Armored boots make a pattering with how light the Captain is running. He’s zipping through, though there are a few stumbling blocks like giant robots and smaller flying ones and damn it, he has no time for this today. The shield with his weight behind hit ends up in quite a few metal casings, used as a slicer more than a Frisbee this time around.
All thoughts were focused on one thing: Find Phil.
Shoving the shield onto his back, the Captain hits where the tendrils he’s allowed through his shields are the strongest and finds a closed door. Of course it’s closed and Steve breathes out his nose, focused as he finds the seams of the door. Smoother than the ones on the helicarrier, it takes a bit more jimmying to get his hands into the slot between door and frame before the Captain simply is able to shove it aside into its own mechanics, overriding the controls the old fashioned way.
Control hub. Video feeds of the agents. If it could have been shut down, Phil would have already so nothing he can do there. Agents behind him will be able to figure out the tech. Two people. Both unconscious as far as he can tell. One with knee damage. The other with a broken leg that he can’t quite see.
It’s the latter that he runs to and sinks down next to, yanking off the cowl and reaching gloved hands to Phil’s face. Fuck. How much blood has he lost? The mathematics that ring in Steve’s head aren’t kind and he pushes them away for moving the chair a bit backwards to try and check him for more injuries so he doesn’t cause more by lifting him.
"Phil," he gets out, mental link once more cut off. Steve feels alone, terribly so despite the agent being in front of him, but it’s for the best. "Hey. I’m going to get you out of here, Agent. Two seconds to take in injuries. Just two seconds."