Plane Frustrating Part 2

They were hunting him.

Tony's dark eyes darted around the foggy forest, trying to keep his harsh breathing silent. Just after he had crash-landed in the sodden soil, JARVIS had haltingly informed him that the suit was damaged. The helmet had successfully disengaged before he lost power, but Tony had to claw his way out of the rest of the suit.

Tony huffed out a breath in a frantic laugh—the worst part of a ridiculously strong gold-titanium suit was the fact that it was ridiculously strong. He wasn't going to think about the hazy panic that had consumed him when he realized he was trapped. He wasn't going to think about his heart pounding and his throat closing and his world fading—

He wasn't going to think about it.

Tony bounced on his toes and squeezed his hands into fists and stretched his fingers out rhythmically. He was still shaking, but not from being trapped in his own creation. That had not been a thrilling experience, but the real shit show had started after he was free.

After a few moments of relative silence, broken only by the sound of his wheezing breaths, Tony had collapsed to the leafy ground, choking down a sob.

That's when he had heard something.

It was really just a mistake that he had any warning at all. He barely heard the noises of the forest around him over the pounding of his heart and the gasping of his breath, but he'd heard the snap of a twig behind him.

He had whirled, teeth bared, palm outstretched, forgetting that Iron Man lay on the forest floor beside him as he clambered to his feet. The gunman hadn't forgotten. He was dressed in dark brown and green fatigues, obviously meant to blend in with his surroundings. He had dark hair and cruel eyes, but he hadn't raised his gun. Instead, he swung something that glinted in the shafts of sun that penetrated the fog and the leafy canopy of the forest.

One thought made it through Tony's brain before he dropped face-first to the leaves.

Holy shit, that's a sword!

Before Tony had a chance to roll up and try to defend his life, a bullet had punched its way through the swordsman's left eye. Just thinking about it now almost made him lose his lunch. That's when Tony had staggered to his feet and sprinted away from the gristly scene. It tugged at his heart to abandon his suit, but he couldn't go back for it if he was dead.

Survive first, rescue the suit later.

Right now, Tony had a mantra.

Find Steve, find Nat, keep moving, don't think about the swordsman. Keep moving. Keep. Moving.

A rustling sound off to his right made his heart stutter. He froze, hoping that his cover would be sufficient. He strained his ears to listen as he caught the faint sound of voices.

"We've got to find him." This voice was faint, but masculine.

A sigh. This sounded like a woman. "You know that's what we're trying to do, right?"

"Of course I know that." This time the voice seemed frustrated, and Tony could have sworn it they sounded familiar.

The man spoke again. "I'm sorry, Nat. Damn concussion."

"Don't think you can blame all of this on the concussion, Rogers," Natasha's voice was clear this time, and Tony nearly collapsed with relief when he saw her push her way through some thick greenery.

"Nat!" Tony called, remembering too late that there might be others around.

Natasha's head snapped toward him, and a smile twitched at her lips before she slid on her mask of indifference.

"Stark," she said coolly. "Where the hell have you been, enjoying a nap?"

"Hilarious," Tony said dryly, resisting the urge to wrap her up in a hug as they drew closer. "Did you let Rogers get hit by a train while I was away?"

Steve glared at him, blue eyes slightly foggy in his pale face.

"He's super excited to see you," Natasha said with a raised eyebrow. "But he's also super concussed."

She smoothed back the blond hair stuck to Steve's forehead with gentle fingers. "As far as I can tell, he must have cushioned his fall with his head."

"I can't actually remember," Steve ground out, swaying where he stood. His eyebrows creased together and then his face went slack for a moment before he lunged for a nearby tree. He leaned over and threw up, coughing violently as he gagged.

"Oh God," Tony said, covering his own mouth with his hand and trying not to look at their suffering captain.

"How hard would he have to hit his head to have a concussion?" Natasha asked in a low voice.

"Pretty fucking hard," Tony said, swallowing over his own gag reflex.

Steve stood up shakily and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I can hear you," he said, sighing as he shifted his gaze between them. He leaned up against the nearest tree with a nearly-disguised groan. "I'm just a little less steady on my feet than normal."

"A little?" Natasha said incredulously, "Let me guess, you're good to fight?"

"Of course I am," Steve ground out, standing up as straight as possible.

"If you can reach around and grab your shield without puking your guts out again, I will give you a literal skyscraper." Tony crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

Steve reached back for his shield with his right hand before paling significantly and aborting the motion. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.

"What would I want with a skyscraper anyways?" Steve cracked one eye open and gave Tony a half smile.

"Oh that's right," Tony snarked. "Captain Out-of-Time, should I have offered you a horse and buggy? Perhaps a bushel of hay? Oh, I know—ten chickens. Isn't that how they did business back in your day?"

Steve snorted, working hard to keep himself from moving. "I don't know what day you think I'm from, Stark, but I would expect more than ten chickens. Not some cheap street performer."

"Could have had me fooled," Tony said with a grunt. "I guess the Star-Spangled-Man-in-Tights only performed on the stage—far too high class for the streets."

He flashed Steve a smile to let him know it was all in good fun, but Steve's cheeks colored anyways.

"Alright, boys," Natasha said, obviously distracted. "If you're just about finished, I think the more technologically-inclined member of our party needs to see if we can salvage my phone."

"Attaboy, Cap," Tony said with a smirk. "You get right on that."

"Seriously, Tony," Steve said with a wince. "I can barely see straight. Have a little mercy."

"Fine," Tony grumbled, caving under Natasha's glare. "Give it here."

He snatched the phone from her hands and turned the device over, sucking air through his teeth as he saw the damage.

"We're probably going to have more luck sending smoke signals."

Natasha sighed and stuffed the damaged device back into a pocket in her suit. "I was hopeful, but that's what I thought."

Steve was staring blankly into the distance, and Tony shot Natasha a concerned look.

Neither Natasha nor Tony had seen Steve concussed before, so there wasn't much data on which to base his specific reaction to a hard blow to the head.

That's when they heard voices.

Steve whipped his head in the direction of the sound, staggering and nearly falling.

"You get him," Natasha whispered. "I'll lead."

As quickly as he could, Tony grabbed Steve's right arm. He pulled it across his shoulders and held tightly to his sweat-slicked wrist. "Come on, Cap," he grunted. "Help me out here."

They trampled through the forest, breathing the thick, foggy air in gasps. Tony could smell a mixture of Natasha's shampoo—was that coconut?—Steve's deodorant, and sweat. They were all drenched in it.

Why the hell couldn't we have been hunted through a forest in a cool environment?!

Eventually, their path brought them to a clearing.

It's too exposed. We need to go around.

Tony could tell that Natasha was thinking the same thing, but there were shouts coming from all directions. The hunters had found their prey.

In one last, desperate attempt at escape, they darted out into the clearing. Here the fog was cut by bright sunlight. Tony squinted as his eye adjusted.

Voices came from all sides, and suddenly there was the sound of swords scraping free from their scabbards.

Swords glinted in the overhead sun as the mercenaries stepped from the forest line and into the clearing.

"You crazy fucks!" Tony shouted, eyes darting between the men as Steve's weight made his shoulder ache. "Who the hell even chooses swords as their weapon of choice? Go back to the Medieval Ages, you ridiculous swarm of dicks!"

Tony spun desperately as he looked for a way out, staggering under Steve's weight, but their clearing was inescapable.

They were surrounded.