Chapter Three: Across The City
Maisie watched as Steve tested out the wooden floor. It creaked under the weight of his boot. He frowned and eyed the floor suspiciously before turning to look down at her.
"Why would they send humans after you?" he asked.
Steve extended a hand to Maisie. She took it and he hauled her over a metal window frame and onto a splintering wooden floor. For a moment, they rested. Maisie took deep, wheezing breaths as she glanced around the ruins of New York City, searching for any sign of their pursuers. They had seen the humans, ones who had been given guns by the Chitauri and told to hunt the slave who had not returned. The person who brought back Maisie's head would receive a lifetime in the Helios. If she had been on her own, Maisie would have been caught easily. However, Steve had led Maisie through the rubble, using his inhuman strength to speed up their flight.
"Have we lost them?" Maisie asked.
"Not for long," said Steve, glancing over his shoulder as he jogged across the broken floor and jumped down onto a metal beam that was sandwiched between piles of rubble. Steve glanced up at Maisie and held out his arms. "Jump."
The first time Steve had asked Maisie to jump to him, she had been reluctant. Actually, Maisie had point-blank refused. The only reason she had leapt across the crevice was that the human slaves were not far behind. As their flight dragged on, Maisie had learned to trust Steve and his superhuman strength a little more.
With her feet, Maisie pushed off the edge of the platform and flew through the air towards Steve. Her heart twisted—for a brief second, she thought that she hadn't jumped far enough. Steve would miss her and she would splatter on the ground. But, without fail, Steve caught Maisie by the waist and placed her on the metal beam beside him.
"See," said Steve, grinning. "Easy."
"Keep going," said Maisie, trying to ignore the ringing sensation in her head. "The chemical remnants of the missile may not bother you, but every second longer I spend here, I'm afraid I am going to be burned."
Steve glanced at her. "The Chitauri send you into a still nuclear city to locate the Tesseract?"
"A new expedition is sent each month," said Maisie.
"But don't the chemicals affect you?"
Maisie sighed. "Around half of the people sent on expeditions die of exposure to dangerous chemicals. That's why they will send human slaves into New York City to look for the Tesseract instead of the Chitauri. They would rather human beings die from exposure than the Chitauri."
As they jogged across the metal beam and scampered over a broken fence, Steve glanced back over the ruined city.
"It is the life of a slave," said Maisie. "We are expendable."
Though there was a fire in his eyes, Steve didn't respond as he jumped from the edge of the fence onto the broken side of a building. Clumsily, Maisie copied his jump. Steve caught her hand easily and pulled her up onto the platform beside him.
"You are not expendable," said Steve. "No human being is expendable."
Maisie stared at him for a moment, neither one of them moving. Then, she said, with all the bitterness of six years, "Tell that to the Chitauri."
Steve glanced at her, but Maisie refused to look at him. She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, where, ever so faintly, she could see the end of the destruction. Steve took a deep breath and said, "I would tell them. If it was the Chitauri chasing me and not human beings, I would turn around right now and give them a piece of my mind."
"But it's not," said Maisie, flatly. "Humans are hunting humans."
Steve nodded. "It's sickening. Sickening that humanity has been reduced to this state. How could this happen? Who would agree to hunt you? We should never—why don't they just say 'no'?"
"Because," said Maisie. "We wish to live."
They clambered down another metal slope. Maisie's foot hit a loose piece of rock and she stumbled forward, arms failing about wildly. Steve caught her wrist to stop her from crashing into a pointed piece of broke metal. Breathing a sigh of relief, Maisie pulled her arm from Steve's grasp and made the last two steps to the bottom of the incline.
She stood there for a moment, trying to push the dizziness from her mind. The sky looked incredibly blue, almost blinding, when she looked up, and Maisie had to blink rapidly to protect her eyes. The landscape seemed to run together, all the debris looked the same.
Steve reached out and caught her shoulder. "I can carry you, you know. You look ready to pass out."
"You don't have to," said Maisie. She tried to push the dizzy spell away.
Steve glanced back at the way they had come, while they could not see their pursuers over the pieces of broken metal and stone, they knew that the threat was there. Steve turned back to Maisie and said, "I thought you wanted to live."
The look Maisie gave him was murderous. She wanted to throw it back in his face, tell him that she was more than capable of surviving this flight with her own power. However, she could remember all the times that Steve had pulled her up onto a platform, caught her mid-jump, and saved her from injury. She knew that she wouldn't have gotten far if Captain America hadn't been with her. Besides, her arms and legs felt dead. If she had to walk another step, she might collapse. However, the idea of being carried by a man in a red, white, and blue skin-tight suit was not at all appealing.
Maisie sighed. "If you drop me, I will kill you."
Smiling ever so slightly, Steve slid the shield from his back and extended his other hand to Maisie. She took his hand, though every fiber of her being wanted to refuse.
In one swift motion, Steve swung Maisie onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gritted her teeth—he gave her a second to settle and then he was running.
The Iron Man suit hummed in rhythm with Tony Stark's body. He could feel its encasing—metal and machine, and yet, something more. The Iron Man suit was an extension of Tony's will, there was life in that suit—life and power. He hovered above the streets of New York City, watching the army of Chitauri descend from the hole in the sky. The Chitauri were everywhere. Like flies, they filled the streets and buildings and skies of Manhattan, infesting every corner, leaving the bodies of innocent civilians in the wake of their destruction.
Using the magnifying lens of his suit, Tony could see the details of every corpse—the split skull of a woman, who clutched the bruised body of her child, a businessman with his head separated from his neck, the open stomach of an elderly man. There was no way to count the numbers of the dead.
The Avengers were trying. They were trying so hard. Thor clung to the tip of the Empire State building and fired round after round of lightning at the Chitauri who entered New York City through the portal. Hawkeye was perched on the edge of a building, calling out the lay of the land, while, with an arrow in his hand, slicing open any Chitauri that approached. Captain America, the Hulk, and Black Widow remained on the ground, trying to make a dent in the seemingly limitless Chitauri army.
The Iron Man suit rotated and Tony scanned the city. Where was reinforcements? Where was the police? He spotted them a couple streets over. The burning police cars and the uniformed corpses littered the street so that Tony could not see the ground.
He turned his eyes away and gazed at the open portal. Was there no one else to fight? Was there no salvation for New York City? Did everything depend on the strength of six heroes—for "heroes" was a title they deserved at this point—against an ending army?
"Avengers."
Director Nick Fury's voice buzzed through the microphone, speaking to the team.
The tiniest glimmer of hope ran through Tony's chest. The hum of the Iron Man suit met with the beating of his heart and Tony felt the power surge through him. All right. They weren't done yet.
"Avengers," said Fury again.
It was then that Tony noticed the abandonment of military formalities.
Fury's voice was flat and emotionless. "A nuclear warhead is headed your way. You have three minutes."
Every inch of Tony turned cold with dread. He didn't respond. No one did. What was there to say? Thanks for the heads up? Thanks for letting them know that the United States government had given up on them? What could they say? Nothing.
A void settled in Tony's chest as he hovered over New York City.
Hawkeye had stopped speaking. He fired arrows at the approaching Chitauri, but there was none of the determination in his eyes that there had been earlier.
A hard line had settled on Black Widow's face as she fired two bullets into the brain of an approaching Chitauri. Captain America turned to face an office building where, Tony realized, there were still living people inside. The government hadn't just given up on the Avengers—they had given up on the people of New York City.
"I will stall Loki."
It was not Fury who spoke through the microphone this time, but Thor. Tony glanced up at the Empire State Building and saw that Thor had left his post—the blond man was flying through the air towards Stark Tower, a grim expression on his face.
"Good luck," said Tony. His words sounded pitiful and bland to his own ears.
The Hulk pounded one of the Chitauri machines into the side of a building and released a woeful howl. Tony nodded ever so slightly in agreement with the Hulk. He knew that pain. They all possessed it, the same empty despair. Was it really so easy? So easy to abandon a city? So easy to kill your own heroes? So easy to kill your own people? Just say—they're not going to make it—and sent a nuclear missile their way. Was it really so easy?
Tony rolled over in bed, burying his face in the pillow. The clicking, scratchy voices of the Chitauri patrolling the streets filled Tony's ears. He let out a low groan before the weight of sleep took him again and he slipped back into the nightmare.
The Avengers had done what they could. Thor was battling Loki—brother against brother as their impending doom approached. Loki completely unaware of the missile. Black Widow had been reunited with Hawkeye on the streets of Manhattan. They didn't speak a word to one another, but a look—the connection of eyes—was enough. They understood everything the other wanted to say and then they busied themselves with containing the Chitauri threat to New York City as the nuclear warhead approached. The Hulk landed with a crack on the paved street beside Captain America. The Captain saluted the Hulk for the barest moment before embedding the rim of his shield in the throat of one of the Chitauri. Tony managed the skies, making sure that none of the Chitauri tried to escape the perimeter.
The fight went on. No one had suggested fleeing. To flee was to bring the Chitauri away from New York City. The missile would strike, but some of the Chitauri army would still survive. The war would not end. So the Avengers, they fought on.
Tony had called Pepper twice in the last two minutes. She had not answered either time.
He saw the missile in the distance, racing ever close to the city. Tony' stomach dropped out of his chest and he felt the strength leave his limbs.
The last thought he had was of Pepper's ginger hair and the fact that he had been right all along. To be a hero was to die a hero.
The roar of the explosion filled Tony's head.
Tony sat up in bed, gasping for air. The bedsprings groaned beneath the shifting weight of his body. Deep, heavy breaths. In and out. Breathe. A thin sheen of sweat covered Toy's forehead and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
He was used to dreams of that day. They had haunted him for the last six years—whenever he heard a whisper of the Avengers, the heroes that had failed Earth, Tony would spend that night plunging in and out of his memories. A drowning man, fighting for his last breath, and all he could see was the long, white body of the missile flying towards Earth.
Tony pressed a hand to his forehead. "Fuck."
He had no memories of what happened during the explosion. He had been knocked unconscious. A day later, Tony had opened his eyes and found himself, still wearing the battered Iron Man suit, buried beneath the rubble that was once New York City. With the last dregs of power in the suit, Tony had pushed the debris away. He stood in the chemical, ruined wasteland, protected only by the suit.
Stumbling, like a broken man, Tony made his way through the mounds of rubble to the edge of the destruction. He reached a small cluster of trees and collapsed at their edge. Desperately, Tony shed the pieces of his suit and, using his hands, he clawed at the dirt until he had made a hole big enough to bury the red and gold suit. Like a madman, that was how Tony had been acting. A pissed-off madman. He pounded his fists against the ground and howled for the pain of the ruined city. He cursed them. The government, SHIELD, the Chitauri, Loki—all of them. The Avengers were gone. The people of New York City were gone. Dead. Because the government lost faith, lost faith in the strength of heroes.
Tony rolled out of bed and staggered through the darkness of his apartment. He threw open the door to the cramped bathroom, which contained only a rusted toilet and sink. Tony stumbled over to the sink. Ice-cold water spewed from the faucet down on Tony's hands and, after a moment, he dipped his head down and placed it under the running water. He embraced the pain of icy water falling like sharp needles on the back of his head.
Let the pain come, thought Tony. It was nothing.
He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes and took a deep, shattering breath.
Natasha pulled the mask over her face and made sure that the suit covered every inch of her skin—she could not risk exposing herself to the chemical remnants in New York City. She glanced over her shoulder at her squad. Scottie Masterson had already pulled the hood of her suit over her blond hair and was clipping the mask in place. Both Zach and Ridley Mannes were suited up and were joking around while Tai loaded her gun.
They crouched in the tunnels beneath the city, making their last preparations before surfacing. Two years ago, a party of Shield soldiers had uncovered an intact path through the sewer system beneath New York City. The members of Shield now used it for a quick entrance to the city—Natasha and her squad waited for the clear before entering the ruined above.
"You ready?" asked Natasha.
Tai nodded grimly. The others were set and waiting for Natasha to start the journey into the city. Certain the others would follow, Natasha moved to the metal ladder and clambered up it. Reach above, she found the metal lid of the manhole. She pushed and the metal lid made a grinding noise as it moved to the side, revealing the light of day. Natasha blinked through the blinding light and then scampered up the ladder to the surface.
She stood in between two large pieces of a broken building. She had seen New York City a hundred times before, but that did not lessen the pain in the slightest. Natasha turned her head back to the manhole and watched as Scottie, Tai, Ridley, and Zach clambered out of the sewers into the city.
"My suit itches," said Zach.
"Bear with it," said Tai. "It's a little price to pay for keeping your skin intact."
A shudder ran through the squad as they remembered Agent Connor Fields who had been brought back on a stretcher, screaming as his skin blistered and burned.
"Let's go," said Natasha.
Zach rested his gun on his shoulder and grinned at her. "My favorite part of the month."
Sweat dripped down Dana Miles's forehead and her muscles ached. Her arms and legs pumped in rhythm as she ran around the track. She had spent the morning in Shield's gym, exercising beneath the rough, stone ceiling. She enjoyed the run. As she slowed to a halt, her muscles thanked her for the exercise and she plucked her water bottle from her duffle bag, which rested on the bench. Her hands and legs were shaking ever so slightly, but Dana ignored the quiver and sipped from the bottle.
"You run like no one else."
A broad-chested man with an afternoon shadow stood beside Dana, rummaging through his own bag. He grinned at Dana and held up his water bottle in a mock toast. "You've been running for quite a while."
"A couple hours," said Dana.
"Impressive." The man placed his water bottle down on the bench and then used a small towel to wipe the sweat from his face. "I'm Owen, by the way."
"Dana."
"I've seen you around," said Owen. "You're one of the new soldiers, right?"
"Yes."
Owen sat down on the bench and grinned up at her. "Are you getting your assignment tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"I remember when I got mine," said Owen. "I was terrified they'd want me to go up into the Colony. You have no idea my relief when they decided to put me on guard duty."
Dana stuffed her water bottle into her duffle bag and then slung the bag over her shoulder. "I want to go to the Colony."
Owen raised his eyebrows. "Then you're an impressive woman."
Without bothering to respond, Dana headed towards the showers. Much to her chagrin, Dana was followed by Owen. He grinned as he walked beside her, chatting happily.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
"East Hall," said Dana dully.
"No," said Owen, laughing. "I mean—before. I'm from Detroit."
Dana glanced sidelong at him. "Perrysburg, Ohio."
"Nice," said Owen. "We were practically neighbors. I—"
"Nielson—what are you doing to that poor girl?"
Both Owen and Dana turned to see a tall woman with long, ginger hair and bright blue eyes striding across the track towards the two of them. Dressed in a sports bra and workout shorts, she walked with her head held high and a frown twisted on her face. Dana didn't recognize the woman, but judging by the expression on his face, Owen clearly did.
"Pepper," said Owen, smiling sheepishly.
"That's Ms. Potts to you," said the woman. "Nielson, did I not warn you about hitting on women in the gym?"
"We were having a conversation," said Owen. He grinned at Dana, who shook her head in response.
"Dana is not interested," said Pepper, placing her hands on her hips.
"Do you just enjoy shooting me down?" asked Owen, sighing dramatically.
Pepper raised her eyebrows. Owen stared at her for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair.
"I'm going, Pepper," he said. "I'm going."
Dana watched as Owen made his way towards the exit. As soon as he was out of earshot, Pepper turned to Dana with a smile and said, "He does that a lot. He asked me out a week ago and I found him pursuing a couple married women at the gym. He doesn't mean harm by it—he just believes that as an attractive, skilled soldier, the women will flock to him. It's best to keep him in check. Don't worry—I'm used to handling over-confident, genius assholes."
Pepper glanced at Dana, perhaps expecting thanks, but Dana only regarded Pepper suspiciously.
"How do you know my name?" asked Dana.
For a second, Pepper looked confused. Then, she straightened up and smiled. "Liam. He likes to brag about his girlfriend who is the best new recruit."
Dana rolled her eyes. "Does everyone know Liam?"
"Oh, yes." Pepper laughed. "He makes himself known."
"How did you meet?" asked Dana.
"I work with his sister," said Pepper.
"Deborah?" Dana frowned. "You work in the Colony?"
"Sometimes," said Pepper. She smiled, but her smile made it very clear that she was finished discussing that subject. "Are you receiving your assignment tomorrow?"
Dana nodded.
"Good luck."
"I see it," said Steve Rogers.
Keeping her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, Maisie peered over Steve's shoulder. In the distance, she could see where the rubble become sparse and brown grass spouted between the debris. Grass meant life, Maisie realized. That meant they were almost out of the wasteland. She smiled.
"You were right," she said. "You're definitely faster."
Steve shifted Maisie's weight on his back and continued to run along the rugged ground.
"You're light to carry," he said, leaping onto a metal frame and running along it.
"Food is scarce in the Colonies," said Maisie. "We harvest what we can and then the Overseers take what they please. We receive the leftovers." Her body lurched awkwardly as Steve leapt from the metal frame onto what resembled the roof of a broken car. "I see the Overseers throwing out food all the time. Whole loaves of bread that just sat in their pantry and went stale."
She knew that her words upset Steve—how could they not? However, Steve didn't speak, but continued to leap from one space to the next. Maisie had to appreciate the strength of the super soldier. He was Captain America for a reason, of course, but looking at him, still pale and bloodied after six years of sleep, Maisie didn't have much confidence.
"We're almost there," said Steve.
He made the final jump from the roof of a broken pick-up truck onto the crisp, brown grass. Maisie breathed a sigh of relief and slid from Steve's back onto the ground. The grass crunched under her feet, but the sound was a relief to Maisie's ears.
"We made it," she said, allowing herself a small smile.
Steve smiled as well, though there was something troubling behind his eyes. He looked around, soaking in the brown, shriveled grass and the broken, abandoned houses that were no longer inhabitable, but mere traces of what once was.
"It's all dead," said Steve.
"Yeah." Maisie tried to scuff some of the dirt off her filthy boots. "You get used to it."
Steve's mouth tugged into a frown as he shifted his circular, metal shield onto his back once more. "It isn't something you should get used to."
"I know you just woke up to this world," said Maisie. "But you need to stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop looking back," said Maisie. "There was a time when I would say that the old world was coming back. The Asgradians would break through the lines of Chitauri and rescue us from the chains that bind us. I used to spend every day hoping—we all did. We fought against the Chitauri, we spoke out against their cruelty—we wanted our world back." Maisie took a deep breath, realizing that her speech had become more impassioned as she spoke. She calmed herself and returned to her previous flat, dull tone. "We learned to stop hoping. It took us long, hard years, but we learned that no help was going to come. The old world was gone and this was our world now."
She didn't dare look up at Steve. She didn't want to see the pity in his eyes.
"So don't you dare come here," said Maisie. "Don't you dare start talking to me about right and wrong. Don't you dare try and give us hope—we've been down that road and we know where it leads."
"But it's different now," said Steve. His voice lacked its earlier conviction. "I'm here."
Maisie laughed bitterly. "The Avengers, Earth's mightiest heroes are going to save us? The Hulk, Black Widow, Thor—none of them died in the nuclear missile. We saw it, on the television screen, they stood amongst the ruins of New York City, alive and well. The Avengers were not wholly broken—or so we thought. But now where are they? Where are the Avengers?"
She felt Steve reach out for her, but Maisie pushed his hand away. She had no need for comfort. But, rather than listen to Maisie, Steve jumped at her, pushing her to the ground, screaming, "Look out!"
Maisie slammed into the rough grass, with Steve's weight on top of her, as a piece of white light flew past where her head bad been moments before. Steve did not stay down for long. He jumped up and pulled his shield from his back, eyes fixed somewhere ahead of him.
"Stay down," he told Maisie, still not taking his eyes from the threat.
There was another blast of white light, which Steve deflected with his shield. The bullet bounced off Steve's shield and flew up into the sky. Maisie turned her head to see a group of Chitauri soldiers—probably about seven of them in total—moving towards her and Steve.
"I'll keep you safe," said Steve. "I promise."
Maisie opened her mouth to say something, but Steve sprinted forward, deflecting any shots from the Chitauri. Maisie watched him for a moment and then slowly ran her fingers over the back of her neck. She couldn't feel the tracking chip beneath the skin, but she knew it was there.
Natasha Romanoff crouched behind a broken window frame and peered at the group of human slaves that were wandering amongst the rubble. She always hated seeing the human slaves—they reminded her of her own weakness. She had come from these people, these vulnerable people whose faces were sunken and whose arms were the size of twigs. The slaves all wore ragged and frayed clothes with boots that were either a size too big or a size too small and looked as though they would fall apart at any moment.
At the time of the Invasion, humans had gone in different directions. There were those who had been killed in the initial slaughter, those who had joined with SHIELD and moved underground, those who had moved to the remote places of the world and lived half-wild for the past six years, and there were those enslaved to the Chitauri race. Natasha despised the slaves for their inability to fight. During the initial invasion, all the slaves had needed to do was fight and fight—better to die fighting that be have their wills submitted to the mercy of an invading race.
"They're armed," said Scottie Masterson, her voice muzzled through the protective mask. She crouched beside Natasha, peering through a gap in the piece of rubble out at the group of four slaves. "With Chitauri weapons."
"Escapees?" asked Ridley Mannes.
"No," said Natasha. "The Chitauri consider armed humans to be a joke."
"Some joke," muttered Zach Hannes. "Do you see me laughing?"
"They only arm the slaves when the Chitauri need a hunt in New York City."
Tai Anderson frowned. "What are they hunting?"
"I don't know," said Natasha. She nodded towards the nearest slave—a thin woman with slanted cheekbones. "Let's find out."
It was easy enough for the squad to lure the woman away from the rest. They were well practiced at the routine. Scottie would toss a couple rocks, using the sound to draw the woman in their direction. Then, when the woman was far enough away from the group, Ridley and Zach would create a landslide of debris, separating the woman from the other slaves. Tai disarmed the woman and clasped a hand over the woman's mouth so that the other slaves could think that the woman died in the landslide. Quick, easy, and it left plenty of time for the interrogation.
They moved the struggling woman away from the others and, when the squad was a safe distance, Tai removed the hand from the woman's mouth. Immediately, the woman started to cry out for help, but Natasha slapped the woman.
"They can't hear you," said Natasha. "And all your shouting hurts my head."
The woman let out a low moan. "Shield."
Natasha neither confirmed nor denied. "Who are you hunting?"
"No one," said the woman. "We're on an expedition."
Tai twisted the woman's shoulder back and the woman let out a cry of pain.
"Don't lie," said Natasha. "We know the Chitauri only arm you for hunts."
The woman's mouth thinned to a line and Natasha noticed how skinny the woman was. Her shoulders stuck out at awkward angles and her arms were thin enough for Natasha to wrap her fingers around. Old scars laced around the woman's neck, forming a grotesque spider web where, Natasha suspected, the woman had been burned.
"Who are you hunting?" repeated Natasha.
The woman swallowed. "One of our own."
Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Who?"
"I don't know. She never returned when the Chitauri retracted us from the city."
"Who?"
The woman scowled. "She has blond hair and gray eyes. She walked in front of me on the journey from the Colony to the city. I don't know anything more."
"So they did not discover the Tesseract," said Ridley.
"No," said Natasha. "The Chitauri would have no concern for one escapee slave if they had discovered the Tesseract."
"She's bold to escape," said Scottie. "But stupid. They'll follow the tracker."
"I'm impressed she made it this far," said Zach.
"She won't make it much farther," said Natasha. She turned to stare at the bone-thin woman in front of her. Natasha regretted the next part of the operation, but she had little choice. To bring the woman back would mean to bring a tracker into Shield territory, but to let the woman go would mean exposure to the Chitauri; most slaves would surrender Shield for a chance to live in Helios for the remainder of their lives. Natasha hated having to give the next command, but, for the sake of Shield and the future of humanity, sacrifices must be made.
Natasha lifted her head and nodded to Tai. Without hesitation, Tai broke the woman's neck. The squad watched the motionless body crumple to the ground.
"Let's go," said Natasha. "It's our turn to search for the Tesseract."