"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.

The motel was on the more shabby end of things, with the neon sign only operating slightly, some letters in the advertisement not lighting up or even falling off.

It was the perfect place to lay low, for Dahlia was sure tons of shady folks came through here, she wouldn't be remembered amongst them.

The man at the front desk gave Dahlia the creeps, his sickly white skin and yellowed teeth making him look like a walking ad of bad choices. He looked her up and down, his gaze lasting a bit too long. If she wasn't hiding from the government at the moment, she would have given this man a piece of her mind, but instead just spoke about the topic at hand.

"Wie viele Zimmer?" The man asked with interest.

(How many rooms?)

Dahlia's accent came naturally, though it had been years since she had last spoken the language, thank goodness. "Nur einer. Ein Doppelbett bitte."

(Just one. One double bed, please.)

The man raised a brow, smirking as he made his comment. "Nur einer? Bist du sicher, dass du es nicht zur Königin machen willst? Für den Fall, dass Sie Gesellschaft wünschen?"

(Only one? Are you sure you don't want to make it a queen? In case you want some company?)

Clearly, he was trying to be flirtatious, but Dahlia only felt uncomfortable. Of course, she was fully capable of defending herself against him, if need be, but he didn't know that, and therefore looked at her like a piece of meat. She was not having any of it.

"Ja, nur einer. Schließlich lade ich keine Schweine wie Sie in meine Nähe ein, daher erwarte ich nicht, dass dies ein Problem sein wird. Ich bin kein Fan des Schlamms, weißt du?"

(Yes, only one. After all, I don't invite pigs like yourself near me, so I don't expect it will be a problem. I'm not a fan of the mud, you know?)

He seemed taken aback at her snark, not used to women talking back to him. The man placed her room card on the desk, and as she picked it up, he grabbed her wrist.

"Wenn du mich oder eine andere Frau wie diese jemals wieder berührst, werde ich deinen Kopf von deinen Schultern trennen." Dahlia hissed, ripping her hand from his grasp, picking up her room key and sending him a dude hand gesture as she walked down the hallway.

(If you touch me, or any woman like that ever again, I will sever your head from your shoulders.)

Entering her room, she unpacked her bags and took inventory of what little she had.

Two changes of clothes, her suit, two guns, two daggers, Clint's wallet, and an assortment of clothing items belonging to the twins.

She could work with this.

Dahlia flicked on the television across from her, ignoring the reporters commentary and the text upon the screen, focusing only on the images.

If she looked closely, in the background of their shot, were several figures being handcuffed and loaded into the back of a truck reading 'The Raft'.

Clint was clear as day, Scott and Sam beside him, Wanda with fury in her eyes, and Pietro, looking around in every direction. She could only assume he was looking for her.

Of course, they had to get themselves locked up in one of the most high security prisons on the planet. They could never make it easy for her.

Keeping her eyes on the screen, Dahlia sighed and picked up the telephone on the beside table, dialing a number she hadn't dialed in quite a while.

"Hey, it's me. I need a favor."

"Do I even want to know why you're calling?" The person on the other line sighed.

"I'm not sure you do, all I know is that it's most definitely illegal."

It was quiet for a moment, and if it had been anyone else on the phone, they would have assumed the line went dead, but Dahlia knew better.

"What do you need from me?"

•

If one was to guess what the Raft's Prison's inmates were thinking of, they might come up with a variety of answers.

In reality, of course it would be an assortment of different things, for not everyone is thinking the same thing. In this specific circumstance, though, the answers did vary.

Sam was thinking about Cap, Bucky, and who won the football game he was looking forward to watching but couldn't, because he was, you know, in prison.

Clint was busy creating a whole dramatic backstory in his head for each of the prison guards, trying to keep himself fro going crazy by making his own version of a reality TV show.

Scott was thinking about his daughter, who he promised that he'd stay out of trouble with the law, and he hated to know that he hadn't followed through.

Wanda was a bit too distracted by the type of restraint that had put her in to think of much else. Since she had been deemed 'especially dangerous', they figured that a straight jacket would do the trick. Little did they know, she was very capable of breaking out of these, but she didn't want them to up security to something that would inevitably be even more uncomfortable.

Pietro was also restrained in an uncomfortable manner, since the two were the only ones with powers that worked without the assistance of a device. He had shackles on both his arms and legs, because they were worried that he would use his speed to break out or cause chaos of some sort. He, however, very unusually, was being silent. Pietro was usually quite the chatterbox, so being stuck in a prison would deprive him of social interaction, and therefore he'd be trying to talk, right? Wrong. He was instead sitting in the corner, staring at his knees and thinking about Dahlia Anelace.

He had finally admitted to himself that he loved her, at the most inconvenient moment, too. Loving someone was downright terrifying, at least so far in Pietro's experience. But, maybe, that was purely because of their profession and their knack of getting themselves into life-threatening situations.

Wanda, who was being held in the cell next to him, couldn't stop hearing his thoughts, not even if she wanted to, because they were far too loud. Obviously, being a telepath had its advantages and disadvantages. She could never get peace and quiet unless she was completely alone, but she also had the pleasure of knowing that Dahlia felt the same as her brother did, though she might not know it just yet. Love is one of the loudest thoughts that one can have, so Wanda had heard every bit of every side of it.

It was adorable, that was a fact. She had been waiting for something to happen since they moved into the tower. Now, the question was, should she tell her brother of Dahlia's mutual feelings or not? Maybe it would get him to stop thinking, for fucks sake.

"Hey, stupid." She called to her brother, who looked up, seeing as that was Wanda's main nickname for him.

"What?"

"Stop thinking so loud, you're gonna give me a migraine."

Pietro made a face at her. "Too bad, I'll think as loud as I want."

Wanda opened her mouth to retort, but she didn't have the chance to because the doors outside of the individual cells slid open, with Tony Stark walking through them.

Guilt was evident on his face as he took in his surroundings. The steel reinforcements and the endless precautions made it seem as if the prisoners inside were dangerous, but these people were his friends, and he put them in here. However, he'd never let them know of his doubts, and would continue to put on his 'I know everything' façade.

None of them looked particularly happy to see him, but that was to be expected.

Clint's cell was the first to be passed by him, and he had no reservations about making his stance on the matter perfectly clear.

"The Futurist, ladies and gentlemen!" He clapped sarcastically. "The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not."

Tony sighed, massaging his temple. "Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they would put you here. Come on."

Clint spat at his words. "Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony."

"Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey," Tony tried to defend himself. "You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for..."

"Criminals?" Clint stood up from the bench on the wall, stepping towards the glass. "Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam. Or the twins. But here we are."

"Because you broke the law."

"Yeah." He grimaced.

"I didn't make you." Tony raised his hands in the air, but Clint wasn't listening, he had begun to sing.

"La la la la la..."

"You read it, you broke it."

"La la la la la..."

"Alright, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side?" Tony sighed in defeat, and began to walk away, with Clint calling after him.

"You gotta watch your back with this guy. There's a chance he's gonna break it."

Tony walked past Scott, who was right by the glass, evidently thinking that he'd get the same treatment as Clint, which wasn't the case.

"Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark." Scott remarked.

Tony slowed down in front of his cell briefly. "Who are you?"

Scott sighed. "Come on, man."

Pietro and Wanda were in the next cells, and Tony really had to hold back his guilt upon seeing them, two kids, chained and bound in a prison, because of him.

Wanda had decided to take a vow of silence upon seeing him enter, and Tony seemed to sense this because he didn't bother to try and talk to her.

He did, however, try to speak with Pietro.

"Hey, kid." He started carefully.

Pietro only looked at him, anger flaring in his eyes.

"I'll just be honest with you here. I need you to tell me anything you know about where Dahlia is."

He looked up at the man outside the cell. "I don't know where she is or what she's doing, and I wouldn't tell you anyway, if I did."

"Kid, I need to know, I need to keep her safe. And if she's on the run, by herself, she's not."

Pietro's worries nipped at him, but he remained firm. "And how would you keep her safe? Locking her in here? Because if you know Dahlia at all, you'd know that she'd rather be on the run from everyone than be locked in one of these cells."

Tony was seemingly accepting of the fact that Pietro wouldn't talk to him, moving on to Sam's cell without another word.

Sam looked up at him. "How's Rhodes?"

"They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So... fingers crossed." Tony swallowed at the mention of his friend as Sam shook his head. "What do you need? They feed you yet?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're the good cop now?"

Tony sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went."

"Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me." Sam snarled.

Tony looked down at his watch and calmly said, "Oh, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'. We got about thirty seconds before they realize it's not their equipment."

Sam looked taken aback, and moved a bit closer to the door.

"Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes," Tony's watch projected a hologram of a man, who looked nothing like the doctor who showed up to question Bucky. "Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong."

"That's a first."

Pietro snorted from the cell beside him.

"Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to..."

Sam gave in, knowing that the words he spoke were true. "Hey, it's alright. Look, I'll tell you, but you have to go alone and as a friend."

"Easy."

•

"He's moving to the chopper, I'll signal you when the coast is clear."

Dahlia Anelace was pressed up in an air vent, just above the center of Raft's Prison.

"Stark? Did he give you anything on Rogers?" Secretary Ross called after the billionaire, who was getting ready for departure.

"Nope. Told me to go to hell. I'm going back to the compound instead, but you can call me anytime. I'll put you on hold. I like to watch the line blink." Tony smirked, closing the door to the helicopter just inches away from Ross's face.

Ross looked completely frustrated, sort of like a small child throwing a tantrum.

"David?" He called to the head guard.

"Yes, sir?" The man he called David responded.

"I'm leaving for the day, Stark is giving me a headache."

Dahlia internally fist pumped before letting her friend know of the recent development. "Ross is leaving, watch the security cams, tell me when he's out of the building."

"Gotcha. You know I could technically lose my job for helping you with this."

"What's life without a little risk?"

You're probably wondering who is this person Dahlia knows is, and maybe you've made a few guesses. Even if you knew her personally, it would be hard to guess who her contact was, because Dahlia had met a ton of people and made a lot of friends (and enemies) in her time at S.H.I.E.L.D. This one, however, was a bit unlikely, because this friend in particular worked for the government that she was so deviously plotting against. But bros before the law, right?

"A life where I'm alive, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Jimmy Woo was watching over the security cameras, and communicating with Dahlia through her earpiece. The footage didn't show anything particularly suspicious at the moment, just a shit ton of prisoners and the silver-haired man that she was intent on avoiding.

"Ross just left the building. Make your way through the vents to the third prison block by taking a left, a right, and then a left." Jimmy said, pressing the keys of his computer, switching the frame to be of the place in question she was trying to break into.

Dahlia followed his instructions, climbing through the vents as quietly as she could. She stopped above the opening she needed to go through. "I'm here."

"Alright, the cameras will be going down in three, two, one."

He clicked a key and the screen went fuzzy, doing exactly what he intended.

Dahlia kicked the vent opening and jumped through the hole, landing on her feet in the middle of a cell block that held some of her best friends.

"Hello, ladies and gents, your savior has arrived."