Chapter 31
Gliders. Five … no … six of them. An alien Special Forces team? Was this the A-team? Or the B-team left outside to provide backup support while the A-team infiltrated the facility? The latter, he thought. That's what he would have done. He squeezed back the throttle, hoping the high-pitched whine of the outboard hadn't alerted the backup gliders. The large, triangular-shaped barge loomed in front. A glider scooted by, one of the smaller single-rider versions Stark was retro-engineering. The creature's back was turned to him. Steve pulled his sidearm and aimed at the creature's back, noting the curious lack of armor on the greyish flesh.
Nothing but slaves…
Shooting the creature in the back would serve no purpose but to alert his compatriots of his approach. Steve holstered the weapon, spinning the wheel of the tiny boat and frowning as the current tried to drag it downriver. On second thought, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea? The docks were on the east side of the island because the current rammed any boat that tried to approach from the west into the rocky shore. Steve fired up the engine and drove away from the fight, looping upriver. He waited until he felt the current drag him in the direction he wanted and aimed the boat right for the island, cutting the engine completely.
As he'd anticipated, the current carried him right into the tidal wall which ran along the entire island. It was low tide. Waiting until he felt the bump of the boat hitting the rocks, he threw out the cinder block with a rope through the middle which served as an anchor. He had no idea if it would be adequate to hold the craft once the tide began to rise, but it was a rental. Not an asset of S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd be less than pleased if he had to pay to replace it.
Another glider passed just as Steve was splashing through knee-deep water to the shore. He froze. As he'd hoped, the lower-level soldiers were slow to recognize a potential threat unless it moved towards them. Another piece of the puzzle … a picture that was beginning to make sense. As soon as the glider moved beyond him, he finished the trudge through the icy waters, grimacing as it soaked through his shoes. The first lesson any soldier learned was to always protect your feet. It was going to be one hell of an unpleasant mission.
He ran along the stone sea wall, careful to keep to the shadows as another glider passed. One skimmed the dock. There would be no getting onboard that way. It was November. This was really going to stink! Stripping off his favorite leather jacket and praying he'd be able to retrieve it before the rising tide carried it away, Steve slipped back into the water, careful not to draw the attention of the gliders by splashing.
The icy water hit him like a sledgehammer. Hyperventilating to keep his core temperature from dropping, he did the breast stroke to swim to the opposite side of the enormous floating fortress, keeping his head and body under water as much as possible to reduce his visual footprint. Another glider passed as his hand bumped the barnacle-ridden hull. The sound of boots pacing back and forth alerted him climbing out of the water unseen by the gliders was not his only problem. Like all things the lower-level sentries did, there appeared to be a pattern to the glider's patrol pattern and the back-and-forth pacing of the soldier on the deck above.
Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could predict their movement. Tick. Tick. Tick. Steve forced his heart rate to slow as he counted the rhythm. Slipping beneath the water until he was almost to the bottom of the hull, he continued the count, waiting until he estimated the sentry on the deck would have his back turned one way and the patrol glider would be at the far reach of his patrol arc, then kicked up out of the water like an orca breaching the waves. It was not much momentum, but enough to grab the lip of the deck, the purpose for all the work he did between missions on parallel bars and gymnastics rings. Suppressing a grunt of pain as shoulder muscles screamed in protest at the abuse, he swung himself up, his movement anything but graceful as he flopped onto the deck of the ship like a fish out of water.
YOU ARE READING
Man Out of Time - A Captain America / Avengers Fanfiction
FanfictionCast forward in time 67 years to babysit a group of oversized superhero egos, Steve Rogers struggles to adapt to a world which has moved on without him. But an old friend comes back into his life with a bit of sage advice for dealing with a world th...