Avengers X-Reader Volume 1

Presidential Secret Service Pt 2

"Bentley, we need to slow down," the President gasped and leaned against a nondescript staccato wall. We were ten blocks away from the embassy, but J and I both knew that's not where we were headed. I was sure whoever these assailants were, they were waiting for us there.
My head hurt, as did my back and chest, but the President was safe, and the three of us were alive. I momentarily closed my watery eyes as I thought about Michelle's dead body laying back in the chopper.
When I finally came too, Justin was holding her hand while she took her last breath. A piece of metal beam from one of the chairs had pierced her chest, and there was nothing any of us could do. I had to pull Justin out of the plane, while rage contorted his face and eyes. It was a look I hadn't seen on him, in years, but we needed his rage, if we were going to make it out alive. We had no idea who these people were, or what they wanted, but we still had a job to do, and our President, seemed to be an important part of their plan since motorcycles were hit on our tail as we ran from the chopper.
We finally made it into town, with the President firmly placed in between both of us, and I was actually surprised at how well he seemed to be taking our little problem. I was also grateful he worked out, and was able to keep up with us, since it took four miles, and some dodging, just for us to get back to the outskirts of London.
"J look at me," I gasped, and leaned my head against the wall, "now goddammit!"
Justin slowly turned his head and met my eyes. His own were so tumultuous, and his bluish greys became darker.
"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry. I tried to hold onto her...." I lamented, and wiped the sweat and blood off my face.
"This isn't your fault, but every one of those motherfuckers is going down," he growled, just as a police office approached us. I eyed the older semi-automatice in his hands and quickly pulled the knife from my back pocket and flung it forward. I hit my mark, and the man dropped down onto the concrete, spurting blood from his neck.
"That was a police officer!" The President declared and tried to move foward.
"Does this old ass automatic look standard issue to you sir?" J called out, and began going through the man's clothes. The police officer gurgled as the President turned away, and mumbled to himself, "or this, and this.. fuck, he's got more weapons than the army.."
I eyed the smoke bombs, grenades and extra magazines on the ground.
"Oh god.. the gurgling.." Mr. President murmured, and kept his back turned.
"No radio, fuck," Justin grumbled, and kicked the dead body to the side of the street.
"We need to get to the embassy," the President incurred, and pointed up the street.
"No, they'll be waiting for us," I stated, and unbuttoned my moist shirt. I used it to wipe my face and hands, and tossed it over the dead police officer, "is Cat still underground?" I asked.
"Yes, but we need to get off the street, we can use the subway tunnels to get to her," Justin said through a pained smile. He looked up into the sky, then at me.
"Sentinal should still be overhead," I admonished, waving up at the sky, "so make sure you get it right," I tsked, and watched him relay our next move with his hands.
"Cat?" The President asked, and followed us along the wall, till we reached a locked gate leading down into a piece of the subway under construction.
"MI6, I've known her a long time, and she's kinda like (y/n) in sense, not one to be fucked with," Justin explained, and led point downstairs.
Catalina Forrester was more than that, in fact, her and Justin used to sleep together till he met Jada, and while Cat was a complete enigma, I respected her, and she didn't use the scorned ex approach when it came to Justin. It'd actually been a few years since I'd seen her, but knowing she was out there, probably watching us, settled some of my unease.
"Mr. President stay directly behind Bentley, and do not deviate unless instructed too," I whispered, hurrying around the dark pillars, "and I just noticed the lights were out too.."
"Jesus (y/n)," J snorted, but quietly led us forward.
"I don't understand how either of you can be laughing in this moment," the President scoffed, and put his hand up in the dark.
"Levity is better than fear, Mr. President," I concurred, and pulled him against me as male voices shouted behind us, "that sounds like Arabic, J, they must of spotted us," I pushed the President behind a pillar and pulled my glock out of my waistband. I had one clip left, and one extra knife in my boot.
"You think it's ISIS?" He whispered, and stood to the right of the President.
"No, they can't pull something like this off. I can't really hear what they're saying, but if we can keep one of them alive, I can find out," I warned, and slid down to the ground as Justin worked his way around the corner and popped a smoker.
Six different voices shouted for our location, but from my position, three stood directly in front of me, and I fired three shots, killing each of them instantly. I kipped up, and blocked a jab from the fourth oncoming militant. He seemed surprised when I kicked him square in the chest with enough force to knock him down.
"We just need one, so let's play a game," J grunted and kicked his assailant forward onto his knees.
"Is this necessary?" The President asked.
"Sir they're trying to kill you, they've killed numerous civilians, and our Director," I growled, and pulled out my knife, "I'd say it's very fucken necessary." I flipped the knife skillfully over my hand, and pointed at each of the assailants smiling up at us. "I wouldn't be smiling, you've managed to piss off one of the best agents there is," I muttered, and eyed both men, along with the small armory they had draped over their bodies. Kevlar covered their chest, more explosives and quite a few automatics hung off their shoulders. Their complexion looked foreign, but with everything going on in the world, I waited till Justin stepped next to me, before I made a move.
I wanted to know what they wanted, or what they hoped to achieve by razing London to the ground, and killing our President. Our inevitable dealings all over the world put us in a bad position with quite a few organizations, but we couldn't move forward till we knew what we were fighting.
Radio static echoed over harsh breaths, and heavy heartbeats, as Justin kneeled down, and quietly assessed both men, while pulling off their weapons.
"I'm going to ask this once," he growled, and glanced at the President, "who are you, and why are you trying to kill my President?"
Both men just laughed, but said nothing. J nodded at me, and I sashayed around their forms, darting at the last second and shoving my knife into the flesh behind one of their chins, into his brain. It happened in seconds, and the assailant teetered over.
"And would you believe she's the one who's not that pissed off," Justin shrugged, and grabbed some hair off the live assailants head. He pulled his head back and put his gun under his chin, "now tell me what I need to know, or my colleague here is going to wear your face as a hat."
"Those guns..." I declared, and nodded to the array of weapons laying on the floor, "it's an IMI Galil MAR, I've seen it before..."
"Where?" Justin growled, clearly losing his patience.
"In Afghanistan, at a camp where an organization called the Ten Rings was said to be working out of," I replied, keeping my focus on the assailants reaction. He noticeably twitched when I mentioned the Ten Rings, and shifted slightly back away from us.
"You don't say," he chided and stood up. He slowly moved toward the assailants back and kicked him to the floor, "I thought they were disbanded, by Stark, and Colonel Rhodes?"
"Yah, and we thought Nazism was dead and gone, yet it continues to work on the periphery," I snapped, and began to pace.
"The Ten Rings has turned secrecy into an artform, they make my CIA look like kindergarteners on their first day of school," The President added, suddenly taking an interest in our assessment.
"He still hasn't answered us, but by the way he twitched, and the acceleration of his breathing, we might be onto something," I concurred, as the radio called out a name.
"Bakarr, do you have the President?" The voice asked in a heavy accent, "Omar?"
"Oh fuck, you're Abu Bakarr's son," I gasped, watching the man begin to clench his jaw. Abu Bakaar was one of the highest members in the Ten Rings organization, along with two of his only sons. His daughter had died a few years earlier, due to a car bomb exploding near her home.