The Viper || BUCKY BARNES [2]

01 ― The Extraction

2014 ― The Indian Ocean

"Target is a mobile satellite launch platform, the Lemurian Star," Agent Rumlow briefed, his voice steady over the hum of the plane's engines. Holland stood between Steve and Natasha, her arms crossed as she listened intently. The mission, at least on paper, was a straightforward extraction: retrieve Agent Jasper Sitwell from a hostage situation.

"They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them... 93 minutes ago," Rumlow continued.

But Holland and Natasha had been given a different directive—one that came directly from Fury. While Steve focused on the hostages, they were to extract highly classified S.H.I.E.L.D. intel. It wasn't the first time Fury had kept his cards close to the vest, and it likely wouldn't be the last.

Holland's new suit, courtesy of her nephew Tony, was tailored specifically for her unique needs. Sleek and black, it allowed for full mobility while offering protection in the event she lost control of her powers. After revealing to Tony the details of her blackouts—how her eyes would glow blue and her fire would shift to a dangerous hue—he had made adjustments. The material of the suit was heat-resistant, and it helped regulate her temperature in case her powers flared without warning.

The design also included dual holsters—one on her thigh and the other positioned at her lower back. She drew fastest from those points, and Tony had taken note of her precision in past combat footage.

Steve, too, wore a new suit, more subdued than his WWII colors. The blue had been dulled to a deeper navy, and the vibrant red stripped to almost nothing. It was modern, more tactical, but still undeniably Captain America.

"Any demands?" Holland asked, her tone casual but focused.

"Billion and a half," Rumlow replied.

"Why so steep?" Steve asked.

"Because it's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s," Rumlow said with a hint of cynicism.

"So it's not off-course. It's trespassing," Steve muttered, exchanging a quick glance with Holland and Natasha.

"I'm sure they have a good reason," Natasha said dryly.

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor," Steve admitted, the edge in his voice hinting at the frustration that had been building for months. Fury seemed content giving him clean-up work while assigning real intel missions to the women beside him. Not that Steve didn't trust them—he did, completely—but the pattern was clear.

"Relax. It's not that complicated," Natasha replied, brushing off the concern with her usual ease.

"How many pirates?" Steve asked, shifting focus as he looked back at Rumlow.

"Twenty-five. Top mercs, led by this guy." Rumlow tapped a screen, pulling up a mugshot of a man with sharp features and cold eyes. "Georges Batroc. Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He's at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had 36 kill missions. This guy's got a rep for maximum casualties."

"Hostages?" Steve asked, voice firm.

"Oh, mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell... They're in the galley," Rumlow replied.

"What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship?" Steve mused, more to himself than anyone else. The setup didn't sit right, but there wasn't time to dwell on it.

"Alright," he said, shifting into commander mode. "I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, Holly—you two kill the engine and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to life-pods, get them out. Let's move."