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seven

PART TWO - CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER

   "You still bothering that one guy on your morning runs? He's got to be getting tired of you by now, Steven." I grin from the backseat of the car. I lean forward and poke my head out the passenger window, leaning out to the man standing outside, "Hey, listen, I'm sorry if he's annoying you. He's getting a bit old and senile so —" Steve's hand slapped over my mouth to stop me from talking anymore.

   I push his hand off my face, "Hey, buddy, I'd watch yourself if I were you. I learned a lot more tricks when I was in Asgard. Some of them aren't so pretty." I warned, making my eyes radiate with the purple color that symbolized my power.

   Natasha had a small smile on her face as Steve climbed into the front seat.

   "How y'all doing?" The dark-skinned man asked from outside. Nat lifted her head a little bit, "Hey."

   "Can't run everywhere." Steve commented to him. The man shook his head with a smile, "No you can't."

• • •

   I stand next to Steve and Natasha as we look at the diagram of the ship we were supposed to infiltrate.

   "Target is a mobile satellite launch platform. The Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them ninety-three minutes ago." Brock Rumlow explained, turning to face us.

   "Any demands?" I ask. He nods, "A billion and a half." I let out a whistle at the large number.

   "Why so steep?" Steve asks, his arms crossed over his chest. Brock shrugged slightly, "Because its S.H.I.E.L.D's."

   "So it's not off course, it's trespassing." Steve concludes. Nat looks up to him, "I'm sure they have a good reason."

   "I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor." I cross my arms as Steve nods in agreement.

   "Relax, guys. It's not that complicated." She says monotonously. Steve sighs, "How many pirates?"

   "Twenty-five. Top mercs, led by this guy." Brock swiped on the screen, pulling up a picture of a man. "George Batroc. Ex DGSE, action division. He's at the top of the Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French immobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy's got a rep for maximum casualties."

   "What about hostages?" I ask. Rumlow turns to another screen, "Mostly techs," he enlarges their pictures, "One officer, Jasper Sitwell." He pulls up the individual's photo.

   "What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship?" Steve looks to his hands, "Alright, I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you'll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft and help Raven find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get 'em out. Raven, if you got time, help Nat and I. Let's move." Steve shares the plan and concludes it.

   I double check the comm set in my ear and on my wrist, making sure everything is clear.

   "Alright, STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up." Rumlow orders as we all begin moving into our drop positions.

   "Secure channel seven." Steve's voice comes in over my earpiece, waiting for Nat and my response, "Seven secure." We reply.

   "Did you do anything fun Saturday night?" I hear Nat ask I move to grab my gear beside them. Cap puts his earpiece in, "Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so . . . no, not really."

   "Coming up on the drop zone, Cap." The pilot announces.

   "You know if you ask Kristen out from statistics, she'd probably say yes." Natasha says. I nearly snort at the idea, causing her to hit my shoulder.