Traceur

•02•

Levi's POV.
Sadly enough, we didn't go to the Smithsonian. Instead, we're in a Quinjet, flying above the Indian Ocean.

Such a disappointment. I really wanted to see that Captain America exhibit and draw mustaches on all the pictures of him.

"The target is a satellite launch platform: the Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago."

I start paying attention to Agent Rumlow. Yes, HYDRA thrives within SHIELD. I should've known I'd never be safe.

"Any demands?" Steve asks.

"A billion and a half."

"Why do steep?" I ask, even though I already know.

"Because it's SHIELD's."

"So it's not off-course, it's trespassing," Steve points out.

"I'm sure they have a good reason," Natasha replies.

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor.

"Relax, it's not that complicated."

"How many pirates?" I ask, seeing as how their conversation is going nowhere.

"Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy," Rumlow announces, pulling up a picture of a French man. "Georges Batroc. Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He's at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions."  I can beat that. "This guy's got a rep for maximum casualties."

"Hostages?"

"Uh...mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell. They're in the galley."

I know Sitwell's a HYDRA rat, but why's he there?

"What's Sitwell doing in a launch ship?" Cap murmurs, expressing my confusion. "Alright, I'm goanna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, Levi, you'll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get 'em out. Let's move."

I remember my instructions from Fury, and exhale quietly.

I don't want to go against Steve's back...but orders are orders, and besides, it's just one mission.

Little did I know how much this mission could affect the trust barrier between Steve and I.

"Secure channel seven," Steve speaks into his wrist, and Natasha replies.

"Channel secure. You doing anything fun Saturday night?"

I raise an eyebrow. You interested in doing anything on Saturday night, Nat?

"Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead so...no, not really," Steve decides, and I snort, choosing to veto the parachute and take my chances with just jumping.

"Coming in the drop zone, Cap, Lundrinov," the pilot announces, and I smirk, cracking my neck.

"You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she'd probably say yes."

"That's why I don't ask," Steve retorts, running to the edge. I follow, grinning before I plunge off the ramp.

"Cannonball!"

I hear Natasha ask a question and Steve reply, neither of them noticing my quite dumb actions. The wind howls and roars in my ears, and I notice that there's a single flag on the side of the ship, around twenty feet up from the deck. I aim myself in that direction, then spread my arms out and  grab it, loosening my legs for an easier landing.

I spin around the pole by my hands, then let go and fly off feet-first, hurtling into a man's face. My feet come in contact with his skull, and he hits the ground hard, while I jump off him and roll across the deck.

I jumpkick another pirate, then stab him in the chest and fly off him, landing one story below and onto Steve's shoulders, gripping them with my hands to give myself a nice smooth swing before rolling across the floor.

"What about the nurse that lives across the hall from you? She seems kind of nice," Natasha mentions, not even batting an eye at my sudden appearance.

"Secure the engine room, then find me a date," Steve commands, a bit startled from my impromptu land-and-swing from his shoulders.

"I'm multitasking!" Natasha chirps, and I jump off the railing with her, knowing that we could've easily taken the stairs but, of course, that would lower our badass level.

We hand easily and proceed inside, knocking out a man who was heading for the engine room.

As we fight the men swarming around us, Steve's voice enters our ears.

"Natasha, what's your status?"

"Hang on!" She grunts, grabbing a pipe and bringing it down on the pirates head. I sweep his legs out from beneath him, and he collapses.

"Engine room secure," I bark into the earpiece, and Natasha and I head towards their computer room. We start downloading information from the computers onto our hard drives.

Suddenly, Steve yells into the comms. "Natasha! Batroc's on the move. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages."

Natasha and I don't answer, too busy backing up SHIELD's files and, of course, we weren't about to abandon our mission when there were plenty of other capable people in charge of making sure that the hostages are okay.

"NATASHA!" Steve yells, and then goes quiet. Well, except for the sounds of fighting from his end.

Suddenly, the door flies away from its frame, sending the Steve and Batroc hurtling through. I don't even look up- I can tell who they are by the sounds of their breathing. Steve always breathes heavily after a fight, but not too heavily, since he's enhanced. He just does it because he used to be an asthmatic, and is used to having to struggle for breath. Batroc, on the other hand...well, I've met him on one of my missions. Pretty shady dude, but at least he's sassy.

"Well, this is awkward," Natasha speaks up, and Steve stands, brow furrowed. I'm looking up now, trying to see if he's angry at me. He's focusing on Natasha for the moment, though, and I go back to my work.

"What are you doing?"

"Backing up the hard drive. It's a good habit to get into."

"Rumlow needed your help. Where were you?"

There's a pause, only filled by Natasha and I tapping on the computer keys.

"You're saving SHIELD intel."

"Whatever I can get my hands on," Natasha murmurs.

"Our mission is to rescue the hostages."

"That's your mission," I retort, unplugging the flash drive in sync with Natasha and stuffing it in my zippered pocket. "And you've done it beautifully."

I turn to go, and freeze when Steve grabs mine and Natasha's arms.

"You two jeopardized this whole mission," he growls. Natasha rolls her eyes. "I think that's overstating things."

Suddenly, Batroc jumps up and, before I can shoot him, he throws a grenade at us, running out. A huge weight rams into me, propelling me out the window and into the hallway on the other side. The explosion sends a piece of shrapnel flying into my cheek, and I grit my teeth, accepting the pain.

"Okay. That one's on us," Natasha agrees.

"You're damn right."