[ Markus gets her in the clear and she takes a half step back to survey the ruins of the apartment, impossibly small but somehow cavernous with the stretch of space between them and Cain and Fitz, with the exit both within reach and miles away. The soldiers are an impenetrable wall and adapting to their fraying tactics at an inhuman speed and her mind is buzzing with adrenaline, with trying to recalculate, trying to forget β for now β the desperate execution of the soldier that made a blood slick of the kitchen. She hopes Fitz is conscious enough to do this next thing otherwise she's putting her neck on the line for an exit that doesn't exist. ]
Markus, keep going. Hallway. Cain, Fitz: portal across as soon as you're clear. Drawing fire.
[ Bloody hell, bloody hell. Not for long, just a few seconds at most to give Fitz enough time to see where they're going β a hop, skip, and a jump across the room, out the door, with her pulling out last. Not the original plan. But the only one they have. She scoops up her fallen gun and fires both on the trio of soldiers remaining. The bullets ping off their armour but she isn't shooting to kill or incapacitate, just to distract.
What happens next is too fast for her to anticipate or prepare for.
Peggy drops one soldier with either a real bullet or a stun shot, falling into the path of another who halts in his approach on the two men pinned down. The third makes a sharp about-face in her direction and rushes at her at lightning speed; a bullet cracks the visor of his mask in the heartbeat before they collide with brute force β a fist curls in the strap of her bulletproof vest and she's hoisted into the air and slammed into the coffee table, a sickening thud of bone on metal. The impact drives an involuntary cry from her lungs, pain in her head and across her side, but she pushes herself up on her elbows with her heart pounding in her throat, knowing she needs to get up. Needs to move. But the soldier stands over her, hefting a heavy, black rifle and she freezes, looks up at him, and β ]
run
[ β she's shot in the chest point-blank, at close range.
The armour-piercing round tears through the vest, her body jerks on the ground. And doesn't get back up. ]
no subject
Markus, keep going. Hallway.
Cain, Fitz: portal across as soon as you're clear.
Drawing fire.
[ Bloody hell, bloody hell. Not for long, just a few seconds at most to give Fitz enough time to see where they're going β a hop, skip, and a jump across the room, out the door, with her pulling out last. Not the original plan. But the only one they have. She scoops up her fallen gun and fires both on the trio of soldiers remaining. The bullets ping off their armour but she isn't shooting to kill or incapacitate, just to distract.
What happens next is too fast for her to anticipate or prepare for.
Peggy drops one soldier with either a real bullet or a stun shot, falling into the path of another who halts in his approach on the two men pinned down. The third makes a sharp about-face in her direction and rushes at her at lightning speed; a bullet cracks the visor of his mask in the heartbeat before they collide with brute force β a fist curls in the strap of her bulletproof vest and she's hoisted into the air and slammed into the coffee table, a sickening thud of bone on metal. The impact drives an involuntary cry from her lungs, pain in her head and across her side, but she pushes herself up on her elbows with her heart pounding in her throat, knowing she needs to get up. Needs to move. But the soldier stands over her, hefting a heavy, black rifle and she freezes, looks up at him, and β ]
run
[ β she's shot in the chest point-blank, at close range.
The armour-piercing round tears through the vest, her body jerks on the ground. And doesn't get back up. ]