The heavy steel fire-doors to the observation deck burst open under the impact of Captain America’s boots.
Cold, autumn rain slammed sideways across the seventy-story roof of 30 Rockefeller Plaza. Fog curled off the skyscraper edges, blurring the sprawling expanse of Manhattan below into a glittering sea of neon amber and blurred headlights.
"STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" Steve Rogers shouted over the howling wind, his vibranium shield raised as a tactical squad of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents poured out behind him, submachine guns trained on the ledge.
Jack stood at the very precipice of the building, leaning back into the seventy-mile-an-hour wind like a man on a scenic promenade. Rain washed over his powdered face, causing the black makeup around his bloodshot eyes to run in dark, dramatic streaks, making his grin look even more terrifyingly unhinged.
Natasha stood beside him, her black combat suit gleaming wetly under the floodlights, her hand gripping a heavy pneumatic line-launcher. Felicia was baring her titanium claws, balancing effortlessly on the slippery stone parapet.
Through [The Royal Flush Command], the shared neural link buzzed with a high-voltage surge of pure adrenaline. Words weren't needed—every vector, distance calculation, and wind speed adjustment flared in their minds simultaneously.
"Cap!" Jack shrieked happily, cupping his hands around his mouth as rain poured off his royal-purple suit lapels. "You missed the commercial break! We were just wrapping up our exit interview!"
"It's over, Jack," Steve called out, taking a cautious step forward across the slick granite. "The building is surrounded. The airspace is locked down by Quinjets. There's nowhere left to run."
"Oh, Steve... you always think in two dimensions!" Jack rasped, his voice vibrating with [50.0% SYNCHRONIZATION] power. "You see a drop... I see a highway!"
THWIP-KLANG!
Natasha fired the pneumatic launcher straight over the canyon of 50th Street. The titanium grapple bit deep into the structural steel beam of a commercial tower four blocks away, spanning a quarter-mile zipline directly over the abyss.
"AFTER THEM! FIRE!" the S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical commander yelled.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
Before the first bullet cleared the muzzle, Felicia latched her high-friction carabiner onto the cable, vaulting backward into the open sky with a cat-like cheer that echoed into the rainy night!
Natasha grabbed Jack around the waist, locking her arm firmly across his chest. She gave Steve a short, dangerous nod—a quiet farewell from a former comrade—and stepped off the ledge.
"NEXT WEEK ON THE JOKER SHOW: FLYING LESSONS! HAHAHAHA!" Jack screamed as they plummeted into the dark void!
ZRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-WHIRRRRRRR!
The line snapped taut with a violent jerk! The three of them accelerated through the pouring rain, soaring hundreds of feet above the glowing streets of Midtown Manhattan like dark ghosts. Neon signs from Radio City Music Hall and Times Square reflected off the wet glass facades of the skyscrapers as they hurtled through the clouds at sixty miles an hour.
Below them, S.H.I.E.L.D. spotlight beams cut through the fog, desperately trying to lock onto their airborne trajectories, but Jack triggered a pocket flare, filling the aerial gap with a cloud of sparkling, violet smoke that blinded the pursuing Quinjets.
Jack threw his head back against Natasha’s shoulder, his raspy, hysterical laughter ringing out above the roar of the wind and rain, echoing off the concrete towers of New York City.
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