Ivy here.
While I was ignorant of all this, I teleported myself home. Ryan pretty obviously didn't want any heartfelt brother-sister talks.
Being the Fortune Seller means that I can make a little pocket money. A lot. Okay, I have multiple hiding houses and apartments as hiding places. (Most of them I get for free or very cheap off of favors. A lot of people owe me massive favors, but I'm not naming names.)
The babysitter left and I sat in the main living room, rocking my son back and forth.
The others could deal with things without me. Totally. I'm just the person who runs around and causes trouble because I'm trouble. What good have I done?
I put Phillip down on the couch next to me suddenly and quickly walked across the room to the window. Outside, cars flew past.
Last time I went on that train of thought, it nearly killed me. Well, that's not entirely true... In my reflection, without my usual scarf or high collared coat, I could see the scar across my throat. I'm not proud of that choice. Jemma Simmons saved my life, and luckily Director Coulson talked some sense into me.
Still, the point still remains that I frequently get other people hurt.
I could put myself into this story and try to help, or get pulled into it and try to help.
And it wasn't just me anymore.
I returned to Phillip on the couch.
For those not in the know, I gave birth to twins. The girl, Natalia, went missing from her cradle just after being born, and I've discovered that someone with HYDRA ties took her back to Earth. No one knows what happened after that.
I'll find out, though. If it kills me, I'll find out.
I rocked him back and forth, considering.
The Avengers doubtless knew about the Fortune Seller. Tony certainly did. Hawkeye and Black Widow had met me once.
Perhaps the Fortune Seller should offer them a deal.
I hesitated. Was that my impulsiveness talking? It had already done enough.
No. That was my sensible side.
I picked up the telephone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time.
"Hello?" asked a slightly groggy voice. Agent Romanoff – right, not Agent anymore – probably hadn't slept for a while.
"Hello, Black Widow. It's been a while."
"Who is this?"
"Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten me."
"The Fortune Seller. You've made a name for yourself since we last talked."
"I try. Listen, I understand you had rather an adventure there last night."
"And what would you know about it?"
"Don't try tracing the call, it doesn't work. Listen, I'm willing to make a very reasonable deal."
"And what would you want in return?"
"Information from HYDRA."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is not HYDRA. Just because I was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent – "
"I'm more than aware of that. I'm also aware you Avengers have been going after HYDRA and will probably have ways to get it from them. If we have a deal, meet me in front of Stark Tower. You, Captain America, and Mr. Stark. 1 o' clock this afternoon. I'll only show up if you do. Oh, and no traps please. This is a business deal." I hung up.
Ariel here.
I slept heavily under the effects of the sleeping meds – which I took as well.
I woke up before either Jack or Miranda.
They were laying on separate blankets, something they had insisted on, and looked like they would be dead to the world for a while. Miranda snored quietly and peacefully.
I got up, dressed, and headed down to the lab where everyone was working.
We had gotten to Avengers 2. Of course we had.
"It's a horrible idea," said Tony. "She's just here to cause trouble, it's what the Fortune Seller does. She tells you some things and doesn't tell you others that are more important. She's a psychopath."
"The Fortune Seller?" I asked. "You mean that woman who helped me out after my parents were murdered?"
"You've met that –" he referred to the Fortune Seller with an extremely series of extremely unflattering terms.
Natasha made a small choking sound.
"Yes, and I'm pretty sure she saved my life at least once, so you will please refrain from using words like that to describe her." I glared at him.
"You don't know what she's done."
"I know someone else who's done almost the same things. I didn't notice you swearing at Ivy like that." Granted, she probably would have slapped him for using the words he did. Ivy had never minded telling people to watch their language.
"Ivy had good intentions, at least, and she didn't have a choice."
"How do you know that the Fortune Seller isn't in the same position?"
"Is it Pick on Tony Day?"
Natasha took my side. "You did create a murderbot, think it was funny, and then insult someone who may or may not have done anything to you."
"I have met her, and just because she helped out one person doesn't make her some kind of angel."
Grant Ward helped me too, at the same time. I'm very aware that one good thing doesn't make you a good person. If I ever meet Ward again, I'll be severely tempted to help Simmons carry out her plan. (I've caught up on the series since this incident.)
The Fortune Seller hadn't seemed like that. Director Coulson and his agents seemed to know her and at least be able to tolerate her.
"What kind of deals have you been making, Tony?" asked Natasha.
"I asked for information on this project. She said to go ahead and build it, everything would be fine."
There was a long silence.
Natasha turned and left the room.
I followed after her, my cheeks burning.
"Are you going to meet with her?" I asked.
"Yes – it can't hurt to hear what she wants. I'm not entirely sure what happened with the Ultron Project, but that doesn't sound like the Fortune Seller at all. I know a good many people who've dealt with her and they do say that she often doesn't give them the full story, but that she never lies."
"Sounds like someone else. Do you think there might have been two? Ivy and this other girl?"
"It's always possible, since no one seems to know how she knows what she does."
Ivy here.
Yes, that is true. I did tell Tony Stark that.
I said "eventually" not "immediately". And it did all turn out okay eventually, right? I don't lie, but my wording does get specific sometimes.
I teleported to the top of a nearby building and watched.
My view of the building was obscured by crowds of sightseers and cosplayers.
Black Widow appeared outside first, on the other side of the street.
Then Cap.
After that, Mr. Stark, though judging from his expression he was unhappy with the whole thing.
I appeared suddenly. "Hello again, everyone."
They all jumped.
There was a moment of silence.
"Get it overwith," muttered Mr. Stark. "What lies are you selling this time?"
"I have never lied to you, Mr. Stark. You'll see."
"What are you offering us?"
"I'm offering information. As always."
"What did you did mean 'hello again'?" asked Black Widow.
"I've met some of you before. Though I'm afraid the Fortune Seller has never made your accquaintance, Captain."
I had forgotten how hot New York was in summer. I should have worn a shorter wig, the brown one with the pixy cut. The long hair was – I'm told, lovely – but so hot. Sweat already soaked the back of my collar.
"What do you want?" asked Black Widow.
"It's what you want. I can tell you where Ultron went, and what he's after."
"Or we could just track it down ourselves," said Mr. Stark.
"Or you could take the short route. Believe me, it's quicker."
He called me a very crude word.
"Watch your mouth. You're only here because... you know what, I don't know why. Go, if you want. I don't even care."
There was a tug on the back of my hair.
I clawed at whatever had caught on it, only for the wig to slide off.
I spun around.
Black Widow held up my wig in her hand. "Seriously? You thought that would fool us?"
Mr. Stark and the Captain stood slack jawed.
"You're dead," said Mr. Stark.
"Yes, I am. I'm a ghost who wears wigs and makeup." I snatched the wig back, my hands shaking now. "How did you guess?"
"Your voice. Your looks. Your clothes. Your word choices. Your specifically similar abilities. The fact that only you and Steve would ever reprimand anyone for swearing. And your boyfriend told me."
"Edward's not – Edward told you?!"
"He was on heavy pain medication and didn't have a clue what he was doing. Let's go inside and discuss this further."
I sensed I didn't have a choice anymore.
"May I have the wig back, please? I don't want to tell any more people than necessary just yet."
She gave it back. I pulled it over my hair and walked to the crosswalk.
Mr. Stark just stood where we'd left him, still staring.