a good reason for Henderson to come barging in, he'd listen. He knew this woman, how she didn't do things just because. She was young, but she had an eye for structuring missions, she knew her staff and had climbed the ladder of success rather quickly with her determined attitude and the accompanying achievements.
This was really important to her, her eyes were pulled into slits.
"You were involved in your search business with Milano when the call came in. I couldn't pull you out and you know it."
"Alright. But I am off now. I demand my team take over the mission."
"Damn, Janet. Why would I call Whittaker's unit off now?"
"Because my team worked out a lead worth following." She diligently handed over the paper in her hands.
"Oh yeah? What's it about, Jan? Because Whittaker isn't stumbling through the dark. He's got intel from Wakanda."
Janet froze.
Wakanda. The CIA had been waiting for the longest time to initiate a cooperation with the scientifically and technologically most advanced state on this earth. It shouldn't have taken an incident like this to finally have Wakanda in a position where the CIA could make use of their intelligence. It shouldn't have been Whittaker, either, of all people, who got to work with them. Henderson balled her fists and with growing annoyance, pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.
"Sir, I will not leave without the clearance."
Ruben was still checking page after page of the, how Janet thought, considerable amount of data she'd collected rather furiously over the last three hours. She was bold, yes, before her supervisor, but anything else and she wouldn't be standing here in her expensive navy blazer, working for the CIA's upper levels.
"Alright, Jan. Merge the units. Don't disappoint me. This is sensitive material, so I expect an additional briefing from you. And leave Whittaker in peace, for God's sake."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you."