The Memories of Night | 18+

𝗘𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

𝗔𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗱

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

I never imagined a quinjet would feel so small.

But with both Strike Team Delta and Alpha, the rest of the recruits, Steve, Natasha, and I sitting in the main compartment, nearly on top of each other, the jet didn't feel large enough to breathe in. The recruits sat across from me, seven men watching as I fiddled with the sleeves of my suit, I had so much nervous energy. I wasn't afraid of not being able to succeed with my mission, but it was all eyes on me. I never had to worry about people watching me back at the FBI, we were all raised the same, sent off the same, and we never watched each other because it was easier to deny things if you never knew what was happening. But here, I was being used as a teaching opportunity, which made me nervous.

"Agent King," My eyes rose to where Brock was standing in front of the screen, his arms crossed, "Are you ready for one final debriefing before you disembark?"

"Yes sir."

Blue light filled the small space, illuminating all of the trainees, not that I was expecting them to be here, but Director Fury found Steve first thing this morning and suggested he take them all, and now we were flying over the Antarctic to a ship docked on the edge of Iceland. "Everyone," Brock was speaking to the entire cabin, his eyes scanning each person, "Listen to the questions that Agent King asks, they are going to be the important ones, questions you should remember for your own missions. Whoever is not selected as Captain Rogers' partner, will be expected on a strike team, these questions will be the things that save your life."

I stayed quiet, watching when Brock swiped the screen, a picture of the boat appearing. "This is the S.S. Voyager, a transport vessel that has become an intelligence center, it has become Hydra's floating fortress, and it's nearly impossible to break onto," Steve's hand was pressed against my thigh, hidden by the table in front of us, and he stuck his pinky out, a silent invitation, and I carefully wrapped my pinky around his, tucking our hands under my thigh, not turning my attention to him but squeezing his appendage to let him know that I was appreciative of the simple yet reassuring gesture. "It's nearly twenty stories tall, and has very few access points, with three hundred and forty-three guards on deck."

"What is the rotation pattern?"

"Good question King," Brock smirked at me and I rolled my eyes but smiled. "The rotation pattern of the guards is clockwise, with shift changes every three hours, we'll be arriving at the two-and-a-half-hour mark, these guards will have been up for the majority of the night, and give us the element of surprise."

"Who is the hostage?"

"Another good question King," he swiped his finger, and the screen changed, showing a man with dark brown hair and emerald green eyes, "Officer Lance Pollux," I tilted my head to the side, studying the identifying factors of his face. He had a freckle on the corner of his left eye, a small scar down the center of his bottom lip, and a scar through his eyebrow, he should be easy enough to find. "He's one of S.H.I.E.L.Ds main tech men, and was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Agent King knows the details of her mission," Steve finally cut in, Brock nodding along to what he was saying. They didn't want to give the entire mission away before I left the jet, it was meant to be a teaching opportunity, but every mission needed its secret, so letting the rest of the trainees think that it was a hostage rescue before a voluntary hostage situation on my part was enough for Brock, Steve, and Natasha to let on. "She has a camera on her suit, the left shoulder, we will be able to see what she is doing on the screen that Rumlow is currently standing beside," Natasha reached over and turned on the camera, the trainees across from me appeared on the screen, "Each of you will be issued a pair of comms, you are to listen only, not to communicate, the only three who will be speaking to Agent King are Agent Rumlow, Agent Romanoff, and I."