avengance

PART TWO.

the initiation

A quick shock in my right side jolts me awake, making me take in a small breath out of surprise. I go to open my eyes out of reflex, but right before I do I make the quick decision to keep them shut. I immediately begin to try to listen for noise around me or anything else that could give away information about where I'm being held. I don't hear any other breaths, eliminating both the possibility of some of the other Avengers being held in here and the possibility of one of my captors being in here. I release a breath out of disappointment at this realization, but continue to keep my eyes shut. For good reason I find out, as a strangely human monotone voice speaks out from above me.

"Subject 19 reacted slightly to electric. It appears the subject is still suffering from the Dart. Current time is 1:19 PM, next time check in one hour." 

The speaker cuts out, and I wait a few moments before peeking my eyes open just enough to get a grasp of my surroundings. Through my eyelashes I see a small room lit with dull blue lights along the ceiling, and with glass cabinets just below, covering all of the wall space I can see. I take a moment to feel if there is anything holding me down, but from what I can tell I'm simply laying on a table with nothing stopping me from getting up and leaving. With this knowledge I take a deep breath, my body preparing to carry out the plan forming in my head. Within seconds I've completed what I need to do to escape, and before I can doubt myself I put it into action.

I force my eyes open and rip myself off the table I'm lying on, the blue light startling my vision for a moment. I look around the room to find myself alone as I predicted. I quickly glance through the glass cabinets to see if there's anything of use, but all I see are empty beakers. As I'm about to run toward the door, I see a closed off vial with a transparent liquid in it, and as I walk up to it I see it has a label on it that reads "ONE TIME USE: REVIVAL". My hand shakes as I pick up the vial, unsure of what it truly is, but I grab it anyway and finally make my way to the door. I place the vial in my pants pocket to free my hands for the next step. I raise my hands and try to twist the door knob, but it doesn't move. For a moment I'm frozen in confusion as I continue to try to open the door, but it won't budge. 

"Shoot, no," I mutter under my breath as I continue to rattle the door knob, my frustration getting the best of me and I push away from the door and throw my hands through my hair. 

I take a breath and try to calm myself down, but my internal clock knows any second wasted is a second that someone could use to track me down. I take my hands out of my hair, my right one coming out easily but my left getting caught. I scrunch my eyes in confusion for a moment before I realize the reason: my bracelet. I detach my bracelet from my wrist and unwrap it from my hair, and when I finally untangle the bracelet I take a look at what my hair was wrapped around– the charm. My eyes widen at the realization and a smile breaks out on my face. I silently thank Pietro for his brilliance and run over to the door, picking the lock as soon as I kneel down. Within seconds I've opened the door, and I reattach my bracelet to my wrist quickly. Without a second of hesitance, I'm out the door and into the hallway, which I expected to be busy but instead is completely empty. The lights of the hallway are a much brighter blue, a color I'd think to see in a hospital or a place just as ominously sterile. Though this place is nothing like a hospital, the empty hallways still give me the same feeling of strange anxiety, one I get when I'm somewhere I feel I'm not supposed to be. I start to run down the hall, passing many closed doors as I do.

I'm almost at the end of the hallway when I hear the first sign of people even occupying this building. 

"Hey, where are you going?" The person yells out to me, his voice low and gruff. I don't even turn to acknowledge I've heard him, instead choosing to continue running. 

My speed makes the harsh blue lights blur above me, contrasting the darkness of the flooring and walls. I'm rounding the corner to enter the second hallway when I begin to hear footsteps trailing me, the hallway echoing his voice as he speaks a series of numbers into his arm. I don't catch onto the strand but I clearly hear what he says after: "Code 6. All available personnel to Gateway 2 immediately."

I continue to run as fast as possible, knowing that any second now it won't just be one man chasing me. I try to shut out the questions racing through my mind as I try to place all my concentration on a way to get out of here. Each door I pass looks the same, and I begin to wonder if I've made any real progress. The lights above me still shine blue, and though I'm starting to doubt myself on my hastily made plan I continue to run, turning around yet another corner. When I make it into the third hallway, I start to hear the echo of footsteps behind me grow, quickly turning from one pair to two, to four, the number increasing faster than I can keep track of. My mind starts to become unfocused as I start to breathe too fast, my head feeling a bit too light and my legs feeling a bit too numb. Trying to keep my focus, I force my eyes from my feet to what's ahead of me, and I'm immediately glad I did. Only about fifty feet away is a set of panel doors with an exit sign glowing above them. A small relieved smile grows on my face and I force myself to run faster, knowing if I can just make it to the exit door I'll be fine. The increasing volume of footsteps behind me fades away as I focus on just making it my goal. Everything around me fades to black, the distance between me and the doors closing in quick.

I'm just a few steps away from the doors when I'm knocked over by someone from my right side. Despite it being hours ago, the pain from the shot I took earlier flares up again upon the impact, making me wince. We both fall to the ground from my momentum, and I try to slip out of the grip the person has on me. I almost do, but as I try to stand up the person latches onto my ankle and I fall once again. This time, the person pins my arms to the ground as more people begin to surround me. I finally get a good look at the person's face, and I'm shocked to find that it's a boy who looks just around the same age as me, with short brown hair and piercing blue eyes, the color matching the lighting almost exactly. 

"Pick her up," he barks at the guards, who quickly lock onto my upper arms and yank me off the floor. I attempt to kick out, but another guard grabs onto my ankles as well, trapping me in the air.

"You know, I wasn't really expecting you to be the one to escape, Aveline," he says, his head tilting up.

"What do you want from me," I growl, still thrashing against the guards' grip. 

After a moment I realize he used my name, though I'm not sure how he knows it. My mind doesn't focus on that information at the moment, however, as the boy in front of me poses a much bigger threat than the words he decides to use. The boy steps forward, a malicious grin marking his face. My eyes burn holes into him, but if it bothers him he doesn't show. He even laughs a little at my anger before raising his eyes to me to respond.

"You'll find out soon enough, don't you worry. And if it's matters at all to you, you managed to get the farthest out of the rest of the subjects. Only one other person figured out a way to get out of the room, let alone almost escape." His eyes never leave mine as he says this, his grin turning bitter as he talks. "And though it's been fun to watch you struggle, I think it's time you're put in your place." 

I watch as he takes what looks like an extremely wide pen out of his pocket and slowly walk toward me. I don't say a word as he approaches and continue to try to escape the grasp, but with no success. As he finally makes it to me, I expect that he'll say something to try to anger me further, but instead he abruptly stabs the object into my arm. I cry out in pain as he holds it there, and I slowly feel myself drifting. I'm dropped to the ground and vaguely notice the vial still in my pocket dig into my side, and right before I pass out the boy leans over me once more, his eyes holding a blue poison.

"Good luck, Miss Ridley. You'll need it."

~~~

"Subject undergoing initiation phase one is Subject 19. Subject 19 has been recommended and approved for: Cryogenic Interrogation. Supervisor for this interrogation is Dr. Lasind. Interrogation will begin as soon as the subject is awake."

For a moment I'm feel dazed, and without thinking I try to bring a hand to my head to calm the pounding. My body shivers and I groan as I try to raise my hand again, this time my brain processing that it's not reaching my head. What's happening? I look down at my arms to find them strapped to the wall I'm leaned up against, and instantly my head clears and I remember the events of today. My eyes widen quickly and I try to look around, but I cannot see outside the cylinder I'm being held in. I try to move my legs to find that they're strapped down as well, and at this I open my mouth to shout but I'm cut off by a similar monotone voice to the one I heard in the first room.

"Subject 19 is awake. Cryogenic Interrogation will begin now. Time begun is 1:58 PM. Dr. Lasind has entered the interrogation room." 

The monotone voice cuts out, and I instantly become ready to attack anyone at a moments notice, though I don't see anyone approach. I begin to get paranoid but realize quickly that the reason I can't see anyone approaching is because I can't see anything at all– the cylinder is opaque, restricting my view to the 3-foot radius of space I have. I pull at my arms again, my claustrophobia acting up in the back of my mind, but find that they're still tightly attached to whatever wall I'm backed up against. Once more, I open my mouth to shout, but ultimately decide not to. If I'm going to be tied up, I don't want my captors to think I'm desperate.

I'm slowly losing my patience as the minutes pass. It's had to have been at least five minutes since the monotone voice declared that Subject 19 –which I've come to assume is me– had woken up and that the person conducting my interrogation had already entered the room, but I still haven't heard a single voice. I decide, since there's nothing better to do, to attempt to find a way out of the constraints I've been placed in until my interrogation actually begins. Might as well make my time waiting useful. As I begin shifting my arms and legs around, looking for a loose stitch or worn binding, I start to shiver. The cylinder I'm in has gotten noticeably colder since I've woken up, but I didn't realize it before. Slowly, my mind connects what the voice said earlier to something I hear Bucky and Steve talk occasionally– I'm supposedly in a Cryogenic Interrogation, and when Bucky was stored in Wakanda in very cold conditions, they called it cryo. The thought creates itself before my mind can even process it, and I shiver even more at the thought of it: Whoever captured me is going to try to interrogate me with the threat of freezing me to death.

With this, I try to find a way out of the binds with more intensity, the binds moving some under my thrashing. The cold continues to flood the cylinder and I feel the tips of my fingers growing stiff. Finally, I resort to pulling my weight completely off the wall, hoping to force the constraints off.

"Now, now, I don't think that would be a wise decision." I freeze, the delicate female voice surprising me. "You wouldn't want for it to get any colder in there, now would you?"

The sudden voice startles me but I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to give the woman anything to use against me. With the cold getting harsher by the second, I decide to lean back onto the wall. When I do, I find that the binds have loosened some compared to when I woke up. We both stay silent for a moment before she speaks up.

"I'm going to ask a few simple questions. Every time you answer incorrectly, attempt to avoid the question, or simply refuse to answer at all, the temperature around you will drop five degrees. Due to your uncooperative actions earlier, the temperature currently rests at about 48 degrees." She pauses and I pick up on her shuffling, moving from my left side to my right. I close my eyes, opening them again when she asks her first question.

"What is your name?" Her tone almost makes the question feel like a statement. When I don't answer, she speaks up again. "You have five seconds until the temperature decreases."

I stay quiet again, and I hear her make a sound of dissatisfaction. "Fine," she says, "have it your way."

I feel the air around me cool, and once it does, she speaks up again.

"What is your name." This time there is no question in her tone.

I debate whether or not I should continue to resist answering her question, knowing that I can truly only keep this up for a small amount of time, especially if she was telling the truth about the temperature decreasing that much.

"Three seconds," she informs me, and I hear a small, mechanical shifting noise above my head. It must be the cooler for my cylinder. After taking a small breath, I give in.

"Aveline."

I can hear the smile creep onto my interrogator's face as she speaks. "See, that wasn't too hard, now was it Aveline? Now, what's your last name?"

Though her voice comes out gentle, as if it's my choice whether or not I want to answer her questions, I know better than to defy her. My arms shiver at the cold surrounding me, and when I look down, I vaguely expect to see the light blue pajamas I was wearing before this entire incident, but find a short blue and black t-shirt and sturdy, black pants covering me instead. When did I change into this? I want to ponder the thought and attempt to find a time to pinpoint my change, but quickly realize I don't have the time to think of trivial things. I close my eyes and purse my lips before answering, my gut clenching at the idea of me simply giving away answers to my interrogator.

"Ridley. Aveline Ridley." I keep my answer short, not wanting to accidentally give away useful information.

I hear her make a small sound of satisfaction before an undeniable sound of a chair pulling up to the cylinder. I guess she thinks we're going to be here for a while. After the muffled sounds stop she doesn't waste any time, instead continuing on to the next question immediately. "How long have you been an associate to Anthony Stark?"

My mind instantly flashes to the training I had a few weeks after I joined the Avengers. Steve and Tony sat me down in a locked room and taught me how to handle an interrogation, guiding me to every answer I should give in the event that I was captured. My physical training has been one of the hardest experiences of my life, but interrogation was worse. The two heroes helped me on the first day, giving me pointers and telling me what the most important things to avoid saying– that being who I know, where any of the Avengers facilities are, and what I can do. The days after, however, they taught me what could happen in interrogation: the torturing, the mental games, the insanity of staying in one place for hours with no one but enemies trying to pry at what's in your mind. Even the slight thought of the week-long training sends shivers down my spine, but my voice finds it way back and immediately answers the way I was instructed to.

"I am not an associate to Anthony." My heart beats a little harder when saying this but my voice stays steady, just as I was taught.

"We both know that is not the truth, Aveline," she says, and I hear shuffling from her side of the cylinder. "Would you like to spare the few degrees and simply tell me the answer to my question?"

I keep my eyes straight at the wall in front of me as I answer, my instincts kicking in as this interrogation truly begins. "I already told you your answer. I am not an associate to Anthony."

"There's simply no way that's possible, Miss Ridley. We know you've been a resident at the Avengers facility in Northern New York for almost three years now. So do not think you'll get out of this question by attempting to give me a hollow lie." 

My stomach drops at her statements. Not only does she know of my association with Tony, but she knows that I've been with the Avengers for three years, despite my addition to the team being secret. I don't know how whoever is behind this kidnapping found out about me or my involvement with the Avengers, but there's no way that they could've found that information out from the outside. For a moment I think of simply giving in and telling my interrogator that I was lying, as she suspects, but my thoughts bring me back to my training once again. One particular statement that Tony said during my fifth day of interrogation comes to the front of my mind as I decide what to say back: Whatever you do, whatever you say, just make sure you help you and the team. You're going to stay on the Avengers as a discreet recruit, so if anyone questions that you are with us –and I mean anyone– you deny it. You don't know me, you don't know Cap, you don't know Bruce, you don't know anyone. It's the only way you'll stay safe, and that's all we want. For you to be safe.

Despite my nervousness, I continue with what I was taught to say, my voice coming out much stronger than I feel. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not affiliated with the Avengers or any of its members. I've lived just outside Manhattan for all my life, including the past three years."

"I'm sure you'll rethink your choice of answer after a few seconds."

At this statement, I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. After a few seconds, however, I feel the air around my cool even further, dropping five, ten, fifteen degrees. My eyes widen at the sudden chill, my teeth chattering. I go to ask why she's decreased the temperature to keep up my show of innocence, but quickly find out how she knows that I lied about one of my answers: whoever kidnapped me took me from the upstate facility. At this realization, I let my head drop and close my eyes, slamming my hands into the wall behind me in frustration.

"Realizing our mistakes, are we?" The interrogator asks, and I shoot my head up at her question.

How does she know–

"You didn't think that we'd put you in containment without a way to see what you're doing, did you?" She laughs, a sharp, bitter sound. I look around the cylinder for a camera, finding one behind me to my left, a small black eye watching my every move. "You keep making foolish mistakes, yet you were the one to almost escape. You do keep me guessing, Miss Ridley, I'll give you that."

She laughs once again after saying this, then continues on with the mind game she's started to play. "So, would you like to continue to deny what I already know, or are you going to answer my question truthfully?"

I don't speak up. I close my eyes once again, weeding through each possible answer I could give. Do I continue saying what I was trained to say with the legitimate risk of freezing to death, or do I tell the truth? My thought process is cut off when she speaks up once again, causing me to clench my jaw in extreme irritation.

"I'm going to give you one last chance to answer this question. If you decide to not answer truthfully again, we will continue to reduce the temperature until you decide to answer. How long have you been an associate to Anthony Stark?"

My mind races, my reasoning mentally pulling my head apart. After a few seconds of silence, I'm surprised to find that the temperature simply decreases with no taunting by my interrogator. The air seems to cool faster than before, easily dropping to below 20 degrees in less than 5 seconds. Even after only a few seconds, my wrists have already began to feel numb against the restraints, my fingertips stiffening completely. When the air continues to become frigid, my breathing picks up and my eyes widen. I suddenly feel as if the cylinder I'm in was smaller than before and my heart picks up speed as I quickly make my decision.

"Three and a half years. We met on accident and he suggested that we on kept in touch in case he needed an extra pair of hands on a, a project," I spit out, trying to keep the fact that I can do things most people can't to myself. "He told me he'd reach out if he needed me, but insisted that we kept our connection a secret so that I wouldn't become a target to attacks." I say the last part with venom in my voice, as that's exactly what happened. I may have bent the truth a little, but for the most part, what I said was what happened.

Tony and I did meet on accident– three years ago I had gone on a trip to Maine and the Avengers had been there on a stealth mission. I was exploring the area on my own and wound up at a concrete building that had been partially destroyed, but the rubble was still settling. Due to my own reckless curiosity, I went inside the remains of the building, walking in on Tony laying still on the ground, bleeding from an extreme gash on his arm and other small wounds scattered across his body. His suit was destroyed: the arms of his armor had been torn off completely, his mask in shards, and his chest plate melted so much that I was worried if he'd ever get it off his body. I ran up to him, my heart pounding, and checked his pulse to see if I had walked in on a dead Avenger. Thankfully, his heart was still beating, but the amount of blood he was losing suggested that he wouldn't be alive for much longer. I didn't know what to do; I didn't know of my power at the time. I placed a hand under his back in attempt to sit him up so I could carry him to safety when his wounds began to heal, each one slowly piecing itself back together. I removed my hand from his back as I watched his body patch itself up, but once I did the wounds stopped healing. It took a few moments to realize the correlation between me and Tony healing, but once I did I placed my hand on his arm, letting the rest of his wounds fade away. After Tony had woken up from my healing and felt well enough to get up and walk around, he questioned who I was and how I saved him. I told him who I was, but told him I didn't know how I saved him, just that I had placed my hands on him and his arm began to work its way back together. I'd come to find out after I moved into the Avengers facility and Tony and I grew close that he wasn't expecting to wake back up that day –he had told the rest of the team that was with him to leave him behind and collect him after the mission was completed– until I walked in and brought him back.

I think about the pain Tony looked like he was in the day I found him for a moment until I'm forced out of my thoughts by my interrogator once again.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Ridley. Though unfortu–" She stops abruptly, and I expect for her to say more, but after a few seconds I hear her mumble a few soft words and then footsteps walking away from my cylinder.

I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion at the sudden stop, unsure of what to make of it. I sit in silence for a few minutes, not risking my attempts of escape again. The air around me is beginning to feel painfully cold. I try to hold my hands together to keep some heat in, but it's no use. After a few minutes, I hear footsteps return to my cylinder.

"It appears one of your colleagues has slipped enough information for this interrogation to be useless. As much fun as it was to force a single question out of you," she says, the sarcasm dripping from her voice, "I have been ordered to release you. Please cooperate with your handlers or we're going to treat you much worse than how you just were treated."

As soon as she stops explaining, the cylinder detaches from the ground and lifts directly up, the air of the interrogation room encircling me immediately. I release a breath of relief, letting my guard down for a moment to appreciate the warm air and amount of space around me. When I look up after a few seconds, I find myself in front of the woman I assume to be my interrogator, and she's just how I pictured she would look: a woman in her late-forties, with graying roots to her black hair, dark brown eyes, and a sour smile, as if she finds fun in interrogating people. She looks me directly in the eye and smirks before saying one last statement, guards already entering the room to bring me to wherever my next location is.

"I hope you're ready for pain much, much worse than what you just went through, because you're going to receive just that."

The guards detach my arms and legs from the wall I was strapped to and quickly seize my arms before I can attack, but I don't try to. They allow me to walk on my own with simply two guards, one at each arm, and we begin to make our way toward the exit. The interrogator's words ring through my ears, cutting through all the barriers I had built to withstand people like her. There's a high chance that the statement she said was simply to make me paranoid, to send me off worrying about one more thing.

But for some reason, I feel like that's not true.

We reach the door of my interrogation room and I put what the interrogator said behind me as the guards open the door. The hallway is much more chaotic than it was when I attempted to escape. People are running in every direction, all faces I've never seen before. My mind scrambles to try to take in every face, to look for any familiar features, but it isn't until I hear a voice from about 15 feet down the hallway that I find a match to anyone I know. And once I hear it, I wish that I didn't.

"Please, let me see him! Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, let me go!"

I whip my head around at the sound of Peter Parker's voice. The teenager's face is distorted with pain and tears, his arms and face painted with bright, fresh wounds, and his eyes wet but wide open for the person he's calling for. He wrestles against the guards' grips, but even with his strength he can't break out of the grasp they have on him. He continues fighting against them and I do nothing but watch in pain, my eyes tearing up as my own guards try to pull me away from the scene.

"No, no, stop!" I say, resisting the guards as I try to pull my way towards Peter with my feet.

I debate about staying quiet and not revealing that I know him, but I quickly disregard that plan as I hear Peter continue to yell.

"Please, just let me go! Please! I know he's in there, I can hear him, please, I need to see him, I need to tell him that I'm sorry, please just let me see him and I'll shut up, I'll shut up I promise, I will, I'm sorry," he says through his sobbing, his voice hiccuping as he says the last couple words.

"Peter!" I yell, my guards pulling me away from him as they realize we know each other. "Peter, it's me, it's Aveline!"

His head quickly turns to my voice, and once he sees me he tries to force his way out of the guards' grasps with even more passion. The hallways begin to empty around us when the people hear our shouting, preferring to go back to their closed rooms than hear desperate pleas. Peter's still talking through tears as he responds back over the dissipating hallway.

"Aveline! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, they were hurting me and it hurt so bad, and they said they wouldn't stop and I didn't know what to do and I'm so sorry Aveline, I'm so sorry," Peter gets out through his sobs and hiccups, making tears rush down my face at the boy who won't stop apologizing for reasons I haven't found out yet.

"It's okay, Peter, you're going to be okay," I say through my own tears, my legs still trying to force their way toward Peter despite having two guards on me holding me back.

My heart aches as I watch him continue to fight against his guards. My mind struggles to find a way to help him, but I come up with nothing. We're both helpless, but we're not willing to admit it.

Just as I'm about to give in and let my guards continue taking me where I'm supposed to go, a door a few feet past Peter opens. Two more guards step out with a severely injured man in between them, with bleeding wounds all over his arms and face, his clothing torn so aggressively it's barely clinging to his body, and his legs doing more dragging than carrying his weight. At first glance I don't recognize the person, but I quickly place him as he steps into the light.

It's Tony.

Peter immediately breaks down at the sight of his mentor, and Tony's head whips up when he hears Peter's sobs. Tony's eyes widen to an amount I've never seen before as he takes in Peter's current condition, and I watch tears fill his eyes as Peter begins apologizing once again.

"Mr. Stark, I'm so sorry this is all my fault, it was me I was the one who told them but it just hurt so bad, and they told me it would just get worse unless I told them what they wanted to know and I'm so sorry, I didn't want to and I tried not to but it hurt so bad Mr. Stark, I'm so sorry," Peter says loud enough for both Tony and I to hear, his voice breaking as he tries to explain what happened through his sobs.

Tony doesn't fight his guards, his body shaking as he takes a deep breath in. He turns to the guard on his left arm as says something too quiet for me to hear, but whatever it was the guard nods his head and walks Tony toward Peter. When they're a couple feet away from each other, still out of reaching distance but close enough to talk, Tony speaks up. His voice isn't loud but it immediately dominates the now empty hallway, and though his body is gory, his voice comes out soft and comforting, as if he's in no pain.

"It's okay kid, you did your best." Tony offers a gentle smile to the broken teenager in front of him. "You did exactly what you should of. I never meant–" He cuts off, his voice breaking.

He pulls himself closer to Peter and looks at the wounds covering all of his exposed skin, more most likely hidden under the same clothing I'm wearing. I've stopped struggling against my guards and they let me stay where I am now, about 10 feet away from the two. Tony takes a shaky breath before continuing and I feel as if I'm watching something I shouldn't be, that this feels too personal for me to be witnessing. I realize as Tony begins to speak again that this must be how Peter felt this morning when I had him read out the notes they took when I received a vision.

"I never meant for you to get hurt, I hope you know that. You getting hurt is the last thing I want. Remember that, please," he tells Peter as he looks to the guard on his left once again and nods.

They begin to walk Tony away from Peter, who's given up trying to get out of his restraints. Peter watches with tear-filled eyes and a shuddering chest as Tony walks away but doesn't say a word, keeping his promise of staying quiet if he got to apologize to Tony. Tony makes his way toward me, he and his guards on their way to the doors 20 feet away from me. The guards half-carry Tony down the hallway, and when he passes me he puts his feet down. He slows the guards down enough to whisper something in my ear, a simple statement that makes my heart stop.

"Prepare for the worst."

Tony lets the guards take him down the rest of the hallway and I watch as he goes, the sentence he told me the only thing on my mind. Prepare for the worst. If Tony Stark says that what could happen could be the worst possibility, what chance do we have of even making it out of here alive?

After Tony walks through the doors, I look over at Peter, who's still standing in the same place he was when talking to Tony. He hangs his head, not resisting in the slightest, yet his guards don't attempt to bring him to the doors. My guards start to drag me toward them but I put my feet down, trying the same technique Tony did just moments before.

"No," I tell them. "I want him to go first."

I realize after speaking that asking the younger boy to go before me probably sounds cowardly, but I have purpose to my request. There must be a reason for why Peter was brought out first but is leaving last. I want to make sure that they don't hurt him any more than they already have, especially since he resisted and yelled so much before Tony came out.

My guards simply ignore my statement with a smirk on their faces, instead using more force to move me to the doors.

"Stop, don't have me go before him!" I pick up my voice, playing into the idea that I'm afraid of what's behind the doors.

I look up to see Peter looking at me in confusion, but when I make eye contact he realizes I have a plan behind my small outbursts.

"Let me go first, it'll calm her down," he says softly, but his guards don't budge.

"Why won't you just let him go before me?" I ask, my voice getting louder each word. Please, just let him go first.

"We have direct orders, Miss, and we do not disobey direct orders," the guard on my left finally responds, his voice low and smoother than I expected for someone who spends his days wrestling with hostages. Or, at least, this day.

"What's so bad about letting him go first? All I want is for him to go first!"

"Just let me go, it'll shut her up," Peter says, his voice carrying what I know to be a fake annoyed tone, but is extremely believable. "Trust me, she won't stop whining 'til she gets her way."

The guards around me shift as I try to kick out and whip my head around. I yell out one more time as the doors get closer, the guards only having about five feet left to drag me until Peter is out of my eye sight.

"Please, don't make me go first!" I emphasize each word, my legs still thrashing about as my guards finally come to a stop in front of the doors. I expect them to open them and lead me through, but instead the guards keep them closed and look to each other, as if they're communicating telepathically. The one to my left nods his head, then looks to me.

"You're not going to shut up unless we let him go first, are you?" I quickly shake my head side to side, letting my eyes widen a little in faked fear. My left guard sighs, then pulls me to the side. "Get him over here quick. If word gets to Ardyn that I allowed this, I'm not going to be happy."

My right guard and both guards holding Peter nod their heads in understanding as Peter starts to make his way toward me. I come to the assumption that the guard on my left arm must be the supervisor for the group of guards in front of me, and that by letting Peter go first he could be putting himself in some danger. I begin to wonder why someone who works with the group that kidnapped me is putting either his position or himself in danger, but quickly brush the thought aside for the moment as I watch Peter come up to the door. He looks over to me and, for the first time since Tony left, whispers.

"Good luck."

The sentence is short but his face says what he can't in front of the guards. "Thank you for sticking with me and for finding a way to help," his eyes say, no longer holding tears but still containing a hurting and sorrowful look I'll never be able to erase from memory. As he looks away, I catch a glimpse of regret appear in his expression, and I wish I could do something to assure him that he did nothing wrong. But with a guard at both of my arms and the same for him, the only thing I can do is respond.

"Thank you," I start, hoping that he hears what's between the words I'm speaking. "You too, Peter. Stay safe."

He doesn't look back to me as he walks through the doors in front of me, but I catch his shoulders rising from a deep breath as he and his guards step into the dark hallway.

The doors shut after Peter and my guards and I wait silently for a few minutes. I don't know the reason of our waiting, but I don't say anything against it. Though I was acting afraid before, I'm still not entirely pleased with the idea of going into that hallway.

After a few minutes, my guards abruptly walk me up to the doors. With a swift swipe of my left guard's key-card, the door clicks, unlocking. The guards open the doors without hesitation, leading me into the darkness that awaits behind the doors I tried so hard just minutes ago not to go through. As we walk through, the doors quickly shut behind us, a small click signalling that there is no going back now. My heart begins to beat harder, making it a little hard to breathe. I notice my arms start to shake as my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. I try to calm my breathing as the guards situate themselves, succeeding only enough to slow down the suffocating thoughts racing through my head.

Once my head clears of the worrying thoughts, I take a moment to look around me. Due to my nervousness about entering the doors, I didn't even notice that what we entered wasn't a hallway but another room. No bigger than ten by ten feet, the room is slightly illuminated by four small blue lights– one in each corner. As I'm looking around the room, my guards release their grasp on my arms. I look to them in surprise as they've barely even let me use my own legs, let alone completely let me be on my own. The guard that was on my left arm nods his head as he focuses back on whatever he was working on. After a few moments they turn back to me, and the one that was on my left arm walks up to me.

"I would like to do this the easy way, if you'll cooperate," he says, though his words have less bite to them than how the others I've dealt with here spoke to me. I must be growing on him, I think, a small smile appearing on my face at the ridiculous thought.

"I suppose that depends on what I'll be cooperating with," I reply, and he lets out a small laugh.

"You know, out of all the people I've had to deal with, you're certainly the most fiery." He takes a breath as he lightly takes my arm and guides me toward the back of the room. "And yet, you're the only one I've come to sympathize with," he adds under his breath as we walk away from the other guard.

My eyes widen as I take in what he's said, and I turn my head to meet his eyes. "Don't make me regret doing this," he whispers as we walk up to a transparent cylinder that highly resembles the one I was interrogated in.

"I... won't?" I reply, still unsure of exactly what is going on.

"Secine, your assistance is no longer needed. Please return to your post to finish your shift," the guard says to the other standing at the door. The guard previously on my right arm nods and opens the door without question, leaving promptly.

As soon as the door shuts, the guard in front of me turns back to meet my eyes. When he does, I find they hold an intense worry. He takes a nervous breath before he speaks.

"We don't have much time. They were expecting you ten minutes ago. If they question you when you get up there, make something up," he speaks quickly, stepping back from me to pace a little. A few seconds later he shakes his head side to side. "No, that won't work. They'll know your lying. They always do."

At this statement my blood turns cold. My heart pounds as he continues to pace in front of me. He shakes his head to the side continuously, but after a few seconds he turns to me sharply.

"We have to knock you out."

"What?" I reply in shock, my eyes wide. "What are you... What's going on?"

The guard steps toward me and I instinctively take a step back to match. At my retraction, his eyes soften and he reaches an arm out to me. His dark hand meets my arm, not at all in the same hostility that he showed earlier.

"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm on your side, I promise." He takes a small breath, taking his hand from my arm and gesturing to the uniform he's wearing. "I know it doesn't look like it, but you have to trust me. And honestly, you don't have an option– I'm all you've got."

Though I don't want to, I start to nod my head. He's not wrong by saying he's my only backup right now, and I need all the help I can get. But that doesn't mean he's going to get my trust without earning it.

"That may be true," I start, "but how am I supposed to know this isn't just another tactic? An extreme show of good cop and bad cop? I don't even know your name, and you're asking me to trust you?"

He nods before speaking. "I get it. You've been given almost every reason to not trust me. But I can try to give you reason to." He takes a shaky breath, looking at me as he leans onto the wall next to him.

"My name's Traiger. Bradley Traiger. I'm 38. I live a few minutes away from this facility, and the only reason I even got into this type of work is because I needed the money and the owner here had a debt to pay up on. I swore I'd never get into this stuff, but when the money went completely dry, I had no other choice. My little girl was going to bed with multiple layers on because the heat had gone out. My wife, Sofia, was working three different jobs trying to bring in as much as possible. We had to ration out our food at the start of each month. I couldn't make my daughter or the love of my life go through that anymore. So I took up this job.

"Now we keep the house too hot and my daughter gets dessert every night. We went on vacation just last month, down to the Bahamas. My wife only works one job now, and it's not even full-time. She spends the rest of her time with Aymee– that's my daughter's name. I go to work when Aymee goes to school, and get back right before she gets home. I don't want to do the work I do here, but it gives my family the life they deserve, so I do it. I can't go back to the way it was before. But I can't keep doing this." Bradley stops for a moment to take another shaky breath, and his expression takes on a new emotion. Desperation.

"Please, even if you don't fully trust me, trust me enough to let me help you. To let me finally do some good in a place where I've done so much bad."

I take a moment to let this all settle in. Bradley pulls up the sleeves of his uniform out of nervousness, revealing hazelnut skin that has an extreme amount of semi-healed wounds. Finally, I take a deep breath and think to what my teammates would want me to do. What Tony, Steve, Nat would want.

What Pietro would want.

"Okay."

Just this one word is enough to spring Bradley off the wall he was leaning on and toward me. He doesn't come closer than three feet, learning from my reaction before.

"I trust you, Bradley. Please don't make me regret that." I think back to when he said a similar line to me not too long ago. "So, what did I just sign myself up for?"

Bradley takes a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking, but when he does, I realize this isn't a plan he thought up off the top of his head. He knew what was going to happen. He knew that one day he'd come across someone that he could help.

"We're going to make sure you and as many of your teammates as possible make it out of here alive. Because right now, you're all pretty screwed."

~~~

"I don't know many details of how whatever's up there is set up, but I know the basics," Bradley starts. I keep my slight distance from him despite both of us accepting that we're on the same side, but if he's bothered by it, he doesn't show. His tone instantly becomes more confident as he begins to explain his plan, as if he's simply explaining an extraction plan to his group of guards instead of explaining a plan to escape a kidnapping.

"That clear tube behind you is going to shoot you up to the arena. They expected you up there a while ago, but there's no way they'll start it without you. No one can get in here from the door, and no one can come down through the tube, so we have some time and privacy to prepare.

"When you get into the arena, I don't know what you should expect. I'm pretty high up here, but only Ardyn and the developers really know what's happening up there. Maybe not even the developers. Ardyn doesn't share a whole lot."

"Sorry, who's Ardyn?" I interrupt quickly, not wanting to waste too much time.

"Oh, sorry, he's the owner of this whole place. He's new– his dad used to run it until he kicked the bucket. Kid showed no emotion, still doesn't, unless it's anger. If I had to guess he's just about your age: eighteen, maybe nineteen. Has the same piercing blue eyes that his dad did, and the color is supposed to match the lighting in this place. They're a... strange family, to say the least."

My mind instantly flashes to the boy who knocked me down right as I was about to escape. An unexplainable rage settles over me as I realize that I came face to face with my kidnapper and didn't even know it. My mouth settles into a straight line as I force out my thoughts.

"I think I've had the pleasure of meeting him," I say, and Bradley's face turns sympathetic. He goes to say something else, but I quickly cut him off. "What's the first step in this plan?"

Bradley doesn't look pleased at my attempt of changing the topic, but he understands that we have limited time. He nods his head as he continues on.

"Of course. The first step is the simplest: I'm going to have to knock you out."

I let out a small sigh as I respond. "I still don't see how this helps me."

He answers simply. "They can't question where you've been if you're passed out. Easiest way to make it seem convincing? Make it look like you were being uncooperative and your guards took a swing to shut you up. And they won't wait for you to wake up so they can question you; we've already wasted a lot of their time, and they won't want to wait longer.

"After you're sent into the arena and, hopefully, wake up before whatever is going to happen starts, I can't do anything to help you from the outside. You're completely on your own."

My hands start to shake when he says this, my nerves breaking through finally. You're completely on your own. I can't help but think of all the ways he's right, my mind taking me into dark places I had hoped not to go to. I take a few small breaths, trying to catch the air that seemed to suddenly disappear from my throat. Bradley sees my oncoming spiral and speaks up quickly, still staying a distance away from me.

"Hey, hey, you're going to be okay," he says. "Don't worry. You're going to get out of here, but this can only work if you stay in one piece, both physically and mentally, okay?"

I nod my head slightly, slowing my breathing down a little. After a moment, I make eye contact with him, and nod my head with more confidence. "Okay. You're right. I can do that."

"Okay, good." Bradley offers me a warm smile as he walks to the other side of the room, placing his hands on a small counter top.

When he does, a small white light illuminates the room around us, and a door slides open at his feet. He bends over and grabs a small vial, one that looks almost identical to the one I slid into my pocket before trying to escape. I realize I never checked if it was still there after my interrogation, and I quickly run a hand over my pockets. When I pat down my left back pocket, a feel a small bump where there shouldn't be one, and a wave of relief overcomes me. Bradley turns back around and walks back over to me, still holding the vial.

"It's a good thing we were busy today, or else you would've been busted. I know you have one of these," Bradley says as he holds out the vial in front of him, in case I wasn't aware what he was holding. I debate acting as if I don't know what he's talking about, but decide against it. We have too little time for lies.

I pull the small vial out of my back pocket, the writing reflecting the blue light of the room. I don't let it leave my hand, but I show it to Bradley.

"This?" I ask, and Bradley comes closer to read what the handwriting says. His eyes widen just as mine did when I first read it, and he looks up to me quickly.

"You have the revival serum." He doesn't ask this, instead cutting right to the chase. I nod my head, and he gently closes my hand around the vial. Pushing my hand back, he shakes his head quickly.

"You have to keep that safe. Even just a little of that could be enough to save your life. It says one dose, but really you only need a drop or two for most revivals. What you have could literally be the difference between life and death up there. Be careful with it." Bradley takes a small breath as I put the vial back into my pocket, closing his eyes for a short moment before continuing his plan. He extends his hand to me, placing the other small vial in my hand.

"I'm going to be honest with you. I have no clue what this does, but it was the only vial with anything in it. I can't read the writing in this lighting, so be careful with this one too. I wish I could give you a slight idea of what it is, but your guess is as good as mine. All I know is you're going to need all the help you can get up there, so even if I don't know if it'll help you, I want you to have it anyway.

"When you get up there, make sure you do just as I'm telling you now. What I know for sure is that there's going to be a bait of sorts in the center of everyone. They want it to be a bloodbath. If you guys don't kill each other, they'll find ways for you to die anyway. Whatever you do, don't run toward the center. You'll die before you can even try to make a difference. Trust me.

"After the initial fight, I can't help you. I don't know what's going to happen after that, but what I do know is they have profiles for all of you. Statistics. Bets. If they were going to put money on who gets out of here alive, you're pretty low the list. This comes at an advantage for you, though– just from what I've seen from you today, you'll definitely surprise them. They don't know who you are, who you're allies with, or what you can do. They're expecting you to attempt to do this all on your own, and listen to me when I say this: you'll never win on your own. You need allies. Make friends, and do it quick. The deadlier your allies are, the better chance of you staying alive. Go for the assassins. James Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, people like them. If you have them on your side, it's less of a chance they'll kill you, and you'll have them to help protect you. Even if none of you want to kill each other, there's more than just you up there. You have enemies at every angle."

I nod my head at all this information, trying to take in as much as possible. After a few seconds of silence, I make eye contact with him.

"Is there anything else I should know?" I ask him softly. I've begun to shake from nerves once again, though this time I keep my emotions under control.

"I've told you everything I know. Now we just hope to see if that's enough to keep you and your friends alive."

With this, I step toward him. I keep eye contact as I nod to him, signalling I'm ready to start the plan.

"Thank you, Bradley," I whisper as he lifts his arm.

"I wish you luck, Miss Ridley. Don't let me down."

I close my eyes as his fist hurtles toward my face, wishing a quick goodbye to the life I had before the nightmares begin.