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No. 82304
Continuation of >>80988 and >>80989
Pepper’s shouts of frustration are being drown out by the whirring and clanking of the Iron Man armor forming around Tony. He is more than a little pissed to come strolling out of a meeting with a client to find a bunch of neo-Nazi wannabes attempting to hold a Staten Island ferry hostage. And SHIELD decided it didn’t need to call him.
News coverage is showing Steve and his team handling the situation, but they’re not really getting anywhere. How can they, when a Hulking Banner is too much of a danger for the situation and they only have one flyer in Thor? The Coast Guard has the ferry surrounded, but any sudden moves from them and terrorists show they mean business. And shit, there is already a death toll of six, more expected if the situation doesn’t end now.
Iron Man is flying out the window, papers swirling off his desk and around Pepper like a miniature tornado, her hands gesturing that she’s given up for the time being. Whatever she has to say isn’t any more important than this. He flies over Manhattan, heading in the direction of Battery Park, as he brings up the news feeds and local reports to one side and tries to connect into official SHIELD telecommunications. His efforts are constantly rejected, not something he’s extremely happy with, and he blows his way over the water. He pulls up in a graceful arc beside Thor, hovering aways off among the edgy Coast Guardsmen.
“Friend Stark,” Thor says, his voice solemn and carrying easily on the wind around him. “I wish that our meeting again were not so grave a situation.”
“Good to see you, too, buddy,” Tony replies, his voice being generated somewhat monotone by the suit’s speakers, failing to translate the heaviness in his tone.
He’s bringing up schematics of the ferry and matching heat signature readings on the grid to find positioning of the people inside. Suddenly a comm flairs into life and Black Widow’s voice is crystal clear. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“You act like that’s ever stopped me,” Tony says, pulling up any kind of signal--security cameras, cellphones, walkies--to get eyes and ears on the inside. “I’m here to help, by the way. Make me useful.”
Hawkeye patches into the line, voice clipped in a rush. “--hen grab Cap--”
A split second and Steve is crashing through glass, falling headlong into the water below. He’s towing a man with him, one of the villains of the hour, his machine gun fire blazing through the air in startled bursts. They break through the surface with a violent splash and Tony is following down, dropping himself below the surface to get closer to them without being seen. Repulsors torpedo him through the water to snatch up Steve and the struggling terrorist, allow him to burst the surface.
“Get me back in there,” Steve is gasping, not at all surprised by Iron Man’s presence.
“Thor, catch!” And Tony tosses the gunman in a wide arc to the god, not bothering to look if Thor manages to make the catch. He holds Steve securely and flies them to the ferry, aiming for the window Steve fell from. The gunfire inside registers on Tony’s sensors before he can see it, and it’s not made for them. Apparently, Steve can hear it, too, and is practically trying to jump from Tony’s grip.
“No!”
Steve’s blindly flinging his shield inside before they breach the window frame, his trajectory bouncing first before taking out a gunman mid-fire. They’re too late as they land inside--three more bodies among the hostages. Steve pulls from Tony’s grip and rushes to the wounded, checking pulses, applying pressure, and giving directions to those who aren’t too shaken to help.
Another terrorist rushes the room, eyes falling instantly on the bright red and gold of Iron Man and he opens fire, the bullets pinging harmlessly off of Tony’s armor. He raises a gauntlet and fires a low powered repulsor blast, blowing the man back through the doorway, slamming against the railing. Shouting just beyond the door has Tony following the guy out onto the walkway, finding two more guys approaching. They both go down easy, a repulsor blast for each, one guy’s finger slipping on the trigger to set off a quick round of automatic shots. It draws screams of panic in the room behind him, and Tony pulls a quick panel on his screen showing security images of Steve giving a hushed pep-talk to the gathered around him.
Snatching up his shield, Steve is at Tony’s side, jaw set grimly. “The leader is up in the control room. They’ve killed the captain. Three others on board are able to pilot the ferry to harbor in the captain’s stead, but they’re all held hostage in the control room as well. We have to get in there without anyone getting hurt further.”
Tony uses the intel to make markers on his grids. “Hawkeye and Widow?”
“On the levels below, taking out as many members of the group as they can. The original estimation was of fifteen men, but it seems to be closer to thirty.”
“Okay, so someone wanna patch me in to the comm? God, why wasn’t I even called for this?” Tony demands, wanting to throw up his faceplate and glare at Steve. It wouldn’t help at the moment, but it would make Tony feel a little better.
Even with the cowl on, the infuriated look translated well in Steve’s steel glare. “It wasn’t my call to make, Consultant. Coulson, get Iron Man’s communications reinstated.”
The line hums to life in Tony’s right ear, Hawkeye’s voice giving encountered estimates of hostages dead and wounded so far, 13 and 57, and a total of terrorist he’s incapacitated personally, nine.
Steve doesn’t give his tally, something Tony wants to know, because--Goddammit--this could have been less of a disaster if they had called him. “Don’t Consultant me! I’m just as capable and this carnage could have been avoided!”
Steve--No, Captain America’s voice is hard, biting in through the speakers of the Iron Man suit. It brings to mind the security camera in Steve’s room and how easily he took it out with a chair. “I will. Not. Argue this with you. Not now.”
Tony bites his lip hard to stop the return volley, the urge to escalate the argument. Now isn’t the time to be fighting with Captain America, of all people. They’re heroes, dammit, and they have lives to save. Plus, he only had three guys down, and if he could take out more than Barton in less time, he could laugh in the sharpshooter’s face.
A quick glance over the schematics of the ferry put the control room right over their heads. Looking up, Tony’s screens ran a quick overlay of structure, infrared heat signatures, and security imaging to layout the scenario in the room above. “Cap. Gotta plan.”
The sharp look eases from Steve’s features, settling for one of determination. “I’m all ears.”
Tony holds up his gauntlet, a small projection system in the forearm creates holographic images, three dimensional layouts mirrored after details on his own viewing screen. “The control room’s over our heads. There are five people inside, a perp at the helm and two at the corners on either side of the door. Between the guys at the door are our three hostages. Just outside the door to the control room are five men waiting to meet us, and who knows how many others along the way.”
Steve nods. “So if we go in through the front door, they’ll know we’re coming.”
Tony cocks his head, knowing Steve can’t see him smirk behind the faceplate. “I say we take the trapdoor.” Tony takes two steps to his left and gestures up. “Structural integrity shows a weakness in the floor at this point. We can blast through easily, without risking hostages. The people in here should be safe as long as they get against the back walls. Then it’s just a matter of the three in the room and the five outside the door.”
The sound of a weapon being armed draws Steve’s attention away, tossing his shield at the door frame to bounce it out into the corridor. It pings off of something and there’s an answering yelp and thud as Steve goes to retrieve it. Tony takes the moment to usher the crowd of people away from the immediate area.
It takes a few moments longer for Steve to come back, and when he does, what Tony can see of his face is ashen. “They’re foaming at the mouth,” he says in harsh disbelief. Tony doesn’t get a chance to ask what Steve even means before he runs up to Tony, wrapping an arm around him and bracing his shield over his head for impact. “Go! We have to finish this now!”
Tony fires his boots and aims for the ceiling, blowing them up and through. The debris rains from them in splinters even as they move into their attack, Tony taking out one in the corner with a repulsor while Steve flings his shield at the other. The ricochet sends the shield sailing back across the room to the helm, hitting the leader with enough residual force to send him staggering.
The commotion drawls the attention of the men outside, just as Tony had figured, and he has both gauntlets at the ready as they rush the door. A solid blast over the heads of the hostages has the three of the five bowling over backwards, taking down a fourth. A single shot fells the last man in the hall, but it’s only a matter of time before more realize they’re losing the control room. The relieved hostages scramble away from the smashed door and to a far corner, and Tony’s really on his way to make sure they’re okay, but a strangled shout from Steve has him turning to the helm.
“No! Don’t you dare!”
“Cut off one head, Captain. I’m sure you... know... the... r.e..st...” The bastard is lying on the floor, smiling through the seizures and foam at his mouth. Cyanide, Tony’s readouts tell him.
“Hydra!” Steve all but roars, his voice low and menacing and sending chills down Tony’s spine. If his shield hadn’t been made of indestructible alloys, it would have snapped like brittle plastic in his hands.
Chatter explodes in Tony’s right ear, Fury the loudest of the voices demanding Captain America be extracted immediately. You’re right there, Stark, get him out. But Tony looks at Steve, watches him wrench the earpiece out from under his cowl and smash it under his boot, and sees anguish there underneath the flush of rage.
Tony knows what the hell Hydra was, what it means to Steve. In the comics, in the stories his father told him, Hydra was the enemy. “If any of these assholes are still standing, they have cyanide pills. Drop them, but stop them from chomping down on them if you can.” Tony then cuts his own comm link and turns to Steve.
“I want... I need to see that everyone is evacuated safely. I won’t leave until then,” Steve says, eyes unable to look away from the lifeless body on the floor before him. He says it in that same voice, that raw sound from France. Tony stands guard at the control room door as Steve coaxes one of the hostage to sail the ferry to the closest port.
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