stands_for_hope | At Home with Clark and Jim

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house of am

At Home with Clark and Jim

[continued from here]

They'd fallen into a routine pretty easily.

Clark had managed to write up something about the church bust without incriminating either of them, which meant that his Perry had been pleased enough with his work for the day and had only yelled at him for five minutes about his failure to show up in the office the whole day. Lois had ribbed him a little, which had been remarked upon as she usually gave the new guy hell if he did anything remotely out of the line, and then she'd ribbed him a lot. He hadn't minded too terribly much since he had visited her afterwards at her apartment and she'd done plenty of kissing to make it better.

With a second person in the apartment, he'd started to fix it up a little, bringing home new linens, keeping the fridge stocked more regularly, and he'd even managed to find a new couch for them through a very kindly older woman and Craigslist.

True to his word, he'd gotten some rudimentary identification for Jim and he walked through the door with a spring in his step, closing the door behind him and plopping it down on the kitchen table with a smile.

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"Then I need you to promise you won't do anything stupid trying to protect me."

Clark's eyes were on the ground as they flew, going far faster than a car over a greater distance with the added benefit of a bird's eye view.

"If we'd had the time, I would have told you more but the fact of the matter is, there isn't much that can hurt me. Bullets included. I can take as many of them as needed, and unless they're more powerful than an actual lightning bolt, the same is true of the charged kind."

He looked over at Jim.

"Use me as a shield if you need to."

Edited 2014-05-16 18:42 (UTC)

"You're more durable than I am," Jim agreed. The only problem came if his arm was disabled -- that, he couldn't fix so easily. "The windows on her apartment. Do they open or are they panels?"

He could deal with just about anything, but having a little forewarning with layout would help. Just so he'd be able to see what obstacles he'd have.

"They're swinging panels, large, in the living room. Only the kitchen and the bathroom have stationary panes. There's also a skylight that she usually leaves open for me which we should be able to use."

He started flying down towards the building.

"The space is mostly the living room, with a small kitchen in one corner, and a bathroom and bedroom tucked away in the same small hub down a hallway from the living room. The skylight is directly above the living room near the kitchen."

"Understood." Dropping in from a skylight was easy. He could do that practically in his sleep. "How many men?" That was the only question left before he walked into this. He would first give the cover story. Then, if that wouldn't work, he would take them all down. ...With Clark's help.

This was going to be the challenge. He wasn't used to having someone else fight alongside him this way. He was used to having other agents that would generally let him do as he saw fit, but who wouldn't really consider him a partner.

"Group of five. Two are significantly larger, one smaller who's carrying what I think is a lockpick set, one has computer equipment, and the last seems to be coordinating the whole thing. He's the one I heard at first."

Clark floated down until they were only a few feet from the skylight.

"They're about a block away, traveling in a car. It'll take them at least three minutes to find parking on this street and another two even if they take the stairs to get up here."

He looked at Jim.

"I'm going to put you down on the roof. I'll wait up here."

Jim nodded and, once he was near enough, he dropped onto the roof, catching himself with a practiced grace. "I'll probably be speaking to them in Russian unless they don't understand it. Keep listening. You'll know when to come in."

His only regret was that he didn't have a silencer. But once he'd spoken, he opened the skylight, dropped himself mostly through, then closed it behind him. He had enough time to choose a place at the kitchen table to seat himself, leaving the lighting as it was. He placed one of his handguns on the table's surface, casually in sight. The message would be plain.

Clark nodded and settled gently on the roof, keeping himself well out of sight of the ground or the sky light. He could watch through the ceiling as easily as anything else.

Around ten minutes later, the door to the apartment clicked open and swung inwards and the sound of footsteps started on their way into the apartment. Two large figures came in first, followed by the obvious leader with a shorter looking gentleman and a cranky looking woman doing something or other with a rather advanced-looking tablet.

The thugs noticed him first, drawing their guns, and the leader stepped up a moment later.

He merely cocked an eyebrow, because of all the things they'd expected, this was not one of them. But it didn't do to make a mistake that would end his career or his life.

"Vy pereshagnuli ser'yezno." He didn't move. Not yet. He knew what he needed to do, and he needed to act like he was still programmed. That he was still under orders. So telling this man that he had overstepped his bounds was simple. It made it seem that the Winter Soldier was under orders. Higher orders.

The man in the front of the group stepped one step further into the living room.

"YA ser'yezno somnevayus' , chto. Nashi zakazy prikhodyat iz vysshego dolzhnostnogo litsa v etom regione." I seriously doubt that. Our orders come from the highest official in this region. He winced, obviously not a fan of the Russian.

"It would be better if you spoke a proper language. Was machst du hier, Soldat der Winter?"

Because there was no reason why the Winter Soldier should be here, after all. The woman required interrogation, not murder. She had valuable information, namely the human name and location of the alien being known at Kal-El, not to mention her investigations into their organization.

"Meine Bestellungen kommen von Pierce. Sie ist eine von ihm." Pierce was dead. Nobody would deny that, and he knew enough to know that, unlike Nick Fury, Pierce wouldn't come back from the dead. There had been no friend nearby for him - nobody to spirit him off and covertly bring him back to life.

But this was Hydra. Cut off one head, two more grow back. Secrets within a secret organisation were normal. Pierce's orders would have been his final act - and orders telling the Winter Soldier to protect someone if he fell? Those would be unremarkable, really. If they would believe it.

"Ich werde meine Befehle," he finished. His orders would be carried out - and that was part promise and part threat.

The man looked back to the woman with the tablet, who shrugged.

He bristled as he looked down at the Soldier.

"Ich habe gehört, dass du Schelm gegangen. Dass Sie Ihren Handler entkommen und haben diese Agenten, die Sie erlebt haben getötet. Wie kann ich wissen, dass Sie die Wahrheit sagen?" How did he know the Soldier was telling the truth.

This one wanted glory.

He tamped down the part of himself that was amused at the other man's arrogance. He had to keep his voice without expression, even if he was smiling under the mask. "Ich weiß nicht, Ihnen zu antworten. Meine Bestellungen kommen von Pierce." He didn't, and had never, answered to the man who was so angry at him. And then, leaning forward, he placed his hand on his gun. "Ich werde meine Befehle."

That time, it was a threat. Unmistakeably so. The Winter Soldier was not in the practice of giving extra chances.

The man looked back at his hired thugs, then at his lock pick and the woman with the tablet. She smiled just a little. He nodded.

"We will wait to talk to her, then," and he spoke in English.

"If that does not bother you."

"She will not be coming," he said. "I am protecting her."

And that was their last chance. With his superhuman speed, he stood, gun in hand, and aimed swiftly at their heads. Two shots cracked off quickly before one even tried to shoot at him and the bullet plinked harmlessly off of his left arm. It didn't stop him.

The larger of the two did not move in time, but the second, the one who got the shot off, was able dodge and duck behind the couch and the wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. The leader ducked back the other direction and the tech and the sneak slipped out the door and closed it behind them.

"Two outside," he whispered, knowing Clark would hear him, but he kept his attention on the two targets he had left. The one behind the couch was easiest, but the leader was more vital. He moved, slipped into his own pool of shadow, and kept his gun at the ready, listening.

There was a gust of wind going past the skylight and a soft thump from outside before there was no other sound. Then the door slowly opened and a blur moved between the two hiding places being used. A second later, the blur solidified into Clark, standing in the doorway. He took a look at Jim, making sure he was all right before turning around to pull the tech and the lockpick into the apartment and close the door.

"I heard gun--"

Which was when he noticed the dead one and his eyes closed quietly before he swallowed and headed for the kitchen to get some supplies. There was a wall and a floor to clean, not to mention four other people who needed taping up and tying up and guns that would have to be tossed into a garbage bag.

...That was fast. Almost humbling. When he heard speech, he came out of his own hiding place and looked around -- and then he started collecting the weaponry himself. He'd add those to his own armory. "If you can take care of them and leave me the tablet, I'll let myself be seen leaving the scene," he said simply. The gunfire would draw attention sooner than later. "Hydra will sooner get the message that way."

He came back from the kitchen and put the various supplies down before retrieving the tablet and holding it out for Jim.

"I'm going to tape them up. Any idea what to do with them after that?"

He pulled out a garbage bag and wrapped it around the man from one end, then the other, using the tape to seal it. Then he moved him and started working on the carpet.

"Anything you can tell from this group?"

"There have been power squabbles." That he could tell by how bristly the leader had been. "There is no designated head anymore. They know my history - but I've made no secret of it. Looking through the tablet will give me more information, but I'll have to keep it from being located first." And he wasn't sure he knew how to do that. He wasn't exactly trained in computer warfare. But as he spoke and sheathed all the weapons, he looked at the operatives that were still alive but unconscious. "We need to move quickly. I can leave by the roof."

"I can get you where you need to go and watch over them by listening to the apartment," he said, glancing around.

"Then I'll bring them to the police station. If I tell them that the man was killed in a firefight around me, mention ricochet, the officers there have gotten to know me well enough to trust my word."

It wasn't exactly lying, but it was very close. Close enough that Clark wasn't comfortable with it, but was less comfortable with the alternative.

"I'll keep listening to see if information goes out from the police station and from who."

Jim exhaled. "Tell them that you saw a man with a metal arm shoot one of them and that Alexander Pierce's name was mentioned." It made it less of a lie, and pointed toward who these people were. Exposing them was important. More important than just about anything else. "There's nowhere I need to go, except to possibly be spotted getting away. I can disappear and get back to the apartment within two hours."

Clark nodded and, as soon as laid down some detergent on the spot, wrapped up the criminals in a blur before hooking his arms into the ducttape straps.

"I'll see you back at the apartment.

"Take care."

With a single nod, tucking the tablet into his tac suit, he gathered himself and jumped up, taking hold of the edge of the skylight and pulling himself through. This part, at least, he could do. He'd had practice.

Other people would've been frightened to jump from rooftop to rooftop, but for Jim, it was a matter of course. Even the height difference didn't bother him. But once he was far enough away, he pulled out the tablet and started to see what he could do to disable any tracking. That was going to be the tricky part.

The technician had been in the middle of using it, so everything was currently unlocked on the tablet. The tracking software, however, was rather iron clad.

Halfway across town, Clark dropped off the various unconscious HYDRA members and gave his statement before flying off. He'd been very firm about the man with the metal arm and the red start and kept his ear on the station to figure out who, exactly, was going to pass the information along.

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