Tony's P.O.V.
It should have been simple. Infiltrate the Hydra base, extract the agents, check for hostages. That was the mission. But Captain America, predictably, was turning it into an opera.
“And—" Please, someone end me.
“Alright, Cap, I think we all get it,” I cut him off, flying alongside the quinjet. Peter nodded vigorously, dragged along by the ship’s wake. “We go in, do our jobs. Easy.” A blessed silence descended. I allowed myself a small smile beneath my helmet. It was a rare, beautiful sound. My contentment was quickly shattered.
“Nat, stop playing with those knives!” Steve barked. A chuckle crackled through the comms.
“Let her,” Bucky encouraged. I saw Peter facepalm from the corner of my eye. I listened to their bickering. Sometimes, they truly sounded like children—children who happen to be highly skilled assassins.
“We’re almost there,” Steve announced. I wondered if Bucky was anxious. He’d been mind-controlled by Hydra, after all. I could see the base now. Ugh. They desperately needed Thor to offer some interior design advice.
“I’m going in!” I yelled, diving toward the structure and unleashing a volley of fire.
*A short fight scene later*
That had been harder than anticipated. What were they hiding? Bucky’s insight proved unexpectedly helpful.
“Can you take us to where they would hold hostages, Bucky?” Natasha asked. He nodded. He led us down a corridor, then down a flight of stairs. Damn. This was one hell of a dark, creepy hallway. And…cages? Well, more accurately, cells. “Oh my God,” Nat breathed as she reached the final cell. Bucky ran ahead, then froze. Cap and I followed quickly.
“Is this what they were protecting?” Steve asked. I was grateful I’d kept Peter on the ship. A small figure huddled in the cell, wrists chained to the wall. Their hair was matted and knotted, plastered to their face with dirt and sweat. Cuts and bruises mottled their visible skin.
“Hello dear,” Nat said softly. The figure whipped their head up. Their eyes widened, darting around with fear. They shrieked and pressed themself further back against the wall.
“Please no. Please!” They cried, their voice cracking. “Please don’t hurt me!” Feathers sprouted from their back, rapidly forming two large wings. Terror flooded their eyes, and tears streamed down their cheeks. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” God, what had this poor person endured?