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"Rundown on the scepter's location?"

"Pretty remote, but nothing we can't handle," Clint was saying as he munched on a bowl of Lucky Charms.

Tony eyed him in slight disgust.

"Mind talking when everything going on in there isn't on full display?"

He opened his mouth wider in response and the billionaire mimed a barfing action.

Natasha was seated next to the archer at the dining table, picking at her toast while Bruce snored away on the couch, glasses askew on his face and paper scattered by his feet.

"How long was he up?"

"He was still awake when I went out for my run."

A sweaty and slightly out-of-breath Steve answered the question as he walked in with a white box in hand.

He had barely set it down when Natasha grabbed at it eagerly.

The billionaire rushed to claim his own donut, swearing loudly when he was pinched, a consequence of lack of patience.

Steve rolled his eyes and went to pour himself a glass of apple juice before taking a seat at the table.

"So, I know we haven't officially discussed what to do with your AWOL sister," Tony quickly snatched a donut from the box and took a bite, "but we've all come to the conclusion that there's not much we can do, correct? I mean, she's a stubborn ass and anyone with eyes can see exactly where she gets it from."

He tilted his head suggestively in Steve's direction.

The super soldier raised an eyebrow.

"No offense intended, right?"

"Quite the opposite."

"It's not so much that we can't do anything. We're just choosing not to," Natasha said snidely as Tony walked over to the large windows, sipping at his coffee and poking at the red mark on the back of his hand.

He lifted his head and suddenly paused.

"And...this is a collective decision."

His voice had taken a strange tone, but none of the group noticed as they were too invested in their breakfasts and one was still unconscious.

"For the most part. The last time we heard from Thor was three weeks ago and he hasn't come back to cast a vote. I can't imagine how he'd feel about it when he finds out."

"I could be lying, but I'm almost one hundred percent positive that he wouldn't be too happy about it. Like, eighty-seven percent positive. Maybe ninety."

"Why is that?" Clint asked.

Tony turned back to them.

"Well, Rock of Ages is storming up to the front door right now and I wouldn't exactly call the look on his face a smile."

Which, to Tony's credit, it wasn't—Natasha would later describe this expression as a cross between the frown of a hungry ostrich and the grimace of a monkey. She was very poor at comparison, but to her credit, Clint supposed it was the thought that counted.

Steve immediately knew that Thor was aware of their decision as he walked into the room, something he could distinguish from how upset he looked.

What he wasn't prepared for was what he said next, which was:

"Are they safe?"

The team glanced at each other in bewilderment and Steve nodded, Thor pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before slumping into a chair.

Clint offered him the box of donuts.

He gratefully took one, devouring it whole as the super soldier slid his glass of juice over to him which he proceeded to swallow in one gulp. Tony moved to sit down next to Thor and before he could say anything, the four of them watched the god of thunder take his coffee, lift it in thanks, and chug it down impatiently.

When he was done, he sighed in a more satisfied manner.

"Brute," Tony muttered.

"Have you found them?"

"Not exactly. We've been tracking someone else to pin 'em down and the call just came in yesterday," Steve replied.

"What you see here," Clint gestured to the living room, "is the 5:30 AM preparation before we roll out. Which we should probably bring you up to speed with," he added hastily at Natasha's sharp look.

"I've been well-informed of how you handled the situation. Heimdall had a few choice words with me," Thor said dryly.

"Damn that All-Seeing wizard."

"He is no wizard, Stark."

"Yeah, and I'm not rich."

"How did you think I would react when you told me you had chosen to let them go?"

Thor was thoroughly puzzled as he looked at Steve who, up to that point, thought it would've been hard for the god of thunder to come to terms with the idea and had no concrete answer to such a question when Natasha cut in.

"We thought it would be better to hash it out with you when you came back."

"It is not done?"

"We're still a team. You have a say."

"Especially since you happen to be related to the maniac involved," Clint mumbled.

"The Allfather is not pleased."

"Fortunately, we don't care what he thinks."

"I was tasked with bringing Loki back after he and Willow escaped. Your sister's obstinance is close to none I've seen before, but what she has told me of Loki...," Thor's brows rumpled defeatedly, "I believe now I do not know my brother as much as I thought I did. I cannot take him back to Asgard. There must be something else...anything."

"The only thing they have for them right now is to stay in hiding. Trust me, I want to bring my sister back as much you do your brother."

"The only problem with that is they're a package deal now," Natasha said.

"And since there's not a jury in the world that won't convict Loki, they're gonna stay as far away as they can, meaning it would probably be useless to try and pardon Willow, anyways," Clint chimed in.

"And that brings us to the conclusion of Finish That Sentence, thank you for playing," Tony exclaimed with a small knock on the table. "Look, until we can figure out a solid plan to bring them back into the States, they're not going anywhere."

"And how long will that be?"

"Another problem we've run into. Nothing, zip, nada. No loophole, no escape clause. Of course, Loki could have a defense if he claims mental illness, but I'm not sure he'd be indicted properly since he's from "out of town," the billionaire continued, air quoting the last bit of his sentence.

"We'll keep looking, though. If there's a way, we'll find it."

"Isn't there something we have to do first?"

Bruce was pushing himself into a sitting position, shirt wrinkled and hair all mussed up.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly as the team turned to look at him.

"A B...Boris...Ben...Brody..."

"Bucky," Steve corrected before looking at Thor. "Someone from my past has been sent to kill Willow."

"How can this be?"

"Time hasn't been kind to him. He doesn't know a friend from an enemy and S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of those. Going after Bucky would give us the chance to help him while keeping Willow and Loki safe."

"This is the person you've been tracking?"

"Yes."

"And what knowledge have you of the scepter?"

"It's being used for human experimentation." Natasha slid a file over to him. "Two trials successfully resulted in two enhanced beings that are, quite coincidentally, siblings. Twins."

"With you back, the odds are significantly in our favor," Bruce pointed out as Thor sifted through the folder curiously.

"We could split up so no time is wasted."

"It'd be worth a shot. We might even be able to call it early."

"Real encouraging, Barton."

Steve glanced at Tony who was peering into his empty cup as if it could miraculously refill itself.

"Tony," he looked up, "what do you think?"

"Your call, Cap," he said with a nod.

The super soldier, already in the process of formulating a plan in his mind as he ran through the members of the team including separate and combined advantages, came to a solid conclusion only seconds later.

"Natasha and I will go after Bucky. The rest of you can handle extracting the scepter. If the twins are a problem, bring them in, but do it safely. Otherwise, let them go. I'm sure we'll have more opportunities to run into them in the future."

"You sure about this?"

"I know someone."

—————-

"Well, I'll be damned."

Steve couldn't help breaking out into a grin as he clapped the hand of the man in front of him and patted him on the shoulder before moving to reveal the redhead standing patiently behind him.

Sam raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"We don't mean to impose," Steve tried, but he shook his head with a little laugh.

"Hey, it's a once-in-a-lifetime thing to get a personal visit from Moonshadow and Captain America. Plus, it's not imposing if I'm glad to see you."

"Your enthusiasm is chilling," Natasha said, a teasing lilt to her voice the only sign of amusement as she looked at Steve out of the corner of her eye with that same unreadable expression.

"This is..."

The assassin stuck out her hand, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

"Natasha Romanoff."

"Sam Wilson."

He gripped her hand firmly and shook it once before stepping back, an invitation for them to enter his home of which they did in a respectful manner, taking off their shoes and following behind the man as he made his way to the kitchen. He gestured to the table and Steve took a seat, Natasha choosing to lean against the wall.

"So, what brings you two to this side of town?"

"I know this is out of the blue," Steve began, "but I'm hoping you'll help us help Willow."

Sam paused, his smile gone and replaced with concern.

"What happened? Is she okay?"

"We don't know yet. But, we're hoping she is."

He thought about this for a second before moving towards the hallway.

"Hold on."

Natasha exchanged a curious look with Steve as they heard a few loud thumps and a muffled curse before Sam emerged with a folder, handing it off to Steve.

"What's this?"

"Call it a resume," he said with a small shrug.

He watched the woman move closer to peer over Steve's shoulder. The slight shock on her face was, he guessed, the most he would ever see her express herself as her eyes ran over the papers.

"You didn't tell me he was a pararescue."

"You didn't ask." Steve glanced at him. "I thought you said you were a pilot."

"I never said pilot."

"It's this we need, then."

The assassin tapped on a different piece of paper.

[EXO-7 FALCON]

"Where can we get our hands on one of these things?"

"The last one is at Fort Meade. Behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall."

Natasha shrugged.

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"Only you could say that," Sam chuckled.

"Who is this?"

She lifted a picture of Sam with another man, his face falling a little at the sight.

"My wingman, Riley," he murmured, crossing his arms. "We were on a night mission. Standard PJ, rescue OP...nothing we haven't done a thousand times before. Until an RPG knocked Riley's dumbass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It's like I was up there just to watch."

"I'm sorry," Steve said with quiet empathy as she slipped the picture back into the folder.

"After that, I had a really hard time with it. But, stuff happens. You just gotta get back out in the world and make everything count."

The super soldier shook his head.

"Sam, I don't think I can ask this of you. There's no one I'd trust more, but you got out for a good reason. To drag you back into this—"

"Dude, Captain America needs my help," Sam interrupted, giving him a small grin. "There's no better reason to get back in."

"I like him."

Natasha tilted her head, her offhand comment silencing them momentarily.

"I'll be in the car."

The men shared a surprised expression as they watched her walk down the hall and listened to the door open and close.

"That's something you don't hear everyday. Or at all."

"I figured."

"You sure you wanna do this?"

"Absolutely," he said firmly. "What's it look like?"

"We're flying out as soon as we can. Litchtague. It's where Willow and Loki are."

"We're bringing them back?"

"She's got a tail. We're bringing back someone else."

Sam noticed Steve reaching up to hold the dog tag around his neck in what he could only assume was worry and hope, two strings of emotion that tangled themselves together quite often.

He nodded.

"When do we leave?"

___________

The man traced the long, thick scar across the right side of his face as he looked at himself in the mirror. The ends were puckered, some bits of flesh scabbed over into a dark purple while other parts were a vicious pink. It cut across his eye, leaving it to be no more than a crevice, a dark hole in his face that mocked him for his failure. He gripped the edges of the sink until his knuckles turned white with strain when a knock came at the door.

"What?"

"Would ya quit your mopin' around and get the hell out here? They found him."

If he hadn't known exactly who the idiot was referring to, he would've left it alone, but they'd been looking for him ever since everything got blown to shit.

Including his face.

Rollins began to bang on the door and he kicked it hard.

"Shut up, I'm comin'!" He shouted.

He carefully pulled the patch over his eye, disgusted at what he saw when he looked at his reflection—it could only cover so much and the creased, shriveled-up skin running from a couple of inches over his scalp down to his chin was downright godawful.

When he finally came out of the bathroom, he shot Rollins a nasty look before yanking the paper he was holding out of his hand.

"Some good news. Finally," he muttered.

"We have the scientists down South to handle him."

"Don't need them. It's Rogers we gotta worry about."

"I thought he was outta commission."

"I'm not his fucking secretary, am I? We'll let the Soldier kill the girl first then bring him in. Rogers is bound to follow. Get a team ready, we're heading out soon."

"What if he turns up?"

Rumlow glared at the man.

"The sonofabitch ain't made of steel. Shoot him."

——————
☀︎ celine's corner ☀︎

rumlow a nick fury knock-off now.