'Damn it,' Sam growled. Footsteps on the roof of the truck, and Redwing quickly glided out from the space between them. The sound of gunfire reached them as Redwing began firing on the Flag Smashers, and Clara narrowed her eyes at the man, waiting for him to join the fight himself. He did, just as soon at the connection with Redwing dropped, and he swore in frustration. 

From within the truck, Clara heard Barnes yelling to Sam, followed by the noise of many hard impacts and a series of painful groans. Clara stayed sat on the storage container for a little longer, sighing in annoyance as she imagined what Peter would be saying if he knew about this. 'They're in trouble, Clara! We can't just sit around doing nothing - we gotta help!' 

But Peter wasn't here, so she... 'Great,' she mumbled, knowing that whether he was here on not, whether it was his voice in her head or her own, she couldn't stand by when people needed help. 

God, did she hate being a good person.  

As far as she strayed from that fact, as much as she tried to distance herself from, well, herself, she couldn't fight the instincts that made her who she was. If she ever did, then she didn't deserve the abilities she inherited. 

Once making sure her backpack was secure in place, the straps buckled together at the front, she started towards the doors, climbing on top of the truck and using the containers to clamber over the lip of the roof. On one truck, the one she was also standing on, she could see Barnes being held back by a man and a woman. On the other, Sam was on his back with two of the Flag Smashers standing over him. 

Clara hadn't completed much combat training, so she knew that if the Falcon and the Winter Soldier both couldn't fight them easily, she'd stand no chance. Looking between each person fighting, her mind began running over each action she could take to be able to help. 

The variables to consider changed again, however, when the thrumming of a helicopter's blades grew louder and louder until the vehicle was hovering above them. 

From within the helicopter appeared a man dressed in red and blue from head to toe. On his left arm was a shield, rings of red an white circling the star in the centre. 

The new Captain America.

As soon as the first man found his feet atop the moving truck, another man swung past on a thick black rope, dressed in full tactical gear, also with the colours of the American flag covering most of his attire. 

When the second man landed on the truck beside the first, he kicked out at one of the Flag Smashers, using the velocity of his downward arc to take the woman from her feet. Luckily for her, she managed to cling onto the edge of the roof.

Clara's expression hardened when she saw the curly ginger hair beneath the straps of the mask. That was the one she was looking for - the leader of the Flag Smashers, Karli Morgenthau. She wondered how difficult it would be to take her out then and there, even knowing that stopping her wouldn't stop the group. 

But Karli was the one making the decisions to attack the GRC. She was the one choosing to attack the groups of men and woman just doing their jobs - it didn't matter that they were working for a big bad corporation; they had family, they had brothers and sisters, they had sons and daughters. 

Karli was the one choosing to blow buildings to pieces while knowing full-well she could injure dozens of people at any one time, all to send a message. 

Clara had gotten the message all right. This was war, and Karli Morgenthau was the one leading the charge. 

She was the one that Clara needed to stop more than any other. 

'John Walker, Captain America,' the first man called over the noise of the traffic, pulling Clara from her dark thoughts just in time for her to step aside and avoid another man charging for Barnes. 

'Lemar Hoskins,' the second said.

'Looks like you guys could use some help,' John Walker commented. He was right on that front of course, but with Sam and Barnes now free from the Flag Smasher's grip, and two more players joining them on the field, Clara thought she probably wasn't as needed as she had been a few moments earlier. 

With the surface of the two trucks becoming a little crowded, Clara decided now would be a good time to get the fight off of the road. 

Cars were swerving around them as pieces of debris were torn from the lorries, and on her way to the truck's cab, she paused a few times to save the civilians from damaged windscreens and ruined paintjobs. Clara cast forcefields hued with a lilac glow when ever she saw the impact of the metal shards being hazardous to those around them, and the debris was deflected to the sides of the road. 

Making it past one of the fighting duos, Clara noticed the passenger side window had at some point been smashed in. That would be the route for her to take. She figured if she could get inside, she'd be able to persuade the driver to pull over to somewhere safe. 

They only issue with that plan was figuring out exactly how to get the driver to do as asked. Obviously she wasn't going to win them over with her words, so it would mean either using force or manipulation, neither of which Clara had much hope in working. 

Prepared to catch herself in the case of her slipping, Clara carefully maneuvered her way down to the passenger side door. Finding a foothold beside a wheel arch, she reached for the door handle to keep steady. Having seen the doors were locked, she didn't need to worry about accidentally pulling it open, and she continued to hold on. 

What she didn't account for, however, was the driver swerving in an attempt to prevent the Falcon from swooping between the trucks. As the two vehicles came dangerously close to flattening her between them, Clara reached out her other hand to grab onto the broken window, tucking herself into the outside surface of the door.

Realising her mistake as soon as she did it, she cried out in pain as broken glass sunk into her palm. The driver looked over, his mask hiding the look of shock plastered across his face, and he immediately shifted position. 'Oh, no...' Clara muttered, watching as the wide-framed man lifted one foot to slam it into the door. 

Holding onto the door any harder didn't help the girl, the chunk of metal coming free of the hinges entirely, sending Clara flying across the road and into a field full of knee-high weeds. 

She nearly didn't have enough time to bring a shield into guard, but she did, and she managed a much softer landing than the two men that followed her. 

Sitting up, her legs stretched out in front of her, she followed the sight of the door rolling along beside her, teetering on it's edge for a moment before tipping over and hitting the ground with a thud. 

Her left hand stung, but not so badly that the annoyance she felt in that moment couldn't mask the pain. She raised her palm to see the small gash, less of a cut and more of a graze. One red piece of the window was tucked under some skin, but wiping the wound over her jeans cleared it of both the glass and the blood. 

Lifting her other hand, her fingers clamped around something with her anger level still rising, she saw she was still clutching onto the handle of the door lying a few feet away from her. 

She looked down at the road as the trucks sped out of view, and she sucked in a deep breath, her muscles shaking, and the anger she had been feeling was quickly becoming a fury. 

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