His bullets punch into the plain wall, but she’s already gone.
“What the fuck,” James says, and this time that reaction is just him, gobsmacked and colloquial, staring into empty air where she’d bizarrely swept up to the ceiling.
It means there’s a wide open space between the window and him, and Bullseye staring down the sights. James’ gaze drifts downward at the bloom of red light on his chest, and some well-honed instinct makes him start to jerk out of the way just in time that it’s not a killing blow: but it hits him and James drops again like a stone, the bullet embedding itself in his shoulder.
Which is, ironically, what saves him when the HYDRA ground-forces reach his front door and send another smattering of gunfire through the apartment at what would have been chest-height, except he’s on the floor and Not-Harper is on the ceiling, and so it misses both of them. The fruit-bowl explodes into shards of ceramic, the ancient fridge takes a beating but somehow doesn’t break.
Okay. Definitely not getting his security deposit back. Everything is fucking happening so much. James watches and feels his makeshift little life evaporating around him, blood seeping into his shirt, a distant pain; the Winter Soldier had always been good at shoving aside personal pain as irrelevant.
The thing is, after their original collaboration all those years ago, HYDRA and the Red Room aren’t exactly on speaking terms anymore. Dreykov and Karpov rising through the ranks of their respective organisations with aspirations of their own, and that meant there wasn’t room in their plans for yet another power-hungry former Soviet general, too many wolves eating at the same table.
So when the HYDRA soldiers enter, they’re staring in bafflement at the shape clinging to the ceiling. A muttering of Russian, “Get her,” and the gunfire resumes while James starts army-crawling toward the back exit.
He’d thought they were reinforcements, coming in to back her up, but— maybe not.
There are five men. HYDRA soldiers, picked for their brutality and sharp-shooting skills, led by a man who’s killed as many people as a plague. And she is one girl, five-foot-something, in heels and a halter top designed to draw attention, not provide any real support. It’s almost a fair fight. Maybe she ought to give them a handicap.
They raise their guns, and the Widow uncoils, flinging herself down to land on the shoulders of the closest. Unlike with Barnes, she doesn’t choke him out - just grabs, jerks, and snaps his neck. Four. A handspring, and she brings her force down on the knee of another. He screams and falls to the ground, while gunshots pop off around her. She doesn’t stay still, but jumps again, letting them turn, letting them try to aim, letting them waste bullets as she pinballs around the apartment. She fires webbing, sticks a man’s feet to the ground, snatches a gun, and shoots him in the head. Three.
Her Spider-Sense screams at her, and she twirls to the side as the ceiling above her collapses. One of the AIM scientists is caught with a HYDRA bullet to the neck, while she grabs another and hurls him through the window. Three.Six. Four. The last one panics; she throws him into the surviving HYDRA agents, sending them toppling to the ground.
One of them - a sneering man built like a linebacker on top of another linebacker - throws his gun away, draws a knife, and lunges at her. In a single motion, she jumps and curls her knees to her chest, flipping over him and slips her shoes off. When she lands, barefoot, he turns, and Petra drives the stiletto heel into his eye.
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“What the fuck,” James says, and this time that reaction is just him, gobsmacked and colloquial, staring into empty air where she’d bizarrely swept up to the ceiling.
It means there’s a wide open space between the window and him, and Bullseye staring down the sights. James’ gaze drifts downward at the bloom of red light on his chest, and some well-honed instinct makes him start to jerk out of the way just in time that it’s not a killing blow: but it hits him and James drops again like a stone, the bullet embedding itself in his shoulder.
Which is, ironically, what saves him when the HYDRA ground-forces reach his front door and send another smattering of gunfire through the apartment at what would have been chest-height, except he’s on the floor and Not-Harper is on the ceiling, and so it misses both of them. The fruit-bowl explodes into shards of ceramic, the ancient fridge takes a beating but somehow doesn’t break.
Okay. Definitely not getting his security deposit back. Everything is fucking happening so much. James watches and feels his makeshift little life evaporating around him, blood seeping into his shirt, a distant pain; the Winter Soldier had always been good at shoving aside personal pain as irrelevant.
The thing is, after their original collaboration all those years ago, HYDRA and the Red Room aren’t exactly on speaking terms anymore. Dreykov and Karpov rising through the ranks of their respective organisations with aspirations of their own, and that meant there wasn’t room in their plans for yet another power-hungry former Soviet general, too many wolves eating at the same table.
So when the HYDRA soldiers enter, they’re staring in bafflement at the shape clinging to the ceiling. A muttering of Russian, “Get her,” and the gunfire resumes while James starts army-crawling toward the back exit.
He’d thought they were reinforcements, coming in to back her up, but— maybe not.
no subject
They raise their guns, and the Widow uncoils, flinging herself down to land on the shoulders of the closest. Unlike with Barnes, she doesn’t choke him out - just grabs, jerks, and snaps his neck. Four. A handspring, and she brings her force down on the knee of another. He screams and falls to the ground, while gunshots pop off around her. She doesn’t stay still, but jumps again, letting them turn, letting them try to aim, letting them waste bullets as she pinballs around the apartment. She fires webbing, sticks a man’s feet to the ground, snatches a gun, and shoots him in the head. Three.
Her Spider-Sense screams at her, and she twirls to the side as the ceiling above her collapses. One of the AIM scientists is caught with a HYDRA bullet to the neck, while she grabs another and hurls him through the window.
Three.Six.Four. The last one panics; she throws him into the surviving HYDRA agents, sending them toppling to the ground.One of them - a sneering man built like a linebacker on top of another linebacker - throws his gun away, draws a knife, and lunges at her. In a single motion, she jumps and curls her knees to her chest, flipping over him and slips her shoes off. When she lands, barefoot, he turns, and Petra drives the stiletto heel into his eye.
Three.