Oliver knew he was quite screwed.
Like his sister, he was rather realistic (although not nearly as flighty), and he was never one to lie to himself. He didn't want to tell himself that he could possibly make it out of this particular situation alive; what a shame he never got to see Ivy again.
His tired eyes lifted to the family adjacent to his own spot on the floor. They gazed back, asking him to help.
The brother, no older than eighteen, cradled his little sister in his arms as he lifted an inhaler to her mouth.
A pang of longing hit him like a bolt of lightning. His own sister had asthma, too.
He, this family, a young woman, and a quite effeminate young man of his age had been stuck for no more than eight hours in a small, cramped cell when insane Russian men decided to run up and kidnap him.
Impressed as he was at how easily, efficiently, and discreetly they had done it, Oliver was extremely ticked off and had been in the midst of slamming his head against his cell wall (he laughed inwardly at his science pun) when his captors shoved rather violently inside a flame-haired woman, makeup-laden tears streaming down her face as she quickly stood back up, screaming and pounding on the closing door.
Nearly three hours later, the young man had been forced in next. By this point, the woman was rocking herself in shock and Oliver was busying himself by cornering a beetle with the toe of his running shoes. Oliver and the woman distantly registered the slamming of the door as their new companion fell, limp as a rag doll, to the stone floor.
The family was the last to arrive. The father automatically pushed his wife and children behind himself as he held an outstretched arm in defense against their jailers. Once the door closed, he ran to his wife, a woman with dull, obviously dyed blonde hair, then to his son and daughter, both of who obviously took after their mother in looks (although their hair boasted a much more golden color).
Oliver was currently the most calm about their little dilemma (another trait he shared with Ivy), which had started to worry his fellow hostages. In truth, he was scared to death, but in spite of himself, couldn't bring himself to worry too much. He had a feeling that sooner or later, Ivy's nagging little instinct would tell her that something was wrong with him, and she would enlist help to find him.
"They have the twins and an Infinity Gem," the ghost said simply.
Ivy let out a noncommittal sound. Sure, she was glad he was finally speaking more, but...
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she deadpanned.
"Naturally," Bucky replied. Ivy arched an eyebrow.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You just proved my point."
"Aren't you not supposed to be sassy?"
The ghost sighed.
"The twins are deadly, but then there are the Infinity Gems. Together, they can activate the Infinity Gauntlet, which would be even worse than if your Avengers decided to turn on you."
"And how do you know this?"
"Observation. You remember New York?"
Ivy stiffened. "Yes."
"That was just one stone. Imagine six."
"Damn, we're screwed."
Bucky chuckled. "I suppose, but I've decided to help you and your friends."
"I've only met like, two Avengers, you know."
"You're still S.H.I.E.L.D., despite the-"
"Don't even bring up the weight-loss pills!" Ivy groaned.
He glanced over at her, looking on the border between amused and annoyed.
"So, Bucky," Ivy said, emphasizing 'Bucky' with exaggerated cordiality. "Where we headed? You said Hydra base, but it's not like I keep tabs on the whereabouts of secret underground terrorist facilities.
"Russia."
Ivy slammed on the brakes, nearly causing herself and her companion to lurch forward and through the windshield of her tiny little Volkswagen.
"Excuse me?!"
"Russia."
"No, no, I heard you just fine. Here's money for a cab, my friend. Adios, sayonara, bon voyage, the like. Oh, what a shame we couldn't have spent more time together, but hey! That's life. C'est la vie!"
"You've had enough?'
"Duh! I'm not going to—"
Russia. Oliver was in Russia.
Although Ivy knew his flight was grounded, she knew something was terribly wrong. Of course, there was no surefire way to tell but her instinct, and Ivy always trusted her instinct. Especially when it came down to her twin brother.
Gritting her teeth and refusing to let the ghost see her panic, she cut off immediately and stepped on the brakes to the airport.
"Okay, then. How are we gonna get your weapons through airport security? Not to mention the fact that all the flights will be either cancelled or delayed. Then we've gotta get your arm through security, too, and after that, we're going to have to figure out a way to get to your Hydra base without any means of transportation. There's a little issue with money, too. As you can see, I'm not exactly doing too hot as far as preparation of Russian cash goes."
"Take me to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Ivy glanced over irritably. "S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"Yes."
"What about Hydra?"
"To get to Hydra, we need S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Uh..."
"Do you still have clearance to their security systems?"
Realization dawned on Ivy. "Well, yes. But a receptionist isn't exactly too high up on the list of people allowed in on government-level projects."
"You'd be surprised how much access a receptionist has."
"Okay, and you'd be surprised at how difficult it is to make your way through to a building which just had a plane crashed through it."
"I don't need to."
"What?"
"You do."
Oliver accidentally squashed the beetle.
With a heavy sigh, he shoved it aside with his shoe. His only source of entertainment was gone. He'd have to resort to screwing around with the buttons on his watch. He poked and prodded at it, praying he didn't end up resetting it; it was the only way he could keep time.
The others constantly asked him, sometimes within the same minute. In the interest of keeping their spirits up, Oliver only responded in hours how long had passed since they'd been captured, always rounding up if he got the chance.
Sometimes he thought about what would happen to Ivy if he was gone. Sure, she was her own separate human being, but the self-centered part of Oliver told him that she would slip into a catatonic state of depression, and he imagined his lively, witty sister with her star of a soul crushed, nonexistent. Dead.
He preferred not to imagine.
Okay, I found wifi. Sorry about the plot twist and the excess Oliver in this story. I personally think he's pretty cool.
Review, please!