Not that infiltrating Hydra bases with a plan to bring everyone there to proper justice wasn't fun, but rats were not fun.

Neither, for that matter, were the bodies littering the floor.

THIRTY MINUTES AGO…

Steve slid his shield onto his back, grasping his helmet in one hand as he moved to peer over Natasha and Tony's shoulders, where Fury's written instructions were in bold black electronic letters on Tony's tablet.

"How many times are you going to go over the same seven paragraphs?" He asked with a frown. "We already know what we're doing."

"It's just…" Tony shook his head. "Something isn't right about this."

"He isn't wrong." Natasha murmured, reaching out a finger to scroll slightly. "Hydra usually bring their captives to them as opposed to building an entire base around the captive."

"We don't even know it's a person." Steve reminded. "All we know is it's something alien."

"He." Natasha said. "Gregory referred to their new alien weapon as a 'he' before he died."

Before he died.

Steve scowled at how simply Natasha stated that, as if the Hydra agent's death hadn't been due to SHIELD's replacement of much needed medical attention with rigorous interrogation. But the man was already dead - he couldn't complain now. Not when said death had led to possibly one of Hydra's most dangerous operations yet.

Whatever was under the ground floor of the sleek one-story lab they circled was most definitely not good - probably evil, for that matter.

The sheer thought of what they might find made Steve cringe. He shook his head and left Natasha and Tony to their scrolling.

It was just the three of them on the plane - said plane was being driven remotely by a SHIELD operative to keep from putting any extra people in harm's way.

Natasha had frowned when Clint hadn't returned from his previous mission in time to join their little raid, but so far that was the only emotion she had showed in the whole matter.

In short every other avenger had their reasons for either backing out or never getting in to start with, so they had no backup - one more reason not to screw this up.

The consol up where the pilot would be sitting were they present beeped, and Tony passed off his tablet to Natasha and crossed to it. "What's up, Linda?"

Steve shook his head that Tony was already on first name basis with their pretty brunette of a remote pilot, but didn't mention it, as 'Linda's' expression was grim.

"There's definitely something going on down there, Tony." She said. "I'm getting some really strange readings."

"Define strange." Tony folded his arms, chewing his lip in his own form of worry.

"Life signs." Linda said. "I'm not getting any human readings above ground, but I am getting…"

"What?"

"Well, I'm not sure exactly." Linda said. "They're small, but I dare say there's a thousand of them at least - little heartbeats littering the lab where human life signs should be."

"Hydra could be messing with your readings." Natasha appeared at Tony's other side. "They are far from unequipped."

"If they are, this is new technology." Linda said. "I've never seen anything quite like this."

Tony nodded slowly. "Besides the billion little heartbeats, what do you see down there?"

"Their computer system is hardwired down to the last strand of cable." Linda said. "But that was to be expected - in any case I can't get in without an implant. The layout is simple enough, but I cannot see much past the first level... there's at least three levels under the earth, but I can't make much of them out."

Steve gave a low whistle. "Alright. Can you set us down around the side? Maybe over behind that outcrop?"

"No," Tony said before Linda could respond. "Set us right out front."

"Excuse me?" Steve looked at him.

"This is Hydra." Tony reminded. "Masters of snakey stuff. We can't beat them at their own game - we're going to do the one thing they'd never suspect."

"Walk right in the front door." Natasha nodded, brows furrowing. "It is risky, but, as you say, unexpected."

"Wait a second." Steve stared at her. "You're agreeing with him?"

"You've been outvoted!" Tony held up his hand in triumph. "Linda, set us down out front. We're going to go ring Hydra's doorbell!"

ONE HOUR EARLIER...

Murut was shoved roughly into a stiff metal chair and someone tugged the bag off his head, flooding his sore eyes with paralysing white light.

When he was finally able to see, he found a familiar man sitting across the metal table from him.

When it was seen he was focusing well enough, the man wordlessly tugged his handkerchief from his suit-coat pocket and used it to lift something from a wooden box on his side.

The clatter of the black metal of the flute on the silver metal of the table echoed deafeningly in the deathly silent room.

The man still did not speak, he simply looked at Murut with those dark eyes, those unscathed hands folded neatly on the tabletop before him.

Murut raised his own hands to the table - his hands wrapped in bloody bandages that only half covered the swollen awkward angles of his fingers. "Do you expect me to play, Bailey?"

The man raised a single eyebrow in response. "You seem oblivious, old friend. Shall I enlighten you?"

Murut cut his eyes to the two armed men that stood at his sides. "You cannot do much more to me, old friend." He said. "You need me."

"No," the man said, quiet and calm as if having a pleasant conversation over a fancy dinner rather than this. "I need what you have, not you."

"I know that all too well." Murut sighed. "I am not stupid, Bailey."

"Nor am I." Bailey still refused to show emotion. Not even that little hint of a smile he had let slip as his inferiors had snapped every bone in both Murut's hands one by one.

Murut sighed. "You know I cannot give you what you want."

"I know you can lie very well." Bailey replied.

"It," Murut tossed his head at the black flute on the table, "Would not work for you if I bid it. It controls me more than I it; but then, we have already been through this, have we not?"

Bailey rested his loosely clasped hands closer to the instrument. "I suppose we have. But I am not one for fairy tales."

Murut rolled his eyes. "Is this the part where someone stabs me in the neck with sedatives and drags me off before I test your patience?" He looked between the men at his sides. "Anyone? No?"

They cast him sidelong glares, not really meeting his eyes.

Murut sighed, a little over-dramatically. "Well, maybe in a minute then. So, uh…" He testingly shifted his own hands closer to the flute under the pretence of leaning closer to Bailey to annoy him. "Read any good books lately?"

"Not anything worth mentioning." Bailey said flatly. "It is your story you should be more interested in now, anyways."

Still the blank-faced man did not show a reaction - not even in his eyes. It was a hard thing to mask, the eyes. Murut wondered how many years Bailey had worked to perfect that mask… it was a sad thing that such talent had to be backed by such cruelty.

Murut might almost feel sorry for killing the man. That would be, if his plan worked.

This was the first time they had put his beloved flute within his reach, and, broken hands or not, they were going to realize their mistake.

If he could just get a little closer…