Lincoln was on edge. No, that's wrong…..
Lincoln was over the edge.
The poor guy was a pale as a ghost and shaking like a victim of hypothermia. His mind was muddled because Daisy was gone. Daisy had been, of course, gone for months, but now she was missing and probably scared and very depressed and, god, did Lincoln feel responsible. Perhaps if he had set down the whiskey for one night and reached out to her, the love of his life, then she would have come home and been safe from the forces of evil that had ripped her away.
Coulson was faring no better, feeling very similar to Lincoln in the respects that he could have done more to help and save her. They both felt so useless and low- but that wasn't going to stop them from getting her back.
A quick scout of the island showed a few things, one being Daisy put up a huge fight- the land itself was split deeply into smaller sections.
Two, there was no trace of any attempted human contact- whoever took Daisy wanted her solely, they were not doing this to send a message or get to the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Three, whoever did this had resources- not only did they have to first have the means to locate Daisy, but they also had to have the proper equipment to capture and transport her, all while being able to cover their tracks.
Coulson surveyed the land before him, taking a deep breath and releasing it. He had to shut-down and go back to being an agent; trained to let go, prepared for loss and for battle. It was hard, horrendously hard to just let go and pretend like the girl he considered his daughter wasn't a miserable wreck in the hands of some other power- but it was the only way he knew how to help. A hard edge developed in his eye; if he couldn't focus on the pain, he would focus on the only other thing he could depend on. His rage. Coulson had always been more of collected man, but then he had died. Then suddenly he was alive again and he built a team that fell apart and then he was director- his new-found life just kept escalating, so he just kept unraveling. There was too much betrayal in loss; with all of this responsibility came anger. The anger had become an arrowhead that directed him through the worst of things, for he could no longer depend on love, and he would let it guide him now. They would get Daisy back.
Lincoln, on the other hand, did not share the same training as the war-hardened director. He couldn't just turn everything off and forget what he was feeling, he couldn't focus on one emotion and push forward. This was killing him.
But Coulson wasn't going to go back on his promise- no more agents were going to fall apart on his watch. He stepped towards the recruit, as if approaching a wounded animal, and placed a sturdy hand on his shoulder. Shoving away any problems he ever had about Lincoln, all his doubts and questions about his loyalty, he spoke out to him, "I know what you're feeling- hurt, lost, panicked- but none of that is going to help her. If you want to get her back and restore what was lost, you need to let your anger be a focal point- keep that at the forefront, and at the core- your passion. For now, those are the only emotions that matter. Everything else is obsolete."
Lincoln struggled to fill his lungs, but he pushed down his perturbation. None of his own insecurities would help him here, so he concentrated on the after and not the now. He thought about helping Daisy back to the base, the rest of the team smiling again- if he could get past this calamity, he could make that a reality.
He balled his fists and lifted his chin. He was going to get her back and become the best damn agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. if it killed him.
"Where do we start," he questioned, already walking to the quinjet. Nothing else would help them here, and if they were going to get leads then they had to leave. Now.
Coulson grimaced. He wanted to feel pride or something- he wanted to encourage his agent. But his job was done, so all he could do was follow Lincoln silently onto their vessel. He tapped his ear, opening the comms.
"Fitz, Simmons: What do you got for us?"
Daisy had reverted back to when she was a rebellious, street-hacker living on her own.
Suffice to say, she was lonely, curious and well, sarcastic. Also hurting. She winced, suddenly acutely aware of the ache in her ribs. Definitely hurting.
The men who had taken her had been prepared to handle her powers, and though she had put up a tremendous fight despite being out of practice, she couldn't stop them from snapping on a pair of suppressor cuffs. She couldn't stop her smirk, however, because she had managed to take down at least 5 guys. They had hit her from every angle besides her face- and when she snappily asked why they didn't just knock her out, they just stood silent and ominous. She had her suspicions. The face made the first impression, and if you were capturing someone to give to someone else… You wouldn't mess with the face. When someone gave the order to, say, 'I want them alive and unharmed,' it usually meant: 'if I can't see any damage, then we're fine.'
They had her in a plane, one eerily similar to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quinjets, and she was strapped into a seat in between two gas-masked man, which she thought was completely stupid seeing as that they didn't even use gas against her. How can a group of people be so informed yet so stupid?
Daisy looked around her surroundings- they didn't even bother putting anything over her eyes- and tried not to pay attention to her rather troublesome emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She let her mind slip back to all of May's training, (god, she hadn't thought about May in ages. A new kind of guilt picked at her- she should have asked how she was holding up after Andrew) and payed close attention to her breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
Now was not the time for a mental break-down, so she resumed her scope of the area.
She barely contained a snort when her gaze passed over the 3 unconscious men strapped to the floor of the craft. The masked co-pilot turned to stare at her, she could feel the disapproving gaze boring through his sunglasses, and she felt extremely unsettled. Malicious intent was practically radiating off the guy. Turning away, she squinted at the man sitting next to her, noticing a small shape on his helmet. It was almost invisible to her sight, but it begged to be seen.
A red small, circle and… Her eyes strained, and then she froze. A skull.
Hydra.
The man must have recognized her panic, for he undid his mask and sneered.
"Out of the shadows," he taunted, "And into the light."
They were getting close to their destination, wherever it may be, so the other members of the party began to take their masks off. There wasn't any point in hiding anyways. There weren't any S.H.I.E.L.D. agents here to identify them and put a halt to their nefarious plans. Daisy was truly alone.
She felt the wind get sucked out of her and she screwed her eyes shut. This wasn't happening.
Her companion read that on her face, and responded in his well-versed jack-assery,
"Oh, but this is happening. I'd tell you why, except… I really don't want to."
In. Out. In. Out.
"God, I can't imagine what you're going through right now. Whatever it is, I absolutely relish it. Your team is the reason we're back in the dark, for now, so I must say it's great to have one over them for once. In fact-"
"Bring them into this," she spit out with a deadly edge, "and it will be the last thing you ever do."
He chuckled mirthlessly. "I assure you this, this has nothing to do with any friends of yours. This has everything to do with you."
This actually made Daisy disturbingly calm. She would finally pay for things she had done. A small victory in huge defeat. She would take it.
"Okay." She said rather plainly.
The men present tried to contain their sideways looks.
"Okay? Well, no one really asked. Anyways, we'll be there soon. I'd say good luck-"
"-But you really don't want to? Believe me, I get it."
Keep calm, stay sarcastic. Don't look as weak as you feel. And whatever you do, don't sell out your team. Even though Daisy was fairly certain that these people- ugh, Hydra- were after her and solely her, the reason for them capturing is yet to be determined. It could very well be to draw the others out. Or it could be to enact revenge for killing Gideon Mallick… or not. Honestly, there were so many perfectly acceptable reasons for her kidnapping that she was okay with just seeing where the stones fell.
Daisy became so lost in thought that she almost missed the jolt and familiar clicking noise that signified their jet had docked.
The men around her stood and started filing out, while the one she simply called Dulce de Douche grabbed her roughly by the wrists and began dragging her down the ramp. He smiled wickedly at her, revealing a red tooth (okay, thats a little overkill) and quite nearly cackled.
"Now it's time to have a little fun, isn't it?"
A/N: Gah! Sorry this is so late- I've been writing too many stories and now I haven't gotten around to posting any of them. Oops. Thanks for hanging in there! Shoutout to Shadow Wolf Artist who edits this stuff- QUICK GO CHECK HER STORIES OUT- and just remember to All Hail the Glow Cloud.