N E W Y O R K, N Y

Sleep had become nothing more than a distant memory. That became clear as I lie wide awake when the first bird chose to rise, the chirp serving as a different kind of alarm.

My mind has taken me someplace else. It is almost fully detached from its body, yet my actions come with a power fully charged. It's the beginning, I suppose, of the full consumption. There's no fight to be had because it knows I won't resent it. It is greedily aware that it is welcome and here it will thrive. Nonetheless, a deep sigh leaves from the bottom of my stomach. Despite all the good it offers, darkness is still restless. That I know all too well.

I throw my legs to one side of the bed at the sound of someone stirring outside. Burying my face in my hands, I take the moment to try and find some kind of silence. Just a second where a thought can not be processed or the brain has nothing to retain.

I don't need anymore than a minute to realize its futility. With the burden of misplaced anger infusing my every step, I hastily make my way to the kitchen and start to make a cup of tea. Isn't it funny how the quieter things are, the louder they scream?

I catch a glimpse of Vincent in the corner of my eye before I reach for a second cup. It seems he hadn't slept either considering how routinely he blows through each burner phone. Stacks of paper coated the entire tabletop, marked with his horrid handwriting that he adds to every three seconds or so.

"I thought you would have slept later." He murmurs, his head never rising from his work.

"That would have been the easier route," I grab the two cups and place one on the paper he was manically writing onto before seating myself across from him, "and it's as if to that I am immune."

He gives a little huff of a laugh before dropping his pen to take the cup in hand. He leans back in his seat to look me in the eye, finally taking just a second to himself. 

"He left a few minutes ago." He takes a sip from the cup, choosing to keep his eyes down after he puts it back on the table. "I thought he would at two when I heard him. And again at four. But he stayed. Until he didn't."

I pick up some of his papers and look each of them over with insistent focus, the meaning of the words hiding in some distant thought. "I hope he sends a postcard."

I could feel his stare burn the top of my head. Whatever face he was waiting to give me was not one I wanted to see. With that, I toss him one of the papers in my hand that may or may not have any meaning, giving him only a quick glance as he takes it. "Let's get to work."

For the next hour, we discussed the physics behind the tesseract and the entity inside the gods scepter. We agreed that the only way the two would be attracting each other is if they are of the same origin. In other words, they are compatible in a way that's meant for something greater. To scale that power, though, is nearly impossible. 

"There's no way that one or two entities could be put together. It's not viable unless we want to utterly destroy the entire planet."

"The magnetism between them is undeniable. It's as if they want to congregate together," Vincent starts, "and it's possible there could be more than just the two we know of."

"If that's true, they will start to surface. These two have shown up at basically the same time."

We both take a moment to think, sinking ourselves back into our seats. I take the last sip from my cup and meet his eyes with a grave thought that I have already answered myself.

"What does that mean for us? As a whole?"

"Depends on who you ask, I presume. More so on who puts them together."

I stand with a theatrical sigh, earning a smirk from the other side of the table before I take both our cups in hand. I place them in the kitchen sink and head into my room.

That is not a conversation that can be resolved in one sitting, but I generally tend to choose correlation over coincidence.

I grab a burner phone off the side table and dial Natasha's number. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s move will determine ours, even if they don't know we are working together.

Three rings was certainly enough considering how fast she started to speak. "Thank you for all your help last night. It was really appreciated."

I laugh faintly. "I had to leave if I wanted to stick around a little while longer."

"Yeah, yeah." Her tone turns less casual as I hear her walk out of the room she was in. "We were filled in about D.A.R.K. a few hours ago. They wiped your apartments clean and they blamed the bombing of the headquarters on a nearby oil factory. They cleaned every trace of you except for your head."

"Every trace?"

"I tried to get as much as I could. Apparently Drew's family in Italy didn't comply as easily as the others, but they needed information on her the most. They were the only ones tortured before they died-"

I swallow whatever had started to come up before blurting something--anything out. "Okay Nat."

She clears her throat, quickly realizing that she forgot to filter in some kind of sympathy. We've never had to speak reservedly with each other and with no family around, I should be just as unaffected as she is. It seems she realized my sudden sentiment the same time I did. Neither of us work well with sentiment.

"Sorry--uh--long story short, they are coming for you with everything they have. I could be killed speaking to you right now." Her voice softens, letting a few seconds pass before speaking again. "You're still on this?"

"I'm seeing this one out before I go under."

She lets out a quick laugh. "You're getting predictable."

"Oh?"

"You found the biggest tyrant of them all. He's a gold mine only you can't resist."

"Don't give it a head. The god is a mission." I spit the word like an insult.

"Oh bite me. He's everything you could have wished for. I can't look at him without seeing your name branded on his forehead."

I wait just a few seconds to keep the words down, but they desperately want the answer.

"You can see him?"

"Oh my god, you're obsessed."

"Completely," I admit. "He's absolutely fascinating."

"I'm being sent in for his interrogation while Banner and Stark work on his scepter in the lab. Want to come?"

"Please. Get updates on Clint. If anyone's infatuation is concerning, its his."

She drops the phone in her pocket, leaving me on the line. After a few conversations and clearance checks, a heavy door slams shut behind her.

A moment passes before she opens another door. I almost couldn't hear her take hold of the handle, and I certainly didn't hear her close it behind her. It was an eerie kind of quite and she doesn't make any effort to break it just yet.

The silence is broken by a devilish, yet playful snicker.

"There's not many people who can sneak up on me."

Nat starts towards the voice behind what I could only guess to be some kind of heavy glass. It is the only thing that would make his words that crisp, yet intimidatingly amplified.

"But you figured I'd come."

"After." His voice booms as he starts to pace. Hearing the way Nat's stride slows slightly, he has started to move towards the glass. He may have noticed himself, for he continues.

"I assumed after whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, and I would cooperate." He mocks.

"I wanna know what you've done to Agent Barton."

"I'd say I've expanded his mind."

She laughs under her breath. "And once you've won, once you're king of the mountain, what happens to his mind?"

I could almost feel his arrogance through the phone. He was enjoying this.

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

"Love is for children. I owe him a debt."

A few seconds pass before I hear his feet settle. "Tell me."

There's no clean word to describe his voice. It's intimidating, yes, like a deep growl with a clear predatory tone. Yet, it holds a sort of charm that urges you to engage. The way he allows conversation is compelling. Dangerous. 

Every syllable is voiced with clear intent, each of them digging into its receiver without drawing attention to any wound. With every word, you would think the glass would shatter a little. Not only from the power in his voice, but from it being persuaded to let him out.

A silver tongue is always more fun. Appreciative even at your expense.

Nat tells him vaguely about her time before S.H.I.E.L.D. and how Clint had spared her some time in the past. She didn't dwell on it much, even though its purpose was to draw some kind of sympathy. You would think she could read the room a little better.

He laughs briefly under his breath to himself as she finishes, as if he had already answered his own question. "And what will you do if I vow to spare him?"

"Not let you out."

"No, but I like this." In the way the god changes his tone, we are suddenly aware he knows something we don't. Somehow, in that moment, he becomes so sure that he holds the upper hand. "Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?"

"Regimes fall everyday. I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian.  Or I was."

"And what are you now?"

"It's really not that complicated. I've got red in my ledger and I'd like to wipe it out."

His feet start to pace again, but his voice becomes a soft contrast to the weight of his steps. "Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?

There was a pause from all three of us. My breath hitches almost unconsciously.

There was no way he would have any knowledge of her past, nonetheless any idea of who she is aside from her name. Yet, It seems her name was enough. He carries on in calm declaration, but somehow each word that flows from his mouth stings like acid on bare skin.

"Drakov's daughter, San Paulo, the hospital fire? Barton told me everything."

Natasha remains silent, still, as he laughs only briefly to himself.

"Your ledger is dripping. It's gushing red and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basis of sentimentality. This is a child, a prayer. Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate. To have your own code. Something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you. And they will never go away."

He slams on the glass.

"I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately. In every way he knows you fear. And then he will wake just long enough to see his good work and when he screams I'll split his skull. This is my bargain you mewling quim."

Nat catches her breath before finally speaking up. "You're a monster."

He chuckles devilishly once more. "Oh no. You brought the monster."

My eyes shoot open, hoping Nat had caught that.

"So, Banner. That's your play?" A smirk grows across my face as she gets on her radio. "Loki means to unleash the hulk. Keep banner in the lab. I'm on my way."

She stops briefly in her rush to address him, dropping her emotional mask to show him her sincere self. "Thank you... for your cooperation."

The heavy door shuts behind her again when she brings the phone back to her ear. "Take him. If he is to fall then I want it to be hard."

"I-"

"I'll let you know of any updates." She ends the call as abruptly as she started it.

I start to pace the room, the phone held firmly in the palm of my hand.

There's nothing more aesthetic or purposeful than villains in glass cages. Although, this time it had backfired. This god refuses to give up the upper hand. He ensures the glass has a reflection. He turns it into a mirror.

He's aware.

He knows his place and he knows mine. For a change that I find unexpectedly engaging, he knows how he falls. He knows how to make people fall.

He encourages chaos.

Chaos is organized by one and followed by the rest. It is systematic, clean, planned, yet that is kept hidden from the mass. It is beautiful when done correctly, and it seems he has mastered its art. 

He knows full well what he attracts. This is a flame meeting gasoline. This is a deadly pairing.

This is the superlative opponent.

I stop my pacing at the window looking out to the city. I am still, with a smirk that had unconsciously grown across my face. This is a game alright.

I spend the next twenty minutes trying to formulate a plan before the phone buzzes in my hand. A text from Natasha's number. "The hulk unleashed. Aircraft compromised. Loki is gone."

That was too quick.

As if on cue, the sky over the city changes dramatically. Clouds swirl together to create a new supremacy. Grey. The feared assembly of light and dark.

Out of the meeting comes something I can't identify. Another one follows. And then another, until it becomes an army this planet could never have prepared for.

"Safiya let's go!" Vincent yells from the other room.

I grab my weapons now infused with the tesseracts power and suit up.

He's mine.

... ... ...

Vincent and I are minutes away Manhattan, speeding down the streets with his cars top down. It makes everything incredibly inefficient, but it gives us a better view of the madness.

"They're called the Chitauri!" He screams over the noise of the city being utterly torn apart. "Some kind of alien race!"

"Where did they come from?"

"I don't know! You're the astrophysicist!"

"Retired!" I stand up on the seat and put my hands on the top of the windshield. I look down at Vincent in the driver's seat.

"Hand me a gun!"

"You really think you can shoot them down?!"

"Give it to me!" He takes his right hand and reaches next to him to hand me a gun, his eyes never leaving the road. He swerves abruptly to dodge a piece of a building that fallen from the sky and I briefly lose my footing. "We need to get to a rooftop!"

"That's the stupidest plan you've ever had! It's a fatal fall when the building gets hit!"

"I need a view!" He stops the car when we hit the center of the city, the road obstruction making it impossible for us to go any further.

Vincent gives me a nod as I jump on the hood of the car to start the plan we had roughly put together. I jump from one car to the other, making my way down the street, taking out a few of the Chitauri on the way. I stop in front of the entrance of the tallest building I could see for blocks and burst my way through the door, finding the nearest staircase.

The climb had been clear until I hit the 22nd floor. It had been hit badly, making the staircase to the roof utterly unaccessible.

There is no time to lose.

I give a deep sigh and start shaking my head in disbelief of who I am. A normal person would accept that they're stuck and go back down.

Come on.
There are so many easier ways.

I start walking backwards, trying to find words to hype myself up, but nothing comes to mind.

This is so dumb.
Don't do this.
You could go back
down and try another one.
You could walk.

I take off running towards the wall that had been blown off, my body betraying my mind once again.

Don't do it.
Ohmygod you're doing it.

I leap off the edge, soaring in air, hoping I reach the building next to mine. I'm trying to direct myself to the window that's already a little broken when I hear screaming in my ear.

Vincent had given Nat the earpiece.

"Safiya what the hell are you doing!"

I crash into the window I had intended on and landed on my back. I wince at the pain, but quickly recover enough to lift myself on my feet.

"Saving time." I laugh back. "What's your plan?"

"Simple. Take out Loki's army of alien soldiers and then close the portal."

I find the staircase and start to run up. "Easy enough."

"I need to get to the doctor at Stark tower. He has the tesseract and is the one keeping the wormhole open."

"You could always take one of their ships for a ride." I say jokingly.

There was a pause, only interrupted by her heavy breathing.

"Nat....no way."

"Get to the roof!" She screams as she runs and jumps onto one of the Chitauri bases. I start laughing as I run faster, taking out some Chitauri on the way that had taken some people hostage.

The rooftop was no more liberating. The wind carried the smoke and debris from the destruction below me, blowing it into my face as a brutal reminder. This is a war scene.

"Four seconds!" My earpiece screams.

I run to the edge of the roof to see Nat approaching my building, kicking off the last of the Chitauri who own what she just took.

I launch myself from the rooftop ledge, falling just fast enough to land next to her.

"I was joking." I huff out, catching my breath in the process.

She smirks and takes control of the base. "Stark's tower is uptown. We have a good 4 minutes."

"Let's not waste it." I jump off onto another base that has come too close, taking over its controls. I fight off the Chitauri that were occupying it and steer to the street parallel Natasha.

"Can you stop trying to kill yourself?" She yells over.

"It's like a habit."

She smiles as she looks forward, leading me to the building that seems to tower over the rest of Manhattan. I couldn't help but laugh.

"He's really that much of a-"

"Yeah. Yeah he is." She interrupts.

The city is up in flames. This kind of destruction will take a decade to repair. Buildings are falling. People are dying. All casualties of ones arrogance. My face grows familiarly stern as it always does towards the end of missions, and that only encourages me to drive this thing faster.

We circle the tower a few times until we are able to get close enough. I spot the tesseract outside the penthouse suite when Nat jumps from her base, fighting with the doctor before hitting him hard over the head. That should rid of his mind control.

I need to buy her some time to close the portal. I find an opening at the penthouse floor. The windowed wall is pushed open, almost inviting me to land. I circle around once more, hugging the side of the building until I reach the opening.

I throw myself from my base to the buildings edge, hitting the floor, but  landing on my feet. I steady myself, yet unable to control the wind blowing through my hair.

I look up, only to smirk at where I have landed. Standing, the man behind terror on earth, the god himself.

The city skyline paints the background of his picture.

Smoke, fire, chaos. Me.