Marvel One-Shots

14. Most Wanted - Huntingbird

A/N: First AoS one-shot! FYI, Huntingbird is the ship name for Bobbi Morse and Lance Hunter (if you didn't already know).

P.S.: Sorry for the delay in updates! These past few months have been C-R-A-Z-Y.

____________________

BOBBI'S P.O.V.

I twirl my batons once, twice, three times in rapid succession. All for show, of course. With a flick of my wrists, I send the batons soaring toward my assailants.

"You almost done there, Bob?" Hunter calls through the comms.

"Almost," I mutter, and summon the batons back to my hands magnetically. The guards lie unconscious on the floor with cylindrical bruises on their heads.

"Where are you?" I ask, dragging the guards' limp bodies into a janitor's closet.

"Second floor. Where are you?"

"On my way." I jog up a dimly lit staircase to an even darker hallway.

Hunter's back is turned; he's facing an enormous assortment of computer screens. Sensing an opportunity, I lightly tap his shoulder. He jumps, startled, and I smile at him.

"Bobbi!" he hisses. I lean past him to face the computers.

"Have you found anything?" I ask.

"Not one bloody thing is related to it," he answers. Voices echo below us.

"Time for Plan B," I say, and insert a S.H.I.E.L.D. flash-drive into the central computer. Slowly, the files are copied onto it so that we can access them from a more secure location.

"Can you download those any faster?" Hunter asks impatiently, glancing at the stairwell behind us. Footsteps pound on the floor below. I tap my fingers rhythmically next to the keyboard, nervous about a mission for the first time in months.

The mission itself isn't difficult. It's actually relatively simple. But what makes it nerve-wracking is the fact that this time, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't backing us. Hunter and I are on our own, and if we get caught, we suffer the consequences that, had it not been for Coulson, would've been dealt to us in Russia.

Download complete.

"Let's go." Hunter disconnects the flash-drive and we slip back down the hall we entered through. A glance over the railing confirms at least a dozen guards standing in full combat gear on the steps leading to the ground floor.

We could take them out, if we wanted to. Except for the fact that our self-assigned mission relies on stealth, not combat.

"There's a window back there," Hunter whispers. I nod, and we creep silently to the opposite side of the second floor. Sure enough, there's a window just wide enough for us to escape through.

I check the frame for any possible way to slide it open silently. A split second too late, I realize that I've just run my hand over the trigger to a motion-sensitive alarm. Sirens blast throughout the building.

In my peripheral vision, I watch one of the larger computers sail through the air and smash the window to pieces. Hunter shrugs. "They already know we're here."

As the footsteps grow louder, I dive out of the window, followed closely by Hunter. We land roughly on the lawn below, just as shots begin to rain down from the window, tearing the well-maintained grass to pieces.

Hunter and I scramble to our feet, and I try to ignore the white-hot pain in my right shoulder, which absorbed most of the impact of the jump, as I throw my batons as hard as I can toward the window.

Shouts from the soldiers emerge from behind what remains of the window when the batons hit their mark. The batons zip back to my hands while Hunter and I stumble into a sprint away from the building.

Our getaway vehicle, a rented pick-up, is hidden just behind the treeline. Hunter takes the wheel (after much arguing back at our hotel over who should get to drive).

"Go!" I shout, swinging into the passenger seat as the shots grow closer. It's imperative that nobody get close enough to identify us.

"What do you think I'm trying to do, Bob?!" Hunter nearly yells back. The ignition finally sputters to a start and we're off, burning rubber on roads less traveled.

"Turn right!" I shriek.

"I know where we need to go! Don't start with the backseat driving!"

I give Hunter a withering glare, despite the fact that he's too focused on avoiding trees and bullets to notice.

We practically fly down the road; before long we've lost our pursuers. Hunter speeds into the parking lot of our hotel.

Hunter and I stay still for a moment, staring out of the windshield and gasping. Then we're back in action, rushing out of the car and up to our hotel room. The sooner we get that flash drive decrypted, the better.

"You do have the flash drive, right?" I ask, closing and locking the door behind me.

Hunter pulls it out of his pocket. "I thought you'd have more faith in me than that, love."

I roll my eyes slightly as Hunter plugs the drive into our laptop.

Numbers and letters scroll haphazardly across the screen. Hunter leans down and types in a combination of seemingly random keys; instantly, the screen clears and documents begin to form.

"Most Wanted," I whisper. "So it is real."

For weeks, Hunter and I have chased down whispers of a conspiracy called 'Most Wanted.' But that's all they were. Whispers.

Until now.

Surveillance photos from our days with S.H.I.E.L.D. appear next, and though the photos contain images of the other members of our team, most of them are of me and Hunter. He takes my hand as we watch the evidence unfold before our eyes. And there's so much of it.

But it's missing one crucial point - who's behind all of this. Looks like we'll be on our own for now.

I glance at Hunter. He grins at me. "The odds really are stacked against us this time, aren't they?"

I roll my eyes, but now I'm grinning too. "It's not like someone's out to get us or anything."

The laptop beeps, signifying that the data transfer is complete. I ignore it.

The world can wait one more day for us to become spies again.