The Fall Of Shield
You quickly took the hand offered, grimacing as the sting in both your cheek and shoulder blade.
"Thanks." You told the stranger, waiting for a name in return.
"I'm a friend of Steve Rogers." He said.
You tilted your head. "Cap sent you?"
"He wanted me to keep you safe. (Y/n), right?"
"Yeah." You smiled. "And thanks. Consider your job done."
You didn't wait for a reply and picked up the scepter case, securing it in one hand before grabbing a chair with the other and throwing it at one of the glass windows in the room. It shattered on impact and the friend of Steve's jumped back.
"Sorry, what's the plan here?" He questioned, confused.
You lifted an arm and tapped a button hidden in the bracelet you wore. It turned green and you smirked.
"I'm keeping this weapon away from HYDRA." You explained. "Then I'm going to New York to see my dad."
"And that shoulder?" He motioned to the bleeding wound. "It needs to be treated."
You shrugged, quickly regretting that action because of the sting of pain, and grimaced. "Yeah, I'm aware."
"Let me take a look."
"It's alright, I can manage it." You took a step towards the shattered window and glanced back at him. "What's your name? Got a flashy superhero title?"
He laughed and shook his head. "The name's Sam Wilson. United States Air Force pararescue. Or I used to be."
"Got a suit?"
"Falcon."
You nodded in approval. "Nice name."
He grinned. "I know, right?"
"You look after it, and tell Steve I said thanks." You then turned to Rumlow, who was regaining consciousness. "As for you... Shut the hell up in future."
You flipped him off as you walked backwards towards the window. You stopped at the edge, took a breath, and let yourself fall backwards.
"(Y/n)!" Sam yelled, running forward.
He stopped right at the edge of the building, eyes wide and jaw hanging open as a convertible floated up with you casually sitting in the driver's seat.
"Holy shi-" He went to say.
"Hey, watch that mouth." You warned with a smile, sitting back in the car that Coulson had bought you so long ago. "See ya, Sammy."
You gave him a lazy salute and turned in the seat, flying off.
"She's crazy." Sam mumbled, watching you fly off. "Cool, but crazy."
"Sam, any update on (Y/n)?" Steve then asked on comms.
"I found her. She's safe, and said thanks."
But he didn't hear the reply because Rumlow let out a loud yell of anger, trying to stand up again.
"No!" He groaned, looking at the spot you'd fallen from. "We need her!"
Sam glared. "Good luck getting her."
"You don't get it." He staggered to his feet. "She has the scepter! That brat won't be safe from us, HYDRA will always find her."
And, without warning, he lunged. The pair fought until Sam was pushed to the floor.
"This is gonna hurt." He glared, removing his jacket. "There are no prisoners with HYDRA, just order. And order only comes with pain. Are you ready for yours?"
Sam got to his feet, wiping some blood from his lip. "Man, why don't you take (Y/n)'s advice and shut the hell up?"
At the same time, the two went for each other, getting a few good hits in. It was impossible to tell how long they kept the fight up, perhaps a few minutes, but it was abruptly interrupted when the helicarriers outside suddenly started firing at each other instead of their intended targets.
The three carriers destroyed each other, two crashing into the flood bank and wrecking that, while the third started losing altitude and heading straight for the Triskelion building itself.
Rumlow hadn't noticed the last part because he was too focused on taunting Sam. "You're out of your depth, kid."
Sam, on the other hand, had seen the rapidly approaching danger and immediately got to his feet, sprinting for an exit. This made Rumlow turn in confusion and notice the helicarrier.
"Son of a bitch!" He cursed.
He tried to run but he wasn't fast enough, being lost in the debris as the carrier smashed into the building.
Sam wasn't far ahead, panicked and determined to outrun the killing machine. His only exit was the window on the opposite side of the room.
"Please tell me you got that chopper in the air!" He yelled on comms.
"Sam, where are you?" Natasha's voice replied.
"41st floor, north-west corner!"
"We're on it, stay where you are."
"Not an option!"
With the carrier directly behind him and dilapidating the room, he had no choice. When he came face-to-face with the window, he jumped.
By some miracle, the chopper Natasha and Fury were in was below him. It was turned on its side to catch him but before he fell through the other end, Natasha pulled him up.
"41st floor!" He yelled. "41st!"
Fury, who was piloting, glanced back at him. "It's not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!"
"Hill!" Natasha called, speaking to the woman who was still inside the command center. "Where's Steve? You got a location on Rogers?"
"What about (Y/n)?" Fury asked.
"She's okay." Sam said.
"Then where is she?"
"She said she was going to take the scepter to New York. She wants to find Stark."
"With the scepter?" Natasha questioned.
"Yeah."
"Does she want the Avengers to look after it? Or Thor?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
She nodded, thinking about it, before looking at Fury. "You need to tell Stark the truth before she does."
-
The sweat was beaded everywhere on your forehead. Your body - the shoulder in particular - felt like it was on fire.
The flying convertible was on autopilot and you were trying desperately to wrap your wound. The bullet hadn't gone through but the best you could do for now was stop the bleeding. Since it was an impromptu treatment, the only dressing you could find was half of your shirt.
When it was finally done, you relaxed in the seat, your body slumped and your eyes staring at the blue sky above. It was beautiful. Peaceful, even.
As the clouds came and went, as did your thoughts. You couldn't help thinking about what you were going to do once you arrived in New York. It was strange, the concept of talking to your dad after so many years. Did he still love you? Would he recognize you? Did he try looking for you after he became an Avenger? Would he be happy?
It was tiring. You just wanted to sleep.
-
An alarm startled you awake.
You hissed in pain and grasped your dressed shoulder, cursing under your breath.
"FRIDAY?" You asked. "What's going on?"
"We've run out of gas, Miss." She replied.
"Oh, for fu-" You threw your head back in frustration. "What's the flight power?"
"2% and falling."
As she said it, the convertible stuttered and shook, dropping a little. You grabbed the sides, eyes wide.
"Anywhere I can land?" You asked desperately. "Literally anywhere?!"
"Half a mile east is a corn farm in Philadelphia."
"Got it. Give me control."
The light signaling autopilot switched off and you grabbed the wheel, yanking it right. You sped up a little since the car was dropping more and more every few seconds. When the farm finally came into view, you cheered in relief.
The landing was bumpy and you almost got thrown out the convertible once or twice. Your knuckles turned stark white as you gripped the wheel with everything you had. When the car finally crashed, you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.
"Who the hell are you?" Someone asked.
You jumped, looking for the source of the voice and seeing who was presumably the farmer. It was an elderly man with glasses and a strong Manhattan accent. (think of stan lee...Let him RIP)
"Sorry?" You asked, still processing.
"What are you doing on my farm?" He repeated. "Look what you did to my cornfields! I've had enough of you kids and your flying cars!"
"Uh..." You didn't know what to say. "I can pay for damages?"
The old man scoffed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. Still awkward, you dug around in the glove compartment until you got a slip. From there, you scribbled down details and offered it to him.
He took it from you, only seeming more confused as he read from the slip. "What kind of things does a farmer talk about when they are milking cows? Udder nonsense."
He did not look amused.
"Yeah..." You chuckled awkwardly. "I chose that one just for you."