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The plane skimmed low, so low... almost brushing the tops of the Atlantic waves beneath.
Every so often spray would shoot up obscuring the windshield. The pilot’s skill and the crafts manoeuvrability were impressive. Even the Avengers Quinjet could do nothing like this, racing into and through the waves, cloaking abilities obscuring the craft from any surveillance. Although awed by the Wakandian technology Steve felt intense frustration.
Once again he issued a quick prayer for Bucky's health and wellbeing. There was no way Bucky could have joined Steve on this mission. Missing an arm, traumatised, hurt.....
Again Steve lifted his Wakandan issued phone.
Again he punched in Fury's emergency line.
Again Fury failed to answer. It was almost enough to make Steve curse.
He would like to have trusted this mission to Tony; but Tony was crippled by the Accords and had forsaken his teammates. Steve could expect no help from him. The slightly sick feeling in his stomach asked if it was truly the accords that where the problem? Could he have expected help from Tony anyway? Ironman had been pulling back for months and months now; had been completely uninvolved in the search for Bucky; had been angry about how Steve's team handled Project Insight (as though there was a better option); And, more recently….. ……And before that, when Steve finally found Bucky all Tony had wanted was to get Steve best friend locked up again, carrying on about mental health... thinking that Bucky should have strangers analysing and prodding and poking and treating him like a science experiment gone wrong. Poor Bucky had had enough of that. He needed peace and support.
But .... even more recently.... but, No. Tony had had a shock. He had overreacted yes, but Tony was weak. Once he had sat down with this psychiatrist or whoever it was that Tony was talking to these days Tony would understand. He would even apologise for ever doubting Steve; for hurting Bucky; for this whole mess…. but until then... no help could be expected from the Billionaire.
Again he stabbed Fury's private number into the phone.
Again the phone rang and rang.
Where was that man? He should answer!
Fury knew that no one would call that number unless it was an emergency. And only someone like Steve, with high enough clearance would know the number. It wasn't like there could be something more important than Steve's mission happening right now. (Well, yes something more important could be happening; but if it were, Steve would not be on this mission. He would have been called in. His teammates would have been called in. This whole prison break scenario would be a non-event.)
Ahead, through the sea spray Steve could just make out a couple of faint lights; growing steadily more clear. The jet zoomed towards them and Steve peered at the Wakandan's around the ship. None of them would be coming with him; he would enter the raft himself, extract his teammates, and at that point he would radio the Wakandan team to collect them.
Steve would prefer to have a team to direct, but he understood T'Challa's reluctance to give his warriors to an unknown entity; he could do it on his own. Like rescuing Bucky, his lone triumph would be glorious. It would remind the world what he could achieve; why they should trust Captain America. The lights were clearly visible up ahead now; no longer flickering - but steady, guiding Steve's way forward. He moved to the now open back hatch of the plane, nodded to the pilot, checked he had his radio, his phone, and jumped.
Instantly the cold salt waters swamped him. For half a second he was frozen, remembering the ice and cold of the last flight of the Valkyrie. But then his survival instinct took over, his head broke the water’s surface, gulping salty air, he remembered that his team needed him.
Looking around he could no longer see the craft; advanced Wakandan stealth technology hiding it from his sight. For half a second he wished Tony was here to see these incredible advances; to marvel at the engineering; to see how much people who were not Tony Stark had been able to accomplish.
While the plane was hidden the bright lights of the Raft shone ahead, and with powerful strokes Steve began to make his way towards the landing pad. ... Minutes later Steve hauled himself from the water. He could see a couple of cameras but both were firmly trained to sea for incoming boats or flight-crafts. No one would know he was here.
Gathering his strength he hauled at the doors, just managing to force them open and slipping inside. His muscles hurt - but, given the last 72 hours he thought his body could be forgiven some aches and pains. When they got back to Wakanda he would rest.
Jogging speedily along the corridors he noticed that it appeared someone thought the doors were Hulk proof. He allowed himself a small smile. Fools. If Steve could open them Bruce would have no trouble. Not knowing where his team was did seem to be a bit of a problem... but Steve continued to race the corridors. No doubt he would soon get a feel for the layout of the place; find a map; a window... something to orientate him.
Fortunately the prison seemed to have few guards. Steve guessed they relied on the water to deter escapes, but given how easily he had opening the supposedly Hulk proof doors; someone had made a major mistake. Well their foolishness was his gain. Soon they would be out and the world would see they should not doubt Captain America. He was justice. He was strength.
Eventually he noticed some small lights flickering along the floors - like escape path lighting. Clearing some safety precautions had been built into the facility. He was relieved. He must have trigged them somehow. If he followed the lights backwards he would get deeper into the facility, find someone to point him in the direction of his team.
The lights led him to another reinforced door. Some trepidation; a sense of foreshadowing and doom cast itself across him.
Steve shook it off.
Through that door he would find.... something. Something to help him find his team he hoped. Taking a deep breath he stretched, calm, prepared to fight whatever was on the other side.
Hauling it open he entered. No gaolers. No defenses at all. His teammates, calm, in cells. Pleased, but not surpised to see him. He smiles back at them, prepared to break the doors and get them out. As he approached Sam's cell the lights all flickered out.
They knew he was here!
He rushed towards Sam's cell, jerking hard at the bars. He could hear his teammate’s rapid breathing, adrenalin racing through them all. And through the dark he could hear running footsteps. Jerking at the bars harder he created a hole, and called Sam to exit; moving to Clint's cell next. The pounding footsteps had stopped. The gaolers were right outside! He passed his cell phone to Sam, a small beacon of light in the otherwise pitch dark room. Moving from Clint's open cell to Wanda's, tearing it open; watching Clint and Sam dash in, stripping the straight jacket; opening it, creating rudimentary lock picks; removing the collar…
Steve tore through Scott's cell to allow their final teammate to escape.
United the Avengers faced the door; red mist swirling around Wanda's hands, lighting the darkness. Scott was cowardly, shrinking back against the wall of his cell. Steve internally shrugged, what more could he expect? Like Tony, Scott was an engineer. Like Tony, he relied on a suit. He could do nothing he help them anyway. He appeared fascinated with Wanda's magic, looking at it in awe even as he shrunk back to hide from the assailants.
The lights flicked back on, flooding the cells with bright, bright light. Steve was excited to see that Wanda's time in the jacket appeared to have built up her powers, red swelled over the white electric glow, bathing them in an otherworldly hue.
The red reminded Steve of blood, of war, of Bucky. Glory awaited. Redemption awaited. They waited.
The door had yet to open. Yet to open. He looked towards Clint, who gestured towards the cameras on the wall. "They know we are ready for them."
Steve sighed. "We will have to protect Wanda. They will aim for her first."
Sam and Clint each took her flank while he placed himself ahead. "Wanda, can you see?"
The girl nodded. "I'm going to open the door now."
She breathed in, power pulsing around her, ready to strike. The door opened, Wanda- red creeping, was flung aside by Clint.
"No Wanda!"
Joy filled Clint's face. "Phil!"
Steve could only look on in shock. "Phil?"
Sam and Wanda (and Scott) looked on in askance "Phil?"
The man looked back at them steadily "Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated".
Steve felt his eyes fill with tears of joy, alive, here. No fighting required. Phil took them all in. "Quickly now. The Quinjet in in the hanger."
They all stumbled from the cells, Wanda, Sam, Scott all suspicious.
But they could feel the palatable relief of Steve and Clint.
The Agent quickly led them through the facility. Suddenly Steve remembered. "Phil, the Wakandan's.... their waiting to pick me up."
There was an odd look on Phil's n face. "The Wakandan's..." he muttered low. Then he spoke up "Steve, there were no crafts about when I landed".
"No Phil, their technology is amazing! Wait until you see it. They can hide anything!"
"Steve," Phil's voice was a little fast, a little high pitched. Steven wondered at the man. "Steve, you all need to come with me now. We need to get this mess sorted out."
"No Phil, we need to go to Wakanda. Bucky's waiting for us. The extraction team are waiting for us. It was very nice of you to come to help but we need to go to Wakanda."
Clint looked up "Steve, I want to go with Phil."
"But Clint, we're a team.... we need to stay together."
"Yeah, and we need to go with Phil. Shield have a much better chance at resolving this mess than Wakanda."
Sam and Wanda both looked relieved "He's Shield?.... Then Steve, we need to go with him."
"But Bucky's in Wakanda."
While they were talking Phil seemed to be muttering on a radio. "Yes Sir. Steve?" They all looked back at him. "Steve, why don't come with us? You can radio your Wakandan friends. Together we can make a plan to get Sargent Barnes back stateside."
Steve felt relief. This was a good plan. They could all go home. Shield would help the world see they they were Heroes and would help Bucky recover. He nodded.
Phil gestured to the plane and they boarded.
They were going home.
....
As the Quinjet swept across the ocean Phil felt relief.
T'Challa had come through for them. The terrorists were now in Shield custody.
He quickly fired off a text to Fury: 'Extraction complete. Where would you like to hold them?'
Fury's response was instant: 'Off books facility in northern Canada. I will be there to complete transfer. Co-ordinates transmitting to your pilot now.'
Phil sighed in relief. This nightmare was nearly over.
His phone beeped: 'Good Work Agent.'