shards - pietro maximoff

chapter seventeen ; jailbreaks and justice

"Where the actual fuck am I?"

Dahlia woke up to a calm breeze on her face,
the warm sun beating down on her, which, for most people, would be a very relaxing way to wake.

That is, given you weren't in a group of superheroes and weren't currently in an intense fight and woke up in the middle of nowhere alone.

As Dahlia stood up in the grassy field, and noticed her raging headache, the memories of the fight came back to her, bit by bit.

The airport was close enough for her to jog to, and upon doing so, she noticed that the airport was a complete and utter catastrophe.

No longer was it pristine and neat, instead, the ground was littered with remnants of various vehicles, walls were destroyed, bullet holes seemed to be everywhere, and the helicopter which they were trying to use to escape was crushed like a soda can.

It made Dahlia wonder if the places they fought were always this messed up afterwards, but she decided that she didn't want to know, and tried to distract herself.

She thought back to her S.H.I.E.L.D. training, trying to remember if there was anything within it that could help with her current predicament.

Now that she thought about it, she didn't recall there being a section about being stuck on a different continent, all alone, while your teammates are in prison, also while running from the government.

They should really up their training.

She decided to try and lay out the facts, rather than freaking out.

The plan was to go to the laboratory where the other super soldiers were being kept, but Dahlia didn't know where this lab in question was.

Judging by the destruction, she was fairly sure it hadn't gone exactly to plan, and she assumed that only Bucky and Cap had gotten away, and the rest were either in hiding or in some form of a prison.

So, all she could do was try to find them wherever they were. If they were in hiding, then she'd have to check in with their known allies, but she didn't know that they were for sure.

She was in Berlin, Dahlia knew that much. Luckily, she was fluent in German, and so she decided to start by getting a hotel room and asking around about what had happened. It had surely made the news, so it would be easy to discover what happened soon.

With these thoughts and her signature dagger in hand, she ran back to the parking garage, hoping that the beat up van would still be parked there. It was her best chance at finding her way back to somewhere where she was safe.

Dahlia was delighted to see the car, still where they left it. There was only one issue now. She didn't have the goddamn keys.

Dahlia slid her dagger into the window slot, opening the car from the inside, and sat in the front seat. She grabbed Clint's spare screwdriver in the glove compartment, and inserted it into the keyhole, turning it about a quarter clockwise, and the engine roared to life.

Don't ask how she knew how to do that.

With a way of transportation, and a plan of sorts in mind, Dahlia felt as if she could finally breathe.

Her regular clothes from the day before were, very thankfully, in the back, along with the twins's. It would draw a lot of attention, mostly negative, if she were to walk into a hotel wearing her suit. She'd be super badass, but earn a lot of unwanted attention for someone who was hiding from the law.

She didn't want to go too far from the airport, so she stopped at a motel ten minutes away.

She grabbed Pietro's zip-up sweatshirt, which was on the passenger seat, and wore it over her regular day clothes, hoping it might conceal her a bit. His scent surrounded her as she did, and she felt that her determination to find them was renewed.