thanks for the reviews, as always :) to those people who have favorited the story, please leave reviews and tell me what you think! they encourage me to write. hopefully it's not too boring; if so, stick with it a little while, because i'm already in the process of beginning another story with elle, and it's ten times more interesting. enjoy!
I felt myself slowly slip into relaxation once Loki left with Agent Barton and a few other rogue agents within the hour. I was left in the care of several guards, who Loki promised to kill without a second thought if I should escape. I truly didn't think he had a reason to even tell them to watch me, seeing as how they were all twice my size.
I was still trying to calculate potential methods to escape, regardless of his threat to the guards, and to me. In all honesty, this was the only chance I had to run. Loki was the major obstacle between me and freedom. And he was no longer here.
Therefore, it made perfect sense that this was the time to leave.
I sat in the corner and watched as Selvig continued darting around the lab, talking to the assistants. The two guards in the room packed up and down the length of the room, their eyes darting everywhere and always settling on me longer than usual. One of them fixed me with a particularly menacing glare and I slouched in the chair, glancing at a nearby door that was partially open.
Plan A was to somehow kick the door open a little wider once the guards were on the other side of the room and find my way out of this abandoned base before they could get to me. From there, it was a matter of escaping and hiding. I only hoped that this base was located in the middle of a city somehow.
Once that happened, however, I was in a dilemma. How was I going to return to S.H.I.E.L.D.? I had no money or phone. If I was in a city somewhere, I could possibly ask someone for a phone and contact them myself. Once I locked myself in, I knew I would have questions to answer.
"Why did you kill Sullivan? Why did he access the computer room? What did you have to do with it? Why did Loki take you?"
In the time I had spent thinking in the corner, I came up with a few responses:
"He was under Loki's mind control, and he was a threat to S.H.I.E.L.D."
"He accessed the computer room because he was told by Director Fury to copy every piece of information onto a disk."
"Sullivan wanted to give me the disc but he didn't have time to give it to me before the Tesseract created a portal for Loki."
"Loki took me because Sullivan had lied and said I had it. When I arrived at his 'lair', we discovered that he had hid it in an old storage room because he wanted to use the information for himself."
What was the wrong in blaming Sullivan? He was dead, anyway. Hopefully he wouldn't return from beyond the grave and haunt me for my actions.
The guard immediately in front of me turned on his heel and tightened his grip on his sidearm, walking in the other direction. The second guard was walking at the same pace, examining the scientists. Watching them nervously, I edged my foot out a little and pushed the door open, giving me just enough space to slip through it. When the two of them faced forward, I lunged for the door, tripping over my feet in the process, but it was enough to get me through the door.
I held out a loud breath, unaware that I'd been holding one for so long. Hastily, I slammed the door closed and slid a metal bolt in place. From there, the clock started ticking.
The hallway I stood in was empty and dark, save for a few flickering lights. At the end of the hall was a triangle-shaped door, and next to it was a flashing red button.
Faintly, I heard the sound of loud yelling and clanging outside, and I quickened my steps. Gunshots rang from behind the door and I slammed my hand on the button, watching as the paneled doors slid away to reveal a long stretch of highway, surrounded by corn fields.
I groaned with disbelief but stepped into the harsh sunlight, covering my eyes.
My lungs burned with effort as I pushed my body further to run down the highway, as much as possible. Around me on either side were cornstalk fields that seemed to stretch for ages, which led me to believe that the base was in a rural area.
I kept close to the edge of the road while I ran, just in case I needed to jump into the stalks to hide myself. For the most part, nothing eventful had happened, and I was grateful for it. Unfortunately, my energy was waning. My suit was tight and slick against my skin, constricting my breathing. After a few more paces, I came to a stop, resting my hands on my knees for support while I wheezed fr air.
"I can't do this," I panted to myself as sweat rolled down my cheeks and onto the ground. "This suit is going to kill me." I wondered if I was going to pass out from the lack of sleep and food.
While I took the time to catch my breath, a frightening thought occurred to me. I had just escaped from Loki and his manic, mind-controlled guards.
It was too easy.
I whirled around immediately, staring at the cornstalks around me, wondering if they were trailing me, just waiting for me to lead them to S.H.I.E.L.D. There's no possible way. I should have had to fight through guards to leave that place. What are the odds that door was left partially open? That I wasn't bound?
He wants me to leave, I thought to myself, resting my hand on my throat. I'm leading him to something. I recalled that he said he had bigger plans for me. Is this all apart of his grand scheme?
Matching my breathing was the sound of an engine roaring from nearby. Squinting my eyes, I stood upright to see a dark dot in the distance, approaching me. The heat wave blurred my vision, but I began to see that it was a commercial truck.
Without thinking, I jumped in the middle of the road and started waving my arms like I was high on speed. From a distance, the truck began to slow and I felt a smile of victory spread across my face. The large truck came to a halt in front of me and I coughed from the exhaust and gasoline smell. The passenger door opened and I raced to the other side. Out of the open door was a thick, hairy, outstretched hand. Grasping it, the samaritan pulled me up and inside.
Inside, a portly man wearing a red plaid shirt, blue overalls, boots, and chewing on the toothpick smiled at me. He tipped his trucker hat to me in greeting. "Where'll you be goin'?" he asked me in a Southern accent that reminded me of Kat's.
"Where're you going?" I panted, closing the door behind me. "Better yet, where am I?"
"Drank too much?" the man chuckled, looking at me.
I glanced at him warily, putting on my seatbelt. "Something like that."
"Well, we're drivin' through Richwood, West Virginia, ma'am," the man responded with a raised, bushy eyebrow. "On route to Charleston."
"Perfect," I breathed, leaning against the chair. "I'll just follow you. I need to get to a major city."
The man stuck out his hand again. "Name's John."
"Elle. Nice to meet you." I didn't bother to wonder how convenient it was that a large truck should happen to be heading down the exact same stretch of highway.
The journey from Richwood to Charleston was long, but it was a welcome break from everything I dealt with the past few weeks or so. I leaned against the chair the whole time, feeling cool air blast my face and lower my body temperature. John was a nice man, based in Oxford, OH; he drives trucks for a living to support him and his wife, and when he can, sends a little something to his grown children.
From time to time John would ask questions about me, where I'm from, what I do...and better yet, what I really was doing in the middle of nowhere. For a while I dodged his questions and asked about him. After a while, he was fed up.
"Some friends played a prank," I lied when he refused to drop the subject. "I thought they were taking me out for my 21st."
"Well, shoot, why didn' you just say that?" John exclaimed, glancing at me for a moment before he changed lanes.
"Well, who wants to admit their friends got them good?"
John told me that he still had a little bit of driving to do when he dropped me off on the outskirts of Charleston and directed me to a restaurant to use a phone to call my "friends". With a kind smile, he put two 100 dollar bills in my hand. I refused immediately, but he pressed the bills firmly into my palm.
"Just to make sure you get home safe," he told me with a wink.
The restaurant was a small diner with 10-15 people sitting in booths with blue chairs, eating and chatting. I sidled up to the wooden counter where a bartender was cleaning glasses. He cut his eyes to mine, looking irritated that he had a customer to deal with. "What can I get ya?"
"Um...actually, can I use your phone?" I asked, feeling awkward.
"Ya gotta buy some food, first," he responded gruffly.
"I'm gonna buy a hamburger when I'm done," I offered, nervously wondering where I would go to next if I couldn't use the phone. Wordlessly, he cocked his head to the right and I shuffled around the counter and into a small area with a payphone.
I miss my cell, I thought with irritation, dialing Kat's private number with the coins John gave me. I glanced around the area, surveying my surroundings.
A click sounded on the other line, and then I heard a cheerful, "Hello?"
"Kat, it's me," I murmured quietly, watching an old woman walk past me with a child at her side into the family bathroom.
"Miss Elle?" she exclaimed. "Miss Elle, you're alive?"
"Kat, hush!" I whispered urgently. "I need you to come get me."
"Well...I can't, Miss Elle, I'm on the Helicarrier, remember?"
Shit, I thought immediately. "Well, I need someone to come get me. I barely made it out and they might be looking for me. I need to get to S.H.I.E.L.D. as quickly as possible, Kat, can you help me?"
"I..." she trailed off and I heard muted voices nearby. "I...um, hang on a second. Yes? Yes, sir, I have her on the phone...she says she escaped from the Asgardian..."
Longest phone call ever. I worried for a minute that it was Fury she was speaking to.
"Miss Elle?" Her voice sounded amused.
"Yes?" I asked impatiently, tapping my fingers on the silver box surrounding the phone. The longer I spent there the more I began to worry that someone was trailing me. I glanced around the room, trying to look like I was casually observing my surroundings, not looking for glowing blue eyes.
"Ever heard of...erm...Tony Stark?"
"Obviously, who hasn't?" The billionaire engineer, former playboy-turned-committed partner to Pepper Potts, his assistant.
"Well, he said he'll sent a private jet for you."
"I'm sorry?" I asked immediately, my eyes widening. "He's on the Helicarrier?"
"Yes...he's here, and...Dr. Banner, and Captain Rogers...and Agent Romanoff..." she continued rambling for a minute.
The Avengers Initiative must have taken flight, I realized with a smile of relief. "Um, okay, then." Who was I to argue? I relaxed and twirled the phone cord around my finger.
I heard some rustling on the other end and inserted an extra quarter to be safe. "It's just...sir, could you just-!"
"Kat?" I asked with alarm, standing upright.
"Hello?" a male voice sighed with exasperation on the other end of the line.
"Um...hello, Mr. Stark." I'd heard his voice once or twice on radio stations during a period in media history when everyone who was anyone talked about him and his Iron Man suit.
"Tony, my name isn't Howard. Listen, you need a ride out of...where, exactly?" he asked shortly. I stammered over my words. How does this man make me feel stupid so quickly?
"Um...Charleston, West Virginia, on the outskirts."
"How the hell did you end up in West Virginia?"
"It's a long story," I asked honestly. And it was. Starting with that man in the black baseball cap.
"Whatever. If you can find your way to...erm...Yeager Airport downtown...there will be a nice, cute little...jet waiting for you."
"Thank you," I said gratefully, still surprised. "But...why?"
"Someone told me you might be important," Stark said casually. "Some intel or something like that, kay? I have other places to be. You have about...45 minutes to get there, so get a move on, kid."
The call ended abruptly and I stared at the phone feeling confused but happy at Stark's offer.
I was about to leave the restaurant when I remembered my promise to the bartender. I ordered a hamburger and fries, and with the bartender's reluctant help, was on my way to the airport, stuffing my face.