A/n: lmao I didn't expect that to take as long to write as it did. Don't expect any kind of regular updates from now on - I've reached the highest tier of Exam Hell Year :)
I do plan on finishing this fic though, and I actually have a plot! Also a warning, I basically didn't even read over this because a) I'm lazy b) you've been waiting long enough, so if it's a little bit terrible... well, to enjoy it anyway.

Clint's eyes briefly scanned the corridor stretching out before him. He signaled the go ahead to Natasha, who set off round the corner. He lingered for a few seconds leant against the wall, turning only once he'd heard the tell-tale thump of a body hitting the floor.

Natasha stood over her fallen foe, arms crossed and turned towards Clint. "Getting rusty on your hand signals?"

"Oh, was a thumbs up not the signal for one hostile?" Clint mock gasped, "I had no idea." He stepped over the unconscious guard and continued walking. "Looks like you had a handle on things though. Come on, lets find these files."

Meanwhile, Tony and Steve were leading a somewhat less subtle approach on the hostages.

"Please at least try to stay hidden," Steve pleaded into the comm.

"I'm Iron Man!" Tony shot back, accompanied by several thunks - people he'd barrelled into. "It's not easy to be inconspicuous in a red-and-gold flying metal suit! Besides, pretty sure we threw subtle out the window when we came in dragons a-blazing."

Steve sighed rather than admit that Tony had a fair point. "At least tell me you're knocking them out before they can call for help."

"Pssht," Steve could just feel the dismissive hand gesture. "Of course I - wait, get back here!"

Steve let out an actual sigh that time. It was a good thing he'd already split off from Tony - Iron Man was definitely going to be keeping everyone busy, so Captain America may end up with the element of surprise yet. Steve's hopes were pretty high on that front: he was on the corridor leading to the room they were keeping the hostages in, and there were no guards.

"Okay," he whispered, eyeing the door carefully. "I'm here. Going in now." For some reason this statement was met with giggles from the twins.

Consciously not letting the fact that he'd probably unwittingly referenced something that somehow a Viking knew about before him - he was on a mission, and at least one of the team was going to have to act like it - Steve shouldered the door open, shield up in preparation for any gunfire...

... And was met with a room decidedly devoid of hostages. Instead, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and an assortment of unconscious guards sat - or in some cases slumped - in the centre of the room, in various states of tied up.

"Ah, Steve," Ruffnut jumped up, dragging a guard she was currently handcuffing with some rope up with her, "Nice of you to join us."

"We made you a cup of tea," Tuffnut added, tilting his head over to the table, where, sure enough, a cup of tea lay, complete with saucer. "Feel free to join us for a while, relax," he invited, gesturing vaguely with the pen that he was using to scribe 'Tuffnut was here' in shaky, misspelt English onto someone's head.

Steve let his arm drop, then replaced his shield on his back. "We should probably start heading back, since apparently we're all finished here," he said.

"Oh, no, we have time," Ruffnut assured. "We have to wait for Nat and Clint to finish that secret mission they didn't tell anyone about."

"What secret -" Steve stopped, and held a hand to his ear. "Tony, you find Baltroc yet?"

"Yep," Tony confirmed, "unsurprisingly, he's exactly where the captain should be. Surprisingly, he somehow hasn't spotted me yet."

"Okay," Steve answered, "the hostages have been removed, so you can feel free to engage."

"What?" Tony said, drawn out in faked surprise, "I thought you said -" he adopted a low, gruff tone, "Tony, do not engage unless I say so."

"Plans change," Steve shot back, "or can you not handle it?"

He ignored the expected spluttered protests and gestured to the twins. "You know where they are?"

"Yeah," Tuffnut replied, "hey! Barf and Belch! Show the fine gentleman to the spies."

The Zippleback appeared outside the window - which, Steve noted as he crossed over a few guards to get to it, had been melted away rather than broken - and dipped down to let the soldier climb onto the meeting point of the two necks. Steve nearly thanked the twins, but decided against it as Ruffnut attempted to hand him the teacup before their dragon flew off.

The trip was short, and soon enough Steve found himself outside the window of a new area of the ship, which was filled with computers. The spies in question were stood around one of said computers, appearing to be bickering.

"I thought you two were securing the engine room," Steve said, folding his arms as the two turned to him, both equally unsurprised by his presence.

"We totally did that on the way over," Clint dismissed. "I thought you were supposed to be securing the hostages then getting that Baltroc guy?"

"Twins already did the first, I let Tony do the second," Steve explained, still unimpressed, "What are you doing here?"

"Backing up the files," Natasha said, in a tone Steve couldn't discern as serious or mocking. "It's good practice."

Indeed, there was a red line on the computer screen indicating some sort of download, that appeared to be almost complete.

"Fine," Steve allowed, "Now we just need to wait for Tony to take down Batroc -"

As if summoned by Steve's words, Tony flew through the window - one not already broken, meaning that Steve had to put his shield up against the sudden influx of flying glass shards - clinging onto another, far less armored, man. Once he hit the floor, he pulled a metal clad fist back and socked the stranger in the face with the powered glove.

"Baltroc, I presume?"

Tony's head shot over to the three already in the room, and his faceplate flipped up as he moved backwards off the man. "Having a party?" he asked in lieu of an answer, "Without me?" He walked to meet the group, and joined in on watching the computer screen.

"I thought you were 'totally capable' of taking that guy," Steve teased.

Tony huffed. "He's surprisingly capable of taking a hit," he defended. The computer pinged before Tony could decide whether it was worth explaining further, and he neatly grabbed the USB from the computer before Natasha could take it. "So, taking SHIELD secrets now?" he tsked, "What would Fury think?"

Steve scowled at the USB - he was definitely going to talk to Fury later about actually telling people what was going on on a mission. His furrowed brow raised in surprise when he heard Tony's blaster firing up. He turned to Baltroc, who was sure enough picking himself up off the floor - Tony wasn't kidding about his ability to take a hit - and preparing to throw -

"Don't!" Steve yelled, tackling Tony's blaster from the side. The pulse of energy was set off course, but still managed a glancing blow at the grenade Baltroc had just thrown. It exploded on impact, catching the enemy in the midst of his escape, but the fiery blast also carried over to where the four avengers stood.

In the split second he had to react, Steve grabbed his shield and raised it to his chest, then grabbed the nearest spy - Natasha - and curled up so that she was protected by the vibranium Tony, realising his mistake, reached round and put Clint behind him, then put an arm out to anchor himself and the archer to the shield. Steve grimaced as heat lapped violently round the edges of the metal, heating the section he was holding to uncomfortable levels, and he felt grateful that Tony had been forced to create more heatproof armour after Toothless's flame blasted close to him one too many times.

As soon as the initial wave of energy dissipated, taking out the rest of the windows as it did, Tony picked up his singed companions and flew as close to the ceiling as he could, pausing only to confirm that Baltroc had been hit as he shot out of the burning room. As soon as they were out in the suddenly much colder air, Tony set them down on the deck.

"Whoops."

Fury wasn't that surprised when more Avengers came to give him the report of the mission than he'd sent to do said mission in the first place. It was only a surprise in that Rogers came in with Romanoff and Barton, rather than waiting to confront the director alone, but since they shared transport he didn't think the captain had much choice in the matter.

Romanoff, ever good at reading a situation, simply handed Fury the USB and walked off, and Barton, just as good at trusting his partner, followed suit. The door, fitted with the latest Stark Tech to open and close precisely as needed and only to the right people, had barely closed (seamlessly and silently, though Tony claimed that 'authentic door noises' could be programmed in) when Steve began his inevitable tirade.

"You know, I thought the whole point of making us all live together in Stark's tower was so that we'd trust each other."

Fury briefly entertained the notion of claiming innocence - it was Stark's decision, but he could've easily stopped it - before he responded: "It wasn't a matter of trust. I gave everyone the mission they'd do best at. Yours," he said pointedly, "is not covert information gathering."

"I can't lead a team when other members of the team have another agenda," Steve shot back.

"Nobody can spill the secrets if nobody knows them," Fury justified seamlessly.

"Except you," Steve challenged.

Fury's eye narrowed. Anything he said would go straight to the ears of the Avengers - Tony's in particular. "I do share," he denied, and walked away from his desk towards the door, which opened with a slight telling noise. Steve, sensing the expectation to follow, did so.

"And then," Steve sat on one of Tony's couches, TV on and forgotten in the background. He was glaring down at his hands presently, recounting the tale of his SHIELD visit to Fishlegs and Eret. "Fury was trying to sell it to me!" He felt somewhat like a gossiping school child, but his anger dictated he press on. "These new long range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute," he repeated in a mocking voice, "These satelites can read a terrorist's DNA before he can step outside of his spider-hole. It can neutralise threats before they even happen!"

Fishlegs looked at him blankly. "So, that's a bad thing?"

"Yes! It's not freedom, it's fear." He deflated. "I don't know what it was like in your time, but the war I was fighting, the whole reason I ended up seventy years in the future..." He stood up, grabbed his jacket and made towards the door.

"Steve?"

"Come on guys, I can just show you."

Steve was beginning to regret his hasty decision to go out. At the very least he should've made his Viking companions change clothes to something more... current.

"I'm not sure I like these... museums," Fishlegs admitted, as yet another child came over, posing in front of him while their parent took pictures.

"There isn't even a Viking exhibit..." Steve muttered, low enough to not draw attention to himself. Personally, he was just glad that no one had properly recognised them. "And even if there was one, we're not in it." The overhead commentary documenting Steve's life was proof enough of that.

"I don't know," Eret said, "It's sure been an informative trip. I hadn't thought about what could happen if people like Drago got new weapons like this..." He trailed off, gesturing to the image of Steve liberating a camp in one hand and scratching his chest with the other.

Fishlegs nodded sympathetically. "On a lighter note - I guess you were famous even before the whole save-the-world thing, hey Steve?"

Steve nodded. Being surrounded by reminders of his soldier days had prompted a memory of his run. Even though it had only been a day ago, it felt like ages since he'd met the other soldier... Sam, he remembered. "Hey, while we're out, I can think of something a bit less depressing to do."

Apparently this time, Eret and Fishlegs wanted an actual explanation of where they were being dragged off to.

"So, the guy we met yesterday morning?" Fishlegs checked. "How do you know where he is?"

"He mentioned something, didn't he?" Eret said thoughtfully. "An acronym. I guess that was a place name?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed. "That's where we're going." He pointed to said building, which wasn't too far ahead of them now. "I just wanna talk to him, maybe 'vague'," he said this, another one of Tony's odd adjective-verbs, slowly, in finger quotes, "about the mission. He was a soldier once; he should understand."

"Plus it'll - what did he say? - make him look good for a girl?" Eret tacked on, smiling.

Conversation stopped for the rest of the short walk - the two Vikings watched as Steve talked to someone as they waked through the doors (who, they noticed, most definitely recognised the superhero), who eventually pointed them in the direction of another room. Inside, they could just about see Sam stood at a small podium, addressing a small group of people.

"-is it gonna be in a big suitcase, or a little man purse?" Steve could hear him saying as they got closer to the entrance. He stopped just outside the door, and Sam gave him a slight glance of recognition before continuing: "It's up to you."

The trio had to wait as people milled around, chatting to each other or coming to Sam with questions. Eventually though, enough people had trickled out of the room that Sam deemed it acceptable to approach his visitors.

"Look who it is," he smiled, "the time travelling trio."

Steve gave a slight laugh. "That was a good speech," he said, nodding his head over in the direction of the podium with a small, friendly smile. "Pretty intense."

"Yeah man, we all got the same problems..." he looked off to the side in thought, "guilt, regret."

Steve nodded along. The way Sam spoke... "You lose someone?"

Sam nodded. "My wing-man," he said, "Riley." He looked off to the side, obviously lost in thought as he described the event: "We were out on a standard mission, nothing we hadn't done before, 'till an RPG knocked Riley's dumb ass out of the sky." He closed his eyes briefly, lost in the thought, then shook his head slightly. "There was nothing I could do; it was like I was up there just to watch."

Steve was reminded suddenly of the train journey over seventy years ago, trying desperately to just grab Bucky's hand, watching as his grip failed and his best friend slipped away into the snowy abyss. "I'm sorry," he said eventually.

"Yeah, after that, it felt like there was no reason to be up there, y'know?" Sam paused, then looked to Fishlegs and Eret. "So, what about you three?"

The Vikings by his side had gone silent during the exchange, and startled at the question directed at them. "Mostly waiting for a way back home," Fishlegs admitted. "New York is nice and all, but we have to get back to Berk..."

Eret's face fell. "I'd kinda forgotten," he said, "if we've been gone to them for as long as we've been here, who knows what's happening..." He looked up to Sam, who looked a little confused, "It's not just us two here," he explained. "There's seven of us, including the chief of Berk."

Sam nodded. "Vikings and dragons, I guess modern life's been really slow to you guys."

Fishlegs shrugged. "We've had our fair share of adventures while we've been here; you guys really seem to have an alien problem."

Sam laughed. "I guess we do. And you?" he said, nodding back to Steve, "you thinkin' of gettin' out?"

"No," Steve said, instinctively, then thought about the latest mission, the new Project Insight... "I don't know," he looked across to the Vikings, out of time but with a time to go back to, "I don't know what I'd do with myself."

"Man, you could do anything you wanted!" Sam said, grinning, "what about..." he paused, looking around as though for inspiration, "ultimate fighting?"

Eret laughed suddenly. "I think he might get banned - there'd be no competition."

Steve smiled. "We could get the whole team in on it, make it more even." He pictured Tony, sans suit, going up against Natasha, and laughed.

"Look, see," Sam grinned, "perfect plan just off the top of your head!"

Fury slowed to a stop at the traffic lights. Another car rolled up beside him, and he spared a glance over to the two men, each wearing police uniform. For a moment, he simply engaged them in a stare-off.

"You wanna see my lease?" he said, finally, and was met with a brief blare of their siren before the car set off, lights back to green.

Fury himself paused momentarily. The car showed no signs of further activity, so he started off again to cross the junction -

- and was immediately blindsided by another car. Fury's vision was obscured by the sudden sideways motion, then the airbag deploying. It took a few seconds to recover from the sudden assault, by which time the car was blocked by two more police cars, and more were crowding around it.

"Fracture detected," the computer informed him, flashing up a visual of his arm. Now that the initial shock was wearing off, Fury could tell that for himself. "Anesthetic recommended."

Fury grabbed the needle as it became available to him, and jabbed it in his arm with practiced ease. Outside the car, the police men - probably not, Fury thought, as the pain subsided and his head cleared, actually police men - had disembarked for the most part, and all had guns out.

"Police dispatch has no record of cops in this area," the computer informed him, apparently working on the same suspicion (a small part of Fury was always creeped out by the thinking power of the AI tech, installed by Tony).

"Get me out of here," he snapped, watching the men come closer.

"Propulsion not online -"

"Then reboot!" Fury shouted over the gunfire, glaring at the image of the broken machinery.

Fury glanced back outside as the gunfire ceased. Apparently guns weren't doing the job quickly enough, because they were now taking out a battering ram. He watched, unable to do anything, as they set it up.

"Window integrity compromised."

He flinched slightly as the first hit connected, leaving a noticeable dent in the glass. "Window integrity at 31%, deploying countermeasures"

Fury looked out of the window. More men were congregating around the battering ram. "Hold that order."

The second hit came seconds later, leaving the window almost entirely cracked. "Window integrity: 19%, offensive measures advised."

Fury glared at the screen for a moment: "Wait!"

The battering ram connected for a third time.

"Window integrity: 1%."

"Now!" Fury shouted. A gun sprang up, already aimed at the correct window, which Fury grabbed. He held down the trigger, taking out the men closest to the window, and a few others nearby, before anyone could return fire.

"Propulsion is online." the computer informed.

"Full acceleration, now!" Fury shouted, trusting the computer to drive him away while he concentrated on his attackers.

The car sped away from the police cars on autopilot. As he was given a brief reprieve from the fight, Fury considered his options. If he could make a distraction and slip away in it...

"Contact Stark," he said, moving back into the drivers seat.

"Communications system offline," the computer replied in its emotionless tone.

Damn. There went plan A. "Initiate vertical takeoff."

"Flight systems damaged."

Fury rolled his eyes. "What's not damaged?" he asked.

"Air conditioning fully operational."

Fury grit his teeth. "Son of a- then activate guidance cameras!" he shouted. "And gimme the wheel!"

With control of the wheel, Fury weaved through the traffic, looking for the smallest gaps he could fit through in hopes that the police cars trailing him wouldn't be able to follow. For a while this plan was going smoothly, but of course it couldn't last.

"Traffic ahead," the computer warned, and Fury growled as the screen displayed the new route as it was calculated. He sped through a small gap between two cars as the rest of the vehicles on the road slowed down, passing by just as the traffic stopped and the police cars directly behind him were cut off.

Whoever was after him, they were persistent. They jumped up out of the cars almost immediately, brandishing their guns and unafraid to shoot them into the quickly panicking public. Fury weaved desperately through the newly abandoned cars, willing now to barrel into some of them to remove them from his path. The gunmen had caught up to him, and he was forced to lean right back into his seat to avoid being shot through the hole smashed into the window.

As he was forced into moving slowly, Fury took stock of the other men. There was one directly behind him, easily taken out by a quick reversal, one hiding behind a bus - the one who'd nearly got him, and two others that he could take out fairly swiftly just in the car. It was satisfying to watch the fake officer fly into a shop window fast enough to break it, but Fury didn't stick around for any more of the aftermath. There were two more cars to deal with.

Speaking of which - now that he was out of the traffic, Fury could resume weaving through cars, but that had the caveat of allowing his pursuers to speed up too. And as police cars, the public were more willing to give them a wider berth. It only took seconds for the first car to match Fury's pace.

Taking the offense first, Fury rammed his car into the side of the other vehicle. The pseudo-officer not currently driving leant out of the window with a gun, but it was close enough that Fury could grab it himself, so the bullets fired off harmlessly straight into the other bulletproof pane of glass. On the other side of the road, the second police car had pulled up to flank its target.

"Warning," the computer piped up as Fury wrestled for control of the gun - a difficult task with one arm pre-incapacitated. "Intersection ahead." The image on the screen showed the incoming traffic at said intersection, and Fury thought fast.

Unfortunately, the attackers hadn't received the same warning, so when Fury slammed on the brakes the two cars continued out into the intersection, at which point they were rammed into with some force by an incoming lorry. Once car achieved some airtime from the forceful punt, while the other skidded off to the side, heavily dented.

Fury couldn't really find it in himself to care at the probable deaths of those inside.

Once the lorry had come to a halt, Fury swung the car round the corner. After a few seconds in which no one new came out of nowhere to attack him, Fury turned his attention to more long term plans. "Get me off the grid," he ordered shortly.

As the computer began calculating a new route, Fury squinted through the front window, almost cracked so badly now that he couldn't see through. There seemed to be something on the road.

Fury realised too late that the something was a man, who was holding what was clearly some kind of weapon. There was just enough time to register the disc that came flying out of said weapon before the car was exploding and gravity was non-existent and there was heat everywhere and where was a weapon, any weapon, and -

- suddenly Fury found himself on the ground, positioned extremely awkwardly upside down. He had managed to grab a blow-torch in the momentary confusion, and wasted no time in using it.

By the time the black-clad figure made it to the wreckage, Fury had already made like a ninja turtle and retreated to the sewers.

By the time they'd finished talking with Sam, it was beginning to get dark. "We should probably get a cab back," Steve said, looking at the setting sun.

"A cab? We could be back in ten minutes if we call for Meatlug or -"

Steve leveled Fishlegs a flat look. "We're in public," he said, voice equally flat as his expression. "Just because Tony makes a point of causing a spectacle everywhere he goes doesn't mean we have to."

"Cab it is then!" Eret said with false cheer. He walked to the edge of the pavement, where soon enough a yellow car pulled up. "Come on guys."

Eret opened the cab door somewhat awkwardly, then hesitated.

"You going to get in..." Steve walked up to the car, and also paused. The driver - who was Nick Fury, for some reason - glared at him heavily and the soldier gave his Viking friend a push. All three Avengers climbed into the vehicle silently.

The silence lasted until the cab had pulled away from the curb and was moving slowly through the early evening traffic. "Sir," Fishlegs started.

The flash of a screen in the front of a car gave him pause. Written clearly on the phone's notes section was a short message, EARS EVERYWHERE.

"Where to?" Fury asked, oddly casual. The screen flickered to another message, SHIELD COMPROMISED.

"Stark Tower," Steve said. He paused, then continued in a forced friendly tone, "So, how's business? Had many customers?"

"A few," Fury said. YOU AND ME. "So, Stark Tower, wha-"

Halfway through a word, Fury was cut off by several gunshots. The car came to a sudden stop, and Fury's head slumped down onto the wheel. Eret immediately started fiddling with the door on his side, as did Fishlegs, and Steve leant forwards to check Fury. The man's head had not moved, and Steve could already see the blood beginning to pool out from multiple bullet holes, but it was the shaking hand that caught his attention most.

Fury handed Steve a USB - faintly, he recognised it as the one Natasha had been using - pressing it into the soldier's hand as forcefully as he could as a man who could barely raise his arm. "Don't..." he said, exerting some effort to raise his head slightly as he did so, "trust... anyone."

Before Steve could question that - who was included in everyone? Just SHIELD, or even the two Vikings sharing the cab? - Eret managed to work out the cab door, and the three who hadn't been shot piled out of the car. A dark figure, with shoulder length hair and questionable taste in eye shadow, apparent even from the distance away he stood, watched the scene with apparent lack of interest, making no effort to hide his gun.

Tony was perhaps not the best person to be the first to find Fishlegs, Eret and Steve, but he was.

"Whoa!" he laughed awkwardly, holding his arms out to halt the small stampede. "What's got all your panties in a twist?"

"Fury was driving our taxi," Fishlegs gasped, eyes wide. "He -"

"Fury is keeping 24/7 tabs on us?" Tony interrupted, sounding disappointed. "Damn. I totally should've called that, now I owe Clint -"

"Would you be serious for one second?" Steve snapped shortly. He watched Tony's features briefly flit to surprised, then he visibly reassessed the situation, and his expression became one of understanding. Steve breathed a mental sigh of relief and gestured in Fishlegs' general direction for him to continue.

"Fury was shot by this weird... lone assassin type guy. Guy bolted right after; by the time the dragons responded to our calls he'd escaped."

"... Damn," Tony said, filling the silence that hung in the air but doing nothing to dissuade the lowered atmosphere. "So, what happened to Fury?"

"SHIELD agents took him to one of their medical centers, I think," Steve said. "We don't know any more than you do at this point, but we had to come back and tell you."

Tony tactfully didn't crack a joke about the collective inability to use a mobile phone, though it was a close thing. Instead, he simply nodded, and turned his head up to the ceiling. "You hear that J?"

"Yes, sir," the AI confirmed. "Should I inform the rest of the Avengers?"

Steve nodded. "We'll prepare a QUINJET, tell the others to meet us on the roof."