Ivy twisted her hair into a high ponytail.
"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done," she called. No reply. Either he didn't hear her, or he was sulking about again.
She stepped out of the park bathroom and into the sunlight, where the ghost was sitting on a park bench and glaring at passersby. She trotted up to him and sat down beside him as he offered to her one of his small, sharp daggers.
Ivy jumped. "Are you insane?" she hissed.
"Protection."
"I've got Mace in my purse!
"Mace only stalls. A knife can kill."
"Yeah. That's why I don't want it."
Ivy grumbled.
"Just take the knife."
"I'll cut myself on it."
Wordlessly, the ghost slipped it into its pouch and into her hand. "Take it."
Ivy gingerly tucked it into her back pocket.
"I'll cause a diversion," he said.
Ivy and the ghost left the park and stood by what was left of S.H.I.E.L.D., and Ivy walked around the perimeter of the fences the police set up and pushed through the throng until she found a spot which was open enough for her to enter. She made eye contact with the ghost, and he nodded firmly. She took a deep breath and waited for the diversion.
"Everybody run for your lives!" the ghost yelled, firing a couple of blanks into the mob. Crowd psychology. Impressive.
And with that, Ivy had her diversion, and she went hurtling into the building. She smacked at the window with a chunk of cement until it broke and climbed into the building. Outside, the masses were still in such a panic that Ivy had to give kudos not only to the ghost, but to S.H.I.E.L.D.; there was only minimal damage to the ground floor. Enough so that Ivy ended up being able to clamber over to a computer and log in.
Her profile picture popped up on the computer.
"Okie dokie," she said, wriggling her fingers as she tried to convince herself that she knew what she was doing.
She started typing, and miraculously, she was able to open the bay doors.
Ivy bounded back outside and found the ghost sitting impatiently on a cement block as the crowd behind him screamed and ran for their lives. He jumped to his feet once he caught sight of Ivy.
"You did it?"
"Yeah! You were right; we receptionists do have pretty high clearance."
He smirked a little bit, and Ivy bit her bottom lip.
"So..." she started. "Do you know how to fly a plane?"
He did. They settled in the cockpit of a small, quick plane. Ivy was pleased to find that S.H.I.E.L.D. planes were equipped with in-flight wifi and calls, so should she have heard any word from Oliver, she wouldn't have missed it.
As she stared at her phone and nestled into the seat of the plane, no word came.
Oliver's glazed eyes stared at the ceiling. By this point, he was losing hope in anyone finding them. He could hardly bear to tell his peers that eighteen hours had passed since their capture.
"This is ridiculous," the young woman snarled abruptly. Oliver turned to look at her in the dim light, glad for a change in pace; her mouth was contorted into a bitter scowl, her nose upturned as she sneered.
"Well," Oliver slurred, grunting as he lifted his back off the wall and slumped against his knees. "Sorry, princess, but this isn't the Ritz."
She growled at him. "Do not talk to me in that manner."
Oliver lifted his eyebrow at her. Her light Russian accent went well with her clipped speech.
"Been living in America long?" he knew the answer to that, of course: yes. She had. It was the same fading accent one of Ivy's friends had developed when he'd moved to America from Russia. Ivy. He pushed the thought away.
"Impudence," the fight seemed to have melted from the young woman as she spoke wearily; she plopped back against the wall and pulled her knees to her body.
Oliver sighed.
"The time. What is the time?" she spoke again.
Oliver shrugged.
"Do not be lazy."
Oliver glared.
She glared back.
Naturally, Oliver wasn't used to this. He knew he could be rather intimidating at times, and there was only one person in the world who'd ever had the guts to stand up to him. He remembered that she'd done so when he'd tried to ask out a girl in freshman year and had nearly been rejected with the use of bad grammar.
"Just who do you think you are?" Oliver snapped.
"Katya Ivanovna Petrovich," she said with an air of arrogance. Her storm gray eyes glinted in triumph.
"Okay, cool. Oliver Bennett."
Katya's bubble burst immediately. "Did you not hear me?"
"No, I heard you just fine, princess."
"Obviously," she drawled, her voice oozing sarcasm.
"Oh, am I addressing a princess, then? I'm so sorry, Your Majesty. What's your kingdom? Genovia? Arendelle? You gonna shoot ice at me?" Oliver felt somewhat terrible about the way he was acting. Had one of his family members been here, she would have hit him upside the head and scolded him about his rudeness.
"Oh, you—!" Katya raised her hand and nearly clawed at his face.
"That's enough!" the father of the family grasped Katya's wrist. "Oliver, be a gentleman. Katya, don't order Oliver around."
Katya stared at Oliver like he'd grown another head. Before she could speak, however, the father interrupted.
"I suppose if we'll be here much longer, we should learn each others' names. I'm Craig Brooker. This is my wife, Laurie, and my children, Nathaniel and Blaire."
Oliver gaped at Blaire. "You're serious?"
She clung onto Nathaniel and nodded.
Oliver bit his lip. Ivy's middle name was Blaire. Of all the luck.
"And you are?" Laurie asked the man who had been brooding so quietly that Oliver had forgotten he was there.
He said nothing. Just kept glaring at the floor, twitching occasionally as his restless fingers shook and tapped at the ground.
Oliver turned away. He hit his head against the wall on which he had very maturely, very calmly called dibs. As he called for Ivy and that creepy little ESP thing that they both shared, his green eyes opened just a fraction and he saw his sister sitting in front of him, cross-legged, light-freckled, and smiling in all her pink-lipped glory.
Her smile was very cold.
I have a plan. Don't you worry. It's just a matter of extending the plan enough so that the story won't be like, ten chapters long.
Another thing. I'm kinda sorta blending in the Marvel Comics, too, hence the mention of the Infinity Gems in the last chapter. I'm taking the post-credits which we got from TWS and some of the comic book plots and doing what I can before Age of Ultron comes out. When that happens, I may or may not take the time to edit the story to make it align with the plot. I'm also aware that my story may not be conducive to Captain America 3, but that's okay. I'll wait until Captain America 3 comes out to fix any plot holes and/or add chapters to make it work.
While I will be following some of the parts of the comics, I may or may not change the rest.