The Silver Soldier

XLII

A/N: Sorry for not updating in a while (a month? Longer? I'm not sure), exam prep has been a bitch. I'll be trying to catch up on posting for the next week or so.

I'll be working on the next few upcoming chapters for this story because you guys seem to like it.

Any ideas are greatly appreciated :)

Thank you,
~Maddie

Chapter XLII

Three months later:

There is a certain feeling that comes along with breaking the law - a sense of adrenaline. It's a type of warm fuzzy feeling deep in your stomach.

It's that same feeling you get when you press your foot down on the gas and watch the speedometer climb higher and higher. When you're going so fast that your stomach does flips and loops because of the g-force.

Adrenaline.

I love that feeling.

It's addictive, like a drug. Once you get a taste, nothing else can satisfy you.

I close my eyes and listen to the sound of wind rushing past me. I'm going nearly 150 miles per hour.

The speed limit is 50.

I stole Ethan's motorcycle half an hour ago, and let me tell you... this thing has some speed to it.

The wind ripples through my t-shirt, rushing past my helmet. I open my eyes and swerve around a car. There are four police cars behind me, sirens on, lights flashing. They have been on my tail for the past fifteen minutes now; I slow down enough to let them get close, and then I speed away again.

I need their focus to be on me.

Why?

It's quite simple, really.

I'm the distraction.

I am leading the police away from where they need to be.

As I speed down the highway, I know that there is a delivery truck pulling up to SHIElD Headquarters. Allegedly, it is carrying a prototype for one of the Avenger's newest weapons. They have been planning it for a little over two months now, I have seen the plans. It is some sort of suit, not like Iron Man or The Falcon... this suit is different. It is designed for mobility, whoever is using it needs to be fast, agile. They need to be able to fight using speed, not brute force as Tony Stark and Steve Rodgers do.

How can a suit be a weapon, you ask?

The key is, that it isn't the suit, but the person wearing it. I want to know who this weapon is, and I want to kill them before they get a chance to destroy Hydra.

By now, that delivery truck is through security and is pulling up to the loading bay.

Three men will get out, each in their mid twenties.
It's not normal to have three men deliver one package, but no one takes a second glance.

Everything has been planned out.

The delivery truck would come right as the guards were changing shifts, leaving a 30 second window where no one but the security cameras were watching the men unload the prototype from the truck.

But even the security camera cuts out for a moment. 

Only 3 seconds.

But it's long enough.

When the cameras come back on, the men are getting back into the truck, finished with their delivery.

No one notices that one man is missing.

I turn onto another street, my back tire skidding from the speed I took the bend at. It's a mostly empty road, only one car approaching me on the opposite side.

The police cars are long behind me now, they didn't see me take the sharp turn onto this street. But I'm not going to take any chances. I speed down the road, entering a winding subdivision.

My destination is a Hydra safe-house a few blocks away. From the sound of the sirens growing farther away, I think I'm safe.

Fridrik is waiting for me.

This whole thing had been my idea. I planned it all out. The three men had not been delivery men at all, they had hijacked the truck when the real driver had stopped at a gas station to take a piss. The real driver, Matt Laner, has been dead since 5:00 this morning.

The three men that had delivered the prototype had been none other than Gabe, Jack and Colton.

And now Jack is inside SHIELD headquarters, looking for Laura.

My Dad shot her in the shoulder, three inches from her heart. He was smart enough not to kill her, and a good enough shot that he was able to hit her where the bullet wouldn't penetrate an artery. He didn't kill her because he knew SHIELD could use her; if not for information, than as collateral - to lure out Hydra when they try to get her back.

But they won't catch us.

So far, my plan has been flawless. No one saw Jack sneak off, no one knows he's in the base. Now all we have to do is wait and hope he doesn't fuck this up.

I pull into the garage and step off the bike. The door had been open, waiting for me. And now that I'm inside, it begins to close. Soon I'm left in the dark, my eyes take a second to adjust. The garage is nearly empty, save for my motorcycle and a few cardboard boxes. There are two doors, one that leads back outside and another that I would assume goes inside the house. A sliver of light cuts out through the bottom of the second, telling me that someone is home.

I open it slowly and walk inside, the air smells like Febreeze and bleach. A not-so-lovely combination. The kitchen lights are on, so is the T.V.

There is a man on the couch, I can only see the back of his head. He has thin, greying hair, a bald spot at his crown. I relax and release a breath, setting my helmet down on the kitchen counter, not bothering to be silent anymore. Fridrik doesn't move from his spot on the couch.

The channel changes on the T.V.

And again.

"Fridrik." I say his name. He changes the channel a third time.

"Were you followed?"

Though he can't see me, I make a face. "Why would you think that?"

He just shrugs.

He doesn't respond with words.

He just shrugs.

I scowl. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" He asks, innocent.

"Stop acting like you don't trust me." I stare at the back of his head, he continues to watch his show. He doesn't acknowledge that he heard me. "You of all people should know why I made the choice I made."

"To get close to SHIELD. I know."

"Then why are you... disappointed?"

"Because you didn't tell any of us what you were doing." He tell me. "For a long time, Stiles, I believed I had lost you."

That was a shot to the gut.

I clear my throat.

"But I'm here though now, aren't I?"

"Yes." He finally shuts the TV off. "I guess you are." He stands, walking past me and into the kitchen. He opens the fridge, I feel the cold air reach the spot I'm standing at. He turns to look at me. "Fancy a beer, Mr. Stilinski?"