Hellfire▹w.s.|✔[Wattys2016]

SEVEN

[A/N:all I want for my children is for them to be happy]

"WHAT DO you want?"

"To see an empire fall."

The Archangel roundhouse kicked the Falcon, blue eyes devoid of any emotion. The Soldier had originally missed; the prosthetic sending chunks of the hard, grey wall flying. Sam Wilson flew back into the now empty capsule, body colliding with a loud thud.

The Winter Soldier, currently occupied with their other target, caught the Captain (who seemed to not want to fight the Soldier, for whatever reason) in the face, the blonde man's head snapping to the side so hard she wouldn't have been surprised if he had whiplash. The Archangel stood back, rigid, tensely waiting for an opening at their target. Captain America, aka Steven Grant Rogers. Born July, 04, 1918. The name wasn't familiar, but the only thing that was truly familiar to her was the presence of the agent next to her. She didn't know his name, but the Archangel trusted him with her life.

The Soldier moved the Captain out the door, easily, seeing as the Captain was trying to be on the defense when it would kill him. She only spared a glance at her handler-a short man, with a thin face and light brown eyes matching the shade of his swept back, neatly combed hair. Moving on, they tag-teamed the Captain, the Archangel sending him stumbling with a kick to the man's (abnormally hard) stomach. The Soldier swung again, the Captain grabbing the man's arm and pulling him forward. The Archangel didn't proceed, watching as the dark-haired man swung his body and slammed the blond to the ground harshly.

The Captain, relentless as always, jumped to his feet immediately, a leg catching the Archangel in the side of her face. The woman's head snapped to the side, rendering her temporarily inoperative as the Soldier kicked and pushed their target towards the elevator doors. The woman recovered quickly, transporting to where the blue eyed man stood, stepping away as she drove her fist into the man's abdomen. Captain America was pushed through the elevator doors, falling down the shaft with sometimes inaudible clangs. Unfortunately, both soldiers knew he wasn't dead. Not yet.

The Archangel sent one last look down the elevator shaft, before turning away and walking off with her comrade of decades, the Winter Soldier.

////

The cafeteria had, as expected, been a trap. The Archangel was in a bit of a twist, as none had the will to eliminate her partner, but the same couldn't be said for her.

Slamming a palm into the sternum of an unfortunate man, the Archangel surveyed with cold, shining eyes a blue as vivid as the blue of the energy that was moving around her, a invisible protector that only the Soldier and Steven knew about. Turning on her heel, she swiftly pulled out one of the many guns hidden on her persona; firing at a new-comer, red hair, what could've been a familiar face...

The woman rotated her wrist, reveling in the mildly annoying popping sound, staring at the young redhead standing across from her, whom held an equally quizzical expression as her own.

"Madame, where is the Soldier?" The girl asked quietly, words of English accented. "He is not here, Natalia. Fix your stance, child, you've left your entire left side open for multiple forms of kicks," Madame B chastised sharply, circling the mat as the Archangel watched her younger opponent, brown eyes only sparking at the mention of the Soldier. The fiery-haired girl did not respond, instead fixing her stance as she had been told. The Archangel simply moved her hand delicately, watching with a hint of amusement as the girl-Natalia Romanova, as she had been told-watched the delicate, light blue energy travel, caressing her opponent's forearm like a pet snake. The girl only shook her head, muttering a faint, "I liked the Soldier better," before the Archangel struck out, energy twisting into a whip and striking.