Bruce lay on the opposite bench, pretending to sleep but Harry could tell that it was only feigned. Thor, meanwhile paced back and forth continuously, his hands either clasped behind his back or one hand rubbing the fist of the other in front of his chest. Tony, meanwhile, hadn't left the pilot's seat. His hands were in constant motion as he worked his magic to keep abreast of S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence. So far, though, there'd been next to no information about Steve or Nat at all. Not even the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. had attempted to have them killed had been logged in S.H.I.E.L.D. files. Something was going on, that much was for certain.
The unexpected ringing of Tony's phone snapped Harry's eyes open and he was up in a shot, only a fraction of a second before Bruce, with Thor hot on their heels as they crowded around Tony.
Thankfully, when Tony'd answered it, he'd also put it on loudspeaker.
"Romanoff. Finally. This sitting around waiting while you and the Capsicle do your spy thing is … wait! Is that gunfire?" Tony blurted, interrupting himself.
And it was, Harry realised. Rapid-fire gun shots at that. A number of louder shots, closer to the phone, could only be Nat shooting back.
"We need immediate assistance and evac!" Nat stated, just as rapid-fire as her gun.
Tony's fingers blurred on the console in front of him.
"Got your position. Be there in five," Tony replied.
The line cut out before any more could be said.
The repulsar engines on the quinjet roared to life and Tony rapidly had them airborne.
"Can you do your magic thing and get there now?" Bruce asked.
Harry frustratedly shook his head.
"No. I need to know where I'm going in order to apparate or portkey somewhere and I've never been there; I've got no frame of reference," Harry replied.
"We're just going to have to trust that our comrades can hold on until we get there," Thor stated, holding out his hand for Mjolnir to slap into his open palm.
ooo00ooo
Snapping her phone off, Nat shoved it into her pocket, immensely grateful that she'd managed to snag the thing just before they had to bail from the car.
Firing off a few return shots gave Nat a chance to get a better read on her situation. It wasn't good. Not good at all. Where was Clint when you needed him, she wondered. A few of his special arrows could come in handy just then. Seeing the fire power that she was up against and knowing the number of bullets left in her own magazines, Nat knew that retreat was the only option.
Racing from cover, she leapt over the barrier dividing the highway and immediately rolled out of the way on oncoming traffic. A convenient second car came by and Nat ducked in behind it, but not before looking back and seeing what was being aimed at her.
Nat's eyes widened and she did the only thing she could – she leapt from the bridge, shooting out a grappling line from her stinger wrist braces under her jacket. The claws slapped into the underside of the bridge, allowing her to swing to safety, landing in a run.
The shadow of the Soldier on top of the bridge had her smirking and Nat pulled her guns. After waiting just out of sight for close to a minute, she saw the shadow shift, his gun lowering slightly. Stepping out, she instantly aimed up and began firing.
Her first shot, she thought, had been dead on target, aimed right for his right eye. The fact that he disappeared so quickly gave her hope that he was down for good, but she wasn't going to count on it.
As soon as he disappeared, Nat moved, racing out for better cover behind a truck.
Her hopes of the kill shot vanished as the Winter Soldier reappeared, spraying bullets where she'd just been. Instantly, Nat fired on him, only to have him turn his attention to her.
Steve, she knew, would have landed around here somewhere; exactly where, she didn't know but she wasn't going to count him out just yet. She just needed to give him a chance. And standing here in a shoot out wasn't going to do that.
Ducking down, she began racing away, dodging between cars, aiming to lead the Soldier away.
ooo00ooo
The slight confusion of where he was and what had happened evaporated quickly as Steve lifted his head and gave it a slight shake. The memory of the impact on his shield, of flying through the air, of falling and then a second impact rushed back and he grimaced.
He seemed to be in a bus, albeit one laying on its side. Looking back, Steve noted the few passengers that had been on it, some bloody, most holding different parts of their body, making their way towards the hole in the front windscreen.
It was just as he was getting to his feet that the first bullets began peppering the bus, shooting right through the floor. With the intense volume of flying bullets, there was only one thing that could be shooting so many – a machine gun.
Covering his head, Steve took off, trying to run and dodge the unseen bullets while navigating the upturned bus as quickly as he could. Through the rear window, he could see his shield, laying in the middle of the road, its familiar bands of red, white and blue dulled nearly black from the missile explosion just before.
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