The lowest section of the horizon was stained a bloodied orange; wisps of ruby clouds swirling in the brim of the sky where it was welded to the ground. The light was dwindling and the great orb of fire had sunk from visibility; only its rays remained, their glow dying and distant. The residual light was being usurped by the invading darkness that was encroaching on the fiery glow lingering over the ground.
Steve and Bucky raced down the open runway; Steve's bike purring like a jaguar as it ripped through the air. Steve's short strands were being debauched by the wind; rifling through his spikes. Bucky's long dark strands flapped like laundry on a washing line on a windy day: dark tendrils not unlike tentacles flicked about, whipping the side of his face and messing up his hair.
The air tasted crisp and icy on their tongues and fresh as it doused their senses; flowing freely through their airways. There was a sense of freedom as they speeded in the open space; the only sound was the blasting revving of the planes taking off overhead; their flashing tail lights the only thing filling the gaping expanse of atmosphere above.
Both of them were grinning, feeling unchained and relaxed by the twilight and the flat plane that stretched as far as they could see.
With the minutes closing in on them, they turned off to the hangar building accompanying the runway and let the bike roll to a halt. In the distance they could see the bright headlights heralding the arrival of the rest of their team.
Knowing they had time, Bucky took Steve's cheeks into his palms and let their lips mingle lightly, just capturing Steve's plush lips between his own and thieving kisses off him. His tongue dipped into Steve's mouth adventurously and their tongues patiently waltzed, weaving and rubbing. Steve picked Bucky up and threw Bucky's legs around his waist, supporting him entirely on his broad hips effortlessly: he was as brawny and supportive as a tree; unswayed and unbothered by the additional effort. He was as balanced as a ballerina or a pair of scales. Bucky linked his ankles behind Steve's back and hummed enthusiastically against Steve's lips, sending pleasant shockwaves between both of their mouths.
"It's been too long," Steve whispered into his mouth, their tongues still looping and twirling like ballroom dancers.
"We need to find some privacy at some point..." Bucky agreed," angling his head and tentatively licking his way into Steve's mouth with his new tactic.
"Agreed..." Steve whispered, his thoughts in harmony and his words in concord. He unhooked Bucky's legs and lowered him heedfully to the ground, hands cupping his thighs as he allowed Bucky to slip off his body.
Steve looked out across the horizon, the procession was approaching, kicking up dust in their wake: headlights of cars and a motorbike. They wouldn't be alone for much longer.
Bucky and Steve linked hands, their fingers lacing together with a tentative squeeze.
"I love you, y'know, Bucky?" Steve spoke, his face cast in orange light but equally shadowed by dynamic darkness.
"I love you too, Steve," Bucky responded, protectively curling his hand around Steve's hip and embracing him closer; squeezing him to his side. "Always."
The rest of their team turned up respectably on time. Clint and Natasha turned up on a motorbike, ever the thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies. Bruce and Tony took Tony's burgundy Acura NSX, the billionaire refusing to be without his favourite vehicle. Sam turned up in his black Audi A4 and parked alongside the selection of highly valuable vehicles.
Just as everyone had finally assembled, greeting with pecks on the cheeks and small hugs.
Steve pounded his fist on the hangar door twice. He patiently awaited the door to be answered, and then the whole metal door peeled back, a scraping mechanical whir starting up. The volume of the assembly dropped to zero decibels, all enthralled by the enigmatic reveal. They ducked under, creeping into the darkness and the unknown, clutching their knapsacks and rucksacks of possessions and clothes.
Nothing could be seen and they padded uncertainly into the pitch-black void, wary of what awful things might lurk there. They were on high alert. There was a rumble as the electricity charged the lights in the roof and they flashed to life in rows at a time.
The hangar walls seemed to bulge outwards the place was so empty, it was vacuous and soundless. They were frozen in a moment of bewilderment, all sharing silent glances to confirm they hadn't all made an identical mistake. But with a shimmer, much like the recalibrating camouflage of a chameleon, The SHIELD Airbus was revealed. Astounded laughs and smirks crept their way into the crowd.
There was a hydraulic hiss as the bay door at the rear end of the mechanical beast unhatched. The door creaked open dramatically, and surrounded by a foggy cloud of exhaust, Coulson stepped out. "Evening Avengers, minus our very own demi-god and Rhodey... I'm glad to see that you could all make it," he began, feet clattering as he bounded down the metal ramp. "Thank you all for being so punctual..." He did a mental headcount. "This is The Bus... she'll be taking you to our safe house this evening, with a small amount of help from my pilot, Agent Melinda May. The rest of my team is already gathered at our location and I will introduce you to them when we arrive... So... Without further ado, please: step aboard. There's room for your vehicles in the bay and we have enough room for you all in the lounge for a quick briefing. Sort yourselves out and meet me there in five, pronto..." Phil about turned, without socialising and strolled away eerily.
They tactically parked their vehicles in the parking lot installed into the underside of the airbus, stashing away their treasured vehicles for whatever might be required of them in the unforeseen future. And as the last motorcycle decommissioned its engine, Coulson sealed and pressurised the door; ensuring their safety.
They filed up the metal stairwell in a line, trudging up to the main area, sharing pleasant nattering amongst themselves.
Bags were all lazily dumped in a stack on the sofas, flung carelessly and untidily in a toppling heap, slowly slipping like a landslide, ready to cascade and spill its contents at any given time. And they all communally gathered in a glass panelled room: containing a Stark tech table and a built in screen.
"Welcome aboard The Bus..." Coulson greeted them all with a friendly smile. "Sorry again for the short notice, but you're all required for a matter of great urgency... HYDRA is an organisation that poses a threat to the whole world. International political outrage has begun: rioting, warring, missile threats..." He tapped his fingers on the Stark tech table installed in the glass booth. On the screen was displayed horrific images and news reports linking back to HYDRA, some of which implied Bucky's involvement and credit to the assassinations and disasters. "Their world-toppling schemes can be traced as far back as World War Two and Lenin and Trotsky... Or more recently, the Cuban Missile Crisis, The Cold War and the Washington DC crisis, sorry again, Bucky. They've been linked to the assassination of JFK and Martin Luther King in attempts to topple the world into anarchy... They're master plan is to drive the people of the earth into such hysteria, into such feral madness that we start beating and eating each other and crave a dictator. They want nothing more than to rule the world: to put their man on every throne and presidential seat. They're trying to annex the world and claim it under their rule. They want to make it a "pure" world. A world where everyone fits the Nazi ideals which they still idolise today. And they'd commit ethnic cleansing and genocide until the world was run under their regime. They're latest attempt at toppling democracy has been this..." Phil's fingers skimmed across the interface and pulled footage up of the latest news reports. "Tension between Russia and the USA. Now don't get me wrong, these resentments have been high for all of recent history. There has always been contentions between our capitalist run country and their communist one. But no one could've thought history would repeat itself. Putin isn't happy that their sub was appropriated by Americans and Americans don't like it that it landed on their soil. It appears tension is running high and the countries are vulnerable... We could be on the brink of a crisis, lady and gentlemen..." Phil said, acknowledging the flame haired Soviet assassin.
"So you're saying Putin is spewing threats and Obama doesn't like it?" Natasha clarified.
"Not one bit. Blame is being mislaid. And the president is particularly very upset about the abuse of our High Court of Law... And yes, I'm partially laying that one on you Stark." Phil gave him a reprimanding glance before his features softened. "And we need to stop the chaos before it begins. Our country is on the brink of war threats and missile threats... We need to step in before HYDRA give it a final push. No doubt they're already snapping at the ankles of our none-the-wiser politicians. They most likely are the politicians, in fact - senators, governors, chiefs, superintendents, generals..."
"And where do we come in?" Clint asked, arms crossed over his chest cynically. "Because we're no group of politicians. Sure we can shoot a few people, but I know I'm not capable of giving a speech or running a campaign. Though, speeches seem to be Rogers' area of expertise." Clint gave him a friendly smirk.
"I'm so glad you asked, Barton. Well, I'm going to be leading a new operation. Operation: Hercules. And I'm sure you're all familiar with the Greek myth?" Phil glanced about, clocking the faces of his clueless team.
A glimmer of confusion flickered through Clint's face and thoughtfulness was painted across Steve's features. Nat, Sam, Tony and Bruce had all caught on.
"The hydra. A beast of many heads... Cut one off, two more take its place," Bucky monotonously stated. "Sound familiar?" He curved an eyebrow. "Hercules slayed the beast by cutting off the heads and cauterizing the wounds. But not alone... It was the only task in which he had someone to assist him, because the beast was so overwhelming. Which must be why this little ensemble has assembled..." Bucky figured, glancing about at the bunch of misfits.
"Cauterizing." Phil's eyes lit up confidently and he smiled. "Quite literally. I'm glad you've caught on so quickly, Sergeant." He looked fondly at Bucky, fatherly pride showing on his face.
"Are you saying we're going to burn Hydra? Just like that?" Bruce chimed in, nerves hanging in his voice. "Because I don't think it's quite as simple as busting a few places and killing a few people," he stated.
"That's why I need all of you. Specifically you. Because it's not going to be easy. I need Rogers and Barnes experience and leadership skills, Bruce and Tony, your technical genius and Sam, Natasha and Clint, your skillset as espionage agents abroad and assassins. Together you're the most dangerous combination of minds in the country. But thankfully, you've turned your hands to the correct trade." Phil commended them all on their choice of allegiance.
"So by our leadership experience..." Steve began, verbalising his train of thought. "In relationship to HYDRA... You're suggesting we're going to need to put it to use in a new context. You're saying we're going to do the Howling Commandos all over again," he deduced.
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. You and Barnes are both on the ball today," Phil chirped happily.
"You know what happened last time, right?" Bucky disagreed contemptuously, implicitly glancing at his metal arm.
"I do. I'm just hoping we can use hindsight to make this mission a bigger success than when you two along with the Howling Commandos did it before," Phil explained.
"Do you have any idea how much HYDRA have evolved and grown since World War Two? They're not just some petty organisation with a few bases scattered across a few western European countries anymore. They're scattered across the whole world. They're advanced... They're clever. And they have hindsight too! How with this team of - and I don't be mean to be rude when I say this, because we all know it - felons and freaks are we possibly going to do any better than Steve and I did seventy years ago?" Bucky spluttered.
"I was hoping for a little more faith, Sergeant-"
"Well you didn't lose your arm and weren't brutally enslaved for seventy years!" Bucky hit back.
"Hey..." Steve cooed to him, giving his hand a squeeze. "Calm. It's alright."
"No, Steve, it's not 'alright'. It's not all happy-go-lucky. I don't know why you're being so calm about this! This isn't just a simple task anymore! This is a suicide mission and an impossible task!" Bucky declared.
"It is with that attitude," Tony snarkily inserted his comment.
"Oh shut up! It's easy for you to say, tin-man. You're hiding in a metal suit! We're the ones actually putting our lives on the line!" Bucky complained.
Natasha gave a sideways nod of agreement.
"He has a point," Bruce added.
"Yeah, but don't you all get it?" Sam managed to pause Bucky's huffing fit. "This isn't about assessing risks anymore, and opting out or running away. Because there is no other option - nothing to opt to. This is our only choice. On the one hand we have a missile crisis, on the other - we - the avengers, the most capable and deadly team to grace the face of this planet are tasked to take down this terrorist organisation. And that's what we do, isn't it? And do feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. We save people? We stop bad things happening? We dismantle threats?" Sam finished.
"I agree with, Sam," Natasha nodded, an admiring look in her eyes for the outspoken air force officer. "This is our only choice, so we ought to stop bitching and moaning about it and get on with it. Because right now, seconds are ticking by and time is being lost squabbling like children." Natasha set them all straight.
"So what do you say? I need you on side, you and my team so that we can destroy HYDRA once and for all. We're going to cut off a head at a time - the only way to do it - recruiting and making allies on the way until there are no heads left. We take down bases, burn them and figure out who's at the centre of the web and take the kingpin out of the equation once and for all." Phil overlooked the rag-tag team of soldiers, scientists and assassins with hope.
"Seeing as it is our only option," Tony spoke for all of them. "I'm going to assume we're all in. And speaking of which: where is this little team of yours?" He sceptically inquired.
"At the safe house," Phil stated definitively.
"Which is where?"
~
"Welcome to The Playground..." Phil swept an arm at the mouth of the bay and revealed their new home. The mission had begun.
A/N - Toyed with this chapter for ages, unsure of who I wanted in the final line up. I didn't want to overdo the numbers and characters. I'm going to have a lot to keep track of. Just to finalize:
Steve.
Bucky.
Sam.
Natasha.
Clint.
Bruce.
Tony.
(Later to be added to: Antoine Triplett, Skye, Melinda May - and kinda Fitzsimmons and Coulson)
Dedication goes to Jokersgirl325! x