notes:

+ i really like the idea of dark!skyeward idk if you've noticed.

+ i've had this idea in my head for ages. i might actually add more lil bits into it?

+ title from "daughters of the soho riots" by the national

It's a shock. Quick and sharp, like a knife to the gut.

Which is probably ironic, because a knife to the gut is exactly what it takes for Skye's powers to manifest. It's a surge, a rush of power that washes over her and leaves her breathless.

She pulls the knife out, letting it clatter to the floor. The skin around the wound immediately closes up, pulling tight. She turns to her assailant. He's HYDRA. They've stormed a HYDRA base as a part of a CIA operation, but almost all of the unit sent in are dead now, overpowered by the waiting soldiers.

Skye flexes her fingers. She stretches towards him, brings her index finger and thumb closer together. Slowly. He tried to hurt her. He has to suffer for it. She is a deity compared to him.

Finally, he crumples. Skye steps over his body. So weak.

She wanders the corridors. It's quiet. Her boots tap against the concrete. She wants more humans. They're fun to crush. She wants them to see her for what she is.

But it is Grant Ward that rounds the corner, gun raised, and she doesn't want to crush him.

"Skye," he says. Worry is leaking into his voice. "What are you doing here?"

She's just standing there, in the middle of the corridor. No gun, no nothing. Is he disappointed in her?

"You need to leave," he says. Forceful. Fearful. "Garrett will have you tortured if he finds you."

She shakes her head. "No," she says. "There's something I want to show you first."

She takes his hand. He couldn't draw away if he wanted to, and she knows him. She knows he could never let her go.

They walk through the base until they come to a guardpost. "Look," Skye says as they approach. She smiles at Ward as the men raise their guns. She raises a hand. Brings it down with a sharp force. They are crushed. She can hear their bones splinter. "Look what I can do."

She expects him to be pleased, but instead he looks shocked. "Skye," he breathes.

"I'm better than them," she insists. "I'm not like them. I'm an object of unknown origin."

He nods. He knows. Garrett must know, then. "Yes," he says. "You're not like them."

She reaches up to touch his face with the side of her face. He flinches, almost imperceptibly. Oh. He's scared of her. He thinks she'll crush him like she crushed them. But they are only ants, and he is more. She can feel the rage he holds back beneath his skin.

"Do you still have it?" her voice is a whisper, because she already knows the answer. She touches his fingertips and she feels him holding the Berserker staff again and again, just to feel it's power.

He nods. He seems a little guilty, maybe. She smiles. Bright and shining and brilliant. Her hand goes to the back of his neck, and she pulls him to her.

The road is long. Skye's not tired. Tired is weak. But she's bored of all this walking.

When the next car passes them she puts a hand out to stop it. She taps lightly on the window with her finger and waits for the driver to roll it down.

"Can we borrow your car?" she asks him, voice sweet as ever.

When he doesn't answer, she lets Ward bash his brains in. He grins at her, his hands soaked in someone else's blood.

"Don't get it on the car," she tells at him.

They crush HYDRA and SHIELD and anyone else who stands in their way, all the same.

Nobody can limit them.

They make him stronger with the serums from Centipede. She learns to properly control her powers until she can crack a spine by blinking an eye.

They will be unstoppable.

Skye thinks some human must have bled into her during her time on this watery little planet. She needs Ward like the drowning need air. No being as powerful as she should be susceptible to such primitive emotions. But she wants him and he needs her.

She likes the feeling of his skin against hers. She likes the hunger in the pit of her stomach. She likes the moan he makes in the back of his throat when she bites his lip. She likes the way he nips her neck and the way his fingers leave marks on her hips.

They sit together on an upturned police van, legs dangling over the side. He's got the staff hanging from one hand, and she holds onto his other.

It's quiet. There's only minimal carnage today.

But this is getting dull. Humans are boring.

They don't bow, they don't worship, they don't even fight. They just crumple.

She leans against his shoulder. He strokes her hair softly.

"Maybe," she says, "if we make this world burn bright enough, my people will take us somewhere better."

London is awfully flammable. You would think that would come up at some point.

You would think someone might notice.

There are people who try to stop them.

Skye thinks some of those people must have been important to her.

The scientists and the Cavalry and the undead man.

Because when they confront them in the ruins of Zagreb, Skye cannot bring herself to crush them. Their faces are so worried.

"Skye," says the female scientist. Jemma. She's pleading. She's clinging to Fitz.

There's a twist inside Skye's stomach. That shouldn't happen.

She turns away. Walls crumble around her. She's losing control.

She bunches her fist in Ward's shirt. The last of the rocks smash between them and the team, hiding them from view.

She leaves burn marks on his skin when she kisses him.

He leaves bruises on hers.

New York is rubble.

Are they getting out of hand?

They wait and burn.

They do not say

that maybe

no one will come

and they will just be left here

to be king and queen of an empire of ash.