The girl turned around, picked up the coffee on the table, and took a sip. "There's nothing special about it. Isn't this just an ordinary biopharmaceutical company? The firewall looks fancy, but the underlying logical ports are all public. I've already installed a backdoor in the backend. It's all routine reports and business contracts in there... Strange, why can't I find any personal files on Lucian?"
Ward stood rooted to the spot, his hands and feet numb. He stared fixedly at the green access-success notification on Skye's screen, his mind buzzing.
She got in? Just like that? Someone even S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't dare antagonize openly, and some self-taught hacker could breach his core server in three minutes?
This wasn't technical brilliance. This was a trap. It wasn't even a trap-the other side's artificial intelligence was watching a fly with a death wish crash into a spiderweb!
Ward said nothing more. He glanced at Coulson, then at Skye, his heart hammering wildly against his chest. He couldn't die here. Hydra's great undertaking wasn't finished yet. He absolutely couldn't join these self-important idiots in becoming a heap of scrap metal ten thousand meters in the air!
Without a word, Ward turned and headed straight for the equipment storage area at the rear of the plane.
Click! He yanked open a metal locker, pulled out a main parachute pack, and expertly fitted the safety harness over his shoulders and around his upper thighs, hauling the adjustment straps tight.
Fitz gaped, nearly dropping the test tube in his hand. "A-Agent Ward? What are you doing? We're still twenty thousand feet in the air..."
Simmons pushed up her glasses. "We haven't reached the designated airspace yet. Why are you putting on a parachute? Is this a drill?"
Coulson strode over, his tone stern. "Ward, stop what