The hum of the Quinjet filled the small cabin as the Avengers made final preparations for the mission. The mood was tense, but focused—everyone knew what was at stake. Metis sat in one of the seats, going over the plan in his mind. His eyes flickered to the holographic display Tony had pulled up on a small console, showing the layout of the industrial facility where the hostages were being held.
"Three entrances," Tony said, tapping the screen. "The main gate, the side loading dock, and a maintenance tunnel here. We split into two teams. Steve, Metis, Natasha—you're on extraction. Your job is to get the hostages out as quickly and quietly as possible."
Metis nodded, mentally cataloging the layout. The hostages were being held in a sub-level chamber beneath the main factory floor. That would be their priority, while the rest of the Avengers would deal with the hostiles above.
"Thor, Bruce, and I will create a diversion," Tony continued, his tone all business. "Keep the heat off you guys while you do what you need to."
Natasha, seated next to Metis, was quiet, her sharp eyes glued to the tactical display. Her calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the intensity in the air, and it grounded Metis. He had come to rely on her presence in these moments—her ability to focus, to push through the noise.
Steve stood near the rear of the cabin, tightening the straps on his gear. His shield rested against the wall beside him, a silent symbol of the leadership he embodied. "We go in fast and clean," he said, his voice carrying over the hum of the engines. "No unnecessary risks. Our priority is the hostages."
Metis glanced at him, admiring the ease with which Steve assumed command. The Captain was more than just a leader—he was a symbol of what Metis aspired to be. Someone who didn't just wield power but wielded it responsibly.
But that was the problem, wasn't it? Power wasn't always so simple.
As they neared the drop zone, Tony stood up, pulling his helmet on. "Suit up, folks. It's showtime."
The Quinjet shuddered as it descended, the lights dimming in preparation for landing. Metis felt the familiar surge of adrenaline mix with the calm focus of the system as it activated, sharpening his senses, preparing his body for what was to come. He flexed his fingers, feeling the energy crackle beneath his skin.
"Metis," Natasha said quietly, leaning in slightly. "Stick close to me. We'll get through this."
Her voice was steady, but there was a subtle undertone of something more—concern, maybe. Metis nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Their relationship had been evolving, though neither had been willing to address it directly. There were too many barriers between them, too much at stake.
For now, they had a job to do.
The Quinjet's hatch opened with a hiss, and the team moved out into the night. The industrial complex loomed ahead, dark and silent against the backdrop of the city. Steam rose from the vents along the building's edges, giving it an eerie, almost haunted look.
"Everyone in position," Steve's voice crackled in their earpieces.
Metis moved with Natasha and Steve toward the side entrance, while Tony, Thor, and Bruce broke off toward the main gate. The plan was simple—hit fast, extract the hostages, and get out. But missions like these never stayed simple for long.
"Metis, Natasha, cover me," Steve said as he approached the entrance. With a quick signal, Natasha flanked left while Metis took the right, his senses heightened by the system. He could feel the vibrations of the machinery inside the building, hear the faint murmurs of voices.
Steve moved in, shield raised, as he carefully pushed the door open. They slipped inside without a sound.
The interior of the facility was dimly lit, filled with crates and rusted machinery that had long been abandoned. Metis could feel the tension coiling in the pit of his stomach. They were close now, and the system was feeding him information—probabilities, routes, and threats. It was a constant stream of data that he had learned to tune into without letting it overwhelm him.
"Hostages are on sublevel three," Natasha whispered, checking her HUD. "Stairwell on the far side."
"Let's move," Steve said.
They navigated through the maze of corridors, their steps silent against the concrete floors. Metis felt the system thrumming beneath his skin, ready to react at a moment's notice. His mind raced through various scenarios—potential ambush points, escape routes, combat contingencies.
As they neared the stairwell, they heard it: voices, rough and authoritative. Armed guards.
Steve held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. "We take them quietly," he whispered. "No alarms."
Metis nodded, already assessing the best approach. Natasha was already on the move, slipping into the shadows like a ghost. Metis followed her lead, his steps light, his breathing controlled.
The guards never saw them coming.
Natasha took down the first one with a quick strike to the back of the neck, dropping him before he could even reach for his weapon. Metis followed suit, disarming and incapacitating the second guard in one fluid motion. The third guard turned, but before he could raise his weapon, Steve's shield hit him square in the chest, sending him crashing into the wall.
They moved quickly, binding the guards and securing the area. No alarms. No gunfire. Clean.
"Stairwell's clear," Natasha whispered, checking her weapon. "Let's get those hostages."
They descended into the sublevel, the air growing cooler and the walls narrowing as they moved deeper into the facility. The layout shifted from industrial to something more secure—reinforced doors, thicker walls. This was where the hostages were being held.
Metis could feel the tension rising. They were close now.
As they reached sublevel three, Steve held up his hand again, signaling for them to stop. "I'll take point. Metis, Natasha—watch our flanks."
They moved forward cautiously, the corridor ahead dimly lit. At the far end, they saw it: a large reinforced door with two guards stationed in front of it. Unlike the others, these guards were armored, their weapons high-grade.
"Those guys are a step up from the ones we took out earlier," Metis whispered.
"Doesn't matter," Steve said. "We're getting in there."
Before Metis could respond, Steve was already in motion, moving with the kind of speed and precision that only Captain America could manage. His shield ricocheted off the first guard, knocking him back, while Natasha took the second down with a well-placed shot from her Widow's Bite.
Metis moved in, neutralizing the first guard before he could recover. The fight was over in seconds.
Steve approached the reinforced door, examining it for any weaknesses. "This might take a minute."
Metis stepped forward, placing his hand on the door. The system pulsed, feeding him information—structural integrity, material composition, potential weak points. He focused, letting the system guide him.
"I've got this," Metis said.
With a controlled burst of energy, he focused his strength on the door's weakest point. There was a sharp crack as the reinforced metal buckled under the pressure. Steve gave him an approving nod before pushing the door open.
Inside, they found the hostages—four S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, bound and unconscious but alive.
"We found them," Natasha said into her comm. "Hostages secured."
"Good work," Fury's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Now get them out of there."
Steve and Natasha moved to untie the hostages while Metis kept watch, his senses on high alert. He could feel something—something off. The system was feeding him warnings, subtle but persistent.
"We need to move fast," Metis said, his voice tense.
Before anyone could respond, the floor beneath them rumbled, and the lights flickered. An alarm blared through the facility.
"We've got company," Steve muttered.
"Time to go," Natasha said, already helping one of the hostages to their feet.
Metis could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as they prepared to move out. The mission had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.
As the rumbling intensified and the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor, Metis knew one thing for certain: the real fight was about to begin.