A Nice Little Place in the Woods

November 18, 2015:

A SHIELD contingent pays a visit to Northern British Columbia to dust off an old hero.

Outside Steamboat, British Columbia

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Contrary to popular belief, the northern parts of Canada are not frozen wastelands all year round. It is however, November - and it is true to say that winter comes earlier and stays longer this close to the pole. The light kiss of snow and the two inches or so of fresh powder on the ground only highlights Northern British Columbia's rugged beauty. They're just outside the town of Steamboat - a tiny nowhere place that kisses the spine of the Rockies. To the East, the land gradually flattens into the vast expanse of the prairies. To the West, the mountains rise up into near-impossible giants.
Here though, the mountains are not quite beasts. They're still very tall, especially to Eastern standards. The crumble-face of Stone Mountain was one of the landmarks the guy at the Big Stop pointed them towards to indicate a hunting trail down which he swears there's a cabin. It's a ragged trail through valleys and past imposing peaks. Little streams have already frozen over, making tire purchase treacherous. But eventually, they find it - led partially by sophisticated GPS, and partially by the whisp of smoke rising from the cabin's chimney.
It's no Jack London fantasy. The cabin is clearly built for practicality, not curb appeal. Its walls have been reinforced with found materials, patching up what was one a full-on log cabin. There is, of all things, a makeshift greenhouse, a large fire pit and a pile of freshly chopped logs drying out. It's a good, strategic position. The spies would see that. Still, there are ways to creep up on the house unawares if that's the aim.

Some would say that sneaking up on an honest, straightforward man is always a bad idea. He'll take against it. Natasha would argue that point, but perhaps not in the case of someone whose very existence has always been a byword for being forthright. He seems like the sort to take against someone who slips up on him, and misunderstandings with shotguns involved are always so tedious.
Natasha's driven in snow before and is well used to cold, but she's not wearing the Widow suit that would protect her so well from it (yes, she has a special one for polar expeditions and other cold weather work). It's not that cold, and it's likely to give the wrong impression by giving the /right/ impression, as it were. No, she's coming to visit wearing more durable, rustic clothing. Possibly even a well-worn flannel shirt. Somehow, the ballerina has in her wardrobe and repertoire not only the appropriate garments but also the appropriate demeanor for someone who isn't faking it. Simple, straightforward country folk tend to be a little less friendly toward obvious city slickers.
She pilots the all-terrain vehicle through the landscape, picking her way with care. "I suppose he could be more remote if he were in Siberia," Natasha mutters. "I think that last town actually had a petrol station." It doesn't look like she's trying to sneak up, though, as she approaches the cabin. If he's going to lock his door or come out with a shotgun, he's free to do either.

Peggy is no stranger to either the cold or dressing for the occasion. While England doesn't see much snow, she's been on missions to Russia and lived in the States long enough to become well acquainted with such weather. As spies, her usual inclination is much in line with Natasha's - sneak in and observe before approaching. However, what they know of their contact shows that would not exactly be the best approach and misunderstandings are not really what they came here to talk about.

The Agent from the 40s is prepared for both the cold and the snow. Her boots are newer looking, but her clothing doesn't scream city girl. It's all there for practicality rather than fashion: dark blue jeans tucked into her socks and boots, warm knitted sweater underneath a thick black peacoat. She looks like she would fit in either on the windswept docks or the cold mountains of Northern Canada. Her curled hair is tucked up underneath a hat, but she is still wearing her signature red lipstick. It doesn't hurt to add a little color, especially if they're hopefully not expecting an all out fight with the man.

In the passenger seat, she flips through the file on Johnny and smirks at Natasha's muttering. "It was rather quaint, yes. Reminds me of the old days. You have to admit that the view is stunning, however. Have you had any run ins with this man before? I remember meeting him once back during the war. It was very brief. He was unendingly polite - though that seems to be the stereotype of Canadians. I like to believe they got it from being a British colony."

When you've been on a hit list for decades, you tend to always keep your guard up. That's true of soldiers in general, especially one who has seen as much action as Johnny Canuck.
The mountain valley tends to magnify and echo the sound of an approaching vehicle - especially this time of year with so many trees, and especially in a vehicle with the horsepower needed to navigate these twisty mountain roads.
There's no immediate movement within the cabin as they pull up. Keen eyes might notice a flutter of motion behind a light curtain. There's definitely someone in there.

"Quaint is a good word for it." It's a word that means 'ass end of nowhere' without actually saying so. Natasha veers their vehicle to a halt, pulling slightly off the main path and stepping out into the shallow snow. Crunch.
Her eyes flick up to the cabin and she surveys it as she answers Peggy: "Well, you must remember that we ran in different circles during the war and after. Intel suggested a man who is very comfortable in the cold. Exceptional pilot, very tactical mind. I also know that he didn't take part in the Cold War, for which we were all rather relieved. He was always as comfortable in our own terrain as we were. An honest man and simple in that very special way that does not mean foolish."
Her eyes are on the windows as she says this, and her lips crook into a small smile. She's one of the peacoat brigade herself, heather-gray with black buttons. It makes her look like part of the mountains. The two women will likely fall in next to one another, and Natasha's going straight to the front door. Straightforward, remember?

Sliding the file under her arm, Peggy opens her car door and steps out onto the snow as well. Her replies now come out accompanied with little puffs of white air. "Yes, but different circles have a tendency to run into each other one way or another." Stepping around the front of the car, she falling into step with Natasha as they break their way through the snow toward the cabin.

"Yes, that's what I read as well. I remember hearing stories of him, but I was also rather caught up in my own missions at the time. Perhaps we'll all reminisce over a cup of tea." Her tone, however, makes this sound as if it's a doubtful outcome. As the light hits the window to illuminate the shift behind the curtain, she smiles. "It seems, at least, that someone is there. At least we may not have to wait in the cold for his return."

Before they can get too close, the door to the cabin opens. The tall figure is dressed in denim, a plaid shirt and a jacket Peggy will recognize as a RAF pilot's bomber in brown leather. An axe hangs from a holster on his hip. Johnny's holding a tin cup of something that whisps steam up into the air.
He takes a moment to look them both over, lingering wordlessly on each of their faces. He gives them both looks that much be considered uncomfortably appraising. He's searching his memory, combing through the detritus of a particularly long life. When he makes the connections, he exhales, his nostrils puffing. His expression turns from cautious and irritated to resigned. He knocks once on the door jam, gives them both a look and then heads inside.
The door remains open.
By the time they step inside, there's already two cups poured and sitting on an old formica table. The cabin is warm and earthy and smells of woodsmoke, smoked salmon and machine oil. It's neat, surprisingly. Homey, even. There's no technology to speak of - not even a radio, though aerial photography on the recon photos show a small shed at the rear. "What's the mission?" he says plainly, but only after he's had a good sip and they're both all the way inside.

When Johnny does open the door, Natasha stops in her tracks. She regards him quietly, her face neutral, calm. Still, a face that can go as blank as hers can… that right there says a lot to the right person. And when he withdraws inside… well, she glances over to Peggy and shrugs. There's not much to say.
So she follows him in, pausing to brush off her boots and closing the door behind them. She doesn't take off her coat, though: evidently she doesn't anticipate staying for terribly long. The initial instinct against taking the mug of tea is shoved aside by the knowledge that no, she's not somewhere that she's likely to be poisoned.
"Corona," she replies simply. If he's going to be a man of few words, she can afford to be a woman of fewer.

As the door opens, Peggy stops almost exactly in time with Natasha. As she's studied, she watches him back with a passive look. She's used to being judged and sized up by people. For most of her life that was every first look she was given at work. As Johnny moves into the cabin, she looks back to Natasha with a matching shrug and moves inward with them.

Her hands remain out of her pockets, despite that being a typical place to put them in an awkward and searching meeting. However, guns can be found there and she's not trying to put Johnny into any sort of cautious mode. Her eyes quickly scan the cabin much like he studied them. She recognizes the home of and its furnishings and what that might mean for the man himself.

As is polite, she takes the mug from the table, but does not yet drink. Instead, she takes a small inhale in an attempt to guess what the hot liquid. As Natasha answers the question, Peggy sets the file that she brought with her onto the table their mugs just came from. "I'm sure this will all be a bit familiar to you," she tells him, eyes moving from the folder back to him.

"You're SHIELD," says Johnny. It's not a question. He unhooks the axe from his belt and hangs it by the holster off a nail in the wall. "KGB and SSR originally, if I've still got all my marbles." He points at Natasha in a way that manages not to be rude. "I only know you by your codename. The Black Widow." He chuckles. "Colourful. Accurate, if the last intel I had access to is any indication. Lethal and cunning. But on the side of angels, now? Or at least hell's better demons."
The liquid in the mug is camp coffee, but it's not swill. It's as good a double shot of espresso as any Italian barista could pull. "By my estimation, there's three people in this cabin who are far older than they look." He eyes Peggy specifically as he speaks.
When Natasha mentions Corona, some of his good cheer hardens. He grunts softly. "Of all the files to bring back to my door. I thought this was about Roxxon." There has been some…creative sabotage occuring not far away. Something about a pipeline.

Natasha actually smiles when he brings up her codename. "Couldn't have said it better myself. I got to the part of my life where I liked being able to sleep at night." She breathes in the scent of the coffee and raises her eyebrows, evidently impressed at what she's just smelled, and takes a thoughtful sip.
"Sorry about this," she adds. "We wouldn't have bothered you if we had another choice. But we'll be grateful for any help you can give. Nice place you've got here," she adds, looking up and around. "It must be particularly good in summer. Maybe someday I'll end up somewhere like this."
At the age comment, she smirks a little: "Oh, we're not bothered about Roxxon. Between you and me, they could use a few delays. But yes, some of us have a hard time retiring."

"We are, yes," Peggy replies to Johnny with a quick bob of her head. It's useless to deny it. At the mention of the SSR, she tilts her head just slightly. Pulling her hat off in the warmth of the cabin, her hair falls down to its pin curled length. "That's a name I have not heard in a little while. For you, perhaps longer." With a smirk at the comment directed at her, she shrugs her shoulders. "I've been told that I've aged very gracefully." Her wit is still the same dry flavor as during the war.

That taken care of, she takes a sip of the coffee. "You make a lovely espresso," she compliments. It's typical British politeness as well as being true.

There's something…not suspicious, but certainly Cheshire-curious about the way that Johnny regards Peggy. There's something wise about his eyes - perhaps his only feature that reveals any hint of his true age. He sips his coffee and then scratches the bridge of his nose. "Thank you. It's one of the only reasons to stay this close to a town." If by close, he means a 45 minute backwood jaunt, and by town he means 'has a gas station and a five room motel and not much else.' "Despite my best effort, I can't get coffee beans to grow."
Then he returns his attention to the subject at-hand. "So. This interest in Corona. Is it academic, or do you have reason to believe it's a threat again? You'll forgive me if I'm not up-to-date. I do get cell coverage here, but just barely and I have to hike to find a spot. I get the CBC if I point the bunny ears just right." He nods towards a TV, circa 1988 that sits in one corner. From the dust, it hasn't been turned on in awhile.

"Up to the minute, I'm afraid," Natasha replies. She takes another sip of her coffee with a soft sound of approval. Spy-approved espresso. "We've seen similar activity in New York recently. Bodies found in the same condition as they were left in before. You're the only person still alive who could have any idea. I don't ask people out of retirement lightly. Someday, stranger things have happened, maybe I'll want to retire. I respect the decision. But you may be our only hope."

While it was considered to be more friendly for the women to be inside chatting up the Canadian super-soldier inside, it was a short straw that Snake-Eyes drew to remain outside on guard duty. Wrapped in a warm thermal cloak that is in the blotched white and greys of winter camoflauge, he's currently perched up in a tree on site, a pair of binoculars in his hands, though they are resting in his lap as he semi-meditates. This is not only to protect a little more against bitter cold - but because it enhances his harmony with the immediate chi in the area so that if there are any changes or a movement towards them, he'll be able to provide those inside an early alert system.

An astute woman, Peggy merely looks back at Johnny as he studies her. She has a few guesses as to why he may be regarding her as he is - a man who lived during and then all the way through the war may remember her from the War. But, now isn't the time to delve into the past. "How disappointing. This does seem to be the season for coffee," she tells him with a smirk about him not being able to grow coffee beans in Canada.

Natasha's explanation is met with a serious nod and she takes another sip of her espresso - a longer one this time. "It's a similar MO, but it's not quite as intense as it was before. We'd like to stop it before it reaches a larger scale. You are our best bet to do that." She might have made an Obi-Wan Kenobi joke had she seen the Star Wars movies. She may be the last adult on the planet who doesn't know who Luke's father is.

"Surely I don't have enough beard for Obi-Wan," Yes, Johnny is a backwoodsman, but pop culture can get you through a long, cold winter of being snowed in. He probably doesn't know a new Star Wars is coming out, but he's seen the old ones.
He allows himself only a brief chuckle before it turns into a sigh. "I can think of a hundred other missions I'd rather you be here to talk to me about. Corona is…well, I can't even really begin to explain it."
Outside, there's a faint rustling of the trees. A flock of birds take to the air. There's movement - quiet, stealthy movement from the opposite direction that the SHIELD contingent pulled up in. It's gaining ground quickly.

From where he is sitting in the tree, it's hard, nearly impossible really to sneak up on a ninja on duty. As he feels the change in the atomsphere, the launch of the birds in flight, Snake-Eyes is already shrugging off the thermal cover to fall backwards and flips out of the tree, landing in the snow with a quiet 'thump' before he draws his blades - the Mikimoto katana in the right hand. Before he draws his combat knife, he reaches to his side and taps on a small keystroke set at his side.

Both Peggy and Natasha's get a short burst of Morse code, transmitted from the quiet one outside.

'Incoming. Possible unfriendly'.

And with that, he's making his way forward to start to scout out the area ahead and gets eyes on target, as it were.

There's a bright smile from Natasha at the quip's answer. Two of the three oldsters in the room actually lived through the last few decades. Peg's at a bit of a disadvantage.
"I didn't think it was going to be happy recollections," she admits. "But necessary. If you're willing to talk…"
That's about when she frowns and raises her fingers to her ear. The comlink's very very small and subtle, but evidently it's there. "Details?" she murmurs. Distress flicks across her face. "I don't suppose you were expecting any other guests."

"I don't see how a beard would attach to a sash," Peggy gives Johnny a confused look, evidently confusing the Star Wars character Obi-Wan for the Japanese Obi sash. "And you don't seem the kimono wearing type." In this part of the conversation, she certainly is at a disadvantage, but she's trying.

The morse code, however, is met with a glance toward the window. Though she doesn't put a finger to her ear to reveal that there may be a listening device there, her gesture toward the window happens exactly in time with Natasha's. It seems they came prepared. SHIELD, after all, doesn't tend to take half measures. Setting the mug back down on the table, she moves toward the window, but stays to the side to not betray any shadows or muss any fabric to give away her position.

A dull, mechanical roar echoes before anything comes in to view. Then there's the echo of snapping trees and the pop of rocks being pushed over treads. Snake-Eyes sees it first - a platoon of armed soldiers driving two snowCAT-like devices and flanked by skidoos. Hydra, most likely, though the attacking party is wearing no visible insignia. They are, however, prepping a very mean weapon with an explosive payload, and they're aiming it right at the cabin.
It's safe to say 'unfriendly' is an apt description.
When Johnny realizes that Natasha is getting a transmission, he's already on his feet and going for his axe. Without pausing, he says, "No, no I am not." He looks ready to just charge out there. That's kind of his style.

As he gets closer to the noise, Snake-Eyes takes to ground for a moment to scout out the situation. He's well-trained in warfare, and even though he could probably give the whole group of them a fit and a half, he's not going to just jump into the fray. He's far enough out that his warning is sent to give the two women a chance to get to the vehicle and pull out weapons if they don't have them on their person.

A quick assessment of the situation gives him all the information that he needs to gather for the moment.

'2 Half-tracks. Two mobile. Twelve troops. Hydra. Cobra maybe. Not regular military'.

He moves back slightly, taking to deeper cover to allow the vehicles to pass by his position with the troops. He'll bide his time for them to pass by as he transmits one more message.

'Half mile out. 200 yards from my position. Taking cover. Will hit from rear when you intercept?' he suggests.

Since when does Natasha not have weapons on her person? But they might well not be enough to deal with a couple of half-tracks and a dozen hostile agents. She reconsiders this, glancing between Peg and Johnny.
"Definite hostile activity. If it followed us, I'm beyond sorry." She relays the positions and movement as she strides to the door, glancing back to add: "You know the terrain out here, Major. You want to take the lead?" Not that she won't do whatever she thinks is necessary, but this — it's a terrible part of her that thinks this, but Natasha is slightly terrible — might be the perfect opportunity for the man to ramp up those militant juices.

As Snake continues to give them an update to the intruders, Peggy shakes her head. "Followed us all the way up here on the chance we'll meet with him? Possible, but a waste in resources. We're not the only ones who know that you were involved with the Corona. I think this may just be two different organizations trying to either get or silence information." Moving away from the window, she looks to Natasha and to Johnny.

Judging by both this place and the way that Johnny moves, she raises an eyebrow. "I can assume you have measures to deal with intruders? If not, you know the terrain better. Where is best to engage them? We have a man outside still hidden."

"Not your fault. Well, not entirely. I've been lazy about being hidden the last decade or so. That's how you found me." Johnny pauses, then, "No offense. If I want to disappeaer totally out here, I can. Plus I still have friends in the government who will do the digital cover-up. Computers aren't really my thing." He slides the axe out of its sheath with a flick of his wrist. The blade suddenly ignites. It's…hypnotic and oddly beautiful, like the Northern Lights captured in the surface of the metal.
He nods once at Peggy's question. "They're coming from the West. They approached from the south and took an old logging road to flank us. You saw the road coming in. Pretty narrow, right? Not a lot of shoulder room. Guarantee they've blocked it off. That means your truck is useless." He tosses his axe to another hand and peers out the window. He pauses to listen for a moment, then he grins. "That sounds like CATs. Can your guy get a read on the vehicle type? If they're on tracks, then we're golden. They're going to hit the perimeter any second. You got any people here, they might want to make a minimum safe distance. When the fireworks start, follow me to the outbuilding. I know you got aerial photos. I got a ping from a contact of mine who located drone activity last week." He nods once to Natasha. "I got something in the shed I think you're going to like."
If they didn't know better, it might look like he's…enjoying this.

"He did say half-tracks," Natasha muses. "This should be good." There's a slight twitch of one jaw: "Negative. Confirm track vehicles?" she inquires. "Get as far from the perimeter as possible; do not engage until you see the signal." Signal? There's going to be a signal. Johnny's not hard to read: that signal, Natasha can tell, is not going to be subtle. Her eyebrow raises slightly at the last comment of Johnny's: "I figured it was your radio shack."

'Track confirmed'. Snake-Eyes transmits.

His original plan was to wait for them to pass, then use gernades to take out the tracked vehicle in the rear by blowing the treads. However, as Natasha sends new orders, the asset transits a brief 'Affirmative' before he pulls from behind cover and starts to weave his way through the trees to head back towards the cabin to regroup with the others.

With a raised eyebrow Peggy moves away from the window to follow Johnny toward this outbuilding she's heard so much about. "Usually when I hear that someone has something in a shed, I'm expecting a dead body," she tells Johnny dryly. As it's confirmed that those approaching are on tracks, she nods and looks back. "So, what is this something?"

The attackers seem to have underestimated this little cabin in the woods. Either that, or they have a high degree of confidence that they've pinched them up. Either way, the convoy isn't approaching with anything near silence. One of the CATs rumbles ahead. Within a few hundred meters of the edge of the property, right at the tree line, an observant eye would notice disturbed ground. Disturbed ground that in fact, encircles the entire back end of the property. The track presses through the thin layer of snow and weights the censor. There's a soft succession of ticks, then a sudden explosion that rocks the first CAT. Bits of flaming shrapnel fly through the air, impaling one soldier and wounding a few others.
That's the signal. He motions to Peggy and Natasha to follow him out the side door, past a cluster of bushes, to the side of the outbuilding. "You'll see, Agent Carter. Let's just say…" he keys in a code on the door. It clicks open. "…it will help us more than a pistol."
The dust flies through the air when they enter. There's a tool wall, which makes perfect sense. Then he pulls back a curtain to reveal a small armory. Most of the armaments are clearly his service weapons. There's a trio of hunting rifles, clearly used recently. But then, there's also a pair of Cold War era AK-47s. A collection of pistols. Grenades. "Arm yourselves. They're all clean and in good working order." He passes over to a drop cloth and yanks the cover off a powerful ATV and a small trailer. "They brought high arctic gear to the low arctic in November. If this was the Yukon in January, they'd have the upper hand. But the snow pack is not thick enough."

BOOM. BOOM. "Mr. Gallant. That doesn't sound like it's civilian-grade ordnance to me. Shame on you." Natasha looks not at all displeased as they reach the shed, adding into her earpiece: "Did you see the signal?" There's maybe a little dry amusement in her voice. She /likes/ it when other people are prepared. "Arming up. Be there in two shakes." Official military terminology.
But her eyes actually light up when she sees the inside of Johnny's death-shed. Letting out a low whistle, she ambles inside with a hip-sway that could knock a nearby table over if she got too close. This is a nice day. It's the grenades she goes for, that and one of the rifles; slinging the latter over her shoulder, she clips the grenades to her belt and nods her approval. "Not the world's finest minds, HYDRA. That's one of our great advantages. Agent Carter, do you see anything you like?"

As the explosions rock the perimeter, the ninja was at least duly warned as Snake-Eyes takes back to the tree line. One CAT is down, but there's another one out there that requires hunting down as he pauses, recieving the orders that they're preparing. Taking that to mean they need a bit more time, he adjusts his own battle plan. Stealing his way back amongst the trees, the black suited ninja blends in with the darkness as he works on spotting the other tracked vehicle.

As Peggy follows Johnny toward the shed, her head tilts and an eyebrow raises. Her preferred weapon is, in fact a pistol. She's surprised he remembers something like that about her from the War. However, this is not the time for such speculations and as she takes in the weaponry a very particular smile comes across her face. Here eyes look over the stash and then she replies to Natasha, "Oh, yes, I am sure I will be able to find something here that will suit my fancy."

While Natasha goes for grenades, the former SSR Agent picks up a hunting rifle and quite a bit of ammo to go along with it. An AK-47 is tucked away for later use. Both are good for different reasons. "Shall we, then?"

"They're for keeping bears away." says Johnny wryly to Natasha's quip. There's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He grabs for a pistol, which gets stuck into his waistband. He fishes out the keys to the ATV and fires it up, motioning for one of them to hop on the back and the other into the trailer. "We're going to come up alongside, take out as many as we can, and then lead them towards my next little stash of surprises. If that goes south, this thing can move faster over this terrain than what they have. We make a break for it. I take it your man out there is a stealth specialist. If things go pear shaped, he should go to ground. There's a hunting cabin about ten kliks from here up an old deer path. North, northwest. There's radio."
Meanwhile, four are approaching the perimeter on foot. They all hesitate where the ground has exploded, but eventually decide it's safe to scramble over the wreckage. That one already went boom.
The other CAT waits at the ready, its engine idling with a dull roar. The armed men keep their eyes peeled for signs of movement.

Which means Agent Romanoff has orders all ready for Snake-Eyes. It only takes her a moment to rattle off directions — he can harry them from cover, and Natasha can avoid throwing grenades where he's going to be. "Take the men near the wreckage. We'll work on the rest." Because she hardly ever gets to properly explode anything.

Going up into the trees, Snake-Eyes watches the soldiers below pass by his position. They've broken into squads. Excellent. Squad strength is far more easier to handle. Natasha's orders get a single click in affirmative as he watches the squad near the wreckage. As one of them seperates to check the rear of the vehicle, he drops down, landing on the top of the vehicle, his 'thud' drowned out by the noises of the burning engine fire, using the smoke as cover as he drops down on the first soldier, hands gripping his head as he snaps his head around quickly, and drops him to ground.

Searching the body quickly, he grabs the gernade belt, pulling the objects from it as he shoves the body underneath the vehicle as he pulls pins on two of them, rolling them underneath the vehicle so it can come between the legs of two of the other soldiers. It's explosion sends Snake-Eyes back up into the thick smoke, taking cover as he finds the final soldier. Popping out of the smoke, the soldier barely has a chance to yell his surprise, a few wild shots fired towards the smoke demon before his Mikimoto blade slices through his abdomen and he goes running with a qi assisted boost back into the tree line.

The second explosion (thanks, Snake-Eyes) provides sufficient coverage for the roar of the ATV's engine. With one woman on the back and the other in the trailer, the trio roars out of the shed with Johnny at the controls. He revs up the engine and speeds them by the standing line of Hydra men. They open fire, but he trusts the two SHIELD agents will be better shots, and then there's the ninja in the shadows.
As they get close to one of the men, he takes one hand off the controls. The other grips his axe. When he swings the glowing blade around, it knocks the man a good six feet through the air before he collapses on the snow. "Take them all out if you can!" he calls over the roar of the engine. "I like this place. I'd like to come back to it." Which is Johnny-code for 'mission accepted.'

Natasha's perched up on the back — she has great balance, and she likes to show it off. It also means that she can snipe from a distance, even as bumpy as the ride is. There's a nice stretch that's smooth enough for her to take out one agent easily enough, and when they're close enough, a hurled grenade will at least flush them out of hiding so that she can peg them one by one. "We could question one," she offers. "But HYDRA are notorious for dying fast."

Moving away from the completely engulfed CAT, Snake-Eyes is moving along the trail. Coming towards the second tracked vehicle, he slows, taking to ground as he watches for something else. Aha. One of the skidoos is coming from around the CAT trying to make it's way on an intercept course to try to get to Johnny and the Girls.

Stretching a thin cable across the trees, he waits for the vehicle to come up the trail before he pulls the wire tight, and catches the driver in the middle of his torso, ripping him from the vehicle.

Rushing out from his cover, Snake-Eyes commanders the small vehicle and starts to make his own way towards the group. Might as well rejoin them at the fallback point.

While Peggy likes to take prisoners alive to question, she also likes getting out of missions alive. The driving snow makes a credible and easy cover for Agent Carter and her hunting rifle. She moves through the trees and cover quite easily. She still remembers her assaults on Hydra in Germany. It's not totally dissimilar.

Her gun rockets an echo each time she pulls the trigger on her enemies, which means she only does it sparingly. Instead, she cracked skulls with the butt of her weapon and shoots when necessary. Peggy Carter doesn't shy from a fight, but she also likes to end it with the possibility of a debrief at the end.

The second skidoo (that Snake-Eyes hasn't taken out) comes up alongside the ATV as it roars through the woods. Wordlessly, he stands up and indicates to Peggy to take control of the vehicle. Then, his left hand clenches into a fist and ice shoots up to encase his entire arm in nearly two inches of solid ice. He then waits for his moment, and in between Hydra bullets, he jumps across to the speeding Skidoo. The man gets an ice fist in the gut, then he shoves the blade of his axe in the man's face. There's a bright flash of light which clearly disorients the Hydrateer. He gets control of the vehicle again and tosses the man bodily across into the trailer of the ATV for Nat to bind and gag. Chances are, he'll cyanide tooth before they can get anything out of him.
"Follow me!" he calls over the roar of the vehicles, then makes a hand motion as the ice shatters and flakes off his arm. He veers the skidoo between a stand of trees, towards the hunting cabin he referred to. They can wait for evac there. There's a few Hydra goons still left standing, but unless someone circles back to take care of them, they'll be left to scatter.

One final grenade hurled toward the last small clutch of living men. One more shot to the single bastard who makes it out of that mess. One slam of the butt of the rifle into the slightly-conscious man. Natasha is so quick in binding and gagging their one prisoner that she might do quite well in any rodeo of your choice. She knows Peg won't have any trouble hanging on, and Snake-Eyes won't have any trouble following. It's been a good mission. A nice jog in the snow.
"Nice place you've got here!" she calls to Johnny.

Snake-Eyes assists where he can to help take down the rest. No survivors, no quarter. He had to burn down his own place in the Sierra Nevadas just recently because of Hydra discovering it - he'd perfer not to have Johnny do the same thing. Housing costs are extravagant, after all. Eventually, the silent master arrives and steps off his own skidoo, regrouping with the other, and a subtle nod of his head offered to Johnny.

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