.ೃ࿔*:･𝐱𝐱𝐯𝐢𝐢. god, it's brutal out here

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃, feeling the tightness in her muscles from the long ride. The van's door swung open, and she hopped out, her boots hitting the concrete with a thud as she straightened up. The cool air hit her face, and she took a deep breath, trying to shake off the fatigue. Her eyes darted around, scanning the area, the tension of what was to come making her pulse quicken.

“Cap,” Clint greeted Steve with a nod, the casualness of the gesture masking the gravity of their situation. Ingrid, standing just behind Clint, managed a small wave, her usual energy subdued.

Steve’s blue eyes were sharp as he stepped forward, but there was a heaviness there too. “You know I wouldn’t have called if I had any other choice,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

Clint shrugged, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey man, you’re doing me a favor,” he replied, his tone light, but his gaze steady. “Besides, I owe a debt.”

Then, Steve turned to Wanda, his expression softening, just a little. “Thanks for having my back."

Wanda gave him a small smile, though her eyes were resolute. “It was time to get off my ass,” she said, her voice laced with a quiet determination. Ingrid couldn’t help but smirk at Wanda’s words, the momentary lightness breaking through the tension that hung in the air.

Finally, Steve’s gaze settled on Ingrid, and she felt the intensity of his stare like a physical thing. He didn’t say anything for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “You didn’t have to do this,” he finally said, his voice softer, almost as if he was pleading with her to understand, to see that he was trying to protect her, even though they both knew it was a futile effort.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You really think I’d let you go and have fun on a mission without me? Never, old man,” she joked, her voice light, but there was an undercurrent of emotion there, a deeper need to prove herself, to stand alongside him no matter the cost. Steve’s lips curved into a smile, but it was tinged with something bittersweet, as if he was proud of her but also wishing she didn’t have to be here.

“How about our other recruit?” Steve asked, his voice carrying just the slightest hint of concern as he glanced toward the van.

Clint didn’t miss a beat as he opened the sliding side door of the van. “He’s rarin’ to go. Had to put a little coffee in him, but… he should be good.” There was a hint of amusement in Clint’s tone, the kind that suggested he wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to pan out, but they didn’t have much of a choice.

Scott stumbled out of the van, blinking against the daylight as if he wasn’t entirely sure where he was. “What timezone is this?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He looked up, and his eyes widened as he saw Steve. With a sudden burst of energy, he rushed forward, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Captain America!” he exclaimed, thrusting out his hand.

Steve grasped it firmly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Mr. Lang."

Scott, still shaking Steve’s hand, seemed to realize he was holding on a bit too long. “It’s an honor,” he said quickly, then hesitated. “I’m shaking your hand too long,” he admitted with a sheepish grin as he let go. He took a step back, glancing around as if he couldn’t quite believe he was actually standing here with them. “Wow! This is awesome! Captain America.” His gaze shifted, landing on Wanda and Ingrid, who were watching him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “I know you, too. You’re great!” he said, his enthusiasm contagious.

Ingrid couldn’t help but chuckle at his earnestness, while Wanda offered him a small smile.

Scott turned back to Steve, his awe palpable. He reached out, feeling Steve’s shoulders. “Jeez,” he muttered under his breath before speaking up again, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Ah, look, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people, so… thanks for thinking of me.”

Then Scott noticed Sam standing just behind Steve. “Hey, man!” he greeted, clearly trying to play it cool.

“What’s up, Tic Tac?” Sam responded, a teasing grin on his face.

“Uh, good to see you,” Scott said, nodding, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Look, what happened last time when I…” he began, but Sam quickly cut him off.

“It was a great audition, but it’ll… it’ll never happen again,” Sam said, the teasing tone doing little to hide the underlying warning.

Steve brought the conversation back to the mission at hand. “They tell you what we’re up against?”

“Something about some… psycho-assassins?” Scott replied, his tone light but with a hint of nervousness that wasn’t lost on anyone. Ingrid, unable to suppress her amusement, let out a soft giggle, and Scott’s confidence seemed to bolster slightly at the sound.

Steve’s expression turned grave, and his eyes locked onto Scott’s, conveying the full weight of the situation. “We’re outside the law on this one. So, if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.”

Scott shrugged. “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

Bucky, who had been leaning against the car, watching the interaction with a silent intensity, finally spoke up. “We should get moving.”

“We got a chopper lined up,” Clint added.

Suddenly, an announcement blared over the airport’s loudspeakers, the urgency in the voice unmistakable. “Dies ist eine Notsituation. Alle Passagiere müssen den Flughafen sofort evakuieren.” Ingrid’s heart skipped a beat as she processed the message, her instincts flaring to life.

“They’re evacuating the airport,” Bucky said, his voice tense as he glanced around, knowing all too well what that meant.

“Stark,” Sam said, his tone sharp, the name carrying the weight of inevitable confrontation.

“Stark?” Scott echoed.

But Steve didn’t answer. His mind was already racing ahead, preparing for the inevitable clash. “Suit up,” he ordered, the words final, leaving no room for argument.

.ೃ࿔*:･

Ingrid’s heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she and Steve sprinted across the private runway, the wind whipping past them. The grounded chopper was just ahead. She could barely catch her breath, the urgency of the moment pushing her beyond her limits. Just as they neared the chopper, a sudden burst of sparks erupted as an electro-disabler clamped onto the aircraft, rendering it useless. Ingrid’s stomach dropped as she skidded to a halt beside Steve, her eyes snapping upwards.

Descending with unnerving precision were Tony and Rhodey, their suits gleaming in the sunlight.

“Definitely weird,” Rhodey replied, his voice steadier, but no less charged.

Steve took a step forward, trying to reach out across the widening chasm. “Hear me out, Tony. That doctor, the psychiatrist, he’s behind all of this,” he urged, his voice tight with desperation.

But before Tony could respond, T’Challa vaulted over a truck with the grace and precision, landing in front of them. “Captain,” he said, his voice calm but laced with the quiet authority of a king.

“Your Highness,” Steve replied, his voice respectful but tense. Ingrid felt a jolt of surprise as she realized they knew each other, though she had no clue how deep that connection ran.

“Your Highness? Should I bow?” Ingrid whispered urgently to Steve, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to navigate this new complication. But Steve simply shook his head, waving a hand in front of her to signal that now was not the time for formalities.

Tony didn’t miss a beat, his focus unwavering. “Anyway, Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in.” He glanced at Ingrid, who couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the mention of Ross. “That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?”

“You’re after the wrong guy,” Steve said, his voice firm.

“Your judgment is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.” Tony said.

“And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can’t let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can’t,” Steve said, his voice raw with the weight of the decision he knew he had to make. The urgency in his tone was undeniable, and the desperation flickered in his eyes as he tried to make Tony understand.

Before Tony could respond, Natasha appeared behind him with her signature silent grace, and Ingrid’s heart nearly stopped. The sight of Natasha made her pulse quicken, the realization that things had just gotten even more complicated sinking in like a stone. She wasn’t just nervous; Ingrid knew that if Natasha was here, she was very likely in trouble.

“Steve…” Natasha’s voice was calm, almost soothing, but it carried an undercurrent of tension. She was addressing Steve, but her eyes were locked on Ingrid, as if trying to convey something unspoken between them. “You know what’s about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?” Ingrid’s chest tightened, the weight of Natasha’s gaze making her feel exposed, vulnerable.

Tony let out an exasperated sigh, his patience clearly worn thin. “All right, I’ve run out of patience. Underoos!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the runway. Before anyone could react, a web shot out from above, snatching Steve’s shield and binding his hands in one swift motion.

Ingrid’s eyes widened in shock as she looked up to see Peter. What was he doing here? She hadn’t expected to see him, and the sight of him caught her off guard. “Nice job, kid,” Tony said, a note of approval in his voice.

Peter, landing lightly on his feet, seemed momentarily flustered when he noticed Ingrid watching him. “Thanks,” he stammered, his usual confidence faltering. “Well, I could’ve stuck the landing a little better. It’s just the new suit… Well, it’s nothing, Mr. Stark. It’s—it’s perfect. Thank you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush.

Tony, impatient as ever, cut him off before he could ramble any further. “Yeah, we don’t really need to start a conversation.”

“Okay,” Peter said quickly, turning his attention to Steve. “Cap… Captain. Solar Flare. Big fan, I’m Spider-Man,” he introduced himself. Ingrid couldn’t help but scoff, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.

For the first time since they had met, Peter couldn’t read anything from Ingrid’s expression. Was she angry? Surprised? Disappointed? Happy? Could someone be all those things at once? He couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

Tony, sensing the tension, quickly redirected the conversation. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it later. Just… good job,” he said, though there was a hint of distraction in his voice.

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Peter, then back to Tony. “You’ve been busy,” he remarked, the words carrying a subtle accusation.

“And you’ve been a complete idiot,” Tony shot back, his voice rising with frustration. “Dragging in Clint and Ingrid. ‘Rescuing’ Wanda from a place she doesn’t even want to leave, a safe place. I’m trying to keep… I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

“You did that when you signed,” Steve said, his voice steady, but there was a hint of sadness behind the words.

Tony’s expression hardened, his frustration boiling over. “Alright, we’re done,” he declared, the tone of his voice leaving no room for negotiation. “You’re gonna turn Barnes over, you’re gonna come with us. Now! Because it’s us! Or a squad of J-SOC guys… with no compunction about being impolite.” The threat was clear, and for a moment, the tension was suffocating. Steve didn’t respond, simply averting his gaze, his silence speaking volumes. “Come on,” Tony urged, almost pleading now.

Steve held his hands up and Clint fired an arrow that cut through the web binding Steve’s hands, freeing him. “Alright, Lang,” Steve called out.

Before Peter could finish his sentence, Scott was already in motion. “Hey, guys, something…” Peter began, but his words were drowned out by the sound of Scott retrieving Steve’s shield.

“I believe this is yours, Captain America,” Scott said, grinning as he handed the shield back to Steve. The moment was brief, but it was enough to signal the beginning of the fight.

Chaos erupted around them, and Ingrid found herself feeling increasingly disoriented. The sound of shouts, the clash of metal, and the whir of energy blasts filled the air, making it difficult to focus. As the battle raged on, she couldn’t shake the sense of being lost, the lines between ally and enemy blurring in the heat of the moment.

Instinctively, Ingrid did what she had done so many times over the past year— she searched for Natasha. The one person she trusted, the one person she knew would always have her back. Amidst the swirling chaos, she spotted Natasha engaged in a fight with Scott. Natasha moved with her usual precision, landing a swift kick to Scott’s groin, causing him to miniaturize in response. The sudden change in size threw Natasha off balance, sending her head over heels. But she recovered quickly, zapping Scott off her wrist with a well-aimed energy pulse, sending him flying into a nearby truck with a resounding crash that left a small dent in the metal.

Ingrid couldn’t help herself— she clapped, a wide, mischievous smile spreading across her face. “Good job!” she yelled, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “That was amazing.”

Natasha groaned as she pushed herself up from the ground, brushing off the dirt and debris. Her eyes met Ingrid’s, and for a moment, there was something unreadable in her expression—an emotion Ingrid couldn’t quite place. “You should go home,” Natasha said, her voice carrying an unexpected softness, almost like a plea.

Now standing eye to eye, Ingrid crossed her arms defiantly. “Why would I? The fun part just started,” she retorted, her gaze flicking around the battlefield where everyone was locked in combat.

“You’ll get hurt,” Natasha said, her voice carrying a rare note of concern that made Ingrid pause. It wasn’t often that Natasha let her guard down, but when she did, it meant something.

Ingrid met Natasha’s gaze and gave a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself,” she said, her tone confident. “Plus, I learned some new tricks just for this occasion.” She winked playfully, but the look on Natasha’s face told her the older woman was anything but reassured.

Natasha’s brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. Ingrid’s calmness in the face of what was happening, her ability to maintain her light-hearted demeanor—it was both comforting and disconcerting. But before Natasha could press further, the ground beneath them shook.

A large truck was tumbling straight towards Rhodey. The chaos was immediate, and the urgency of the situation hit them like a shockwave. Ingrid and Natasha were the closest, and without thinking, Ingrid reacted.

“Get behind me!” Ingrid shouted, her voice firm and commanding as she crossed her arms in front of her. Natasha, trusting Ingrid’s instincts, quickly moved behind her, crouching low as the truck skidded toward them.

The moment seemed to stretch out, seconds turning into an eternity. Instead of the fiery explosion that should have followed, the flames curled harmlessly away. Ingrid stood there, her arms still crossed. She had absorbed the impact, taken the full brunt of the explosion—and shielded Natasha from harm.

When the dust settled, Natasha opened her eyes to find Ingrid gone. The spot where she had stood was scorched but eerily untouched by flames. The fire had vanished as if swallowed by the very air.

Before Natasha could search for her, Steve’s voice cut through the chaos. “Come on!” he yelled, urgency driving them forward. Ingrid joined them in running toward the Quinjet, but a sudden flash of energy sliced through the air in front of them, forcing them to stop dead in their tracks.

Vision hovered overhead, his form calm and unyielding as ever. “Captain Rogers,” he called out, his voice echoing across the runway with an almost detached seriousness. “I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good, you must surrender now.”

Tony and his team arrived, their presence only adding to the overwhelming pressure.

Sam, catching Steve’s eye, asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. “What do we do, Cap?”

Steve didn’t hesitate, his resolve as firm as ever. “We fight."

The two teams strode toward each other with grim determination etched into their faces, every step heavy with the weight of what was to come. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent understanding passing between them— there was no turning back now.

Then everyone broke into a sprint. The clash was inevitable, and the sound of pounding footsteps reverberated across as they closed the distance between them.

Ingrid immediately focused, feeling the familiar surge of energy build in her right arm. The heat coursed through her veins, responding to her command as a sword made of pure flame materialized in her hand, glowing with an intense, otherworldly light. The fire crackled with barely contained fury. She didn’t hesitate— her target was clear.

She sprinted toward Tony, her flame sword trailing embers in the air as she closed the gap. Her movements were precise, every step fueled by anger and a sense of betrayal. She swung the sword with all her might, aiming directly for his head, but Tony was quick. He raised his armored arm just in time, blocking the fiery blade with a loud clang that sent sparks flying.

Ingrid’s eyes blazed with fury as she pushed harder, the heat from the sword intensifying as she tried to force it through the suit’s defenses. “I can’t believe you brought him into this!” she yelled, her voice raw with emotion, grunting with the effort of trying to overpower Tony’s suit.

Tony’s voice was calm, almost too calm given the situation. “Who?” he asked, his tone annoyingly casual as if they weren’t locked in a life-or-death struggle.

“Peter!” Ingrid spat back, her voice cracking slightly as she pushed harder, her frustration growing by the second.

Tony’s reply only stoked her anger further. “Oh, you two know each other? He didn’t mention you at all,” he said, his tone almost flippant, as if this were just another day for him. His words hit a nerve, the casual dismissal cutting deeper than the blade ever could.

Without a word, Ingrid shook her right hand, and the sword vanished in a burst of embers. She wasn’t done yet—not by a long shot. Instead of the blade, she brought her palms out, the heat in her body surging as she channeled every ounce of her power into a single, concentrated blast of fire.

The flames erupted from her hands with a force that shook the ground beneath them, a white-hot inferno that engulfed Tony before he could react. The sheer intensity of the blast sent him hurtling backward, slamming into a nearby truck with a deafening crash. The metal crumpled under the impact, the force of the collision leaving a deep dent in the side of the vehicle.

Ingrid’s eyes darted to the side, catching sight of Natasha locked in a fight with Clint. The fight was intense, and Ingrid’s concern grew as she saw Wanda suddenly intervene, projecting a powerful wave of energy that sent Natasha crashing to the ground.

Without a second thought, Ingrid sprinted toward her, her breath coming in quick, determined gasps. The chaotic sounds of the battlefield filled her ears, but her focus remained solely on Natasha. As she reached her, Ingrid skidded to a halt, quickly extending a hand to help her up.

“You okay?” Ingrid asked, her voice tinged with worry as she leaned down, breathless from both the fight and the urgency of the moment.

Natasha reached up and took Ingrid’s hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. She dusted herself off, offering Ingrid a small, reassuring nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks."

Ingrid held Natasha’s gaze for a moment longer, searching for any sign that she might be more hurt than she was letting on. But Natasha, as always, kept her emotions tightly controlled, her focus already shifting back to the battle raging around them. Ingrid could see the resolve in her eyes, the determination that had carried her through countless missions.

With a curt nod, Ingrid released Natasha’s hand, both of them silently acknowledging the brief moment of connection before turning back to the fight.

Ingrid was catching her breath after helping Natasha when she heard a familiar voice ring out over the chaotic noise of battle. "That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all!" Peter's voice, high with both excitement and frustration, cut through the sound of battle. She quickly turned, her gaze locking onto the fight unfolding between him and Steve.

From the sidelines, Ingrid watched Peter closely, her heart pounding as she took in the scene.

"Look, kid. There's a lot going on here that you don't understand," Steve said, his voice calm but firm as he tried to reason with Peter.

"Mr. Stark said you'd say that," Peter shot back, his tone carrying an edge of defiance. Without hesitation, he fired a web, which stuck to both Steve’s shield and ankle. With a sharp tug, Peter pulled Steve toward him, sending him sliding across the ground before kicking him back with surprising force. "He also said to go for your legs."

Ingrid winced slightly as she watched Steve scramble to recover, rushing to reclaim his shield. But Peter was fast, his webs flying with precision, ensnaring Steve’s hands before he could reach it. Steve gritted his teeth, using his strength to spin on the spot, propelling Peter through the air. The move was unexpected, and Peter was momentarily disoriented, flipping through the air.

Steve caught a web mid-air and used it to yank Peter toward him. With one swift motion, he brought his shield down, knocking Peter off balance and sending him tumbling to the ground. Ingrid's breath caught in her throat as she watched Peter recover, pulling himself up onto a nearby gangway with a swing.

“Stark tell you anything else?” Steve asked, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Peter didn’t miss a beat, his voice firm despite the strain in his movements. “That you’re wrong. You think you’re right. That makes you dangerous.” He swung down with a quickness that only his spider-like reflexes could manage, aiming to catch Steve off guard.

But Steve was ready. He leaped forward, propelling himself into a flying kick that sent Peter sprawling backward into one of the gangway's support legs. The structure groaned under the impact, and Ingrid could see the moment Peter realized just how precarious his position was.

“Guess he had a point,” Steve said, his voice almost wistful as he hurled his shield at the gangway's leg. The metal crunched as the shield hit its mark, the entire structure beginning to topple under its own weight.

Peter reacted instinctively as he tried to hold the collapsing gangway up.

Steve paused for a brief moment. “You got heart, kid. Where’re you from?”

“Queens,” Peter replied, his voice strained but proud as he struggled to keep the gangway from falling.

“Brooklyn,” Steve said, a note of shared understanding in his voice before he turned and walked away.

Peter’s eyes widened as he noticed Ingrid walking toward him. He could tell she’d been watching the entire fight, her expression a mix of concern and something else he couldn’t quite place. Before he could say anything, she reached the gangway he was struggling to hold up.

"You need any help with that?" Ingrid asked with a small smirk, her tone light but laced with genuine concern. She didn’t wait for an answer, though. With a swift, effortless motion, she grabbed the gangway and tossed it aside as if it weighed nothing, the metal clattering to the ground in a heap. She dusted off her hands, a casual gesture that contrasted starkly with the chaos around them.

Peter stared at her in awe, catching his breath. "Thanks," he said, the word coming out more breathless than he intended. "You know, when I asked if we'd see each other today, this is not what I meant."

Ingrid’s smile softened, a hint of warmth breaking through her battle-hardened exterior. "Steve’s right, though. You really don’t know what’s going on here."

Just as Peter was about to respond, but the words died in his throat as something massive caught his attention. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he could barely get the words out. "Holy shit!"

Ingrid snapped her head up to follow his gaze, her own eyes widening at the sight. Scott was now towering above them, having grown into a giant. He held Rhodey by the leg as if he were a toy.

Ingrid glanced around, her senses tingling with the urgency of the situation. “I think I have to go,” she said, her voice tight with resolve. Without waiting for a response, she sprinted across the chaotic battlefield, heading towards Vision, who was unleashing a blinding beam of energy from his mind stone.

Ingrid hurled fireballs at him, each one blazing with intense heat. But Vision dodged each one, his energy beams cutting through the air. As she struggled to land a hit, the control tower loomed above, collapsing toward the entrance of the hangar. Ingrid’s heart raced as she saw Wanda desperately trying to slow its descent, her powers straining under the pressure.

A sudden blast of sound shattered the air as Rhodey descended behind Ingrid, firing his sonic disruptor. The tower’s collapse intensified, falling around Steve and Bucky. Ingrid watched, breath held, as they managed to dive into the safety of the hangar, a collective sigh of relief escaping her.

As she turned to find Peter, her heart skipped a beat. She spotted him lying on the ground, his mask discarded and his eyes closed. Panic surged through her as she rushed over to him, kneeling beside him with a worried expression.

“Are you okay?” Ingrid asked urgently, her hand gently nudging his arm. “Idiot! You scared me!”

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, revealing a tired but reassuring smile. “Sorry, I just needed to lay down for a moment. Then Mr. Stark said I need to go home.”

Ingrid sat down on the cold concrete floor next to him, her frustration giving way to a mix of relief and exasperation. She rolled her eyes at the mention of Tony. “He’s so annoying."

Peter’s face scrunched up in thought. “I mean... he did give me this suit.”

Ingrid’s expression softened into a smile. “The suit is pretty cool, way better than your last one. But still, my point stands.”

Peter chuckled weakly, the sound a welcome break from the tension that had been building. “Yeah, I get it. Still, I owe him a lot.”

Ingrid nodded, her gaze drifting over the battlefield. “We all owe him something. But that doesn’t mean we have to like it.”

As they both took a moment to catch their breath, Ingrid felt a surge of gratitude for this brief pause amidst the chaos.

Peter’s eyes met hers, and despite the exhaustion, there was a flicker of determination. “Thanks for checking on me,” he said quietly.

“Anytime,” Ingrid replied, her voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within her.

Ingrid plopped down onto the cold concrete next to Peter, feeling the weight of the past year pressing heavily on her shoulders. She stared blankly at the sky above them, a pang of longing filling her heart. How she wished she could wake up and find that the past year had been nothing more than a bad dream— a cruel twist of fate that she could simply erase.