✓ ❘ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑 ─ 𝐁. 𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ sᴇᴠᴇɴ: ɢᴏ ɢᴏ ɢᴏ

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ sᴇᴠᴇɴ: ɢᴏ ɢᴏ ɢᴏ

❝ ʀᴏɢᴜᴇ ǫᴜɪɴᴊᴇᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ ɴᴏʀᴛʜ. ❞

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                          HIJACKING A QUINJET WAS NO EASY TASK. There were many risks involved, but despite it all, it proved to be less challenging than you'd previously expected.

Sneaking into the control chamber was simple enough, since you were still in possession of Agent Corvey's ID card. It enabled you to gain access to the room without any issue, and the universe seemed to be cutting you some slack for once, allowing the chamber to be entirely void of all S.H.I.E.L.D agents. When it registered in your brain that the room was empty, you cheered silently; you had been more than prepared to take out another group of agents, but you were thankful that it proved unnecessary for you to do so.

Once you were inside, you pulled the hood of your black hoodie even snugger around your face, taking the time to readjust your gloves as well. When you had seated yourself behind a desk with a large screen housing it, the trickiest part of the hijacking begun. In order for a quinjet to make it into the air, a launch sequence was needed. You'd only had the experience of riding in one a handful of times, and your knowledge on them was limited. Your teeth hacked at your bottom lip in a nervous frenzy as your fingers skimmed over the keyboard, unsure of which keys to press.

You were aware that you were acting within a limited time frame, and this awareness drove your urgency even higher. You needed to get out of this place and you needed to get out now.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you willed your mind to think back to the last time you had been on one of the jets. Brendon had been piloting, and you were riding shotgun. You squeezed them shut even more stringently as you tried to recall the pattern of his fingers over the control panel. A few numbers and letters flashed in your memory, prompting you to eagerly type them in on the board in front of you.

The system gave a short, low beep in response as the word 'DENIED' flashed across the screen in red block letters. Cursing under your breath, you hastily entered the digits in a different sequence, nervously casting a glance over your shoulder in case the alarm had alerted any personnel. The machine's second response was identical to its first one, and it was only after the fourth succession that your attempts proved successful.

With a large grin etched onto your face, you initiated the launch sequence, and soon enough, the engines of the foremost quinjet on the upstairs tarmac started up with a low whirr, elevating the vehicle above the launch pad before you pressed a few keys and sent it soaring off into the haze of blue ahead.