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[right][b]AL-DOHA
QURAC
LOCAL TIME 1920 (UTC +3)[/b][/right]

Sam Wilson was born to fly. Knifing through the red-orange Quraci sky, he soared over the capital, propelled by ionic thrusters barely louder than a whisper. Al-Doha had clearly seen a lot of violence; the streets were littered with debris from half-destroyed buildings and torn-up streets. The damage told a story of decades of instability, the destruction layered over the years like chipping coats of paint. In the distance, Sam spotted the lights of the weapons factory. He drew his wings in closer and accelerated to investigate.

[i][b]BOOM![/b][/i]

Sam was rocked by a shockwave, and the air surrounding him grew hot and bright. Rolling with the momentum, Sam spiraled away from the explosion and banked hard to his right. Another burst chased him, the sound almost deafening at such close range. He was under attack. Spreading his wings, Sam caught a wind current and made a quick ascent. This time, he saw the muzzle flash from the ground below; the shot whistled past him and exploded overhead. Sam had to spin to avoid the falling shrapnel. [color=9e0b0f]"They're trying to clip my wings,"[/color] he reported over the comms as he kept on climbing. [color=9e0b0f]"I need someone to deal with the anti-aircraft guns."[/color]

[color=662d91][b]"Already on it,"[/b][/color] came Barton's voice, barely audible over the roar of an engine. Down below, Hawkeye weaved through the crumbling streets on a motorcycle. There were combatants in the blasted-out windows, peppering the ground around him with bullets. Flipping a switch on the dashboard to "AUTOPILOT," Hawkeye reached back and drew an arrow from his quiver; he turned at the waist and raised his bow. The arrow sailed through the sky, seemingly aimed nowhere, until the phosphorous tip erupted in a blinding flash. Barton spun back around and took the wheel again. A shoddy barricade raced up to meet him, and he had to turn sharply to avoid it.

[color=662d91][b]"I'm cut off. Trying to find another way around,"[/b][/color] Barton reported.

[color=darkgray]"I will handle it."[/color]

The Liberator manning the cannon ground his teeth and squinted at the sky. The infiltrator was too small; it was difficult to track him. Over the radio, he heard his comrades shouting about Americans on the street. He trusted that they would hold position. Just then, a glint of something caught his eye. He spotted the flyer again and brought the cannon to bear. Bombshells rocked the sky as he fired shot after shot, waiting for a direct hit. Even were he not so distracted with his task, he never would have heard the gentle footsteps behind him. A shining blade of folded steel pierced his chair's metal backing, the inch or so of uncomfortable padding, his ceramic body armor, and lastly his back and chest. He slumped in the operator's chair, dead.

Beneath a half-mask of porcelain white, Katana's face betrayed no emotion at the kill. As she drew her sword back from the fresh corpse, the blade swirled with a glowing green mist; the steel seemed to drink the mist eagerly until, with an emerald flash, nothing remained but the man's blood. Sheathing her weapon, Katana pressed a finger to her ear and announced, [color=darkgray]"Falcon, the sky is clear. You may make your approach."[/color]

[b][color=ed1c24]"[/color][color=0054a6]I hope that's an open invitation,[/color][color=ed1c24]"[/color][/b] called out Captain America as he sprinted down Al-Doha's main thoroughfare. Like Barton, he found himself set on all sides by entrenched Liberators, but he merely kept his shield up and bulldozed on ahead. A grenade came flying at his head; with a swing of his shield, Cap deflected it off to the building on his left -- a blasted-out tenement building, from the looks of it -- which quaked from the force of the explosion. Cap watched as a tandem of Liberators began mounting a machine gun behind a barricade at the end of the street. He reared back and heaved his shield, connecting with the man holding the ammunition belt and sending him sprawling. Jumping and sliding over the hood of a car chassis, Captain America caught his shield and rolled as the gunner opened fire. He ducked behind a half-wall for cover.

Rogers was pinned down. Turning his shield to face the machine gun meant leaving himself exposed on his flanks. Even now, the ground around his feet cascaded in a dozen tiny craters from stray bullets around him. He couldn't risk sticking his head up to assess the problem without losing it. All he could think was how long it had been since he was in a live-fire situation and how effortlessly his instincts were coming back to him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the remains of a moving truck... and the opportunity it presented. After calculating the proper angle, Cap let his shield rip. With a loud [i]"clang!"[/i] it deflected off the truck and out of sight. A moment later, the gunner's fire suddenly stopped.

Captain America threw himself over the half-wall just in time to see his shield racing back to him, having completed its circuit. He caught it in midair and sprinted at the gunner's position. The man was quick to recover, hurriedly bringing the gun to bear, but Captain America was already upon him; grabbing the machine gun beneath its barrel, Cap turned it up and away just moments before the firing resumed. The bullets screamed over Cap's shoulder harmlessly. With his shield arm, Cap bashed the gunner in his teeth, downing him once and for all.

That's when Rogers noticed that the second Liberator he had knocked over earlier currently had a gun trained at his chest. Before either of them could make a move, an arrowhead burst through the man's shoulder from behind. With a cry, he dropped his weapon, and Captain America leapt over the barricade to deliver a disabling kick to the face. At the intersection ahead, Hawkeye sat atop his motorcycle, twirling an arrow. [color=662d91][b]"Lose a step, old man?"[/b][/color] he taunted playfully.

[b][color=ed1c24]"[/color][color=0054a6]I'd still be a lifetime ahead of you,[/color][color=ed1c24]"[/color][/b] Rogers countered.

[b][color=silver]"If you boys are done measuring,"[/color][/b] Diana interjected, somewhat less than amused, [b][color=silver]"the rest of us could use help taking this factory."[/color][/b]

Grimly, Rogers nodded. As Hawkeye sped off, Cap tightened his shield's straps and continued his sprint towards the Liberator weapons facility. Before long, the factory rose on the horizon towards him. Its surrounding walls were ten feet high and topped with barbed wire, but the gates had already been blown open. As Captain America approached, a previously disabled sentry rose and hurried to impede the intruder; Cap was on him before he could even get his gun raised, driving an elbow into the man's gut and knocking him away with the same hand. Inside, the factory was chaos. SHIELD's intelligence about the Liberators' fortifications had been right. The insurgents had mounted their full force to meet the Americans.

Falcon whistled by overhead, exchanging gunfire with the Liberators on the ground. Rogers heard the distinct [i]thwick![/i] of Hawkeye's arrows finding targets. And every so often, there'd be a moving blur and a flash of steel before an unaware combatant would fall dead on the battlefield, another victim to Katana's blade. The only one Rogers [i]couldn't[/i] see was Diana Prince, who must've already pushed past the courtyard. For his part, Captain America took on all comers, angling his shield tosses to disable multiple targets in a single throw and engaging anyone foolish enough to get within hand-to-hand range. Team 7 was a well-oiled machine, and this little militia just couldn't match up.

As if on cue, the screeching of metal drew Captain America's attention to the far end of the courtyard. The hangar opposite them had begun to open its doors, and a massive tank was rolling out. No sooner had Rogers recognized it than the tank's cannon began to swivel in his general direction. Cap barely had time to call out, [b][color=ed1c24]"[/color][color=0054a6]Take cover![/color][color=ed1c24]"[/color][/b] before a bombshell whistled past him and created a brand new hole in the factory's exterior wall. Rogers held his shield over his head to protect himself from falling debris. As the tank continued rolling forwards, realigning its barrel for a follow-up shot, Cap began running parallel to the courtyard's wall. He pressed a finger to his ear and announced, [b][color=ed1c24]"[/color][color=0054a6]Hoplite! I need you to open a jar of pickles for me.[/color][color=ed1c24]"[/color][/b]

[b][color=silver]"Already closing in on your position, Cap,"[/color][/b] reported Diana.

It was small comfort as Rogers found himself staring down the end of the tank's barrel. Bracing himself, he flinched for a dive when suddenly, a blur of white came crashing down from above. The tank fired, but its cannon had been knocked off-target, and the shot missed wildly. Landing in a cloud of dust and sand, Hoplite rose to her feet, thick chains wrapped around each arm. With her back to Steve, she stared down the tank as it brought its weapon to bear once more.

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Captain America was almost speechless. It had been too long since he watched Diana work. Looking back at her Captain, Hoplite clapped the dirt from her hands and asked, [b][color=silver]"Isn't there somewhere you need to be?"[/color][/b] The words were accusatory, but the tone belied a wink between old friends. Regardless, it shook Cap from his stupor and urged him to head inside the factory. As he ran past, Hoplite bent the cannon barrel for good measure and delivered a sharp kick to the jaw of a Liberator who had tried crawling out of the disabled tank.

Once inside, Captain America found himself overwhelmed. The weapons factory was bigger than he could have ever imagined. Fury was right to go after the Liberators when he did; Cap could only imagine the kinds of weapons that could come from an outfit this big. His presence having raised the alarm, Rogers soon found himself under fire from the Liberators in the catwalks above, while the unarmed workers ran for cover. Many of them, he noted, were villagers. No better than slave labor. With a heave of his shield, Cap buckled one of the support struts for the catwalks on his right, sending the guards tumbling twenty feet to the factory floor below. He caught the shield on the run and did the same for the catwalks on the left.

At the end of the factory was an office, raised one floor off the ground and accessed by a flight of iron stairs. Rogers knew if he could get there, he could disable the whole place. So he ran. But he had made it no more than halfway across the building when a figure darted out in front of his path. The new challenger held a glowing, red weapon, which he swung at Rogers' head. Captain America dropped to his knees and slid under the attack, popping back to his feet and spinning to face his attacker. He recognized him immediately from Fury's briefing packets.

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[color=9e0b0f][b]"So, you [i]are[/i] real,"[/b][/color] the Colonel said dispassionately. He took another swing, and at this range, Cap got a better view of his weapon; it appeared to be some kind of energy staff, and wherever its "blade" touched, there was a shower of sparks and molten metal. As Captain America raised his shield in defense, he found out that luckily, it wasn't hot enough to cut through the shield's vibranium alloy. Still, he felt the heat on his face as Abdul al-Rahman pressed the staff down harder, sneering, [color=9e0b0f][b]"I've heard the stories."[/b][/color]

Cap pushed back, knocking the Colonel off-balance and buying himself some breathing room. He threw a jab at the Colonel's ribs, but the new Super-Soldier knocked it away effortlessly with an elbow. Another swipe with the staff forced Rogers to block low, opening himself up to get smacked in the teeth with the Colonel's other hand. Rogers had to catch himself on a nearby work bench to avoid falling to one knee.

[color=9e0b0f][b]"They say you are a ghost,"[/b][/color] the Colonel continued. With frightening speed, he brought the end of the staff down where Cap's hand had been. The weapon cleaved through the metal work bench with little resistance. Captain America spun away and reestablished a defensive stance. [color=9e0b0f][b]"America's faceless hero. But out here? You're not a ghost; you're the bogeyman."[/b][/color] The Colonel lunged forward, the end of his staff screeching as it scraped off Cap's shield. Al-Rahman was toying with him, testing his defenses. Cap readied himself for the [i]real[/i] strike. [color=9e0b0f][b]"You are the fist of a regime that takes what it wants. America's brutal enforcer. The monster parents warn their children about at night."[/b][/color] He feinted before coming at Rogers with an overhead strike.

Anticipating the attack, Captain America blocked with his shield and threw a standing kick into the Colonel's chest. His opponent spun out of the hit, recovering in time to deflect the follow-up; he redirected Cap's shield arm and kneed the American in the abdomen. As the air rushed from Cap's lungs, he felt a sharp [i]"crack!"[/i] from a hard cross to the jaw. A feeble attempt to raise his shield was much too slow to protect Rogers from a slash across the shoulder. The wound burned as the hot blade immediately cauterized it. Cap yelped and stumbled back a step.

The Colonel was relentless, indefatigable. He probed at Rogers' shield arm with a series of quick jabs; Cap was quick enough to get his shield up, but only barely. His arm screamed in pain every time he lifted it. Al-Rahman exploited the new weakness by alternating high and low swipes. Once he had Cap's shield up, he kicked the side of the American's knee and nearly buckled it. An upward slash caught more fabric than skin, but Cap still felt a stinging burn from abs to chest. He swiped at the Colonel's feet, hoping to knock his opponent to the ground, but the Quraci merely stomped on top of the shield and pinned it to the floor. He followed through with a hard heel kick that finally put Captain America on his back.

[color=9e0b0f][b]"It would have been a hell of a fight when you were in your prime,"[/b][/color] the Colonel observed, looming over Rogers like a hungry tiger. At that moment, more of his men arrived. The Colonel didn't take his eyes off Captain America as he listened to their report about the Americans' progress outside; evidently, the resistance would soon fall. [color=9e0b0f][b]<<"We have what we need. Burn the rest; the Americans can have the ashes,">>[/b][/color] al-Rahman answered in his native tongue. When they were alone again, the Colonel addressed the Captain, [color=9e0b0f][b]"Like your empire, your time is at an end."[/b][/color] The building was starting to go up in flames, so al-Rahman powered down his weapon and holstered it. He turned and walked away, leaving Rogers to burn.

Moments later, the rest of Team 7 burst into the factory and lobbied shots in pursuit of the fleeing Liberators, but they were already too late. Eventually, the collapse of the factory took priority, and they knew they had to let al-Rahman escape. Aided to his feet by a combination of Falcon and Katana, Captain America stumbled in the direction of the door as rafters began to fall all around them; Hoplite held the largest of these up so that the team could duck under. Once they were outside, Rogers fell to his knees and began to see stars crowding his vision. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Hawkeye, aided by SHIELD agents, rounding up the captured Liberators in the yard...