Kidnapped: Again?!?! (Solangelo x Avengers)

Part 22.

A/N: Y'all- I legit forgot I had this- I AM SO SORRY!!

AnyGays, y'all aren't here to hear me yap, so I'll just get onto the chappy.

Nico POV:

Owwwwwwww.

My head throbs numbly as my senses come back into focus. My eyes feel stiff and heavy, as if they were being held down by weights. A high-pitched ringing noise circles my head, the only other sound being the periodic muffled taps coming from somewhere to my right.

Wracking my brain for information, I find dull impressions of stress and leftover adrenaline from conflict. What happened? A flicker of imagery comes to the forefront of my mind. A black dome. My sword. Will.

My eyes snap open, darting around to assess my surroundings. I'm sitting in a lightly padded metal chair in front of a metal table, bolted to the floor. The walls are a bleak gray, smooth and featureless, save for a single one-way mirror that sits on the far side of the room. I can't sense anyone behind it, but the silence feels heavy, like it's waiting to be filled with questions I'm not willing to answer. A solitary lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, flickering slightly, casting a weak, yellowish glow that leaves the corners of the room in shadow. Good. Shadows are good.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The noise draws my eyes to my right, where a tanned hand is resting on the table, tapping away in an anxious rhythm. I know that hand.

"Will?" My voice is quiet, strained, but he hears me. The tapping stops instantly.

"Nico? Are you alright?" Will's voice is edged with concern, his eyes wide and searching. It's the kind of look that would be comforting if it wasn't mixed with fear.

"'M fi—fine, Will," I mumble, but even to my ears, it sounds unconvincing. My voice is raspy and broken, like a half-dead frog being microwaved. I try to sit up straighter, to force my body into some semblance of composure, but the effort makes my head swim.

"Nico, you got stabbed. You haven't had any ambrosia. And you used shadow magic. You're not fine." His words rush out, each one hitting me like a small, accusing blow. Oh yeah... I was stabbed...

I reach down, half-expecting to feel the sting of the wound, but there's just a numb, aching throb. I can still picture the moment: the blade sliding in, the hot flash of pain that followed. It's distant now, like a bad dream.

Before I can respond, the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway, growing louder with each step. Shit. My heart skips a beat. About eight pairs of feet. Double shit.

Will stiffens beside me, his hand gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turn white. "Will?" I whisper, drawing his attention back to me. He looks like he's caught between two impossible choices.

"I can get us out of here," I say, keeping my voice low, but urgent. "We can have our vacation in peace. All you have to do is let me."

Will's jaw clenches, the struggle playing out on his face. He glances towards the door, where the footsteps are now accompanied by muffled conversation—voices that carry the unmistakable weight of authority and suspicion. With a reluctant nod, he scoots his chair closer to me, leaning in until his forehead nearly touches mine. His breath is warm and shaky against my cheek.

"Here we go," I mutter, closing my eyes. I focus on the shadows at the edge of the room, letting them swell and darken, wrapping around us like a protective cloak. The world around us blurs, the voices fade, and I picture our destination—a quiet place far from here, where no one will find us.

---

Natasha POV:

We bicker as we walk down the hall to see the boys, tension radiating off every one of us.

My mind keeps replaying the fight. The chaos, the confusion. The creature—fire-haired and donkey-legged—lunged at us, snarling. Just when I thought we were about to be overrun, Nico lifted his arm and, in an instant, a wall of shadow erupted from the ground, swallowing them whole. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Rodgers charged the wall, bashing it with his shield, but it didn't even make a dent.

For the next fifteen minutes, we threw everything we had at that wall. Tony fired his repulsors, Clint tried arrows, Banner even considered Hulking out, but nothing worked. We were locked out, left to wait and wonder.

Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the shadow wall dropped, and there was Nico, crumpled on the concrete. For a moment, my heart stopped. I thought he was dead, until I saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. But Will was there too, fairly unscathed, clutching Nico like his life depended on it.

I need answers. Shit like that doesn't just happen. How did he do that? How did they both walk out of there alive?

After patching up Nico, we put him and Will in the same cliché interrogation room we used last time. It seemed like the safest bet—a controlled space where we could figure out what we're dealing with. But now, standing in front of the door, I'm not so sure.

We stop, and Tony punches in the passcode. The door clicks open, swinging wide. Tony steps inside first, but then he freezes, his eyes going wide. My patience snaps.

"What is it?" I snap, shoving him aside. And then I see it. Or rather, I don't.

The kids are gone. The room is empty.

"Where the fuck did they go?" Tony exclaims, patting down his pockets like he's misplaced his keys instead of two teenagers.

Clint rushes in, followed by the rest of the Avengers, all of us crowding into the tiny room, our confusion spilling over into curses and questions.

Clint swears loudly, earning a disapproving glare from Rodgers, but I'm too busy scanning the room, looking for any sign of how they got out. The walls are still solid, the table and chairs bolted down. It's like they vanished into thin air.

Looks like answers will have to wait. Fuck.

A/N: To make up for how late this is, it's about 300 words above my usual word count.

I will try my absolute best to get another one out asap.

-Tes