Just a humble collection of stories about our favorite group of heroes!
!!!! CURRENTLY UNDERGOING AESTHETIC CHANGES AND CONTENT EDITS !!!! I'm trying to edit my previous chapters before writing more! These chapters are cringe because I wrote them s...
Your knees went weak and soot was smeared across your cheeks like war paint. Your breath shook unstably with each step you took, sprinting as fast as you could to take cover. Your lungs were going to give up sooner or later– you could feel your heartbeat in your throat as it throbbed, making it hard to swallow the dryness that had parched your throat beyond immediate recovery. The base was slowly coming down on itself, burning embers falling on top of whatever was underneath it. You confusedly turned random corners and ran down random hallways, fighting the urge to sob.
"Johansson!" You called frantically, holding the comm in your ear in place. "Do you copy?"
The deafening static crackled in your ear, and you let out an angered growl, ferociously kicking a fallen Hydra agent's arm off of his chest and gingerly ripping the two guns from his vest.
You had lost your team. God knows if they were still alive. You still don't know what had made you believe you could lead a group of agents to storm HYDRA's underground base to retrieve leaked files on the Budapest Operation.
Skye, Melinda, Trip and them were attending to a different mission in Bahrain. And with the effects of GH-325 starting to take a toll on Coulson, it wasn't safe to let him loose on the field. Heaven forbid the event of him carving portions of the alien map on the flesh of dead agents if he were to physically be here. It was not safe for him.
You tried to connect to another one of your teammate's comms, hoping they'd come though. Hoping harder than even Christmas mornings and nights with shooting stars combined.
Your breathing became labored, due to the fact you were running for a solid 30 minutes. You slowed down and stumbled behind a wall, leaning against the metal, fingernails clawing at the heated surface.
You gulped and breathed in shakily.
"This is Agent (y/l/n), do you copy?" You spoke as your voice cracked, crouching down into a corner.
Your eyelids shut, trying to focus on one thing at the time. First the numbmess in your legs. Then the shooting pain at side of your torso. The bullet wounds on both arms. Your stomach. Your jaw. Your head. You nose.
"(Y/n)? (Y/n) can you hear me? Answer me!" A voice interrupted by shocks of static filtered into your ears, and your eyes almost rolled back in relief. "(Y/n)? (Y/n)!"
"C-Coulson?!" You reluctantly spoke.
"(Y/N)! Oh my god, I thought you were– oh mother of god," his voice was frantic and unstable.
