Chapter 82: A Path to Freedom (pt.7)

Chapter 82: A Path to Freedom (pt.7)

2014

Washington D.C

The Triskelion (S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters)

Secretary Pierce's Office

(Alexander Pierce POV)

Settling into the seat behind my desk, I look over at the monitor on the far wall, where a live feed of the building's security cameras plays out.

Pressing a button on my keyboard, the monitor focuses in on one of the camera feeds, showing the inside of one of the elevators in the building.

The view inside of the elevator enlarges to fill the screen, and I let out an anxious breath as I see Captain Rogers step into the elevator alone.

"Don't fail me, boy..." I mutter under my breath as I watch the doors begin to close.

Just as the elevator doors were about to shut, Major Rumlow steps into the lift with two other S.T.R.I.K.E agents at his back.

My heart races and I lean forward in my chair, my anticipation stacking with each passing second.

Watching the feed closely, I observe the movements of the three men as they open the doors and move into the elevator.

"Make sure all S.T.R.I.K.E personnel are on site." Rumlow's voice crackles over the speakers of my screen as he positions himself beside Rogers in the elevator.

"Understood."

"Yes, sir."

The two agents both answer him simultaneously, as they take up posts on either side of the enclosed space.

"Cap." Rumlow greets the Super Soldier, who glances at him and his men for a second, before turning his head back to the closing doors.

"Rumlow." He greets back simply, and I nod approvingly at seeing the kid playing it safe and waiting for the rest of his men to enter the elevator.

"No need to rush it," I mutter under my breath as I watch the elevator begin to descend.

"Evidence Response found some fibers from your fight on the roof they want us to see. You want me to get the tac-team ready?" Rumlow asks Rogers, attempting to lull him into a false sense of security.

"No, let's wait and see what it is first," Steve replies, and I got the sense that he was being a bit cagey.

"As you say," Rumlow responds.

He looks down at the floor for a second, seemingly deep in thought before he lifts his head again, and I notice a slight, eager smirk form on his lips.

A chuckle leaves me and I shake my head, trying to hide my amusement at Rumlow's antics.

This kid is something else. Even in this stressful situation, he's able to keep his cool when most people would've cracked long ago.

Focusing back on the screen, I watch as the elevator comes to a stop at one of the floors, and four more S.T.R.I.K.E agents enter the elevator.

"Major." One of the new S.T.R.I.K.E members greets Rumlow with a salute.

"Jack," Rumlow replies, nodding to the soldier.

The four S.T.R.I.K.E operatives settle into their positions, encircling Rogers and Rumlow in the elevator, and I could feel the tension in the air grow heavier even from this distance.

The elevator doors close once again, and I watch anxiously as it continues its descent.

"I didn't get a chance to say this earlier," Rumlow says as he turns his head toward Steve, his voice laced with sincerity. "But I'm sorry about what happened with Fury. He meant a lot to me too."

"Yeah, um...Thanks." Steve says.

He seems uncomfortable with the conversation, but after what just occurred in our meeting, I suppose I can't blame him for keeping his guard up.

Steve glances around at the other agents in the elevator and I could tell he notices something odd going on with them.

"Something wrong?" Rumlow asks. The question is so casual I barely register it, but Steve's reaction tells me everything.

"No, nothing's wrong," Steve clearly lies immediately, his voice tight as he glances around the claustrophobic confines of the lift and the agents around him.

There's an awkward silence for a few moments as the elevator comes to a stop at another floor, and three more S.T.R.I.K.E operatives step into the elevator.

Sweat starts to gather on my forehead and I lean forward even more in my chair, watching the monitor intensely as the elevator doors close and Steve becomes surrounded by agents, forcing him to stand against the glass that made up the rear wall.

I swallow hard and set my jaw, observing as the elevator begins its descent once again.

Feeling the nervous tension through the screen, I can't help but imagine what it must be like for Steve, unknowingly trapped in there with ten trained assassins, all of whom just waiting for the opportunity to strike.

The feed goes silent as the elevator continues to descend, and I catch a glimpse of Rogers' tense face.

I felt the hair on the back of my neck rising as the monitor shows everyone in the elevator stopped, and I could see their muscles tightening, preparing themselves for what was about to happen.

Steve looks around at the men surrounding him and lets out a tired sigh.

"Before we get started, does anyone want to-" Steve begins to say, but before he can finish his sentence, the live feed abruptly cuts off as the screen, the lights, and all other electronics in my office suddenly cease functioning.

"What the hell?!?" I scream out in confusion as I look around my darkened office in confusion, the only source of light coming from the faint orange glow of the rising sun peeking through the cloudy sky and gleaming through the glass of the windows.

"Sir?!" A voice calls out from the next room and the next moment I see Sitwell hurriedly storm into my office.

"What's happening!?" I demand, my eyes darting around the room for answers. "Did the power go out?"

"I don't know!" He answers back. "The whole building is down! Everything's gone dark and I've lost communication with everyone!"

"Goddammit!!" I bark out, trying to control my panic. "I want this fixed right now! And get me eyes in that fucking elevator!!"

"Right away sir!" He hurries to comply, rushing off to make the necessary changes.

I sit back in my chair and close my eyes for a second, trying to calm myself.

Limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, flesh torn asunder, and organs drained from the helpless victims. The once-pristine walls of the elevator were now painted with a gory tableau of savagery.

A heap of lifeless bodies sprawled upon the floor, their existence abruptly terminated by the relentless force that loomed over them. Brock, drenched in the blood of his victims, shifted his gaze towards the sole surviving soldier, whose eyes were frozen in a wide-eyed gaze of unadulterated terror.

Throughout the nightmarish ordeal, this particular soldier had remained motionless, paralyzed by fear, his wide eyes fixated upon Brock. His trembling hands desperately clung to his sides, a feeble attempt to hold himself together in the face of the relentless onslaught. Yet, his efforts proved futile, as he faltered under Brock's overwhelming pressure.

"Brock... P-please..." The soldier's voice cracked, a plea for mercy escaping his lips.

With an indifferent smirk adorning his face, Brock closed in on his prey, his piercing crimson eyes radiating an eerie glow that contrasted against the surrounding darkness.

"P-please...d-don't hurt me..." The terrified soldier begged, trembling with shallow, rapid breaths, knowing he was about to meet the same brutal fate as his fallen comrades.

"That's enough!" I hear my own voice speak out, a surge of determination guiding my words. Though I couldn't fully comprehend the reason behind it, an unexplainable urge compelled me to spare the life of this last remaining soldier. "Let him live...he's no longer a threat."

Brock cast a brief glance in my direction, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as if the Brock I knew resurfaced. But just as quickly, the savage crimson glow consumed him once more, his features contorting into a mask of indifference.

In a sudden surge of strength, Brock's hand shot out, seizing the throat of the surviving soldier, his grip tightening like an iron vice.

A desperate, guttural gurgle escaped the soldier's lips as he feebly clawed at Brock's hand, his eyes filled with a plea for mercy.

"B-brother..." The soldier's voice squeaked out, barely a whisper, carrying a mix of anguish and accusation. He gasped for air, his attempts futile, as he failed to draw in a much-needed breath.

Brock maintained an unwavering gaze into the soldier's eyes, his grip unyielding as the soldier futilely struggled in his grasp. With a deliberate and chilling closeness, Brock leaned in towards the soldier's ear, his words barely discernible to my heightened senses.

"You chose wrong, Jack," Brock muttered quietly, his words dripping with a mix of disdain and disappointment

*Crunch!*

In a final act of cruelty, Brock intensified his grip with unrelenting force, his fingers mercilessly digging into the soldier's flesh. The soldier's struggles grew feeble, his strength waning as the world around him plunged into darkness. With a final, gasping drag, he succumbed to the inevitable, crossing the threshold to the other side.

His lifeless body slumped upon the blood-soaked floor, joining the ranks of the other silent victims in the wake of this merciless onslaught.

I stared at Brock with a mix of bewilderment, curiosity, and revulsion at what had just transpired, and at the level of brutality and ruthlessness he just displayed. The air in the elevator felt heavy with the weight of the atrocities that had unfolded.

But Brock seemed to ignore my gaze, his attention solely focused on the few intact bodies at his feet.

*Splat!*

*Splat!*

*Splat!*

Then, without a shred of remorse, Brock began stomping on the fallen soldiers, each stomp filled with sickening brutality, reducing their remains to a gruesome, unrecognizable mush beneath his boots.

"Stop!" I commanded in revulsion, but my words fell on deaf ears as he callously ignored my plea.

A wave of nausea washed over me, Brock finished his grisly task and finally acknowledged my presence.

The crimson glimmer in his eyes persisted, a haunting reminder of the massacre that had transpired.

"Why...?" I called out weakly, the realization of my own inaction hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Disregarding my words and the splattered blood that adorned him, Brock deftly thumbed a button on his watch and brought it to his lips as he began to speak to someone on the other end of the line.

"Status report," Brock's voice was cold and business-like, devoid of any emotion.

Static crackled through the device before a female voice came through, "We are in position, awaiting your signal to proceed with the extraction."

"Good," Brock replied, his tone betraying no hint of the savagery he had just unleashed. "Stand by for my signal. We'll be ready to move shortly."

Having terminated the call, his attention returned to me, a gaze filled with an ominous intensity.

"What is going on?!" I question him. "What are you plan-"

My words were abruptly cut short as a crimson mist suddenly began to materialize, enveloping Brock in its eerie embrace, while an ebony liquid emerged from his pores

"What the hell?!" I exclaimed in shock as the liquid enveloped him, molding into plates of shadowy metal that covered his body, creating a familiar, heavy black plate-mail armor that clung to his form.

The transformation finally reached its climax as the helmet took shape, assuming the visage of a menacing skull, devoid of life save for the sadistic smile that seemed to be curved into the bone.

The eye sockets, vacant and abyssal, emanated a blood-red energy that emitted an eerie glow, hinting at otherworldly forces that lay dormant within.

{A/n: Updated Image of Brock's Armor -->}

"...Crossbones," I whispered, a mixture of astonishment and recognition coursing through my voice.

Brock, now fully adorned in his formidable armor, pivoted to face me, exuding an aura of darkness and supremacy that caused slight shivers to cascade down my spine.

"Let's go," Crossbones declared with a deep, resonant voice that echoed through the elevator, his words laced with chilling confidence.

He took a deliberate step forward, his metal-clad boots striking the floor stained crimson with the spilled blood of his victims, the impact resounding with an ominous thud.

"Go where?!" I questioned, instinctively retreating from his advancing form, raising my shield protectively before me. "Explain to me what's going on!"

Brock, or rather Crossbones, fixed me with those soulless, fiery orbs, radiating an overwhelming aura of power. Disregarding my inquiries, he pressed onward, unyielding in his pursuit, while I desperately attempted to retreat, only to find myself cornered between him and the glass barrier.

My back is pressed against the glass behind me as the towering warrior closes in on me, the space between us diminishing rapidly. Trapped within the confined space, I braced myself for the impending impact, seeking refuge behind my shield.

But it never came.

In a display of inhuman swiftness, Crossbones seized me, his metallic arms wrapping around my waist with an iron grip, effortlessly hoisting me off the ground and over his shoulder.

With an audacious charge, he crashed into the glass wall, propelling us both towards the outside of the towering structure, hurling something behind us as we tumbled through the air toward the base of the building!

**********

A/n: Hey guys, I hope you are enjoying the story so far, and as always, thanks for reading!

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