83  

You help the Hulk lift Woo gently and head straight back to the control room. You’re shooting as many people out of the way as you can; any you miss, the Hulk just juggernauts straight through without dropping or even jolting Agent Woo. The two of you make a good team, and you reach the control room in no time, laying Woo carefully out on the floor so that everyone has their hands free.

You wait, bow drawn, for what seems like ages before there’s a commotion in the corridor outside. Your muscles tense and your fingers twitch on the bowstring, arrow nocked and ready, but when the door flies open, there are people in S.H.I.E.L.D. jumpsuits behind it, and you relax.

One of them reports to you that everyone else has been safely extracted; another kneels beside Woo, tilts his head back, checks his pulse. Her expression is grim when she shakes her head; they are the cavalry, but they’re too late for this rescue.

You’re tired. You’re tired, and you’ve just lost a good agent and a good man, and all you want to do is go to sleep. “Let’s go,” you say, and your voice cracks on the words, but they seem to understand, and they start walking you toward the chopper, promising, you’re going home.

THE END