The first barrage came fast.
Twin plasma blasts roared from the HYDRA VTOL's cannons, lighting up the sky with streaks of red and white. The transport lurched violently as the cockpit shields absorbed the initial impact, but the hull vibrated under the strain. Inside, emergency lights blinked red, and sparks flew from an overhead console. The acrid smell of scorched circuitry filled the air.
"Evasive pattern Delta!" Alexander barked, gripping a ceiling brace with one hand.
The pilot yanked the controls, banking the aircraft hard left. The cityscape twisted below in a dizzying blur of concrete and glass. The transport dipped dangerously low, skimming over rooftops and between high-rise towers to avoid a second lock-on. The wings barely cleared an antenna as it banked around a communications tower.
Steve held tight to the overhead rail, shield secured to his back via magnetic harness. "They're not just trying to stop us—they're trying to erase us."
Monroe was already at the weapons station, flipping up safety locks and activating the counter-fire system. His fingers moved in practiced rhythm as targeting reticles locked onto the VTOL.
"Targeting their thrusters now," he muttered.
He fired.
A volley of heat-seeking charges launched from beneath the transport, cutting through the wind like guided lightning. One struck the enemy's left wing, sending it into a brief spiral. The HYDRA aircraft sputtered—then corrected with mechanical precision.
"They've reinforced their frames," Monroe muttered. "Military-grade alloys. These aren't standard air units. These things are built for war."
Another blast rocked the craft, this time closer. The interior buckled momentarily, lights flickered, and Alexander steadied himself against the bulkhead. Overhead, another panel burst with a shower of sparks.
Alexander activated the mission HUD from the main terminal. "We don't need to win this fight—we just need to reach the Triskelion. Once we're inside, we control the battlefield."
A harsh warning siren screamed in the cockpit.
"Port engine's failing!" the pilot shouted through the comm.
"Divert all auxiliary power to stabilizers! Keep us in the air!" Alexander snapped.
The interior lighting dimmed, then surged back as the stabilizers kicked in. Steve looked to Monroe, who was rechecking his ammo with practiced calm.
"Options?" Steve asked.
"Manual drop," Monroe said without hesitation. "We eject. Glide suits. We land hard, go in separate. Hope we hit the roof and not the river."
Alexander's jaw tightened as he considered the odds. He glanced at the VTOL still looming in pursuit.
Then he nodded. "Do it."
Red emergency lights flooded the cargo bay as the ramp began to open mid-flight. Wind howled through the cabin, tearing through loose straps, rattling crates, and whipping at their gear. The roar outside was deafening.
Steve stepped to the edge, eyes fixed on the glittering river and concrete maze below. In the distance, the Triskelion loomed like a fortress—its helipad lit with floodlights, black-clad SHIELD agents moving in tight formation. Spotlights scanned the skies, unaware of what was coming.
"Triskelion's crawling with activity," Monroe warned, his voice strained over the wind. "They're prepping the launch."
Steve gritted his teeth. "Then we don't give them time to hit the button."
Monroe strapped on his glide rig, locking the clamps to his armor and tightening the straps. "This is suicide."
Steve adjusted the straps on his shield harness. His face was calm but determined. "Then let's not waste it."
Alexander secured his own rig, his movements quick and practiced. "Landing zone is secondary. Mission is primary."
They exchanged a final glance.
Then they jumped.
The roar of the wind swallowed their voices as they dropped into the night sky. The city below looked like a circuit board of lights and motion. The Triskelion grew larger with every second. Lights streaked past as they adjusted their trajectory, spreading their arms to guide their descent.
Above them, the HYDRA VTOL swerved sharply.
It wasn't retreating.
It was following them down—guns armed, lights fixed on their silhouettes.
End of Chapter 100
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