Good news! The Plane Frustrating story arc should be completed in the next chapter. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

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"Smashed in the head with your own shield, huh?" Tony leaned against the dirt wall and started picking grime from underneath his fingernails. "You bozo."

Steve bristled, shifting on pure reflex. He felt Natasha's hand on his bicep, squeezing in a warning.

He sighed, settling against the wall.

I don't really want to throw up again.

"You heard the same thing I did, Stark," Natasha said. "He saved our fucking lives. Give it a rest."

"He jumped out of a plane," Tony said, using his hands to illustrate his story, "without a parachute—mind you—with a platter-sized disc and a lot of spunk, and face-planted into an experimental tracking device."

Distaste dripped from Tony's voice at the last few words. He paused before continuing.

"Said platter-sized disc got between our lovely Captain and the 'experimental tracking device'—"

The air quotes were more pronounced this time.

"—and ended up smacking him in his perfect face when the ridiculous thing exploded."

Tony threw up his hand and widened his eyes at Natasha. "Did I miss any of the daring heroism?"

Steve glared, but he could've sworn that Natasha fought back a smile. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but Steve was getting better at reading the former assassin. When she was smothering a show of emotion, her lips quirked down more than usual, but the skin around her eyes crinkled in the smallest show of enjoyment. She was good at hiding it, but not perfect.

"I'm already starting to heal," Steve said, "but I was more or less out of it when they dropped us down here. Who are these people?"

"Bold of you to assume that these lunatics," Tony raised his voice to shout, "are actually humans!"

"Shut the hell up," came a rough voice from above them. "Don't make me shoot you."

"Oh please," Tony said scornfully, "you obviously need us alive. That's why you threw us in this disgusting hole in the ground."

Tony yelped and jumped as dirt near his left foot exploded and the crack of gunshot split the air.

"Don't. Make. Me. Shoot. You." The guard said it slowly this time, like he was speaking sternly to a naughty five-year-old.

"Fine," Tony grumbled, obviously more shaken than he cared to admit.

He lowered his voice as he cautiously scooted over to Steve and Natasha. "Here's our current theory, Evel Knievel."

Steve could only muster up a mild glare.

"There was a swordsman that tried to kill me when I was alone in the forest," Tony said. "He was shot, which was gross, by the way, and then we got captured by sword-wielding maniacs in the clearing. You basically passed out when we were surrounded—cool move, you're definitely not light—and they dragged us to this nasty pit and threw us in. We passed through a camp—they had us blindfolded the entire time—but we heard voices and the shit you hear when you're surrounded by a bunch of people trying to be silent."

Tony paused for a breath, and Steve noticed just how exhausted he looked. Steve had seen Tony panic before, but this was different. Of course, Tony should be worried, tired, and maybe even afraid, but he usually covered it more successfully with his over-the-top bravado. Then Tony had his mask firmly back in place, plowing forward with more information.

"They're evidently led by a sadistic son of a bitch, but we didn't have the pleasure of meeting him."

Steve had never noticed how much Tony spoke in air quotes.

He suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline that made his stomach clench uncomfortably.

"Did they tell you what they were after?"

Natasha cursed quietly in Russian, shaking her head.

Tony blanched and met Steve's eyes with shuttered fear and trepidation.

"You."

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Tony hit the dirt floor hard, flailing arms and legs failing to break his fall. The air rushed from his lungs and black spots swarmed across his vision as pain threatened to rip a scream from his throat. It would have succeeded if there had been any air available to him.

Instead, he floundered and gasped, mouth open as he desperately tried to breathe.

"Easy, Tony," Steve said, suddenly in his field of vision. Cap's hands gently felt along his ribs for damage. "You just got the breath knocked out of you."

He felt Natasha's warm hand rest comfortingly on his arm, silently waiting for him to pull in some air.

Even though it felt like years, Tony managed to be somewhat patient as his body recovered from the fall.

"Fuck you, by the way," he gasped out as soon as he could, flipping off the guard who closed the small trapdoor in the steel bars that formed the top of the their prison.

They had come for him roughly an two hours ago. Guards with automatic weapons had ringed the hole where they kept their prisoners, swords sheathed for this particular activity. They had let down a rope and demanded that he climb. When Tony had stubbornly refused to cooperate, they had casually shot Steve in the calf.

Tony had felt cold fear in his stomach when he saw his teammate writhing on the dirt floor of their pit. Not just because the super soldier was biting down on a scream and trying to staunch the flow of blood with his hand, but because these assholes wouldn't have casually risked killing a valuable prisoner.

They knew about Steve's remarkable healing.

The whole world knew that Captain America was strong and fast, but the Avengers tried to keep a lid on Steve's other enhanced abilities. It didn't help to have the enemy know everything, but these people knew.

Tony had shot a worried look at Natasha, who had nodded tersely as she moved to help Steve put pressure on the wound.

As soon as Tony reached the top of the cage, rough hands had grabbed his forearms and dragged him onto the grass. The last thing Tony remembered was the butt of a gun swinging down toward his face.

Then he had woken up in a dark room tied to a cold, metal chair. They had asked him questions, most of them having to do with Captain America. He hadn't answered a single question truthfully, and they had beaten him for it.

Now he was back at the pit with a scrap of fabric clenched in his fist. His whole body ached and throbbed, but he was smiling through his split lip.

These idiots had made several mistakes, and now Tony knew who they were up against.

He shot a knowing glance at Natasha, looking pointedly at his fist and then a dark corner of the pit. She nodded, shifting her gaze to Steve.

"Give me a hand, Rogers," she said, letting a little sarcasm color her voice. "I think Stark needs a nap after his excursion."

The cloudiness from the concussion was obviously gone, because Steve's blue eyes darted to Tony's fist and he schooled his expression into something neutral.

Steve's left leg was still pretty useless, but he and Natasha made a show of helping Tony to the shadowy corner.

"Hey Cap," Tony said in a low voice. "How's the ol' noggin? And also the leg."

"I've got a headache, if that's what you're asking," Steve sighed. "But I'm able to form complete sentences and do simple math again, so that's something. As for the leg, it's never felt better. The bloody bandage is just a fashion statement."

"Geeze," Tony whined. "I'm not used to sarcasm from you. It's unsettling."

Steve snorted in what Tony thought might have been a poorly disguised laugh.

"Unless the two of you are hoping to extend our stay," Natasha said with a roll of her eyes, "I suggest we get down to business."

"Right," Tony said, glancing up to make sure the guard didn't have a line of sight to their corner.

Coast is clear.

He dropped the scrap of fabric, flattening it on the cool dirt.

Steve stiffened immediately, jaw clenching. "HYDRA."

"Yes and no," Tony said, stuffing the scrap into a pocket in his pants. "These morons are sloppy. They're disorganized. And—not that I'm complaining—but they have no idea how to get information out of people."

Tony looked up at Steve. "Have you ever known HYDRA to be incompetent? Or to slack off in the interrogation department?"

The super soldier shook his head tersely, the corners of his mouth turned down in a tight frown.

"So they're copycats," Steve said. "Some kind of extremists who align with HYDRA?"

Natasha spoke up. "They seem to know a lot about us. Too much. And they must be well-funded. Their tech doesn't come free."

Tony sniffed. "Their tech is playground stuff. We're talking in the millions of dollars."

"Like I said," Natasha glared. "Well funded."

"Sure," Tony said, glancing nervously at Steve.

Note to self, do not piss off world-class assassins.

"How did you get that?" Steve whispered, gesturing at Tony's hip pocket.

"Well, here's where the story gets good," Tony said with a shit-eating grin. "I ripped it off a guard I recognized."