Nick Fury is my Uncle -COMPLETED-

Chapter Eight: Level Nine

Chapter Eight:  Level Nine

Bruce Banner: So, this all seems horrible.

Natasha Romanoff: I've seen worse.

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I didn't know how long we were running, but it seemed like forever. Everything blurred together in whirls of color.  I could barely draw breath. There was a sharp pain in the side of my chest and every time air entered my lungs, it burned.

Agent Rhodes' hand was like a vice on my arm. "Just a little further," she encouraged, hardly sounding winded at all. "They're waiting for us up ahead."

I wanted to ask where we were going, what was going to happen, who was waiting, but I could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Perhaps it was by design.

Suddenly, we burst into a clearing, and Agent Rhodes finally slowed down. It took me a second to distinguish the loud thumping and the hurricane-like wind blowing around us. A helicopter. It was waiting in the middle of the clearing. Well, not waiting, exactly. The black-armored aerial vehicle was hovering over the ground. 

"Come on," urged Agent Rhodes. She pulled me forward and I was in the helicopter, unsure how I had gotten there. There were two people in the front of the plane, both wearing headsets and all black.

As soon as Agent Rhodes leapt on, we took off,  and we were up and away. It was too loud to speak, so I took the opportunity to catch my breath. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. There was something inside of me that was ready to snap. I didn't - couldn't - deal with any more traumatic experiences. I was done.

It wasn't as easy as they made it look in the movies.

It was dark by now, the light fading out of the landscape. Time was passing at hyper speed, highlighted by brief sparks of action. The entire ride I thought about Ryder, what had happened, everything. It all had to be connected, somehow. Had Ryder known the entire time that he was the real target? Why was he a target? And he always acted as if S.H.I.E.L.D never thought he was important. If he was, then why wasn't he treated that way?

My thoughts got tangled in my head. I was unable to sort through them, partly because of how tired I was, partly because I half believed that if I didn't think about it, everything would go away.

There was a jolt as we landed. Once again, Agent Rhodes was pulling me along. The two guys piloting the helicopter hurried after us. They were both younger, in their twenties, perhaps.

The first man spoke, "Ma'am, what is going on? Where is Agent Evans?"

"Agent Kard, is it?" asked Rhodes.

The man ducked his head in acknowledgment.

"You are aware that you are barely above Level One access, correct? Please do not inquire about things you don't need to know," she said sharply.

Agent Kard surprisingly did not seem cowed by her rebuke. The other Agent spoke. "Ma'am, Agent Evans is our SO. We have a right to know if he is alive or dead." 

"He's dead," said Agent Rhodes.

Shock then confusion then grief rushed across the two agents' faces. "What happened...?" began Agent Kard. "We were called while we were working an important case, and all we're told is that we need to get to a certain location now to pick up you and Agent Evans, and all we get is you..."

"And me?" I interrupted.

Kard glanced down at me. "Yes."

"Listen Dean," said Rhodes, stopping for a moment, "Elliott," They both look at her. "I will tell you everything I can when all of this is finished, but at the moment you can't know, for your own safety."