Chapter 9 : FIREFIGHT
The jungle erupted in gunfire.
I grabbed Fitz and threw us both behind a stone pillar as debris exploded from the temple entrance. The impact jarred through my bruised shoulder—when had that happened?—but the pain was distant, secondary to the adrenaline screaming through every nerve.
"Stay down!" I pressed him against the ancient stone. "Don't move until I tell you."
"What—who's shooting—"
"Doesn't matter. Just stay down."
Ward was already returning fire, moving between cover with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd done this a thousand times. Coulson had his weapon drawn, coordinating retreat through his earpiece. Simmons was pressed against a pillar twenty feet away, eyes wide but hands steady on the tablet she refused to abandon.
And Skye—
Skye was frozen in the open, fifteen feet from any cover, the 0-8-4 clutched against her chest where she'd grabbed it when the shooting started.
"Skye! Move!"
She didn't move. Shock. The same paralysis I'd seen in a hundred movies, the moment when reality overwhelmed training and instinct failed.
I was running before I finished thinking.
My enhanced reflexes engaged fully for the first time—not the controlled demonstration in Coulson's interview room, but the raw, desperate acceleration of a body pushed past its limits. The world slowed. Bullets traced visible paths through the air, too fast to dodge but not too fast to track.
I slammed into Skye and carried her behind a collapsed section of wall as the space she'd occupied erupted in stone chips and ricochets.
"Breathe," I told her. "Look at me. Breathe."
Her eyes focused. Wild, terrified, but present. "Jake—"
"You're okay. We're both okay." I took the 0-8-4 from her shaking hands and shoved it into my tactical vest. "Stay behind me. We're going to move when I say."
The firefight intensified. Through gaps in the cover, I could see figures in military gear advancing through the jungle—not a coordinated assault, more like suppression fire. Keeping us pinned while something else developed.
"Coulson!" I shouted. "They're flanking south!"
"I see them! Ward, cover our retreat! Everyone fall back to the Bus!"
Ward laid down covering fire with terrifying precision. Each shot found a target—not kills, but disabling hits that dropped advancing soldiers and forced the others to cover.
I grabbed Skye's hand and ran.
The path to the Bus was chaos. Smoke grenades had created a haze that turned the jungle into a nightmare of shadows and muzzle flashes. I navigated by sound and instinct, my detection ability useless for tracking normal humans but my enhanced senses picking up movement, breathing, the click of weapons being reloaded.
A soldier appeared from behind a tree. My body moved before thought—sidestep, grab, redirect, throw. He hit the ground hard and didn't get up.
"Did you just—" Skye started.
"Keep moving."
The Bus loomed ahead, ramp down, engines already cycling. May had positioned for immediate takeoff—she'd been ready the moment Coulson called.
FitzSimmons were ahead of us, Coulson covering their retreat. I pushed Skye toward the ramp and spun to check our rear.
That's when I saw her.
Comandante Camilla Reyes emerged from the tree line with a squad of soldiers, weapons lowered, hands raised in the universal gesture of peaceful approach. Her uniform was pristine despite the chaos. Her smile was warm, professional, exactly the expression of an ally arriving at the perfect moment.
I didn't buy it for a second.
"Coulson!" she called. "We're not your enemy. The rebels attacked my convoy—we barely escaped."
Coulson's weapon lowered slightly. "Reyes. I wasn't expecting you personally."
"The artifact is of significant interest to my government. I came to ensure its safe recovery." She approached with careful, non-threatening steps. "May we come aboard? My soldiers need medical attention."
The calculation was visible on Coulson's face. Enemy of my enemy. The rebels were still out there, still shooting, still a threat that needed addressing. Reyes had soldiers, knowledge of the terrain, reasons to cooperate.
I knew what he was going to say before he said it.
"Everyone aboard. We'll sort this out in the air."
Reyes nodded graciously. Her soldiers filed past me toward the ramp—disciplined, professional, eyes that catalogued everything without seeming to look.
I counted them. Six soldiers, plus Reyes. Armed with Peruvian military standard issue. Moving with the coordination of a team that had trained together extensively.
The ambush would come later. When they'd assessed our defenses. When they knew where the 0-8-4 was stored and how to access it.
I couldn't warn Coulson. Couldn't reveal foreknowledge I shouldn't have. But I could position myself.
I followed the last soldier up the ramp, staying close, staying watchful.
---
The Bus achieved altitude as the last of the gunfire faded behind us.
I found a corner of the cargo bay and tried to make my hands stop shaking. The tremors had started the moment the adrenaline began to fade—aftershock of combat, the body's delayed reaction to mortal threat.
The bruise on my shoulder throbbed. I'd caught debris at some point, a piece of stone that had cracked against my vest and found the gap near my collarbone. Not serious. Already healing, probably.
But my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Hey." Fitz appeared beside me, voice quiet. "I wanted to say... thank you. For the debris thing. At the temple."
I looked at him. His face was pale, eyes still carrying the shock of combat, but he was holding himself together. Scientist, not soldier, but tougher than he looked.
"You would've done the same," I said.
"I really wouldn't have. I would've frozen and gotten crushed." He attempted a smile. "You moved before the explosion. Before anyone could have seen it coming. How did you know?"
The question hung in the air. I could feel its weight, the suspicion it could become if I answered wrong.
"I didn't know. I just... felt it. Like something was about to go wrong, and I had to act."
"Your detection ability?"
"Maybe. I'm still figuring out how it works."
Fitz nodded slowly. "Well, however it works, I'm glad it did. I owe you one."
"Buy me a sandwich sometime. Help settle the ranking debate."
His smile became more genuine. "Deal."
He headed toward the lab, where Simmons was already running analysis on data from the temple. I watched him go, then resumed my study of the cargo bay.
Reyes's soldiers had spread throughout the Bus—not aggressively, just filling space in the way trained operatives did when assessing an unfamiliar environment. Two near the cargo ramp. Two in the common area. Two on the upper level, near the bedrooms and command center.
Reyes herself was with Coulson in his office, no doubt discussing jurisdiction and cooperation and all the diplomatic niceties that would make the eventual betrayal seem more shocking.
I needed to stay close to the lab. That's where the 0-8-4 would be stored, where FitzSimmons would work to understand it. When Reyes made her move, that's where she'd go.
Skye found me before I could relocate.
"You saved my life." Her voice was strange—flat in a way that meant she was processing something too big for normal emotion. "Out there. I froze and you just... appeared. Knocked me out of the way."
"Anyone would have—"
"No." She stepped closer. "They wouldn't. I've been around SHIELD long enough to know most people think about themselves first. Survival instinct. But you didn't even hesitate."
I met her eyes. The detection ability hummed between us—that constant awareness of what she was, what she would become.
"You're part of my team," I said. "I don't let my team die."
"We've known each other for three days."
"Long enough."
Something shifted in her expression. The walls she kept up—the sarcasm, the deflection, the carefully maintained distance—cracked slightly. Just for a moment. Just enough to show something vulnerable underneath.
"Thank you," she said. "I don't... I'm not good at this. Saying thank you. But I mean it."
"I know."
She nodded once, then headed toward the common area where Ward was checking weapons. The moment passed.
But I'd seen it. The trust building, layer by layer. The connection forming through shared danger and mutual survival.
The copying would take time. Weeks, probably months. But the foundation was solid now.
---
I positioned myself near the lab entrance, pretending to read a tablet while actually watching Reyes's soldiers.
The two on the upper level had moved—subtle, professional, drifting closer to Coulson's office. The two in the common area had positioned themselves at exit points. The two near the cargo ramp were checking equipment in a way that suggested inventory rather than curiosity.
They were mapping the Bus. Preparing.
I couldn't act yet. The betrayal hadn't happened. Pulling a weapon on allied soldiers based on nothing but suspicion would destroy any trust I'd built with the team.
But I could be ready.
The 0-8-4 sat on a workbench in the lab, containment shielding still in place, blue glow muted but persistent. Fitz and Simmons orbited it like planets around a dangerous sun, running tests, taking readings, arguing in their shorthand about energy signatures and containment protocols.
May was in the cockpit. Ward was in the common area, close to weapons. Coulson was still in his office with Reyes.
Skye had retreated to her bunk with her laptop, processing the chaos in her own way.
The moment was coming. I could feel it building like pressure before a storm.
Reyes emerged from Coulson's office. Her smile was unchanged—warm, professional, perfectly calibrated.
"Agent Coulson has agreed to share data from the artifact analysis," she announced to no one in particular. "A gesture of international cooperation."
She moved toward the lab.
I stepped into her path, casual, non-threatening. "Beautiful device, isn't it? FitzSimmons are still running preliminary assessments, but the energy readings are fascinating."
Reyes's eyes measured me with practiced precision. "You must be the new consultant. Jake Mordered, correct?"
"Guilty as charged."
"Coulson speaks highly of you. Says you have unusual instincts."
"I get lucky sometimes."
Her smile didn't waver. "In my experience, luck favors the prepared. Perhaps we could discuss your experiences with unusual phenomena? My government is very interested in enhanced individuals."
The offer was bait. I could feel the hook beneath the words.
"Maybe later," I said. "Right now I'm more interested in making sure we get this thing back to SHIELD safely. Lot of moving parts on a mission like this."
"Indeed." She glanced past me toward the lab, toward the 0-8-4. "Lot of moving parts."
She stepped around me and continued toward the lab. Her soldiers hadn't moved, but their attention had shifted. Focused. Ready.
I touched my earpiece, keeping the gesture subtle.
"Ward. Something's wrong."
Static. Then his voice, barely audible. "I noticed. Stay ready."
The Bus hummed around us, engines steady, altitude climbing. Outside the windows, the sun had set completely. Nothing but darkness and stars.
Reyes stopped at the lab entrance, speaking to FitzSimmons in that warm, professional voice.
Her hand moved toward her sidearm.
Time slowed.
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