American Fey: An Avengers Fanfiction

Chapter 4

I close the door of the rented car, a nice inconspicuous gray Honda, as I stand in front of the bank. Take a deep breath and smooth my pant suit out, I can do this. My heels click as I march myself confidently to the front desk, "I need access to my safe deposit box."

"Name?" The bored middle aged clerk asks.

"Catherine MacPharlain." I show him an ID, "Box number 1-945."

"Right this way ma'am." 

I slide into the driver's seat of the Honda and toss my purse with the documents and money to Bucky before I start the car. 

"Vladimir and Ekaterina Rostov?"

"We both speak Russian, it's a good cover. Gives us an excuse to limit conversations. Vladimir was one of Peter's covers, we'll be siblings. It's three hours to Concord."

He nods.

"Great." I turn the radio to a country station as we leave Albany behind.

We stop at a mall on the way to Concord and I grab some hair dye, some props, and a nice pair of gloves for Bucky. That and long sleeves will have to- the metal detectors. Shit, I didn't think of the metal detectors. How can we get an arm past metal detectors?We'll have to talk our way past them, it's not like we can just remove his arm, it's wired into his nervous system and connected too deeply into the muscle around the shoulder. 

It was about two o'clock when we left the gym just outside New York City, three by the time we got to the bank in Albany, five when we stopped at the mall, another hour to Concord. We have forty-four hours before we have to be at the rendezvous point in England. We fly from Concord at seven in the morning on a ten hour flight to Ireland. After that who knows? It's best not to plan to far ahead so we can't be predicted and ambushed.

We've taken measures not to be ambushed but we'll be more or less entirely unarmed on the plane. I suppose the only benefit to that is that our enemies would be as well. There's a limit to what you can sneak onto a plane. Bucky's ceramic knives are great and all but they wont stand up to much hard use. There's a reason most blades are made of metal. Still we should be safe enough. The family has a safe house near the airport in Ireland where we can stay until we decide where to go from there.

Bucky points out a motel just outside of Concord with rooms on the ground level. I pull into the gas station across the road to scope it out. it's a fairly ordinary motel, all ground floor rooms with doors in the front to the parking lot, there have to at least be windows in the back, legally speaking, egress windows in case of emergency, if not patio doors.

"It's kind of predictable, don't you think?"

"It has escape routes."

"True. But what about the hotel behind it? We could park the car and check in here, sneak out of the back door or window and stay at the hotel. Then, there would be evidence of us being here, so any ambush would most likely happen here than at the other hotel where no one will expect us to go because we would be on an upper floor where we would have less escape routes."

"It's risky. Escape routes are important."

"Right, but Uncle Bucky, I can fly."

"And carry me?"

"Yeah. I feel safer higher up. We wouldn't be too high up, it's only three stories tall. We could go get a rope so we can rappel down if I get shot in the wing." Then it hits me, "You don't like heights do you?"

"No."

"I should have known."

He shrugs.

"I suppose you're right. What do you think about my idea?"

"It has two staircases."

"Probably, which if we can exit out of the door than we have two stair cases to choose from and three exits, plus two or more emergency exits, and then probably a few more doors for the staff, out to the dumpster and parking lot in the back. Going out the window and down a few stories will put more distance between us and any attackers a lot faster than running out of the back door. Plus half of the rooms face the motel so we have a fifty percent chance of being able to just glide right down to the car to be able to make a get away. Whereas in the motel we would have to circle around to be able to get to the car or leave it behind and head out on foot which would put us at higher risk of being caught by pursuers in a vehicle."

"Okay."

"What?"

"Your plan."

"Oh, you think it's a good plan?"

He nods.

"Okay. Let's do this."

"'Allo?" I call out at the empty counter, "Ees anybody here?"

A greasy haired twenty something emerges from the back and says in a bored voice, "Yes?"

"Room please."

"Two twin beds or a double?"

"Two beds. Pay cash, da?"

"Sure. Got ID?"

"Da, passport." I show him my passport, "How much for room?"

"Fifty bucks."

"Bucks? I do not know bucks, how much in dollars?"

"Fifty."

"Bucks are dollars, da?"

"Yeah. You got the money?"

"Da, da." I pull fifty dollars from my pocket and hand it to him. He slides a room key across the counter, "Room 8."

"Thank you." I turn to Bucky and say in Russian, "We are in room eight."

He nods. We head back outside and park the car in front of room eight. Bucky grabs the prop suitcase and we walk up to the door. I hold an open water bottle in one hand as I open the door with the other. I throw the door open and Bucky holds the suitcase like a shield as we enter.

"All clear."  I call out in Russian. Bucky goes to the back wall of the room, "No door."

"Then we go out the window."

He forces the window open. It was painted shut, very dangerous if there was ever a fire. I follow Bucky out and we walk calmly over to the other hotel.

"Does he speak English?" The clerk asks as I finish paying for the room.

"No."

"Shame."  She sighs, gazing admiringly at Bucky. Bucky notices and moves over so he is directly behind me. I try to refrain from giggling at the ninety something year old assassin hiding behind his seventeen year old grandniece to get away from a flirtatious hotel clerk. She bats her eyelashes at him, he is more than a whole head taller than me so his hiding place isn't very effective.
I pick up the key card, "Thank you."
"No problem, tell your brother I'll be in the hotel bar after eight if he wants to meet me there."
"Da, I will tell him." I turn to Bucky, "At least she didn't recognize you. That would have been awkward."
"Is this any better?"
"What did he say?" The clerk asks eagerly.
"He feels bad he does not speak your language or else he would love to take you on your offer of hospitality." I step back as I talk.
"He really said all that?" She leans her elbows on the counter, showing even more of her chest.
"Nyet, he is not much for talking. All men are this way, da?"
"We wouldn't be doing much talking anyhow. I can think of a lot better things for him to do with his mouth."
"We must go now, very tired, busy day tomorrow."