Along Came A Spider | Infil, Combat, Retrieval, Exfil

[x-hawkeye.livejournal.com]

Wanda, Felicia, Doug, and Clint time their infiltration of the facility where Natasha is being held very carefully. There are still a few surprises in store for them.

WARNING: Violence, gore, and (mentions of/implied) torture.


The weight of his M24 was a comfort as Clint laid on his stomach, eye to the scope. He was now intimately familiar with the rhythms of the buildings surrounding his position, the flow of people in and out at various times of the day. Two days of observation would do that for a guy, though.

"Third shift's on second rotation," he said, confident that his comm would transmit the information to the rest of his team. "Our favorite, Big & Hairy, just turned the eastern corner. Everybody in position?"

Felicia idly tapped her claws against themselves, the thumb under each finger claw in pent up sequence. She had Clint's M9 - he had insisted - resting gently on her thigh, a weight but given the circumstances, comforting. This was not her usual type of play. "Still here. Still good."

"Oh goody, Big & Hairy," Wanda responded, rolling her shoulders and neck to work out the kinks. "A much better target than Small and Slimy. Ready on your mark." As lightly as she could, she rolled up onto her knees while still maintaining a low profile. Wanda was far more stripped down than the other two with only a small gun on her hip and a few knives tucked in strategic places.

Her powers were a little easier to pack than a large gun, after all.

"Cypher ready and waiting." Doug wished he was packing more than his single Glock, but he was along for an information smash-and-grab, not to mix it up with any of the patrols. Besides, Wanda was much better at making things go boom if needed. "Cat, codes are shifting to cycle Bravo on my mark..." He watched the second hand on his watch sweep. "Mark."

Upon hearing the final confirmation from Doug, Clint shot the guard in the booth at the front of the facility. "Smarmy's down," he said, already disassembling his rifle. That done, he packed it away and slung the bag over his shoulder before taking the fire escape down.

Stepping off the deep corner ledge she'd be quietly hidden in, Felicia neatly popped back and forth down the two nearby walls, landing in a crouch. She slipped down and around the wall to a sliver of cover, conveniently near a control panel. It was an easy bypass - Doug had pieced together the code change pattern with their footage by the end of the first day - and she was rewarded with a cheerful string of beeps. "Better hurry, sweethearts, or I'm taking out Four Days To Stubble by myself, and I know you had your eye on him."

"Ugh, I hate you so much," Wanda responded, already half way down her own fire escape on the smaller building across the dirt road. She hit the ground with a jolt, but ignored it in favor of checking that Doug was behind her and trying to make sure one of their aptly named guards wasn't going to suddenly reappear. Thankfully the coast continued to be clear as she ran in a low crouch towards their marked building. "You would think someone would be kind enough to buy the poor bastard a razor."

"He'd have to have friends for that," Clint said, making it to the guard booth in a low crouch. He didn't bother checking on Smarmy - this was easier when he didn't know Smarmy's real name. "But seriously, Four Days To Stubble and Big & Hairy - I'm betting they're meeting up at the south wall for a little some-some."

"Why. Why would you bring that up? You know I'm a visual person," Felicia replied, slipping through.

Clint hit the button just inside the booth's door to open the way for them inside. Their external window, assuming the guards weren't actually getting it on at the south wall, was rapidly closing. "We've got a minute thirty, people."

"And I'm already in, I have no idea what - shit." Felicia dived through her last door, moments before falling into the sight line of one of the patrols, and rolled back to her feet, side stepping out of the light. "Okay, they're a bit speedy tonight, heads up Scarlet, you're going to get the tail wind of my wave plus your own."

"I appreciate the heads up. Means I am far less likely to accidentally blow the building up." In fact, the chaos threads that Wanda had been studying in her attempt to quietly open the window were already changing slightly. Some crystallized, frozen in place. Her eyebrows rose at that, and she decided to leave those threads alone. She went for the one in the middle and pulled - gently - as she lightly smacked the frame with the palm of her hand.

The lock on the other side gave and she slipped in quietly, Doug following close behind. Keying her mic, she said, "Okay, shall we find some electronics to play with? I shall endeavor to not make our person tech cry." Wanda reconsidered. "Much."

"Please do," Clint said, entering the building after everyone else. Minute and thirty seconds, gone. As the alarm reengaged, he checked his watch and estimated that they had maybe thirty more minutes before one of the perimeter guards checked on Smarmy. "Scarlet, I'm coming up on your six, we'll sweep west. Black Cat, sweep east. Meet in the middle. Cypher, once you're in... you know what to scrub. I'd appreciate it if no copies of whatever they have on her make it into your files. At least not until she's... stable enough to make the sharing decision on her own, please."

"Confirm, Hawkeye. Your friend's info will be on its own flash drive for her, no copies." Doug was already moving for the nearest computer terminal that had been cleared in the beginnings of the sweep. His eyes narrowed at the fireball K logo on the terminal's screen saver. "Cleaning out the cupboard now," he reported as he slapped a patch cable home.

It was odd, having a team of more than one person with him for this, but also infinitely more reassuring. The likelihood that he would fail was far smaller than it would have been had he been by himself. Still, Clint also couldn't quite manage the level of secrecy he was accustomed to, and he didn't know how Natasha would react to people other than him or Coulson having any kind of information on her. Particularly given the people who apparently had her.

The rest of Felicia's way was surprisingly clear, given the near miss from earlier, and while she found herself glancing more than she would normally, there was nothing especially that she wanted; she didn't stop. Closing around the last set of hallways she came to the middle. "Clear. Moving forward, there's no cover here. Don't let me die, please."

"No, the only kind of dying you'll experience any time soon is death by alcohol and hangovers," Wanda promised her. She looked back at Clint before moving into the next room. Together, they began working their way through the western portion of the facility.

Clint pulled his collapsible bow from its sheath at the small of his back, and flicked it open as he and Wanda moved forward. He'd only allowed himself to bring a couple arrows, knowing he'd have to collect and reuse them as they went. He might not have been active for as long as some operatives, but technically perfect use of Paleolithic weaponry was the kind of signature that didn't fade with time.

"Did we see Tuna On Rye come in for third shift?" Clint asked. "I kinda have a soft spot for him."

Wanda's snort was soft and quiet, but she made sure Clint could pick up on it. "That's because you are hungry always and coveted TOR's sandwich every time he made an appearance," she retorted before saying, "And no. He is probably home sick thanks to too many tuna sandwiches. He might have mercury poison."

"Bite your tongue," Clint muttered, nocking one arrow as he shoved thoughts of his own brush with mercury to the side. He reached the first door on their side of the facility and raised an eyebrow at her. Silently nodding the three count, he tested the handle on the door and pushed it open wide, making sure to stay well clear of the opening in case someone was actually in there and unexpectedly expecting them.

There was no on inside. He checked twice.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Clint noted.

The look on her face was a glare worthy of a school marm. "Do not jinx us," Wanda hissed, easing her way into the room. Clint was right, it was completely empty but, with a glance at her watch, she knew that the likelihood of someone finding them was growing with every passing moment. The guard rotations were off just enough to potentially cause them trouble.

She kept to the walls and shadows, willing to move forward because they had to, but still untrusting.

Clint grinned despite himself. "C'mon, risks are — "

Whatever he thought risks were, he didn't actually get a chance to say. A guard rounded the corner ahead of them, and Clint released his arrow. It hit its mark, but not before the man hit some kind of emergency button on his walkie-talkie. "Aw, Obviously Overcompensating. No..."

The moment Clint had loosed the arrow, Wanda had been on the move. The body was still in motion as she raced to it with hand outstretched to snatch at the arrow buried in his throat. She planned on tossing it back to Clint, aware of the low number of arrows he'd brought, but just as she ripped it free, his partner, Lung Cancer, turned the corner, gun drawn. The guard shot, but hadn't anticipated that she'd be so close and missed as Wanda cursed.

Wanda shifted closer, using his surprise to her advantage, and struck fast. Lung Cancer's scream of pain as the arrow bit into his eye was cut off into a gurgle as her other hand snapped forward and crushed his throat.

"Nice," Clint muttered, checking to make sure Obviously Overcompensating was down and out for the count before he made his way over to Wanda. "Too bad about Lung Cancer. Not really." He accepted the arrow from her and renocked it, quirking a brow. "I'll try really hard not to jinx us again. Promise."

Once again, they set off. They had a series of five rooms left to check before they reached the meet point in the middle.

The next two rooms had seen some recent use — a few dirty coffee mugs, a half eaten sandwich that Clint eyed with some longing as they moved past — but no guards. It meant they were either right behind the next rotation of guards or right in front of them, and Wanda wasn't sure which was worse.

She stopped outside of the third room, head tilted at a noise she thought she heard. The door was a thick wood, and it obscured what her strings could potentially be telling her. Was that a person on the other side or something else — a piece of machinery?

Clint paused, right shoulder turned toward Wanda's back as she listened. He kept his eyes on their surroundings as she opened the door and he covered her, bow nocked with an already bloody arrow. This was definitely not one of his most sanitary missions.

A shout came from the other side of the door, immediately followed by the unmistakable sound of men scrambling for gear. "Go!" He said, already turning to fire into the room.

The arrow flying over her shoulder was ignored in favor of the large man lunging for her, having decided that Wanda was too close to try to get to his gun. She ducked the punch and twisted as it clipped her shoulder instead of her head. Whatever training the guards had was more than decent and he — she realized it was British Tea Drinker — had already adjusted, trying to gain an advantage.

When BTD tried a jab to the ribs, Wanda blocked the blow and snagged his wrist, twisting it sharply as she stepped in and headbutted him. He yelled as his nose exploded in a mess of gore and blood. He finally went down with a gurgled as she blasted him point blank with an entropy bolt.

Clint followed Wanda through the door, dodging left as she engaged BTD. He fired his second arrow, taking out Watches Kittens on Youtube. He dove forward, tucking and rolling so when he came to his feet in front of Braying Laugh, he could whip his bow around the other man's neck. The move caused the disassembled rifle in its bag over his shoulder to thunk heavily into his kidney — he'd have to bring a disposable rifle on the next mission.

Twisting his bow once the string caught, Clint pulled up even as he dragged BL backward. He snagged his arrow from Watches Kittens on Youtube and used the tip to cut a very deep, very precise line over the man's carotid. Arterial spray spurted toward the wall, hitting with a splatter.

The sound of a safety clicking off was nearly lost in the ruckus but the gun fire was harder to miss. Or it would have been had it actually ended up being gunfire. Instead, the safety clicked off and the last guard in the room had gone to fire when Wanda glanced his way. She dropped BTD's limp hand as the gun exploded, killing Probably Jacks Off in the Restroom instantly.

As Braying Laugh sagged against him, obviously dead, Clint braced the body and unwound his bowstring from its neck. He retrieved his first arrow from Coffee Coffee Coffee and glanced toward Wanda. "I really like the exploding thing you did there."

"I am glad, especially since that had a fifty-fifty chance of happening the way I hoped it would," Wanda half-joked. She looked around the room and threw up her hands. "We are quickly running out of breathing candidates to question. We need to keep moving, and hope at least one of them does not make us blow their heads off."

"These aren't the guys we need to question, anyway," Clint said as he perfunctorily wiped off one of his arrows. "These are just the guards. Well paid, well trained guards, but they don't know anything worth knowing. Those guys will all be downstairs." Glancing up toward Wanda, Clint quirked a rueful brow and said, "I won't kill them all."

"Of course you won't," she said dryly, face neutral as she led him back into the hallway. They'd made so much noise that if the other rooms had had someone in them, they should have come out by now. Wanda glanced over her shoulder, though, as she they walked and cursed. "It is faint but we are being followed, probably from the signal from earlier. We need to move."

"Good thing the meet point with Black Cat's up ahead," Clint said, nodding toward the small room that, so far as he could tell, operated as a hub of sorts. All activity had to pass through it to get to any other parts of the building. "Beyond that, there are just a couple other rooms. You check those, we'll move downstairs."

Clint caught Felicia's eye as he and Wanda parted, brows rising expressively. It was very obvious that their jaunt through the western part of the facility had not been as smoother as hers through the east. He folded his bow into thirds and slid it into its pouch at the small of his back. The two arrows he'd been using and reusing followed, slotting in neatly. He'd have to clean the lot of it later, but he didn't actually care at the moment. "Right," he muttered, flexing his gloved fingers. "Let's see what they've got for us downstairs."

"I don't even have a clever remark for that. I have 'I hope it's candy' stuck in my head and frankly, that's awful," Felicia said, already starting to snake her way down the stairs, back to the wall as she took the blind angles carefully. They were probably safe for the time being, but stairs were a bitch to get caught in. "Not used to talking at work. I'll try to do better next time."

"C'mon, playful banter, Kitten," Clint said, dark humor in his voice as they approached the doorway at the bottom. "It makes us seem less like ruthless killers while simultaneously distancing us from what we're doing." He rolled his eyes a little, Wanda's reminder pinging around inside his head. "Which is apparently keeping one of these assholes alive."

"Don't have too much fun down there without me, people," Doug groused good-naturedly over the comms. "I mean, if anyone else wants to come over here and stare at little bars filling up, I'd be happy to tag in." Running sarcastic commentary was how he dealt with boredom and the slight worry for teammates in combat that never really went away.

"Understood," Clint replied, amused by Doug's rambling. He'd have to make sure, the next time they did something stupid and dangerous together, that he let the guy throw a few punches.

"You have been a very naughty boy, Aleksandr Dmitrovich," Doug murmured distractedly, scanning the take. There was quite a lot of data here. Spotting the name Barnes in one file, he flagged it for further review and made a noise that was equal parts satisfied discovery and righteous anger. "Download complete in five," he reported.

Catching Felicia's eye again, Clint gave another three count, then kicked in the door at the bottom of the stairs and dove through. He took cover behind a table stacked high with electronics, as the men in the room opened fire.

"Hey!" Felicia called, following him in. The men inside were spreading out, trying to get a better angle against their cover, and she darted around, settling in between two metal desks, flanked on either side. It wasn't ideal, but they were in a rush; she stood, flicking her eyes back and forth between them, even as they opened fire. Moving at exactly the last second, the bullets barely missed, and ended up taking out a few of their own in the process.

"Ugh, dodging semis is the worst," she said, panting slightly as she returned to cover.

"Agreed," Clint called, popping up just long enough to find the one guy out of all the ones around them that he thought might have enough information to be worth keeping alive. He ducked down again and crawled under the table until he got to a place with enough room for him to move to the side. He wanted to be up high enough to take these guys out easily. What he got were the shoes of a man in a lab coat. Shrugging, Clint popped up again, using the man as a shield so the goons wouldn't shoot even as Clint attempted to put him in a headlock.

Felicia used the stand off as a distraction to scramble around behind, quietly taking out a lone gazelle, away from the herd, as it were. "Do you want me to go get a coffee or something? It seems like you got this. What do you want, I think I have a Starbucks gift card in this thing somewhere," she muttered, apparently feeling equally out of her element with the lack of stealth and making up for it by rambling, apparently.

"I never," Clint began, only to grunt in pain as the man dropped to the floor and elbowed his knee sideways. Following the lab coat, Clint scrambled after him. He avoided a foot to the face, chucked a stapler just hard enough to knock over a crooked filing cabinet to block the man's forward route, and then dodged another kick.

Grasping the scientist's ankle, Clint yanked hard and pulled the man backward. It gave him a moment to breathe and finish his earlier thought. "I never turn down free caffeine."

The internal clock counting down until the facilities' back up arrived was getting worryingly close to zero, and they hadn't even found Clint's friend yet. Felicia didn't like dirty work, didn't like being this close to a target, and she really didn't like the idea of being trapped in a basement with a fresh swarm of heavily armed men coming for her. "Fuck this..." she muttered, shooting up at the ceiling. The lights exploded, a decent fireworks display, before the whole fixture creaked and came down on the remaining shooters.

A shot to the fire extinguisher was next, the room filling up quickly with white smoke after a loud bang. Felicia called, "Let's go!"

"Damn it, Clint, save one!" Wanda said, voice coming clearly through the comm in Clint's ear.

"I'm trying!" Clint said, still grappling with the man in the lab coat. He wouldn't have thought the man would be so wily, but he was and attempting to subdue him without killing him, even after Felicia took care of his friends, was proving more difficult than Clint had anticipated. Apparently, Kronas Corp picked lab geeks who knew how to fight. He supposed, as he jumped over a table, that he should be less surprised, given he, himself, was a lab geek who could fight.

Wanda eased open the next to last door upstairs and spotted the only occupant of the room, a tall, skinny man dressed far less like a guard than any of the others they had seen so far. Considering he was working on a computer in what appeared to be a lab, Wanda decided the likelihood of active weapons on him was small.

Still, though, Wanda was cautious as she approached, but the man was oblivious and completely absorbed in his work — which made it a breeze to remove her gun and bring it to bear on the back of his head. "Oh, wait, never mind! Found one!" She said into her ear piece.

"Thank fuck," Clint said, pulling a handgun from its holster at his side. He shot the man he'd been fighting at pointblank range. "Prepping to move through to the last room down here." He looked toward Felicia and said, "Cutting comms."

"I've got your back, yell if you need me," Felicia replied, already pushing a few filing cabinets together to make a nice, safe corner for her to take anyone out who followed them.

Felicia's words still ringing in his ears, Clint flicked off his comm, and shot the electronic lock on the door into the next room. Immediately, it disengaged, the door swinging toward him just a bit. He could hear the unmistakable sound of too-loud music, some awful 70's hair band. When he opened the door all the way, he made sure to jam it so it stayed open and Felicia could see him, then walked in.

The first thing he did after making sure there were no hostiles was shoot out the speakers in each corner of the room. The music fizzled out with a pop, the electronics sparking weakly. The room itself was ridiculously cold, yet when he took the time to check Natasha as he approached her, he found that her clothing was damp and her brow shone with sweat.

Natasha was seated like most of her past interrogation scenes, but this time her arms were stretched out before her, wrists upward, on the arms of two hastily welded together chairs. The handiwork was shoddy, but enough to keep her from using them against her captors, after the first time. Her arms were secured from elbow to mid-forearm and straps crossed over her palms, leaving her wrists free. They weren't taking any chances.

It'd been a rough several days, and it showed in the dried blood and bruises. Her head was dropped forward against her chest, and her eyes were closed in an attempt at rest. She'd probably been awake for somewhere north of 72 hours, none of them in silence. So when the music dropped in volume then disappeared altogether, the ringing in her ears wasn't unexpected.

She lifted her head and attempted a normal speech volume. "So you are good for something."

"Y'know," Clint said, automatically switching to Russian even as he kept his voice modulated and his words slow. "People keep being so surprised when I come up with a helpful suggestion or do something smart..." He holstered his gun, then stepped around the welded-together chair contraption, scanning the set-up as he went. An IV at her left elbow, some kind of hanging bag of fluid — they probably weren't letting her actually eat or anything, so intravenous nutrition it was. There was an IV catheter set up on her right arm, too, but nothing inserted.

Natasha was the calmest she'd ever been, yet his voice still settled her. She rolled her shoulders to ease some of the strain before replying in her native language. "You're a walking disaster, Barton. That's part and parcel of your package." She stretched and flexed her legs once they were free but the tingling was going to be a bitch.

"I brought some friends. Figured we could make this a party." Clint sat on his heels as he began untying the knots at her ankles to free her legs. Nodding toward her wrists, Clint asked very quietly, "What's up with the marks, Tasha?"

Natasha's eyes flicked toward her wrists and the hourglasses plainly visible in the overly bright light. "Evidently, I decided to join the mutant club while I wasn't looking. Poison prongs when I flex my wrists." She paused. "They had such fun with that and the hourglasses."

"Well," Clint muttered, getting to work on the bindings on her left arm. "I hope they enjoyed themselves."

"Not without a little pain," Natasha smirked.

Raising an eyebrow as he worked, Clint finished, "They're dead now. Or... one of them is alive, but don't worry. He's not happy."

"You and your party didn't leave anyone for me to play with?" Natasha shook her head. "Their ambush was good, but the briefing didn't stick. They're always suckers for seeing me 'tied to a chair.'"

"Idiots. Unfortunately, no, though. No one for you to play with," Clint said, shaking his head. "Just left the one upstairs for questioning." Skirting around her wrist, Clint reached for one of his arm guards, loosened it, and slid it off. "This should keep everybody safe until we get things figured out."

Natasha didn't even attempt to move her arm while Clint was anywhere within reach. Once he slid the wrist guard on, she pulled out the unused IV in her right arm, and threw it across the room with a scowl. "They overloaded my system with adrenaline, and suddenly I'm literally my codename. You know how disconcerting that is?"

"Hi," Clint muttered, standing up and moving over to the other side of the chair as he pulled off his second wrist guard. "I'm Hawkeye. Mutant with eyes literally like a hawk. And a squid. Guess whoever comes up with codenames wasn't feeling particularly witty when they handed out mine."

She rolled her eyes. "Nope, boring and utilitarian, always. It's matching the mutation to the codename, that's where the fun is." Standing was going to be an interesting question, if not an outright production. Natasha was also waiting for the back edge of the adrenaline surge. So far, it'd been nothing but the upside. "How much did you have to tell them about me?" She asked.

"Almost nothing," Clint answered, hunkering down again to untie her other arm and then slide the wrist guard into place. "The words 'best' and 'friend' might have been thrown around. Also, I think I basically said I'd come do this solo if they didn't help."

Natasha stretched her arms behind her and held them there for a long moment. Her low groan was equal parts relief and pain. "That blow your 'not an ex-spy' cover?"

"Nah. Or at least, not all the way. Cypher's transferring and wiping the closed network as we speak. Anything on you is going onto a flash drive that you get, no records left behind. There's something Kronos Corp. is involved with that I think my new friends are very interested in," Clint said.

She arched an eyebrow. "Cypher, huh? This fancy mansion living you've been doing has some interesting names attached to it." She braced her hands against the chair arms then carefully levered herself up to a standing position. It was a pretty good bet she had a couple broken ribs and a whole lot of other pain she wasn't feeling.

Clint grinned and, looking up at Natasha, said, "Guess who else I brought with me."

"Batman and the Justice League?"

"Scarlet Witch and Black Cat," Clint said. He'd straightened as Natasha stood, one hand hovering at her side even as he glanced toward the still-open door.

She gave him a long, assessing look. "When we're someplace secure, you and I are going to have a long talk about just who else is doing the fancy mansion living thing with you."

"Yes, ma'am." Clint walked in time with her, half a step behind her. "I didn't drop your codename, by the way. None of them know you're Black Widow."

Natasha nodded in thanks, then followed his gaze to the door. "I'm not too sure they'd have been as happy to come find me. We clear for exfil? And I hope you have supplies to level this place."

"Yeah, got the exfil on lock, just got another minute or so for the file transfer to complete. Then Cypher and Scarlet Witch are meeting us down here." Glancing upward, he said, "The building schematics indicate a large enough explosion here will take out the rest of the building thanks to petroleum tanks, so... Scarlet's gonna help us blow it sky high."

"Good." The last thing she needed to worry about were any incidentals Kronas Corp. might have on her. Not when the bigger concern was who in the hell had blown her cover on what was the easiest cakewalk of a mission she'd ever had. But then...how long had it been a setup? Had they been studying her methods? Why? And what would all this accomplish? Natasha's nails dug into her palms as she fisted her hands.

There was a lot she would need to sort through once they were secure including the debts she now owed to the people who'd helped Clint extract her. The blood pounding through her skull and her vision tunneling rapidly were very unwelcome. They were halfway to the door with nothing but clear floor around them. Her voice was distant and drowned out by the dadumdum of her heart, "Adrenaline crash..."

"Shit," Clint muttered, springing forward to catch her before she could hit the floor. His back twinged a bit, bruises stretching as he scooped her up. "How're we doing?" He called to Felicia, switching back to English and moving quickly through the door. The faster they got everything figured out, the faster he could get Tasha to the medlab.

"We're good, but faster would be better." Felicia spared Natasha a curious glance, ever the snoop, but quickly slipped down from her hiding spot and led the way. "That 'shit hits the fan, we get surrounded, and die' possibility is becoming more and more of a probability by the minute."

Wanda's voice crackled over the comms. "Do not be alarmed, the footsteps you are hearing are mine." True to her words, they could soon hear her footsteps though they were heavier than normal. She rounded the corner, an unconscious man over her shoulder. Wanda noticed Clint holding the woman and gave him a crooked grin.

"Glad to see you found her. I got my souvenir — now to collect the last member of our party and make with the explosions."

"Yes please," came Doug's voice as he rounded the corner. "I like not being around when the boom happens." He trotted up, putting a thumb drive in Clint's pocket since the other man's hands were full, and made sure he saw it. "Everyone got their parting gifts?" He asked, waving a small external hard drive in his other hand — clearly the rest of Kronas' information.

It took a bit of creativity, but Clint managed to hit the right button on his phone, shooting Clarice their GPS coordinates. Moments later, a portal opened for them. "Wanda," he said, stepping through with Natasha still held securely against his chest. "Light 'em up."

Shrugging the man off her shoulders, Wanda manhandled him into Doug's arms as he passed her. "Here, do not say I never give you anything fun." Felicia was the next through the portal, leaving Wanda alone except for the glowing extraction point at her back. She knew that reinforcements wouldn't be far away, so she needed to act quickly.

She dropped to a crouch. The palms of her hands pressed hard against the floor as red light burst forth, eating through the concrete. Her hands sank slowly, until everything below the upper arm had disappeared. She finally stopped when her hands found wiring and pipes.

Wanda grunted, shifting slightly to get a better grip — and then she carefully, very carefully, sent the pulses out to seek out the areas she'd marked in her mind's eye. While they hadn't had the time or resources to plant explosives, she'd spent days studying the building. Finding weak spots and making them weaker. Discovering where things that could explode would — with a little tinkering.

Breathing deeply, she finally extracted her arms and stood up, shaking the dust off her clothes while she backed up towards the portal. Wanda reached through with one arm, and felt someone latch on to her from the other side.

The lines of chaos were shuddering as she wrapped them around herself and then threw them back out, starting the chain reaction she'd been setting up for days.

By the time the building came down with a roar, Wanda was crouching over their unconscious friend back home, talking quietly with Doug and Felicia.