One-Eye Jimmy, Canada; SHIELD mission gone wrong
Director Fury
66 years old
Director of SHIELD
50 posts

Boreal Forest, Ontario, Canada. Dusk.

Fury's head was still throbbing from the explosion and he couldn't see entirely straight yet, but he stuck the broken off branch (wasn't hard to find one, they were smack in the middle of a forest, after all) into the mud anyway and began to sketch out a box. They were running out of time, and lost second could mean a lost life--specifically, an agent's.

"This is the research facility," said Fury, jabbing the box with the his makeshift pointer. "Ex-Hydra, but still active. This," dragging the branch, he drew a thick line in front of the box, "is where the damn bombs went off. They knew we were coming, and they set a trap, which we--I--walked us right into."

Fury gritted his teeth. It'd been a long time since he'd been outplayed like that, and his fumble had left his ego as bruised as his ribs. His first instinct was that someone had betrayed them, but he didn't have the freedom to pursue that now. Again, time was of the essence.

He drew a cross inside the box, splitting it into four smaller boxes. He pointed at the top left one. "Northwest quadrant, that's where Hurricane Squadron last checked in before the fireworks. There's a set of underground tunnels here--" a network of wavy, crudely drawn lines joined the eastern end of the diagram, "--which is used to discreetly transfer patients to and from the facility. I'm sure the place is under some kind of lockdown mode but the tunnels are still our best ticket in. Your objectives are to find Hurricane Squadron and extract 'em."

Fury looked up from the diagram and glared at the not-so-distant building. "Mine is to burn that shithole to the ground." He turned to his team, Squadron Storm. "Questions?"

Meanwhile, inside the facility...

Once the facility realised there were intruders on the grounds, they issued Code 99C, which triggered an army of mercenaries to emerge--seemingly out of nowhere--and fill every corridor and doorway. The explosive blasts from outside had knocked out Squadron Hurricane's communications, while the simultaneous blows delivered to the back of their heads took care of their consciousnesses.

Fifteen minutes later, blinding white light jolted the agents back into cognizance. They had been lined up in a neat row and were bound to surgical beds. Five mercenaries had parked themselves close to the operation room's only exit, each the smug owner of a loaded M60. There was someone else in the room--a doctor, by the looks of his dingy lab coat. His freckled, bald head was marred with greasy clumps of auburn around his cherry-red ears and he had a beard so thick it must have been responsible for his hunched stature. He had a scalpel in his hand and he did not look happy.

"Who sent you?" he screeched at his hostages, generously covering their faces with a layer of spit and scorn. He waved his scalpel wildly about and then held it to the cheek of the closest agent. "Who. Sent. You?"

No doubt that Storm Squadron was on their way, but who knew how long they'd take. If they wanted to stay alive, Hurricane Squadron would either need to stall or devise their own exit strategy.

& Open to 1-2 more SHIELD folks!

Notes: Feel free to decide where to put your characters, though it'd be nice if Squadrons Hurricane and Storm were relatively even. Don't hesitate to ask if the premise is unclear, and feel free to make things up as we go! (The number of characters are limited to keep the thread manageable, so if spots get filled and you wanted to join, don't worry, future SHIELD missions are planned. :D)
Posted: May 16 2018, 11:55 PM
40 years old
S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent
19 posts
MST -7

It was a trap. When was it not a trap? Mack wasn’t going to let himself get bogged down in the details, at least not until they were somewhere safe with a beer in his hand and all of this was behind them. They had a long way to go before that happened and a squadron to get to safety.

Mack was a man that looked for options before riding in guns ablazing but this mission wasn’t his to lead. They had the big man himself for that and he watched in silence as they were given their objective. “No, sir, just point the way,” he said when prompted, preparing himself mentally for entering the tunnels. Dark, confined spaces weren’t his favorite but he’d get the job done.

He embarked with the others, his shotgun-ax loaded and ready for action. Violence wasn’t his first choice but it wasn’t up to him and these people weren’t negotiating. They had to get their people back by any means necessary and when it came down to it, Mack wasn’t going to hesitate.


Posted: Yesterday at 08:43 pm
35 years old
S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent
57 posts

That the big man himself, the all powerful Fury as he seemed in some people’s eyes, was here in this mess, had actually been at fault for some of this mess and admitting it was an interesting thing to see for Elena. She was used to smaller teams and bit of flying by her pants sort of jobs but this was interesting too. Honestly it was just nice to get out of the Playground and feel like she was doing something.

She watched the stick as it drew shapes in the mud, the finger as it poked and the curse words that fell off the lips. So they had to fight their way through some tunnels, alright. She glanced at Mack and shrugged. To her, that didn’t seem so difficult. At least they all had vests this time.

Pulling her ICER out, she checked the cartridge and gave a nod. ”Alright, lets go then. Piece of cake right?” she joked but she was ready. Getting up she followed the men as they wound through what cover they could to get to the eastern side of the compound. Pausing she glanced around, trying to spot the entrance to the tunnels. Just how discreet were they supposed to be? Were they talking a leaf covered hatch or just an extra entrance to the garage?

Posted: Yesterday at 09:40 pm
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