Plotted starter for @natuska.
Rogers wanted to pretend this was a routine mission. Standing amongst the silent trees surrounding them though, he couldn’t help but wonder. Not for the first time since their arrival, he pondered what would be waiting for them here. Undeniably, the hush around them felt heavy. There were no bird songs to be heard, nor rustling of leaves, and even the breeze around them seemed unusually soft. He didn’t like it. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and his keen gaze pay extra attention to their environment.
In the amount of time they’d spent observing, nothing had changed and no one had presented themselves. It did little to allay his fears. In fact, it only made them worse. They were out here for a reason, after all; he highly doubted they were chasing ghosts. For a base that was supposed to have squatters, the lack of activity from the location was concerning. It made him feel as if they were prey, not predators.
Deciding enough time had been spent watching, he moved quickly towards the door of the base, his piercing gaze still taking everything in. The closer they drew to the bunker entrance, the more uneasy he became. Something was simply off about their surroundings. It was only once he came to a stop at the door that the reason for his discontent grew clear.
“I don’t like this,” Rogers said softly to Agent Romanoff. “Something isn’t right. If someone was holed up here, there should have been signs already. Tire tracks, boot prints, evidence of some kind—instead, there is just nothing. It’s too perfect; there isn’t even a single cobweb around the door.”
The inside would likely be the same. When Fury had initially given Rogers this mission, he’d thought it odd. Why send him—and Agent Romanoff—to check an old, abandoned base in the remote forest of Montana? A SHIELD time likely could have handled this, but he was beginning to understand why they’d been sent. Whoever had set up shop here, they weren’t local hooligans.
His gloved hands wrapped around the metal handle of the door. With great effort, the grunt that escaped his lips a testament to his effort, it began to open. It was the only way in, unfortunately. The metal groaned in protest as it moved, but eventually it revealed a pitch black hallway that would lead them further in. Blue eyes flicked to his companion.
“What’re you thinking? Trap?” Rogers’ tone was professional, clearly all business. Personally, he thought it was a trap, but he was curious as to what his partner was thinking. They’d worked together briefly before, but she hadn’t gotten any easier to read.
