Nick Fury is my Uncle -COMPLETED-

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Steve Rogers: Doctor Banner, now might be a good time for you to get angry.

Bruce Banner: That's my secret, Captain: I'm always angry.

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I had never seen anything like the Maze in my entire life. It looked like a high-tech version of what Indiana Jones might have gone through to collect a precious artifact mixed with a military fortress mixed with the White House.

It had the dangerous traps of the Indiana Jones movies, the barbed wire and armed weaponry of FortKnox, and what must’ve been the entire Secret Service with bigger guns and additional ninja training.

And this was only the blueprint.

I spread the map over my knees, giving a low whistle. “Where did you get this, Rhodes?”

We were in Rhodes’ car, on our way to S.H.I.E.L.D’s maze. We were going to ditch the car a ways away, and then we had a plan. Unfortunately, Rhodes’ plan sounded a lot like ‘winging it’.

If we had a chance, it was Steve Rogers, but even with him I doubted we could get past all of this and come out in one piece.

“Don’t ask,” said Rhodes in response to my question. “It doesn’t have everything on their, though. S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn’t risk it.”

“This isn’t all of it?” I spluttered, completely aghast.

“Nope,” said Rhodes cheerfully. “We get the information on Penny, get out, and then find Ryder. I wheedled his location out of Juan.”

“You make it sound so simple,” I grumbled. “So Mr. Superhero will take out the guards and distract them. You’re talking your way inside the control booth. I’m somehow surviving and finding the information on Penny in five minutes.”

“If that,” said Rhodes.

“This place is like a high security prison on steroids,” I said skeptically. “How can a plan this simple work?”

“Lots and lots of bluffing,” said Rhodes, “And praying to high heaven that we don’t get blown to smithereens.”

“How optimistic,” I said dryly.

“You’re the one that wanted to do this,” pointed out Rhodes.

“I am also a complete idiot. Why would you listen to me?” I shot back.

“Too late to argue,” Rhodes countered, “We’re here.”

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My part of the plan consisted of one word: run. Despite the fact that Rhodes had said no amount of planning was going to prepare us, I felt suitably uncomfortable.

If any of Ryder’s ninja skills had transferred in the body switch, I was desperately in need of them.

I was running down a tiled corridor, zipping past dozens and dozens of doors that hid everything from illegal genetic experiments to imprisoned super villains to 0-8-4s to rows and rows of paper files encrypted in a code.

Each door was locked. Not that I had time to look or anything, because I was being perused by something big. I envisioned it as a low-tech Terminator, slow enough for me to keep ahead, smart enough to keep doggedly following me.

I had no clue what it was, actually, but every once and awhile a splatter of bullets would convince me to run a little faster. I was being worn out fast, I was no closer to discovering anything, but I had discovered a newfound ability.