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The only way to successfully rescue Lydia and take care of Hydra is to put any emotions in a box. There’s a quote about not letting emotions control you, and Stiles repeats it to himself as he makes his list. Peter and Braeden are on their way. Fortunately, they were just searching Kaminsky’s apartment and were already back from the estate. Bucky is on his way, too. Stiles told him to finish up his meeting with Maria, but he knows that nothing is going to keep him from being there when Lydia’s been taken.
After she’s rescued, Stiles is going to have to kiss her for being so brilliant and sneaky. She managed to answer his unspoken question about how they got her, gave him a general idea of where she’s being held, and gave him some clues about the identity of the boss. Enough clues that he’s able to see it all clearly now.
The list he’s making is for his own reference. He started it when he finished talking to Peter, who he called after Bucky. His emotions were all over the place, and he could feel his control starting to slip, so he had to find something to focus on. Thinking rationally, the emotions tucked in a box in the corner of his mind for now, he’s able to make bullet points listing the things he’s overlooked or not considered previously.
The ringing of the doorbell pulls him out of his notes. Turning the page of his tablet, he gets up and jogs downstairs to open the front door. Peter is angry, his entire body on edge, and Braeden looks pissed off. Stiles reaches out to grip the back of Peter’s neck, squeezing it gently.
“Calm down,” he says firmly. “You’re close to shifting, Peter. They’ve made the wrong move, and now we can end this by taking the offense instead of being two steps behind.”
“Right,” Braeden says, flashing a sharp smile as she shifts her bag from her hand to her shoulder. “After all, Hydra just gave him the best Christmas present ever—themselves. Are you ready to leave yet, kid?”
“I’m pretty sure that Bucky’s on his way,” Stiles says. “I also don’t want us to rush in with our emotions high. We need to get them under control, so I’ve been working on that since I hung up the phone earlier. I think I might know they’re keeping her, which means we can look at the layout and determine the best point of entry.”
“They have Lydia,” Peter snarls, his eyes flashing bright blue. “If they’ve so much as touched one hair on her head, I’m clawing their throats out. Point of entry be damned.”
“Yes, they have Lydia, and she could make their brains leak out of their ears with a scream, so I’m not that worried about her,” Stiles says bluntly, looking at Peter and flashing his eyes black. “She’s biding her time to let us attack and take care of them because she wants us to end this. If you can’t control yourself, you can wait for us to return.”
“I hate to say it, but alpha looks kinda sexy on you, Stiles,” Braeden says, making a face like the very idea is weird to her before elbowing Peter hard. “Knock it off, Peter. We get it—you’re a big scary werewolf. That doesn’t mean shit if we don’t even know where she’s being held.”
Peter rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, posturing for a moment before he arches a brow and gives them a pompous look. “Why are we standing around on the steps instead of sitting inside getting our details worked out? Chop, chop. We don’t have all day, Alpha.”
“Then we’d better get to work,” Stiles says, stepping aside so Peter can enter the house. He winks at Braeden as she shakes her head. “C’mon, Brae. We’ve got a rescue mission to plan. Based on the time of Lydia’s call and the vague ‘few hours’ that was referenced, I’m estimating that we have two to two and a half hours before they contact me to set up an exchange.”
“Are you coming, sweetheart? I don’t think James would appreciate me fondling his clothes should I be left alone for too long,” Peter calls down, already a flight up. “You know that I can’t resist a nice cashmere.”
“Let’s go,” Stiles says, leading Braeden to the elevator. She’s looking around curiously, a slight frown on her lips. “What’s wrong? Lydia’s going to be fine. The only reason she hasn’t escaped herself is because she knows we need to end this Hydra Nergal nonsense ourselves.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about Lydia. She’s more than capable of saving herself without our help. This isn’t an apartment building, is it?” she asks. “That looks like someone’s living room, and this isn’t a standard size elevator.” She leans against the wall of the elevator and stares at him. “You’re dating a rich guy, aren’t you? How do superheroes even make money? Not Stark, of course, we all know about Stark Industries, but the others. How does the Winter Soldier afford a fucking house in Manhattan?”
“Actually, that’s an easy question to answer,” he tells her. “Tony Stark is their Sugar Daddy, since he bought the building and remodeled it. Pepper Stark is their Sugar Mama because she had the place decorated and furnished. And don’t call Bucky that, alright? He’s no more the Winter Soldier than I’m the Nogitsune. We’re former villains.”
“Sure, I can remember that. I mean, it makes sense. I’ve only ever read about him, so it’s easy to forget he’s a real person. You know?” Braeden looks curious. “So Barnes shares this place with other people? You said their, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, the second floor is all Sam’s area, and Nat has a room on the third floor that she uses whenever Bruce isn’t here,” he explains. They reach Bucky’s floor, and the elevator doors open to show them Peter posed by the wall. Braeden doesn’t have a chance to respond, but he sees her blinking like she’s trying to process what he just said.
“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for ages.” Peter pushes himself off the wall and walks over to the table that Stiles has taken over to make a desk. “Now, where do you think they’re holding Lydia and why?”
“Okay, so, you’ll have to try to follow me on this one,” Stiles says, pulling the chair out and sitting down. He opens his browser and finds the window with the map of New York City. “Lydia said that she was remembering when I’d wear my lacrosse jersey with Jackson wearing his, and we’d hang out at Derek’s first place with the wind sounding like a whistle.”
“Did you and Jackson ever hang out other than the time you decided to burn me alive so my own nephew could kill me?” Peter asks casually, perching on the edge of the desk in almost the same spot that Bucky always sits. “I also can’t imagine Derek inviting you children to ‘hang out’ with him when you were obnoxious, smelly teens.”
“Do you want me to explain or do you want to waste time being a judgmental prick?” Stiles asks sweetly. “Because you totally deserved being killed back then, even if fire, in retrospect, was particularly cruel considering everything. As for Derek hanging out with us, yeah, that would have been a little strange because he was antisocial. Not because we were smelly teenagers. It’s not like he was that much older than us, Creeperwolf.”
“When you were at NYU, would you have been hanging out with high school sophomores for fun?” Peter asks pointedly. When Stiles grimaces, he smirks. “My point exactly. A few years means very little when you’re older, but it can seem like a lifetime when you’re in high school or even college.”
“Can we get back to Lydia?” Braeden asks, putting her bag down on the sofa before leaning against the back of it. “Why was she reminiscing about high school when she was being held by Hydra? I mean, I’m sure there’s a point to it because she’s a genius, but I’m failing to follow along right now.”
“Right. So the wind whistle made me remember that drafty old train depot that Derek was living in for a while,” Stiles says. “My number was 24, and Jackson’s was 37, so I Googled that combination with train and depot, which actually gave me a hit. There isn’t an actual building there, but Depot Pl is up in the northern part of the Bronx, and there’s some buildings around by the railroad tracks.”
“How would she know that the numbers would lead you there if there isn't even a building with that address?” Braeden asks, frowning at the map. “Don’t get me wrong. Railroad tracks, by the river, nothing else around except prohibited areas? It’s definitely the perfect spot for a terrorist organization to set up shop. It just seems too easy.”
“It’s the curse of being underestimated,” Stiles says simply. “These are international terrorists, and I’m just a goofy resident, and Lydia’s a boring scientist. We aren’t considered a threat to any of them. As for how she knew about the numbers? It’s Lydia. She probably memorized a map of New York City when she decided to move here. Or they didn’t bother taking her phone away from her, which doesn’t seem as likely.”
Peter suddenly slides off the table and stands, his nostrils flaring. “There’s someone here,” he says, growling as he moves past Stiles and Braeden. “It’s not a smell familiar to this house—it smells like metal and gunpowder, but not like James. Could someone break in with the security that’s in place?”
“I don’t see how,” Stiles says, hearing the elevator running. It stops not long after starting, which is odd. “I think it went up to the roof. I’ve never noticed any special security there, but I’d think there had to be some. Just in case, Peter, can you be the welcoming party? Maybe Lydia is some kind of distraction so Hydra can get to Captain America? No, that doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“Maybe they want their asset back,” Braeden says, pulling a gun out of the waistband of her pants. “Don’t give me that look, Stiles. Everyone knows that they used him as an assassin for decades, and I doubt they were happy that he got away from them and threw off the programming.”
“I didn’t realize you were that into superheroes, Brae,” Stiles admits, wondering if everyone he knew back in Beacon Hills is superhero friendly and just never mentioned them around him. He didn’t think he’d been that much of an anti; more like he’d been indifferent and uninterested than anything else. Unfortunately, her theory makes more sense than his, but neither jives with Nergal’s focus.
The elevator starts moving again, the barely audible pulling of cables and wires something that’s grown familiar to him. Peter moves to the side of the elevator, claws out and ready to pounce as soon as the doors open. Braeden takes a couple of steps forward, putting herself between him and the elevator. If whoever it is plans harm, they’ll have to get through Peter and Braeden to reach him. It’s sweet of them, probably some left-hand rule, but he really wishes that they’d focus more on keeping themselves safe.
When the elevator door opens, Peter roars, being overly dramatic in the way he enjoys. “What the fuck?” The words are accompanied by a laser shot that Peter barely manages to avoid by throwing himself to the side. “If you’ve hurt the kid, I’m going to blow you to pieces!”
“Oh Jesus,” Stiles mutters, rushing over to the elevator. “What the hell are you doing coming in from the damn roof, Tony? We thought you might be Hydra trying to kidnap Bucky or even Sam.”
Stark exits the elevator wearing his stupid Iron Man suit, which explains how he got to the roof. His visor slides open, and he looks smug. “You called me Tony,” he points out. “And I’m here because Jimmy B told us that Hydra took Lydia. We’re a team, kid, and she’s your family. Besides, we might finally be able to take care of this local cell today.”
“Does Pepper know you’re flying around planning to attack a Hydra base?” Stiles asks, folding his arms and giving Stark his best ‘I know that isn’t turkey bacon, Dad’ look.
“What is that?” Stark asks, nodding at Peter, who’s still half-shifted and ready to attack. “You tell me that, and I’ll tell you about Pepper. Whoa. I don’t know you, either.” He blinks at Braeden, who looks surprisingly awestruck, then looks at Stiles. “She’s hot.”
“She’s Braeden,” Stiles says, as if that explains it. In a way, it does. “Peter, it’s just Stark. He’s harmless. Annoying and nosy, but harmless.”
Peter growls before he gets up, smoothing his hair and straightening his clothes as he shifts back to human. “He shot at me with a laser, sweetheart,” Peter says. “That doesn’t strike me as harmless.”
“Okay, no, we aren’t doing this,” Stark says firmly. Stiles watches him, waiting for him to demand answers about Peter’s shift and werewolves. “You called me Tony when I got here, so that just proves that you’re only using Stark to piss me off. I’ll make you a deal, kid. You call me Tony, and I won’t ask how pretty boy over there just changed faces. I’d have assumed it was some kind of mutant gene, but you’re acting way too cagey for it to be something normal.”
“If Stiles isn’t trying to piss you off, it means he doesn’t give a shit about you,” Peter says, huffing in annoyance. “Pretty boy? Really? Do I seriously look like a college aged twink? No, I don’t, which means the name isn’t at all accurate.” He walks over to Stiles and scent marks him.
“Peter, I think we need to focus on more important things than your disdain at being called a pretty boy,” Braeden says, finally speaking up. She uncocks her gun but doesn’t put it away. “Do you want us to take care of the problem, Stiles? Or are you good?”
“We’re good, but thanks, Brae,” Stiles says, looking at Stark. “Just for that attempted blackmail, I’m definitely going to call you Stark now. Next time, send a text to let me know that you’re flying to the roof and taking the elevator. You’re lucky that my friends didn’t strike first and ask questions after, especially considering the fact that Hydra is so intent on getting non-existent information from me.”
“Am I the problem?” Stark asks, looking from Stiles to Braeden to Braeden’s gun before focusing back on Stiles. “Did she seriously just threaten to kill me without any hesitation at all? Because, if so, I’m starting to understand why you’re so ruthless if these are the type of friends you have. What a delightful surprise! This is more fun than I expected.”
“Oh, she might have had some small amount of hesitation just because you’re Tony Stark, but, yeah, isn’t she awesome?” Stiles asks, winking at Braeden, who looks unimpressed with him.
“And what about me?” Peter asks, giving him a petulant look when he looks at him. “I almost got shot with a laser. Do you know how painful that would be? It would also take me at least thirty minutes to heal from it.” He arches his brow. “By the way, the tin can wasn’t lying when he threatened to blow me to pieces if I hurt you.”
“Huh. That’s interesting,” Stiles says, looking at Stark more closely. It seems that the reluctant fondness extends both ways. “Stark, you’ve got Jarvis in your helmet, don’t you? Can you ask him if he sees anything suspicious about a building complex up on Depot Place? It’s a railroad area, but my gut—and Lydia’s clues—say it’s where local Hydra’s made their base.”
“Will do, kid,” Stark says. “Since you’re being a dick and not agreeing to my generous exchange offer, I want to know what’s up with Mutton Chops. It’s like his eyebrows slid down to his cheeks and grew three times as big. There were also wrinkles and glowing eyes. I met a mutant once with similar choices in grooming, but his wasn’t temporary, and he didn’t have glowing eyes. Just metal claws.”
“Werewolves are real,” Peter deadpans. “Tell anyone, even that hot wife of yours, and we’ll kill you.” He rolls his eyes when Stiles stares at him. “What? He’s like an older, wealthier, more annoying version of you. Like he’s going to let it go until he gets an answer? He cares about you, so he isn’t going to do anything that puts you at risk, which means he’ll keep his mouth shut about werewolves.”
“Seriously, Stark. You need to just forget it and move on,” Stiles says, making a face when he sees Stark’s excitement. Thinking quickly, he adds, “There’s a lot of lore that you can research from home. I can share some of it with you after this is over, but you’ll need to swear an oath of silence.”
“Oooh. Like a blood oath? Are you a werewolf, too? I assume she isn’t since she has a gun, but do werewolves use guns if they have claws?” Stark asks. “I can swear an oath, but I’m not swearing anything that doesn’t include being able to tell Pep. I’m not keeping secrets from my wife, kid.”
“I’m not a werewolf. Neither is Braeden. They can use guns if they want to since their claws are only out when they want them to be,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “Pepper can be included in the oath. No blood required. We really need to pick this conversation back up at some other time, though, because Hydra takes priority.”
“Oh, right. We do need to rescue Lydia and take care of Hydra, don’t we?” Stark nods. “Speaking of, Jarvis said the area you asked about is formally owned by the city, but it’s been leased to various companies during the years. Currently, the buildings are leased to Lagren International, a logistics company.”
“Nergal,” Stiles says confidently. He knew that Lydia’s clue meant something, but he’s glad to have confirmation before they go rescue her. If Bucky has called in the team, they’ll have to be less liberal with handing out death sentences to everyone, but that might not be a bad thing. Despite his comments, he isn’t a proponent of murdering people who don’t truly deserve it. Belonging to Hydra in and of itself kinda deserves it, in his opinion, but he knows taking some people alive can help the superhero squad get more information and possibly locate even more people.
They can deal with the Hydra agents because his focus is going to be on getting Lydia and taking down the Boss. He hears Peter and Stark snidely insulting each other—over shoe designers? or is it clothing?—so he decides to let them battle it out without his input. Instead, he goes over to the desk and gets his notepad.
“Since we were interrupted by fucking Tony Stark ,” Braeden hisses, nudging him in the ribs like it’s his fault, “you didn’t tell us what else you managed to find out from Lydia.”
Peter stops mid-argument and looks over at them. “You were able to find out more? Was her call even monitored by these imbeciles? I really hate to say it, but I think some of the hunter clans might be more organized and prepared than these idiots. At least, their hired labor keeps their mouths shut and doesn’t get caught.”
“We’ll just say that I’m glad Gerard Argent’s hatred was focused on the supernatural world and not world domination,” Stiles mutters, thinking about how bad it would have been if Argent had got recruited to Hydra. “We have to remember that this Hydra cell is relatively new, too. Stasia was here checking on them when I met her, which I took to mean there were probably concerns about the group from the upper echelon. Wash only dealt with Stasia and then freaked out when he was dealing with the others, like Kaminsky.”
“If you’re talking about werewolf stuff, you might want to wrap it up,” Stark says cheerfully. “Jimmy B’s here along with Sam and Nat. By the way, I don’t seem to recall hearing that you’d met Volkov, kid. In fact, I think she was in our custody before we ever even heard about Jimmy B’s crush on you. Don’t tell me; let me guess. Something else we have to talk about at a later time.”
“Blood oaths are a thing if necessary,” Stiles says, arching a brow before looking at Braeden. “I’ll tell you what else I was able to get from Lydia when Bucky gets up here. I’d just have to repeat it anyway. You might want to put the gun away for now, Brae.”
“Oh, right,” Braeden says, shrugging. “I forgot I was still holding it.” She puts it behind back, which he assumes means she’s got a holster on her pants or possibly on her shoulder. Knowing her, though, it’s both considering she came ready to fight.
The door opens, Bucky coming inside and walking right over to him. “We got here as soon as we could, Doc,” he says, pulling Stiles into a comforting hug. He kisses Stiles on the cheek. “I’m glad you waited for us. I was half-convinced that you’d go off on your own because it’s Lydia.”
“Lydia would kick my ass if I did something stupid like that,” Stiles points out, breathing in Bucky’s scent and returning his hug. “Reckless and dangerous has its time and place, after all. We did almost kill Stark, though. He decided to fly to the roof and come in that way, which put us on alert.”
“Us?” Bucky pulls back, looking over Stiles’ right shoulder. “Hey, Peter. I’m glad you were able to make it. And you must be Braeden. I’ve heard a lot about you from Stiles. Thanks for coming to help with this. I’m Bucky, but you’re welcome to call me Jay or James if that’s more comfortable for you.”
“Bucky does sound a bit like what you’d call a toddler or a puppy,” Braeden says, reaching over to shake his hand. Stiles can see her squeezing just a little too hard, like she’s warning him, which is hilarious. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you because Stiles sucks at communicating unless you happen to be around him, but I’m glad he’s found someone that loves him the way he deserves.”
“Okay, enough of that,” Stiles says, elbowing her as she gives him a shit eating grin. “Tall, dark, and handsome over there is Sam. The spitfire in leather is Nat. Team, this is my uncle, Peter, and my big sister, Braeden. Don’t give me that look, Sammy. I know she’s badass and gorgeous, so you’re wondering how we can possibly be related, but there’s this thing called family by choice.”
“Why are civilians here?” Nat asks, keeping her expression as neutral as usual. “We’re about to infiltrate what could very well be the local Hydra cell’s base of operations, which is dangerous in its own right. In addition, we also have the goal of locating Lydia and rescuing her without causing her any additional harm. Civilians are a liability.”
“Nat, just shut up,” Sam says. “Peter helped me evacuate the apartment building, and he more than held his own during all of that. I don’t know his background, but I don’t think a normal civilian would be able to handle that stress so easily. As for Braeden, it looks could kill, you’d be dead, so I suspect she’s able to take care of herself.”
“Former US Marshall,” Braeden says, looking Sam over. “Army before that for four years active, two year inactive. I can definitely handle myself, Handsome. If my friend, Lydia, wasn’t currently being held hostage by these Hydra goons, I’d be happy to get into a pissing contest with you, Red. As it is, we know where she’s at, you don’t, so place nice or we’ll leave your ass here when we go rescue her.”
Bucky ducks his head against Stiles’ neck, and he realizes that he’s laughing. Thank God because Braeden is Braeden. Some people love her and some people find her abrasive and terrifying. Lips press against his neck before Bucky raises his head, his expression under control. “Moving on, do we know where she is being kept? How are we sure?”
“We can’t be a hundred percent sure,” Stiles says, “not until we get there, but I’ve got a feeling we’re right about it.” He quickly explains Lydia’s phrasing, and his discovery about Depot Place. “Jarvis said that area has been leased by Lagren International, so it fits their MO. If she isn’t there, then I’ll be waiting for that text in a couple of hours, giving me a meeting point.”
“What’s the plan?” Sam asks, looking around before focusing on Stark and Bucky. “I don’t mind playing the leader when I have to step into the role, but I prefer to leave the last minute strategizing to the experts.” He winks at Stiles. “Means I’ve got someone else to blame if things go to shit.”
“I think we should go to the location, get Lydia, and capture any of the Hydra members who don’t get themselves killed by trying to fight us,” Stark says simply. “A quick in and out would be the best option, of course.”
Bucky stares at Stark for a moment of complete silence then he groans. “Jesus Christ, no wonder you’re trying to recruit me if this is the extent of your strategy since losing Steve,” he mutters. Shaking his head, he goes to the desk. Stiles notices Stark wink at Sam and realizes they’re scheming to get Bucky involved. “Is this the best visual that we have of the building, Doc?”
“Yeah,” he says, deciding not to call them out right now. Lydia’s life is at risk if they do the wrong thing, after all. She can certainly scream and kill whoever is holding her, but she’s still human. If they make a mistake and alert Hydra too early, they could kill her before she could scream. “That’s all I could find, especially with such little time to search.”
“It’s not great, but we can see enough to formulate a plan,” Bucky says, studying the image then looking at another one that Stiles had found. “It looks like there are three different entry points. Nat, call the agents and have them meet us at this bridge here. We can divide up and take each entrance, ensuring that no one exits. The objective will be to capture, but, knowing Hydra’s brainwashing, their members would rather die than surrender, so be prepared. They’ll want to take as many of us with them as they can.”
Braeden picks her bag up and puts it on the table. “Just tell me where to go,” she says, unzipping the bag and pulling out weapon after weapon. She looks at him. “No offense, but we don’t care about Hydra. Our priority is getting Lydia out safely. You people can play with Hydra.”
Nat walks over and picks up a knife, admiring it. “Where did you get this? The blade is beautifully etched,” she says. “Was it a special order? Where did you get the work done?”
“There’s a shop in London that I’ve used several times,” Braeden says, eyeing Nat critically. “The man that runs it does special orders and also has handcrafted etched knives on display. Are you a fan of blades?”
“I prefer them to guns,” Nat admits, testing the knife’s weight in her hand before swishing it through the air. Stiles stops listening to them bonding over weapons and focuses his attention on Bucky.
“Lydia hinted that she’d seen about two dozen agents,” Stiles says, trying to remember anything else important. He isn’t getting into the identity of the boss because that’s something he has to handle on his own. He sees Peter move closer to them, still observing everyone and keeping his opinions to himself, for now. “She went out to meet someone to do Christmas shopping; I think that’s how they got her.”
“I was wondering about that, sweetheart,” Peter admits. “Lydia is much too intelligent to be out and about when she’s aware that you’re being targeted. Did she say who she was meeting? Are they part of this? Knowing Lydia, she probably allowed them to take her, so she could give you this as a Christmas present, like Braeden suggested earlier.”
“No, she wasn’t able to tell me that,” Stiles says easily. It’s actually the truth, even though Lydia did hint at a few things. He snorts. “I don’t know if she’d endure hours of this as a gift, but I have no doubt that she went willingly to avoid causing any issues. She did say that she was kidnapped by a wannabe Raeken, which makes me think that she must have recognized someone.”
“What does that mean?” Bucky asks curiously. “Wait, Raeken. That’s the fella who double-crossed Scott, isn’t it? Pretended to be chummy but was secretly plotting against him.”
“Yeah, that was Theo. Lydia trusted him in the beginning, but she realized he was bad news,” Stiles confirms. “If Kaminsky had an accomplice who worked at the hospital, Lydia must have met them at some point or another.”
“We should get going,” Sam says. “I don’t think there’s much else we can plan, is there? I’d like for us to get Lydia safely extracted as quickly as possible. Bucky’s right about Hydra agents not often surrendering quietly.”
“There’s also this boss to consider,” Peter says thoughtfully. “If Kaminsky is to be believed, the boss has a fondness for Stiles that could prove dangerous. There is a thin line between admiration and obsession, after all. It’s far too easy to cross that line when one’s back is against a wall.”
“That isn’t anything that we need to be concerned about right now,” Stiles says firmly, giving Peter a look because he doesn’t need anyone distracted by pointless theories. “Hopefully, the boss will be there today, and we can finish putting this particular puzzle together.”
“We can hope,” Bucky says, frowning slightly. “I’m getting really fed up with Hydra going after you, Doc. It’s even more frustrating because you don’t even have these files from Wash that they’re willing to kill people to retrieve from you.”
Stiles stands up and lightly kisses Bucky’s jaw. “Channel the frustration into this mission, Buck,” Stiles suggests. “We’ll see an end to this mess soon, and then it’ll just be part of the past as we move on with our lives.” He strokes Bucky’s face. “For now, let's focus on taking care of this Nergal cell. We should go now.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’ve asked Happy to bring a car around so he can drive you to the rendezvous point. I can fly up there and take someone with me,” Stark offers. “What do you say, kid? Want to arrive in style? We can beat the car and do some reconnaissance while we wait on the others.”
Stiles slowly smiles. “Hell, yeah,” he says, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder before walking over to Stark. “We can take off from the roof. I’m sure Lydia’s impatient and tired of waiting by now, so let’s go pick her up before she decides to save herself.”