To the end of the line - stucky

The Crash

"ABORT MISSION! GET TO THE JETS", screamed Tony through the comms.

What started out as a completely ordinary mission in the Northwest Territories in Canada quickly turned sour as the entire team scrambled to avoid gunfire.

A small group of terrorists were found scheming to overrun the pentagon to prove to the world that America's military wasn't as strong as they thought.

And unfortunately, the team weren't exactly helping their point right now as they ran away from the guys with the guns.

In their defence, there were a lot more people than they initially thought, so they were utterly unprepared for that kind of retaliation.

Half the team had already regrouped at one of the jets and anxiously scrambled around, trying to stabilise their injuries and turn on the engine.

"Stark, where are you?" Nat spoke into her watch after the man hadn't responded through the earpieces.

"He's probably gone through a blackout area", shouted Bruce from the pilot's seat. "We're surrounded by wilderness; there are a lot of those out here".

Wanda busied herself taking care of Sam, who had basically been shot out of the sky like a hunter to a bird.

"Keep still; stop squirming", she hissed.

"Woah, you're meaner than the usual nurses I dream about", he said in reply, getting a sharp look.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I think he needs to be checked for a concussion".

"Well, if he doesn't already have one, he's about to", Wanda joked with a serious hint to her tone.

Sam seemed to get the message and shut up after that, trying not to wince as the cuts scattered across his body were cleaned.

"Cap, Barnes, what's your status?" Nat tried, but the response never came. "Clint, where are you?"

"Great, four unaccounted for", she mumbled under her breath, but in reality, she was getting worried; they all were.

"Barnes is probably cornering Steve somewhere, pestering him to finally go on a date together", laughed Sam.

"Hey, don't be mean, and I told you we don't talk about it. Steve wants to say yes. He's just shy", Nat defended her friend.

Back in the building, Clint found himself surrounded on the second floor. He wandered through thick concrete walls, layered like a maze and on high alert.

Every time he rounded a corner, he was faced with more men. He was lucky that so far he only had to fight two or three at a time, taking care of them with his bow. But he was running out of arrows.
Sure he was good with a knife, he just preferred to keep his distance; it was safer that way. Plus, his wife would kill him if she found out he'd participated in hand-to-hand combat. He wasn't even supposed to be in this damn building, but the team were outnumbered.

"This is Clint. Does anyone copy?" He asked for the hundredth time, but still, there was no answer.

He hated Canada. Somehow this was his first visit, and it was not making a good impression.

He counted four arrows left in his quiver. That was not enough, especially with zero contact with the team. He ascended a flight of stairs to the top floor, hoping if he made it to the roof, there would be signal to send for help.

He was so close, until he rounded a corner and came face to face with six terrorists. They stared at each other for a second when Clint jumped into action, shooting the two with guns. That'll give him one less thing to worry about.