Saving Grant Ward

Chapter Twenty

Ten hours after leaving the Hub, we finally reached our drop zone. Grant and I had bundled head to toe in arctic parkas for the trek in, but as soon as the Quinjet's ramp dropped down and the icy wind swept past us, I knew I'd still be freezing to death in a matter of minutes.

"Alright, let's go!" Grant yelled over the wind. He stood and I followed a half-step behind as he grabbed one of SHIELD's massive long-term survival bags. I frowned.

"Are you sure we need those?" I called back. "This is supposed to be in and out, isn't it? Heavier gear will just slow us down!"

"Better to have the gear and be slow than to freeze to death if something goes wrong!"

I scoffed, but the noise got lost to the wind. What a cheery thought to start the mission on.

Still, I grabbed the other heavy bag and followed Grant out of the plane. Not steps after we cleared the ramp, the pilot closed it and took the Quinjet back up into the clouds.

It was just me, Grant, and the tundra for the next two and a half miles of our hike.

****************

We marched in silence, pushing on through the freezing cold by focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Finally, after what felt like forever, a small shed of a building came into view up ahead of us.

"I've never been so happy to see a worn down shack in my life," I sighed. Grant just hummed in response.

"Keep your eyes up. Approach with caution."

We slowed down on our approach, watching for any traps, sensors, or cameras that might complicate our day. All our gear blended in with the landscape, so as long as we moved slowly, it would be hard for anyone to stop us. Still, after our last few run-ins with these people, I kept expecting someone to jump out at us with guns at any moment.

Thankfully, no one did.

We paused on our approach just long enough to stash our gear bags, since they'd only slow us down inside. We didn't have a lot of great hiding places available to us, so we dug down into the snow to give them a little bit of cover. The two of us crept over the remaining distance to the shed's door, and once we got closer, I caught several cameras pointing out from the eaves. Grant and I managed to stay in the blindspots, hugging the wall of the building as we moved around to the building's front door.

Grant knelt down to examine the lock while I kept a lookout for any signs of trouble.

"It looks fine," he said after a moment. "Nothing special, no alarms, just a basic lock."

"...That seems extremely suspicious."

"Agreed. I hate being out in the open like this, especially on covert missions. In any other situation, we could find a hiding place and do a reconnaissance stakeout."

"Well, useless you brought some fake bushes for us to set up, that's not going to happen," I said.

"I know that. We're just going to have to risk it and break in now," he said.

"Go for it."

Grant rolled up his sleeves and cracked his neck (literally, like out of a movie—it was so hard not to laugh), then pulled out some complex-looking lock pick tools and set to work. After a few minutes of waiting, I got bored.

"Grant, let me do it," I said. Lock picking had been one of the first skills I'd taught myself after getting obsessed with spy novels, so I'd been good at it even before joining SHIELD academy. It was probably the one spy-skill I had more experience with than Grant.