10 ╸terrible liar

NATASHA ROLLED UP to the hospital in her black Corvette, police surrounding the place, their red and blue lights flicking everywhere, a blinding realization to her that everything that has happened is real. She climbs out of the car without even turning it off, walking through the many doors of the hospital to get to the room Nick Fury was getting his surgery done, stepping beside Steve and Daina. She sees her long-time friend on the gurney, a cap on his head, many doctors and nurses standing around him, doing their jobs. Diana places a hand on the shorter, red-headed woman's shoulder, and Natasha turns to see the Amazon standing in all black.

It made everything crash down onto her.

"Is he going to make it?" Her voice breaks the silence, her blue eyes staring down at all the blood being shed as the surgeons stitch him back up. "I don't know," Steve answers truthfully, shrugging.

"Tell me about the shooter."

"He's fast," Steve replies. "Strong. Had a metal arm." Memories come back to Natasha, Agent Hill's shoes announcing her arrival. "Ballistics?" Natasha asks, Maria shook her head, Diana bowed hers. "Three slugs, no rifling," Maria reports. "Completely untraceable."

"Soviet-made," Diana and Natasha echo, both of them continuing to watch the surgery as Steve looks down at his feet. They all felt horrible; they had to protect the world yet they couldn't even protect one man. The sound of a flat-line resonates, doctors rushing around, trying to find different things to save Nick's life. They called for the defibrillator, Natasha feeling horror rush through her veins at the thought of one of her greatest friend's death. 'Don't do this to me, Nick," she whispers to herself. They count down and shock him, some nurses raising their hands, others trying to find things, but no pulse was shown on the monitor. 200 volts of electricity is shot through Nick, the drug Epinephrine called into the scene. No pulse.

Time of death: 1:03 a.m.

Steve and Maria leave, but Diana continues to stay with Natasha, hugging her close to her body with her right arm, Natasha leaning into the warmth of the taller woman's figure. Steve looks down at the flash drive in his hand, wondering what to do with it. He watches Natasha stand over Nick, arms crossed over her chest, trying hard not to break down. "I need to take him," Maria stands beside him. Steve walks up to his friend, "Natasha." She places her hand on Fury's forehead in a silent goodbye, the sniffles of Maria are the only thing they could hear, both of them walking out of the room, Natasha walking fast. "Natasha!" The agent turns around quickly, glaring at the blonde before her. "Why was Fury in your apartment?"

Steve shrugs, "I don't know." Rumlow marches closer, "Cap, they want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D." Steve nods, going back to face Natasha, "Yeah, give me a second."

"They want you now."


"You're a terrible liar," Natasha marches off.

STEVE HAD FINISHED talking to Alexander Pierce about Nick Fury, Pierce telling him about one of their old battle stories, about how Nick refused to go with the command he was given and went ahead and had a tact team go underneath the unit that was already there.
He was waiting for the elevator to come up to take him down, arms crossed as he watched out at D.C. The sleek doors opened, the Captain walking inside, "Operations Control." His head was bowed as the thought of Fury being dead consumed him, the female voice replying that he was confirmed and the metal and glass box began to close its doors, but Rumlow ran his hand between the metal, talking to other colleagues about a new mission. "Personnel on-site," he said, staring at the back of Steve's head. "Forensics. Captain."

Steve turns his head at the mention of his authority. "Rumlow," he turns his whole body around, being polite yet a bit stern. The doors finally close, the STRIKE team hanging out by the left side of the elevator in some form of weird way. "Evidence Response found some fibers on the roof they want us to see," Rumlow says. "Want me to get the tact team ready?

"No, let's wait and see what it is first," Steve replies.

"Right," Rumlow turns around. The supersoldier notices that one of the men had his hand on his handgun, pacing around nervously, but Steve says nothing of it. The elevator comes to a halt, four men in suits talking, walking in with briefcases, "Administrations level." Rumlow looks at them over his shoulder, the men filing in as the doors closed, "Excuse me." Steve nods and moves out of the way, walking closer to the metal that had enclosed them inside the glass box. "Sorry about what happened with Fury," Rumlow says to him. "Messed up, what happened to him."

"Thank you," Steve's blonde head nods once, looking to his left. The dark-skinned man was sweating, perspiration running down the side of his face, the elevator stopping once more to allow more men to get in; three more passengers, unlikely on the S.H.I.E.L.D. base at this hour. "Records." Steve looks around and realizes what it was: men were trying to capture him. "Before we get started," he speaks up, breaking the rigid silence between all of them, "does anyone want to get out?" Jack Rollins presses a button on the side of a strengthened baton, flashes of blue electricity rolling through it, raising his arm to hit Steve with it. He blocks the attack but gets grabbed by two men, Rumlow hitting the emergency stop button, more men grabbing the super-soldier to hold him back into the wall, Steve grunting as he tried to force them off. A magnetized cuff was placed on his wrist, three men pushing it towards the metal parts of the wall above them, Steve holding it back, and he suddenly pulls it away, kicking someone in the shin and using his elbow to force it up into the dark-skinned man's nose. The cuff sticks to a wall, Steve using his feet to kick men nearest to him, using his free arms to strike another into the glass, cracking it.

His head is trapped between a man's forearm and bicep, but he brings back his head hard to slam it into his face, grabbing on to his arm and throwing him unto the ground. Rumlow kicks Steve's arm so the magnetic cuff gets stuck to the wall, using the baton to shock Steve's back. Steve is enduring the pain, wondering how Diana and Thor are alright with it, but he soon brings his elbow to Rumlow's cheek, throwing an Asian-American man into the camera to the right. When someone comes near him with the baton, he grabs onto his wrist and forces it into an enemy's chest, jumping into the air, using the cuff as a helping hand to kick both of them in the chest.

It was just Rumlow and three strangers.

One stranger was easy; Steve just had to kick him into the glass. Steve jumps up onto the wall, using his arms and legs to force the wristband off of the metal, and when he pushes off, he lands on both feet, using a joint to knock one of the men out, punching another one in the stomach, keeling to the ground in pain. "Whoa, big guy," Rumlow says as he stands up, two batons in his fists, Steve's chest heaving with each breath, glaring at Rumlow. HYDRA agents. "I just want you to know, Cap, this isn't personal!"

Rumlow attacks, Steve blocking a punch, but Rumlow goes for his stomach with his free hand and shocks the super-soldier. Steve swings his arm again but gets another shock to the stomach. He forces his hand into Rumlow's cheek, throwing the dark-haired man into the ceiling, crashing everything. "It kind of feels personal," he replies. He brings his foot down on the edge of his shield, the circular object flying up and, as easy as making pancakes for breakfast, Steve hooks his arm into the loops. He breaks off the cuff with the edge, pressing the red-lit button on the screen, a S.H.I.E.L.D. squad team pointing their rifles at his chest. "Drop your shield and put your hands in the air!" Steve turns and cuts off the wire that held the elevator up, feeling the wind rush up as the contraption fell, but it wasn't too long before the emergency breaks emerged, slowing down the elevator into a halt. Stuck in between two floors, Steve had no choice but to go for the upper level due to his height, pushing open the doors to that one floor to face more men coming his way.

With a soft groan, he closes them again, looking over the window to his right, seeing the shimmering glass from the building multiple stories down.

He had no other choice.

"Give it up, Rogers, get that door open! You've got nowhere to go!" He walks to the wall farthest from the window, and, with a running start, he jumps out, crashing through the tempered glass, shield facing down as he hurled through the afternoon sun, breaking through the glass below, a woman screaming as he lands on his choice of weapon. He groans at the impact, getting up slowly.

He runs off, not wanting to do that again, but he knew that he had to; it was his job. Let them come for him. Let them try.

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