Chapter 8: The Bridge

Hi all! Merry Christmas! I hope you all have a great time over the holidays! I'm not sure if I can get the next chapter up before 2016, but I'll try.

Enjoy!

LittlePond

Chapter 8: The Bridge

Only a few days later, Coulson brought up the image of a fugitive- a plump faced middle aged man, whose only hair was his eyebrows and 5 o'clock shadow, his serial killer look completed with an animalistic twinkle in his eyes.

I could tell he was the type of man who I killed from just the image. My knuckles curled in anticipation, perhaps I would be lucky enough to bring him down.

"Edison Po; former marine and expert in tactics. Fell off the grid in 2008, and reappeared 18 months ago in Boston." Ward chuckled at the desk he was leaning on, adding, "Where he stabbed a friend's eyes out." Coulson finished, "With a steak knife, then finished his meal."

Bile rose in my throat, which I coughed back down. The Bus was not a place to show weakness.

"Funny, Po doesn't look crazy," Skye muttered. The team and I all looked at her and Skye corrected herself, "I'm kidding, the guy's a walking mugshot."

"Which means he shouldn't be too hard to track down. Finding Po and these Centipede soldiers is a top priority of S.H.I.E.L.D. So we won't be working alone."

Ward, whose hair was mobile with sweat asked, "What team did HQ send for back up?" Coulson shrugged, raising my suspicions to the roof, "Not a team, a person. Someone who can help us fight fire with fire."

Oh dear, this sounded horribly S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Somebody we've worked with before?" Skye asked. Coulson grinned, "Not exactly."

The special somebody was Mike Peterson.

Of course, the name would've had much more dramatic effect if I knew his identity.

May set a course for his training facility, while I asked everyone, "So who's Mike Peterson?" Simmons rubbed her hands on her grey sweater, "He was one of Centipede's first subjects but HQ managed to stabilise the Extremis."

Despite the positive light which Simmons painted him in, I could tell not all shared her opinion. Ward shook his head, "It's not good. At all. The guy was a ticking time bomb literally."

"HQ wouldn't've send him if he was still combustible," Fitz reasoned, rustling the blue of his sweater. Ward braced his arms, "They stabilise his attitude? Because he was pretty hostile at Union Station."

"Well, it's not like we haven't opened our doors to other people with questionable track records," Simmons murmured, turning to Skye, "Not cool. But true. And don't worry about Mike; he's a good guy." Ward shook his head, ringing that bell of familiarity, of the bittersweet return to base, HYDRA.

HYDRA. Oh.

"This could easily go sideways. I mean, last time we saw this guy he was a raging homicidal maniac..." Ward trailed off, finally aware of the suited man, who I assumed was Peterson, behind him, "he's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

We all nodded.

Mr Peterson was not sore on the eyes. Despite the fact that he was bald, he still had the form of a certain speedster, if the older Maximoff had been clean shaven and African American. I gulped.

"Mr Peterson, this is Agent Grant Ward, the man who shot you at Union Station," Coulson introduced, pointing to a very embarrassed Ward who had withdrawn into himself. "Fitz-Simmons designed the weapon he used," Fitz-Simmons waved, "and, I think you remember-" "Kidnap victim," Skye jumped in.

Mike chuckled, and I rubbed the back of my neck with my sudden fever. "You joined S.H.I.E.L.D?" He asked Skye, who nodded, "Turns out guys in suits, not so bad."

Mike's eyes fell on me making my tongue dry, "And who's this?" My mouth opened to speak, but he was stirring a pot of old memories which I reserved for another time. With a grin, Coulson aided, "This is Kennedy Montgomery. She joined a few months ago, turns out she's quite the package."

Whatever he meant by 'quite the package' I didn't want to know, but I muttered, "Whatever you say." Mike held out a cocoa hand, stating his name. I grinned forcibly, "Kennedy," my alias feeling like loss on my tongue.

Mike began to apologise for the events at Union Station, to which Skye shook her head, "That's bygone and underwater, under a distant bridge, far away. How's your son?"

Son. I didn't sign up for this.

"Still with my sister, he thinks I'm working construction but he's good," Mike answered, a shadow fell as he finished, "happy." The atmosphere of the room turned sour, as if I was swimming in a pool with too much chlorine, I could almost feel the corneas of my eyes ripening.

In my pocket, my HYDRA phone vibrated, signalling a message from Whitehall.

"I'll just be around," I choked, turning to Mike, who replied with a dazzling grin on his dazzling face, "Nice meeting you."

"Same to you."

Once in the security of my cabin, I pulled out my HYDRA phone. It's rough edges were a shock; the past few days I'd been using S.H.I.E.L.D's phone, which was like water. The same way water eroded cliffs and swallowed cities.

How is the mission?

I wasn't even surprised. No 'how are you?' no 'are you still alive?' just 'how is the mission?' But that was Whitehall; all business and no flow. I sent a reply; Whitehall's business nature often meant little forgiveness.

Good. Coulson hasn't told me anything. How's HYDRA?

Work faster.

Sighing I closed the phone, not having time for Whitehall right now, and made my way to the cargo deck, where we were preparing for an assault.

Fitz-Simmons had managed to create a suit for Peterson, which I had to say, was not only practical but looked amazing. While the scientists were admiring their work, I turned to Ward both of us suiting up.

Ever since my revelation with his hair and HYDRA, I was pretty certain he was the mole. Funny, I may have found a HYDRA mole via hairstyle.

"Lucky; you've got a proper suit. All I have is jeans, jacket & boots." He paused, checking me from head to toe, making my stomach writhe. "Gets the job done," he sighed.

Pulling my zip to the collar I muttered, "True. But if a bullet gets me I'm gone." Ward's eyes lay on my right hip, as if he could see the bullet scar beneath."Depends on where they hit you."

Coulson, May and Skye walked down the winding stairs, meeting the rest of us on the ramp. "We've managed to find a possible Centipede lab posed as an abandoned factory 8 miles from here," Coulson informed, holding the location's floor plan on a tablet.

"Probably Centipede's new lab," Ward reasoned.

"We destroy one factory and they set up another, putting us back to square 1. This time I want answers."

May looked around at the team, "Means we go in quiet; do minimal damage to the facility and those inside."

Coulson tapped one of the entrances, "Ward, May- go through the west entrance. Mr.Peterson and I will enter through the loading dock, you'll run the back-in from outside. Kennedy, keep the perimeter."

I turned to Coulson, to May, and back again. "Really? By myself?" Coulson shrugged, and May nodded to my utter surprise. "Think of it as a test."

A test; ok. I didn't want to fail. A thought which I quickly vetoed, why should I care of Coulson and May? They were S.H.I.E.L.D; cold blooded killers. But now the words felt almost, melodramatic.

"We've been playing whack-a-mole with these guys since Ward picked me out of my van. Shouldn't S.H.I.E.L.D be sending in backup?" Skye asked. Coulson's grin lasted the lifespan of a heartbeat, "Trust me, they already did."

It turned out the the perimeter was in fact, very easy to keep, since I was forced to stay inside.

The factory itself was empty, save for an assorted range of cargo boxes. At least until an incredibly large bang sounded, and the cargo box's door fell, revealing a squadron of Centipede soldiers. I had no time to ask questions- 1 walked straight up to me, sensing an easy fight with bloody murder in his eyes.

With adrenaline in my bloodstream, I set to work.

The first punch I threw horribly failed, as the soldier caught it in his palm, grinning. I saw May and Ward behind him, fighting off their own soldier, distracted. Seems I could go full assassin mode.

I grinned alongside him, throwing my knee into a special place, immediately whacking my elbow against his neck as he doubled over. Once I had my foot secured on the soldier's back, all he had to do was jump up since I was off guard. I flew into the concrete column behind me, body crumpling as I fell.

Groaning in pain, I glanced up, seeing the smirk of the enhanced soldier. Clearly, he thought the fight was over, that he had won.

Over my dead body.

The soldier knelt by me, preparing to throw a punch intending to knock me out or worse, when I rolled out of the way as the punch was travelling, colliding with the floor where my head had been.

Without giving him a chance, I immediately straddled him with his face squished against the floor. I yanked his wrists behind his back, securing my grip before he went slack under me without warning.

Flipping the soldier over, the first thing I noticed was his left eye, which was blown too far to the left, blood seeping cross the cornea.

The soldier was dead.

~~~

"They want a trade; Ace for his father," Coulson announced, 'they' meaning Centipede, "They've set a time and place." I sat by Peterson, trying to be as comforting as I could, patting his shoulder.

Since the fight at the abandoned factory, Mike had called his son, Ace, where Centipede had given the deal.

"Bloody savages," Fitz murmured. Simmons crossed her arms, "They want to experiment on him, determine how he still has his abilities." We didn't really need to hear that, but Simmons said it anyway.

"We're going to let them?"

"We don't have a choice," Coulson stated, "The instructions they gave Mr.Peterson were very specific. I called HQ, told them to stand down." May and I looked up to Coulson, repeating, "Stand down?" Ward shook his head, "So we take them alone."

Oh, job well done, Mr. I-suspect-you-to-be-HYDRA.

"We should at least have a hostage rescue unit on standby," May reasoned. I nodded in agreement, the the smart move would be to keep the team alive, "At least."

"They said they'd murder my son," Mike spoke, paternal worry flowing, "If we make one wrong move." The team fell silent. They may have been lying animals but they couldn't put a child's life at risk. "Any electronics, any comms, any sign of surveillance, and they'll terminate the arrangement."

Mike rubbed his hands on his thighs, "I'll give myself up no problem, just get him back." I trusted Mike's love for his son, but he seemed too desperate. This wasn't the whole truth. Looking away, I met Ward's eyes, who seemed to be thinking the same.

"We can't just hand you over," Skye turned to Coulson, "can we?" Still looking at Mike, Coulson answered, "Fitz-Simmons has a non-electric method of tracking him."

"Simmons has developed an odourless scent, I have an instrument which can detect it, works like a bloodhound," Fitz suggested, "It can track someone from over 50km." Coulson nodded, his own paternal instinct shining, "After we make the trade we can follow Mr.Peterson. Buy him some time, then we'll find him."

"I don't care what happens to me," Mike stood up, along with me since it would look odd otherwise, "As long as my boy is." Coulson answered, "I promise you, we'll get your son back."

The scene of the trade was a good choice. The night sky had fallen, making for a creepy backdrop; no stars twinkled, the moon had only bothered to show a sliver of its face.

Below, the cars containing our team rolled in, Fitz-Simmons stepping out while May and Coulson exchanged final words, Skye hanging in between.

Ward and I had been chosen to wait on higher ground, which had a good view of both sides, along with a gun. Me- I was there because I didn't have the stomach for watching the potential murder of a child, no matter how many lives I'd stolen.

"You think this'll work?" I asked Ward.

"No," Ward answered, setting up his sniper.

"Me neither."

Once silence fell, my anxiety swelled causing me to blurt out, "You trust Peterson?" On the opposite side of the bridge, another car rolled to a stop, Ward swivelling his sniper to aim at the newcomers. "No. You?"

The occupants of the car stepped out, a suited man and a woman with a lavender dress with a floral pattern.

"No," Ward answered, eyes trained, "We think alike don't we?"

I looked down at him, more suspicious of his supposed HYDRA allegiance. Deciding to play along, I sighed, "Shame your Skye's SO." Ward chuckled, his hands gripping the firearm, "Well you know what they say; opposites attract."

Mike and Coulson walked towards the man and the woman. Ward and I would have seen more, had it not been for the massive truck in the way. "Damn it," Ward mumbled, both of us resorting to staring at Coulson's back.

For minutes we waited, until Coulson stepped forward, leaving both Ward and I blindingly in the dark. A soldier opened the car door, releasing Mike's child, who sprinted toward his father.

Mike returned to my field of vision, running across the bridge with his child, but towards the team, not Centipede. On the other side, Centipede soldiers carried an unconscious Coulson.

"What happened? They took Coulson!" Ward yelled into the comms. I pressed my own, "May? We need explanations." May's voice blared through the comms. "Do not engage, they'll kill Coulson. Stand down, I'll contact HQ."

After dropping his child off with Skye, Mike ran back to Centipede's side vanishing from my sight again.

And then the truck exploded.

I screamed with the strength of a thousand men, fingers gnarling, the heat of the exothermic oxidation reaction reaching us. "Where's Coulson?" Ward asked, turning back to Centipede's car.

But that too, exploded.

I had no air to scream with for that at least. I could only stare at the car's charred remains.

There went my source of information. There went my mission. The hum of helicopter sounded, as the aircraft appeared from below the bridge, no doubt carrying the Centipede workers and Coulson. It seemed Mission Tahiti was still a go ahead.

The tangerine fire of a machine gun swivelled from the helicopter's cabin, aimed right at Ward and I.

I ducked down, laying on the metal. But Ward was hit; bullet wedged in his shoulder. "Ward!" I called out, crawling to him and applying pressure to the wound, attempting to stop blood flow. On the verge of unconsciousness, he whispered, "Out of the darkness, into the light."