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SAM WILSON UNZIPPED HIS DAMAGED ARMOUR. Now that his suit was down, he had no use for it anymore. He carelessly littered his vest while jogging down the stairs, en route to Rumlow's location, courtesy of Maria.
He heard doors burst open below, definitely Rumlow. Sam kept his knees bent and movements stealth, wanting the full effect of the element of surprise. With that, he camped behind a door.
"I can do this, I can do this. It's not like this guy is a trained, masterful soldier, leader of the STRIKE team and probably had tons of training while my ass is still struggling to jog."
He shook his head, momentarily defeated and drawn into the realisation that it was impossible to win against Brock Rumlow in a fist fight. But he didn't had much of a choice since said door swung open. "I'm on fourty first, headed towards the south-west stairwell."
Sam immediately charged towards him, using all his weight to land a heavy blow across Rumlow's face, forcing his gun dropped out of his hands. Forcefully holding down his shoulders, Sam tried to kick one to his balls, but Rumlow blocked his kicks and swiftly broke out of his hold. The next thing Sam knew, he was on the ground, a throbbing sensation on his forehead.
Brock Rumlow, a grown ass man, leader of the STRIKE team, just headbutted him. Sam sent him a distasteful look, a new kind of fire burning in his chest. Seriously?
Nursing his bleeding forehead, he zeroed in when Rumlow started to strip his vest away. "This is gonna hurt. There are no prisoners with Hydra, just order. And order only comes through pain. You ready for yours?"
"Man, shut the hell up."
The doors swung open again, this time revealing Olivia, the brunette he saw on the highways. He couldn't help but felt relief.
"First you cut me off the comms, then you have a party without me." Olivia monotonously said as she walked to the centre of the fight. She carefully studied the two men, Sam's staggered breathing sounded like he ran across D.C and back, while Rumlow's was steady.
Deducing Sam's low chances of winning, the unusual large grin hanging across his cheeks suddenly made sense.
"Sam, right?" The man quickly nodded. "Take a break," she smiled.
"She's gotta clean your mess up?" Rumlow had to get the last word, yelling after Sam's retreating figure. Sam merely gave a finger and sat in the corner, already feeling a hell of a headache.
The older man impatiently lunged at Olivia, his impulsive move only got him shoved back with another punch in the face. While he stumbled, Olivia retracted her fists and kicked his waist, leaving him to bend over and hug his sides painfully.
Happening all so quickly, she put him in chokehold, but before she could do more damage, she suddenly lost balance and fell on her back. She quickly slid between his legs and landed her feet against his spine, hard.
