Mischief

Chapter Twenty Seven- Mission Impossible

"A Team, in position."

"B Team, in position."

Quill crouched behind a giant boulder, just out of sight of the first set of bridge guards. Gamora crouched behind him, Natasha and Clint hidden on the other side.

"Kid, you ready?"

"Yeah Mr Stark! Let's do this!"

"Alright, everyone ready in 3, 2, 1- go!"

Quill signalled the others- mostly for Hawkeye's benefit- and they made their move. Two black daggers sprouted from the guards' eyes, silent deaths so fast they didn't even have time to recognise their own demise. Quill ran ahead, trusting the others to follow and sprinting across the black ice bridge.

The guards on the other end raised their spears in defiance, as did those on the ice turret the bridge led to, but before they could take a single step a red clad figure swung over the turret. Long white ropes stuck to each of the guards, pulling them off the turret with him and disappearing out of sight. Any screams were silenced by the wind.

"Team A entering Point One," Quill announced as they tore through the wrought iron gates. "Heading to Point Two."

Natasha and Clint peeled off to either side, making their way through the fortress to take out the other soldiers. Stealth, Quill thought, and Russian stealth.

He skidded to a stop in sight of a plain barred gate, rushing toward the two soldiers with full trust in his heart. The soldiers readied their spears and charged forward, faster even than Groot at full speed. They're a lot taller than I realised.

Black knives embedded themselves once again in his assailants, dropping like puppets with their strings cut as he thundered past. He could just barely hear Gamora's light steps behind him; he wouldn't have noticed at all if he wasn't used to the assassin's tread.

He quickly unbarred the door, giving the lock a swift kick when it refused to give. The door swung open with a screeching wine to reveal a stone staircase leading down to pitch darkness. Quill hummed in his throat.

"Team A1 at Point Two. Door is open, guards are down."

"Team A2 calling in, all guards neutralised." Natasha's smooth voice was quickly followed by Peter's excited chatter.

"Team A3 here, all topside guys are webbed up, I can't see any others. This is so cool. I feel like I'm in a spy movie-"

"Team B coming in, ready for extraction."

Soon enough, Tony followed through, coming in through the window with Thor and the Captain in tow. He nodded briefly to Quill as he breezed past, heading unhesitatingly through the door and into the ominous blackness below. He was quickly followed by the other two; Thor didn't even spare him a glance as he strode through the doorway, the Captain waving awkwardly. The darkness soon swallowed them.

He spun to Gamora with a smirk. "Well, guess we'd better get to guarding."

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Seidr twisted round Loki's fingers, snaking up his wrists in golden cords. Something was happening above; he could taste blood in the air, could smell death. He sincerely hoped it was his brother coming to his rescue, and not... one of His minions. He readied himself just in case.

His frost giant guard lay crumpled by the wall opposite his cell, crushed by the iron bars he'd blown off. He crouched behind the wall, peeking round every few minutes. He had an attack spell primed and ready to unleash at a moment's notice. He would not be taken again.