I couldn't relax. Although my bones were tired, my mind was still awake, constantly cycling through a thousand useless ideas. How could I save Wanda and Pietro? How could I go home and leave them behind to suffer, after everything they've done for me?
Eventually, I picked myself back up, reached for the sandwich. I might as well eat something, I reasoned to myself. At least keep my strength up. Hurting myself wasn't going to help the twins any.
I took a bite of the sandwich. I tried not think how good it tasted as I chewed. When was the last time I ate? How was SHIELD going to send me home? Was there really no way to convince them to help the twins? Would I be able to do anything, once I got home?
How could I save them if I wasn't supposed to use my powers again? I couldn't think of any option that wouldn't break Coulson's terms of my private identity.
I was half-way through the sandwich when I heard a clank.
My head snapped up to see the cell door opened again.
Skye charged into the room. Behind her, followed another man, with brown hair and a buttoned-up shirt. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but didn't hold a candle to the light that gleamed in Skye's eyes. 'You want to save your friends? So do we.'
'What?' I said, mouth full with sandwich. I swallowed hard, glancing at the nervous-looking man. 'Who're you?'
'I'm Agent Fitz, Leo Fitz,' He replied, with a curt nod of his head, although he seemed so wound-up it was more like a twitch. He had a strong Scottish accent. Glaswegian, maybe? 'Gemma Simmons was — is — my best friend. My partner. She was kidnapped by the KGB on a mission three days ago, along with Agent Ward. Odds are, they're already dead —'
'But we can take those odds,' Skye continued fervently. She inhaled through her nose, her shoulders tense, and I had the feeling she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me. 'I know I'm new to this whole SHIELD thing, but I'm not going to sit back and twiddle my thumbs when I know I can be doing something. That's one thing I've learned here so far, we don't wait around, we take action, right? If Director Fury won't assign a team to save Gemma and Ward — and those twins — then I'll assign my own.'
'Does Coulson know about this?' I asked, having a feeling I already knew the answer. My chest filled with butterflies, glee and fear and excitement all ready to burst out.
'No,' Fitz said, rubbing his hands nervously. He glanced about the room before his gaze settled on me, his brow knitted together. 'It'd be an unsanctioned mission. We'll be entirely on our own. No radio, no back-up, completely in the dark. No one will know where we are, or where we went. If something goes wrong…'
'It won't go wrong,' Skye picked up the sentence as Fitz trailed. She pressed her lips together, raised her eyebrows at me. 'We know what we're doing. We've got a ship, we've got the weapons, now we just need someone to show us the way. You in?'
I rose to my feet. 'Of course. But you're missing just one other thing.'
Skye blinked at me, confused. 'What's that?'
I smiled. 'A plan.'
It had to be midnight now, if not later. Most of the Bus was completely dark as Skye and Fitz snuck me to the back of the jet. Were we still over London? Aside from us, the Bus seemed completely abandoned. I wondered where Coulson and this Agent May would be. In the cockpit?
The two agents were having a hissed conversation — Skye in the back, Fitz in the front, leaving me an uncomfortable eavesdropper in the middle of an argument.
'This is a bad idea,' Fitz muttered under his breath. 'This is a very bad idea. What am I doing, disobeying direct orders? Coulson would have my hide. Fury would have my head. And May…' he shuddered at the thought.
'Don't chicken out now!' Skye whispered loudly, keeping her head low as we crept through a kitchen. My footsteps made not a sound, while their shoes squeaked obnoxiously. I had a feeling Skye and Fitz weren't trained in stealth. 'You already agreed to this, Fitz. J-just think about Gemma, okay? We're doing this for her.'
'But what are we thinking?' Fitz demanded, throwing out his hands. 'Bringing a civilian teenager into this? I know SHIELD's had unethical methods in the past, but this is really pushing it.'
'I'm eighteen,' I pushed, a little annoyed even if it was a lie. I volunteered, hadn't I? The only one responsible for me was myself. 'I want to do this. What else do you need?'
'It's called personal responsibility,' Fitz snapped, pausing by a doorway, checking to see if the way was clear before moving ahead. 'And since you're not an agent, then you're a part of ours. If anything goes wrong, if anything happens to you, it'll be on our heads! And that's besides the fact that we don't know if we can trust you or not. You're just some odd girl who's connected to almost half a dozen terrorist acts, how do we know you're really not a part of them?'
'Will you relax, Fitz? She doesn't need a babysitter.' Skye said. 'She's saved lives! She's a Super Soldier, and probably better trained for this than you.'
Fitz came to a stop so fast that I nearly ran into him. He whirled around, jaw hanging. 'A Super Soldier? Now you tell me?'
'What?' I frowned, throwing Skye a look before going back to Fitz. 'Is that good or bad?'
'Well, it's bad because the KGB are now apparently equipped to create their own super soldiers, for one!' Fitz said almost immediately, looking increasingly alarmed. I guess a lack of reaction on Skye and my own part didn't help matters. He huffed, then added grudgingly, 'But I suppose it's good, since we have at least one person in this mad plan who has combat experience.'
'Neither of you have been in a fight?'
'Well, we have,' Skye admitted, making a face. 'Just not, you know, willingly. I mainly work with computers.'
'And I am a man of science!' Fitz said fervently. 'My skills are better served in a controlled environment, with constants and variables that I can manage! Not getting myself caught in the middle of a gunfight.'
'Fitz, remember what I said about relaxing?' Skye said. 'If everything goes well, it won't be you that's fighting, okay? Besides, I thought you said you had something that could help us.'
'I do, it's just…' Fitz shook his head. 'It's untested, that's all. There are too many unknown quantities here for me to be confident in the outcome.'
He led us down a set of metal stairs. 'I've got most everything ready in the lab. Just need to run it by you guys. Then we take the quinjet, shut down the security measures long enough to launch, go to the Crucible, save Ward, Gemma, and those friends of yours...and come back alive with the hope that we still have our jobs after going against everything SHIELD stands for.'
Skye snorted. 'You think we're going to have jobs after this? I'm already on probation. I'll probably never see the light of day after this.'
Disbelieving, I asked Skye, 'Why risk it, then?'
She just shrugged. 'What have I got left to lose? It's not like Coulson's going to put us in front of a firing squad.'
Fitz muttered something under his breath. It sounded a lot like 'I wouldn't get your hopes up.'
We reaching the bottom landing, stepping into a glass-and-white-metal room. A lab, as Fitz said, with long metal tables, a variety of machines and what looked like a small clinic. There were a mess of test tubes, microscopes, computers, and gutted drones everywhere. Fitz looked only a smidge more comfortable as he headed over to the nearest table.
It looked like gadgetry from a Bond film. What looked like a several different types of grenades, a pair of night vision goggles, and extendable batons. On stands were a set of three pistols, silvery metal with blue charging lights — some sort of futuristic, experimental design, unlike any gun I'd ever seen before.
'For this mission, I decided it'd be best if we utilized these,' Fitz looked particularly proud as he gestured to them. 'The Night-Night Gun, as I like to call it. An invention between myself and Gemma, each one is equipped with tranquilizing bullets. Thanks to our use of dendrotoxin, a single bullet can take down a full-grown man in less than six seconds.'
; 'Non-deadly?' I asked, picking up one of the pistols, holding it at arm's length. The weapon was surprisingly light. Releasing the cartridge, I counted five charges inside.
'Yes,' Fitz nodded once, glancing away for a moment. 'Neither Skye nor myself are authorized for lethal weaponry.'
'They don't trust me,' Skye said, looking a little pleased herself.
'And I have moral disagreements.'
'Which means he can't shoot straight,' Skye told me.
'Anyways,' Fitz gave her the stink eye before refocusing himself to the topic at hand. 'As you can see here, we're pretty well-stocked otherwise. Everything here, from the smoke grenades to the electric baton, are for incapacitation only. Thankfully, everyone here doesn't seem to have a problem with this. Considering what we believe the Crucible to contain, we'll all be carrying extra cartridges for the Night-Night gun.'
'We also have tactical gear waiting for us in the storeroom,' Fitz continued as he pulled extra munitions from beneath the table. 'Cold climate gear, since the Black Diamond mountains are infamous for their year-round winter weather. Some natural phenomena caused by ground elevation, jet streams, and northeast winds from Russia —'
'Not here for a science lesson,' Skye said, rolling her eyes. 'Let's keep it moving, Fitz.'
'Right, and this,' Fitz grunted as he hauled up a large object from beneath the table. It was wrapped in a thick green cloth, which he pulled off, revealing something round and circular underneath. At first, I thought it was a giant turkey platter, until I saw the leather straps and magnetic bindings. Then Fitz flipped it over, turning the concave shape into a convex one — and revealing a bright red star painted directly in its center. 'Is something I've been working on ever since we looted that, er, KGB bunker a few weeks back. We found ten pounds of unused Vibranium, who knows what they were planning to do with it, but it's ours now. Yep! So that's what I did. A shield. I made a shield.' He bobbed his head, rocking on his heels with hands on his hips. 'It was Coulson's idea.'
Skye had a dumbfounded look on her face. She jerked a finger at it. 'You made a replica of Captain America's shield…!'
'It's not a replica!' Fitz complained, throwing out his hands in annoyance. He propped up the shield, said, 'It's a real shield! Did you not hear the part about the Vibranium? Okay, yes, Coulson wanted it made to the same specs as Captain Roger's shield, but it is not a replica —'
'Why that, though? You could've made literally anything out of it — an iron man suit, a gun, hell even a sword — but instead you just made a shield for Coulson's little cosplay?'
'First of all, we didn't have enough for a suit, and —'
'Still, you could've been a little bit more creative. What the hell are we supposed to do with this?'
'I imagine, and it's just a guess here, it's to protect our very fleshy, delicate, not-bulletproof tiny human bodies —'
'But it's so old-fashioned —'
'Captain Freaking America, your beloved national hero, uses the exact same model —'
'And he's ninety-five years old! Besides, I don't think anyone wants to be Captain America when they could be Iron Man —'
'It's perfect.' I said, staring at the shield, running my hand over its smooth surface. Aside from the star, it was unpainted. The metal was cool and almost slippery under my touch. 'You're letting me use this?'
Fitz and Skye inhaled at once, glaring at each other like they wanted to continue the argument. Skye raised an eyebrow at him, and Fitz huffed, crossing his arms. 'Yes, in spite of my reservations about you, it's probably suitable that you be the one to use this, being a super soldier and all.'
'All right. Just one question, though,' I said, raising an eyebrow. 'What's it's melting point? How much heat can it stand before I'm toast? The KGB has these guys called Extremis soldiers and they, uh, they tend to get pretty hot under the collar.'
'Uh, well, let me put it this way,' Fitz made a face, pressing his hands together and pointing at the shield. 'That thing can survive a direct hit from a nuclear blast. Whatever these Extremis soldiers are, they won't be able to get through that, trust me. That shield was designed in a time when man had just created the most destructive force in all time — our old friend Howard Stark, who helped Oppenheimer become Death, also made one of the few things to protect against it.'
'Earning some good karma, huh?' Skye smiled, crossing her arms. 'I guess Oppenheimer had to feel proud of something.'
Fitz nodded approvingly. 'The shield's one of the best tools we've got right now, and only the best is gonna do when we save Gemma.'
'Coulson's not gonna like it.' Skye pointed out.
'Well,' Fitz pursed his lips, puffing out his chest in what I assumed to be a show of courage and decisiveness, but it was marred by his slightly trembling voice. 'W-what Coulson doesn't know won't hurt him.'
'Right,' Skye said, failing to hide a smirk. She stuck out her wrist, showing a silver metal bangle on it. 'Well, since we've all agreed to break a dozen laws by saving Gemma and Ward, you think you can break one more and get this off?'
'Ah, yes,' Fitz puttered over, picking up a tiny screwdriver.
As he fiddled with the bracelet, Skye looked me up and down, and said to him, 'You know what would be even more awesome? A cool outfit for our new friend here.'
Fitz hesitated. 'I beg your pardon?'
'Well, I mean, if she's our Captain America, she might as well look the part, right?' Skye said with a big grin. 'Come on, I can be a nerd, too. You've got to have something lying around, right?'
'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Fitz mumbled, turning his attention back to the bracelet.
'Oh, come on, I know you, Fitz,' Skye urged, casting me a wink even though I wasn't sure what I wanted out of this. 'You're prepared for anything. And Mia thinks it's a good idea, too, right, Mia?'
'Uh, yeah,' I said, shifting awkwardly on my feet. I glanced at the shield, then back at Fitz, who looked extremely conflicted now. 'Sure.'
'It hasn't been tested yet,' He said.
'It's going to be.' Skye replied.
Fitz glared at her for a moment before finally admitting: 'I might have something in storage. Wait here.'
I stepped onto the quinjet. 'So, uh, how do I look?'
Skye turned. She had changed into white snowgear, a pair of goggle strapped to her head. then gasped, clapping her hands together in front of her mouth. 'Uh, you look awesome, that's what!'
'Really?' I said, looking down at myself. 'I look like a clown.'
The outfit Fitz left for me in the box had been custom fatigues from World War II — as guessed by the type of helmet I wore, the same the US Army had in 1941. That wasn't the clowny part to me. No, it was the bright white star on my chest, sewn into the quilted blue double-breasted jacket I wore, complete with brass buttons. Along with the helmet, I had a pair of motorcycle goggles with red lenses, to better see in the winter. Then there were the olive green jodhpurs, baggy around the thighs, patched around the knees from previous use. A utility belt, with a few smoke bombs and electric cartridges for the Night-Night pistol I carried at my hip. Over my combat boots I wore gaiters, which would probably be useful since we'd be dropping in the middle of a snowy mountainside. Still, it didn't stop me from feeling like I'd just stepped off from a 40's movie set.
The only thing of my own I wore was the striped scarf Pietro gave me, tucked around my neck. It was a little warm right now, but I felt better wearing it.
Fitz, who'd just come aboard with a box in his arms, took a cursory glance at me before setting the box down in one corner of the ship. He had changed as well, into a white turtleneck, snow pants, a jacket. I noted that neither of them were actually geared beyond winter weather. 'A bit old-fashioned, but it'll do. I'm just glad it fits. Last-minute tailor jobs are not really my strong suit.'
'It fits all right, nothing pinches,' I said, before shifting the shield on my back. Although I was used to carrying a backpack, the strange weight
of the shield was offsetting my balance a little, and the traps pulled tight around my shoulders. 'At least, nothing that shouldn't. What is this stuff, anyways?'
'Old World War Two fatigues,' Fitz said over his shoulder as he headed for the cockpit. 'During the start of the war, the SSR stockpiled gear in the hopes of creating more super soldiers, but it never came to fruition. You're wearing one of their unused outfits. I suppose they were planning on adding female infantry to the roster at some point.'
'And what's the deal with the giant star on my chest?'
'So, they shoot at you and not at us.'
'Oh. Well, fair enough.' I said with a shrug. 'Are we ready to go?'
'Just one more minute,' Skye said, sitting down and opening a laptop. 'I'm just disabling the security systems, looping the feeds. Coulson and May won't know we're gone until it's too late.'
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