The Avengers, associated characters, and Stark Tower are properties of Marvel Comics, Marvel Studios and Disney Co. This work does not reflect the views, opinions or cannons of Marvel Comics, Marvel Studios and Disney Co.
Chapter 1
2069
New York City and Atlantic City were known, at least in part for being tourist destinations. The difference is one is enshrined in lore, post- and pre-war and held to a mythological status securing a place in scripture, while the other, though once superficially captivating is unremarkably profane. Steve and Thor were on their way to the unremarkably profane, which appeared even more hollow in mid-October; the winds were getting colder, the ocean was irate, and the trees were preparing for slumber.
"Alright," Steve said, checking his AR-15 through muscle memory, riding shotgun in the decrepit Ford truck, both men rocked gently in their seats by the truck's rusted suspension, "let's remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint."
Thor looked at Steve. He noticed how Steve's hair and beard, both still full, had accumulated a few more grey hairs than yesterday, or maybe not. Thor thought it could just be his eye, either one.
"I know, Steve, you say it every time," Thor grumbled. "How far are we going?"
Steve slipped the map out from between his legs, the front pre-folded folded to Venice Park.
"Just to the bridge, then we ditch the truck and walk."
"All the way to the Borgata?" Thor groaned.
Steve gave Thor a look. "Yeah."
"Fuck," Thor loudly moaned tossing his head back against the headrest.
"Okay, two things," Steve said, turning his seat. "One, language; two, I think a god can handle a few miles' walk."
"Well, normally, I could just fly in and do some cool hero landing and obliterate bad guys with lightning." A wistful smile washed over Thor's face.
Steve could see the glory days playing like short films in the glaze of Thor's eyes.
"Now, I guess we're just lucky they let us do our own driving," Thor said, his tone blissful with a grating irony.
"Yeah, well, we don't do that anymore," Steve said then looked back to the map. "We gotta keep it tight. The freeway to the hotel is pretty open all the way in."
Thor clenched his jaw and tuned Steve out.
Thor stopped the truck just before the peak of the Absecon Boulevard Bridge. He lethargically killed the engine.
"Hang on," Steve said.
Thor, hand on the door handle paused and turned to him.
Steve pulled his pill bottle out of his jacket. He popped off the lid and sprinkled two tablets into his hands. Thor eyed the bottle as Steve tossed the pills back into his throat.
"How many are left?" Thor asked against his own will.
Steve rattled the bottle eyeing it over. "A couple days probably." He slid it into his jacket and cracked his neck. "Let's move."
The men hopped out of the truck and went around back to the bucket to collect their gear. Steve's movements of getting his vest and pack on, loading his weapon, and testing his sights were tight and eager. Thor's movements were bumbling as he fidgeted with how his jacket's shoulders fit, and checking the sights on his own rifle just enough for Steve to know he did it.
The sky was largely overcast in the late morning. It had been threatening to rain for the past few days, but all that happened was biting breezes, yet still the Earth felt moist. Summer had burned itself out and winter was quickly becoming top of mind. The structures still standing had developed moisture lines along their seems, similar to the few oxidized jetliner fuselages jutting out of the city's profile. As they walked, Thor scowled against the westward wind off the ocean nipping at his face. A growl escaped under his breath. Steve eyed him.
Thor caught Steve's gaze in his peripherals and met his look, but with a start at Steve's face wrap.
"Thor," Steve snapped.
"What? Good graci- you look horrid with that thing on your face."
"Put it on, Thor."
Thor went to rebut, but Steve's bulwark stare forced Thor to comply.
"Why must we wear these?" Thor said.
"So we're not recognized."
Thor sighed in exasperation. "We've lived an hour and a half from New York for thirty years." His hands wildly gestured at his side, accompanying scrunched look of condescension on his face. "Why don't we just move."
Steve's scowl narrowed, the wrinkles in his face deep and black. "Put it on, Thor."
Thor sighed and raised his face wrap up over his nose. "The one time they let us drive and you still insist we walk."
Venice Park, coming across the water ways severing it from Atlantic City-proper, was largely flattened. The river veins out of the ocean were reflected the grey skies, but with an off-brown tinge from the scatterings of commercial airliners and the sparse few organic remains. Across the water in the city, a few homes still stood, but were mostly just plywood skeletons. The road was flaked and upset, but the bridges had held. The Absecon bridge stood only in part though; some of the supports had fallen away, either from war or from the elements and took some of the road with it. Walking wasn't a problem, but a vehicle would have been treacherous.
They followed the westbound on-ramp off Absecon onto Huron Avenue, hugging the concrete barriers for cover. Once the ramp set down on the northbound freeway, the concrete barriers were mostly gone and the corridor was essentially open field. The Borgata, the Golden Nugget and Harrah's played sentry over the surrounding land and over each other, ghosts that the wind whistled through.
They managed to dodge off Huron in short order through a coniferous treeline rimming the Borgata property. They scaled their way up through the brittle brush of what was once a bountiful garden and across Borgata Way to a courtyard just the other side of a low iron fence. Right out front were a sporadic collection of filthy and tattered tarps and tents. A few faces caked with dirt and other markings of the unforgiving outdoors poked out from the encampments as Steve and Thor marched to the doors. They kept their gazes anywhere but the faces of those watching them. Steve always kept one or more in his peripheral, just in case.
The people inside did not appear to be in much better shape than those outside. Their eyes tracked Steve and Thor as they stepped through, captured in the shock and awe of these massive, armed strangers. The foyer was in similar condition as its inhabitants: the tiles were warped and brittle, making an acrid scrape if one was to drag their feet along it. It was organized somewhat like a market, characterized by what once appeared to be storefronts. A Starbucks sign had fallen to the ground, its branded light encasement cracked and the colour mostly faded.
Steve stopped in his tracks, staring distantly at the sign. "You know, out off the all crazy stuff I came outta the ice to, I think that was one of the craziest."
"What, signs that lit up?" Thor said.
"No, gourmet coffee. Didn't even think that was possible. But damn do I miss it."
Thor nodded, humouring him. Steve smiled curtly then nodded for them to proceed.
"Watch your head," Steve remarked, pointing up at the few remaining light fixtures dangling out of the ceiling.
"Watch your step," Thor replied, nodding at those that had already fallen and shattered.
Steve screened every inch of the mall through the sights of his rifle. His steps were tight and his posture was small. Thor strolled at Steve's side, absently hanging his rifle off his one hand. It swung limply with Thor's momentum as the god strode. The barrel grazed Steve's arm. He whipped his head to Thor, seeing the rifle carried on just a few fingers. He stopped and straightened up like a Drill Sargent, waiting for Thor to notice. He soon did and he slowed to a stop. With an arrogant swagger he turned back to Steve. Steve's austere expression deepened. He ostensibly jostled his rifle in its rigid rest position across his torso. Thor impishly mimicked Steve's expression, and his rigidity as he adopted the rifle position that was insisted. He then pivoted and continued to mock Steve in his semi-exaggerated march.
The further they progressed into the market, the filthier the air became. Dust caked just about any flat surface. They kept having to abandon stores as more dust would be disturbed and added to the mix as things were moved. Thor winced at the toll the dust was taking on Steve's lungs, hearing his hacking, choking coughs. After each cough, Steve would take a second to realign his eye with his weapon, fighting frustrated curse words out of his mind.
"Do you wanna turn back there, buddy?" Thor said after a third stop, trying but failing to quell any condescension in his voice.
"No, no," Steve wheezed, doubling over. He straightened up. "No, let's press on."
"Your call, Cap," Thor said passive aggressively.
Steve grimaced and marched briskly ahead.
The next store they went straight to the employee room in the back. The room was small and still dusty, though lesser so as some of the wall had crumbled away, exposing the room to the outdoors. There was no first aid kit, but the men rummaged through a number of cabinets and in desk drawers, looking for any kind of substitute.
"Anything?" Steve said, resting against the wall to catch a taste of fresh air without being obvious.
Thor shook his head, standing up from looking through the bottom of a locker. "Nope." He looked over as Steve slid off his face wrap. He was standing with a slight hunch and his arm over his stomach, his rifle dangling out of his other hand. "Little winded there, grandpa?"
Steve shrugged and chuckled with a goofy nod. His smile unwound passed Thor out into the store towards the front of the floor. He vacantly slung his rifle across his back.
"What?" Thor said, turning his head in a stutter.
A group of four children had collected at the store entrance, cloaked in filthy, frayed rags. Their stance was restless, but their eyes never left the two men.
Thor huffed dismissively and continued to investigate the room. Steve, on instinct, stumbled out into the store. Once he got close, one of the children made an unintelligible noise and all but one bolted back down the corridor. The remaining boy's eyes lit up as Steve knelt in front of him.
"Hi there," Steve greeted with a warm smile.
The boy was silent. His eyes were wide and a smile nearly broke his face, but it just didn't have the room to breathe.
"Steve!" Thor called, marching out towards them.
Steve got to his feet and turned to Thor.
The boy immediately took off, Steve turning back to look after the trailing sound of hurried, tiny steps.
"Let's keep moving," Thor said, "there's nothing in this one."
Steve nodded vacantly to his friend and the two advanced deeper into the mall.
The cobwebs had become more frequent and dense and there was a palpable dank smell. The ceiling tiles were warped and darkened with evident water damage, some even leaking in steady streams. Some store fronts had sleeping bags laid out and food packaging scattered about, though no one to claim ownership.
"You know," Thor said, his head swivelling about. "It looks like no one's coming back for any of this."
Steve looked at another sleeping bag tucked into an indent in the wall with an open box of crackers atop it. Crumbs collected in the valleys of the fabric.
He sighed and shook his head. "No, Thor, it wouldn't be right. Plus, they don't have what we're here for."
"Gotta be aspirin or something," Thor said.
"We have aspirin, but it's not enough."
Thor sighed in exasperation.
They retreated once nearing the end of the corridor, a combination of air that was barely breathable and a distended ceiling threatening to give at any moment warding them back. They re-emerged back in the foyer soon after to find the room's tents and kiosks abandoned.
Steve's snagged movement. He looked up to the doors to see the last few stragglers scrambling out the door, their hastily fastened sacks leaking scrap.
"Hey!" Steve called after them.
They bolted into pursuit, quickly gaining ground on the civilians. The people darted right, down the road off the freeway, scrambling for a large parking structure about a quarter mile out. The building set against the overcast sky appeared like a husk encasing a void, swallowing up the people into some other dimension away from harm. Conceding they had lost the chase, Steve and Thor came to a stomping halt.
"Did we do that?" Steve said panting, him and Thor squinting against a sudden pick-up in the wind.
Thor slyly looked to Steve. "What'd you say to those kids?"
Steve's gaze was disdainful with words on the tip of his tongue. His face quickly changed as the wind whipped up against him. "Did the wind just change?"
Thor adjusted his stance to concentrate on the air over his skin. "Uh, I don't know, maybe?"
Steve looked across the plains of the former city. "It was coming west off the ocean. But…" He turned around to the north to see two black choppers careening low in over the harbour across the freeway.
"Son of a bitch," Steve muttered.
Thor followed Steve's gaze out to the inbound birds. They were small and nimble, probably only with two or four seats.
"Buzzards," Steve said.
"Gennisians," Thor growled as the choppers closed on the freeway.
The skies growled low, the clouds rattling with encroaching thunder. Steve looked up as the clouds went from a tepid grey to a summer storm black.
"Thor!" Steve scolded.
The choppers crossed the freeway, coming up over the hill to the courtyard. The pilots were now visible, as were the two operatives perched per landing skid. The sky cracked and the choppers were sliced out of the sky in bursts of sparks and flames like fireworks. Steve and Thor dove apart as a chopper plunged straight into the road in a harsh din, a tsunami of dirt and rocks barreling into the hotel. The second went into a tailspin right into the roof of the foyer of the hotel, culminating in a mushrooming cloud of smoke and dust.
"Thor!" Steve screamed, enraged, picking himself up.
"We have to move," Thor stated, on his feet off down the garden hill to the freeway.
They bounded through the brush nipping at their ankles and shins trying to tangle their feet. They flailed and skipped over the soil and leaped down onto the pavement.
"This way!" Steve ordered, leading them farther north to an interchange overpass.
Steve's sprint down the open road felt harder and heavier with no frame of reference of his speed. He fought to keep steady breaths as his legs hauled his body at their max speed. Thor was generously a hair ahead of Steve like he didn't know how to go slower. His breaths were almost undistinguishable from a brisk walk.
They reached the concrete wall of the overpass as a trio of trucks came to perch atop the bridge. Steve stumbled into position, his breathing laboured. Thor got into a ready stance, a hand cocked, the skies crackling.
"Thor, no!" Steve hissed, grabbing his arm. "I've been quite clear."
"We would have died, and they know who we are," Thor said, relinquishing. "I mean, why send choppers in the first place."
Steve grimaced. He whirled back a step and laid down suppressing fire up to the road, keeping the gunmen at bay. Thor begrudgingly grabbed his rifle and provided support. He sprayed his weapon all across the road's edge, eroding their elevation advantage. The gunmen fell back behind their trucks and split off into a pincer. They came around to the precipice on either side of Steve and Thor and rained fire upon the freeway. The two reflexively ducked under the bridge out of sight. Steve tapped Thor's shoulder. Hugging the support wall, he lead them to the other side of the bridge.
Steve lead the charge up a dirt hill of frayed tufts of grass and brush. As they crested, he fired punching bursts through the gunmen at the first truck. Blood and fabric blasted and pasted itself over the truck's black paint.
"Okay, move!" Steve barked.
They rushed the truck under a hail of bullets, ducking behind the bucket for cover.
Six guns were trained upon them, the chassis of the truck rocking and bouncing under the barrage of bullets. Smoke and dust swept along the road as the tires burst. Thor and Steve popped back out and returned fire, smashing out the windows on a truck, shards of glass bursting across the road and over some of the gunmen. In the split second of relief as the gunmen regrouped, Steve's eyes caught one of the bodies. In a pocket on the belt of a dead man, a grenade peaked out.
"Cover me!" Steve ordered.
Before Thor could react, Steve ducked around the truck and darted onto the bridge. Once in range, he dove at the body, grabbing the grenade as he landed in a somersault. He got to his face with a bit of struggle; his body was defying him for his stunt. He strafed low back down the side of the truck, chased by the pounding of incoming fire on the truck's body. Steve pulled the pin, clenching his jaw as he rolled the grenade about in his palms for a second or two. He lobbed it in a low arc down the road at one of the remaining trucks. He rushed around behind the truck and pulled Thor down.
The vehicle lurched back, knocking them to the ground under the combined shockwave of the grenade and an enemy vehicle erupting in plumes of flames. The explosion fizzled out to enemy screams that scraped across the road and along the truck to Steve's ears. The settling air was drenched in agony and confusion. Steve's ears rang like bells, his brain the pendulum. He couldn't tell if he was in shock from the blast or if he couldn't handle the screaming for help, the screaming for aid, the screaming to just scream away the pain.
Steve took in a breath, his eyes wide and heavy, his face red. He popped up out from behind the truck and fired off quick, concentrated bursts at those trying to flee.
"Steve!" Thor called. "Steve!"
Steve was unresponsive. He was concentrating on not losing concentration. His eyes were glassy and his cheek was nearly absorbing the rifle's stock.
"Steve, stop!" Thor called. He lunged around the truck and grabbed Steve's shoulder.
Steve immediately lowered the rifle and the two ducked down. He looked to Thor, his eyes on him but he didn't seem to be entirely there.
"Steve, stop," Thor said, cupping Steve's face. "We just need to grab a truck and go."
His brain lagged a beat, but Steve soon nodded in a rapid vibration. They leaped up and sprinted down the road. They dodged past the inferno the one truck had become and skipped over the remains of those living and dead. They reached the last truck. Its bucket was crumpled slightly and the rear gate was gone. They swung open the doors to see the seats inside were sprinkled with glass shards from the rear window.
"Fuck," Thor groaned as the two quickly swept away the glass with their hands. Both men could feel their skin pricked and sliced as they worked.
They wiped their hands clean, blood smearing and drying on their clothes, wincing as they aggravated the wounds. Thor hopped behind the wheel and Steve climbed in the front seat. He was suddenly overcome with a nasty cough as he got his rifle ready. His breaths felt for a moment sharp against his tongue and the back of his throat.
Thor turned the truck around to get on the freeway and headed back south into the city. A fine rain had materialized like a mist, making it almost a fog. The truck drifted across the road back and forth. Steve caught his breath and noticed Thor fiddling around about the steering wheel, then wildly readjusting the truck's position on the road.
"Thor, eyes on the road, what are you doing?" Steve said.
"I can't see out the window!" Thor said, gesturing at the windshield looking as though they were under a waterfall. "How do you engage the wipers?"
Steve gave Thor a look then leaned over and flicked the stick on the right side of the steering column. The wipers began gliding across the windshield clearing off the sheen of moisture.
"Ah, thank you," Thor said politely.
"I can drive if you'd rather…"
"No, no, don't be silly. I think I can manage piloting such simple technology. I mean, it can't even fly."
Steve nodded indulgently and got his rifle cocked.
Thor followed Dr. Martin Luther King Boulevard across the Atlantic City plains towards the ocean. The area was silent. Steve did quick scans left, right and center looking for any movement or anything out of place. The further they went, the more the storm picked up steam. The wind had an almost endless fuel supply in space to whip itself up across the flat land.
"Thor," Steve said.
"Yes?"
"Headlights."
"What?"
Steve sighed. "Turn the head of the stick left of the wheel."
"There isn't one," Thor said, glancing between the road and the wheel.
"What?" Steve leaned over to see. "It should be on the end of the blinker thing."
"Well, it's not." Thor's eyes flashed. "Oh, wait, there's a little wheel here on the left."
"Does it have a symbol that's like…" Steve glanced out the window a moment for the words, "…uh, a head of a mushroom with tassels on it?"
"Yes!" Thor said gleefully.
"Great, turn it to that."
Thor did as instructed and the road lit up in front of them under the cloud of rain.
"Wonderful!" Thor cheered.
Steve chuckled, smiling out the side of his mouth.
"Turn right up here," Steve said as they reached the end of the Boulevard.
Thor turned the truck hard onto Atlantic Avenue. Steve hunched forward in his seat, trying to blink a headache away. He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the roadway.
"We need the Expressway," he muttered to no one in particular.
The rough, arid land gave way to relatively smooth, but cracking asphalt. There was a dense collection of hollow buildings and exposed scaffolding. As they neared, Steve recognized the divided road to their right.
"Yes, outlet stores, cut through that parking lot!" Steve excitedly ordered.
The truck bounced over the curb as Thor charged through the plaza among lonely stacks of bricks and drywall.
"Alright," Steve said, "we're gonna hit Baltic and then you'll hang a left and we can rejoin the –"
Headlights suddenly swallowed the rain and flooded the truck's cab. Thor swung the wheel, but both vehicles closed the gap. The wind was expelled out of their bodies like they were old balloons as the hoods crumpled together, like two beasts reared up to attack each other. The airbags exploded in dust and glass, catching their faces as the momentum thrust them forward, feeling the whole engine block being forced in against them. The world around them was no longer there; gravity was no longer fixed as the truck chasses were the domain of their own laws of physics.
When they did settle back on Earth, Steve was neither alive or dead – he was simply entirely pain. It was maybe a little after, it was maybe a lot after. He felt himself jostled free from under the crumpled smoking heap of metal. Each tug was a little stronger and more desperate. The metal rattled and crinkled, somewhere far away. It was rain, or maybe hail, or maybe rocks. Steve couldn't even remember if this was all a dream or not. Where was he? He just wanted the noise to stop. He wanted his heart to stop throbbing and whispering to him to go to sleep.
Heavy streams of water pelted his face as he was lifted out through the door frame. The metal rattling and fracturing was exponentially louder, the ringing in Steve's head worse. With Steve hooked over his shoulder, Thor dragged them across the parking lot to a McDonald's. Enemy fire ripped up the ground around them, but Thor figured, given their poor aim, the crash didn't work out so well for them either. He zig zagged about and made use of visual cover of bushes decorating the McDonald's property to keep fire off them. Once inside, Thor heaved Steve over his shoulders and sprinted passed through the tables and seats, undisturbed as if guests could be received at any time. He skidded to a stop at the counter and tossed Steve like shotput ball over the other side. Steve sprawled on the ground like he had been spilled out of a cup, making a wet squeak across the floor. Thor vaulted over right after him.
Steve groaned, trying to roll over. He winced, his wounds too tender to move. "My shoulder…" Steve whined clutching his left shoulder.
"Is it out?" Thor said.
"Yeah, I think so," Steve said breathlessly.
"Okay, just hang on a sec," Thor said, kneeling next to Steve. He grabbed him about his shoulder and adjusted his position. "Alright, on three, I'm going to pop it back in, okay?"
"Okay," Steve said, nodding and bracing.
"Okay, one –" Thor shoved the bone back into its socket with a pop only Steve could hear.
Thor was fairly certain everyone in the parking lot could hear Steve shriek.
"Steve, Steve, buddy, you've got to be quiet."
Steve inhaled and exhaled with purpose and effort, bringing himself back down. "I know, I know, sorry." He gingerly sat himself up against the counter.
Thor slid his radio out of his jacket pocket. "Man-hawk, this is Patriot. We're pinned down at…uh…" He looked to Steve.
Steve's chest heaved and he rolled his head in exasperation. "Atlantic and North Arkansas."
"We're pinned down at Atlantic and North Arkansas," Thor repeated, nodding each word through with Steve. "We need med-evac."
The radio crackled. Thor's finger was cocked on the button ready to call again.
"Roger that, Patriot," Man-hawk replied. "We can get a vehicle to you in 20-30 minutes."
"No good, Man-hawk!" Thor said. "Star is hurt!"
"Well, that's the best we can fucking do, Tho – er, Hammer!" the voice on the other end retorted. "A truck will be there soon!"
Steve waved down Thor's attention and gave a thumbs up. He circled his finger in the air above him and mouthed the word 'food.'
Thor frowned and sighed. "Roger that, Man-hawk, see you in 20." He emphasized the time indignantly and shut off his radio to ensure he had the last word on the matter.
Thor put the radio away then looked to Steve expectantly. Steve nodded and, bracing his arm against the counter, heaved himself into a tentative stance. He was hunched low, his head pounding harder with each inch he rose. His internal gyroscope was jarred from the crash. Thor offered a hand, but Steve promptly swatted him back. He steadied himself then nodded at Thor into the restaurant. Both with their weapons primed and armed they crept towards the back.
They entered into the kitchen, the warming shelves still standing. The safety literature still had a half-assed grip on the wall. They pulled open the drawers, the cabinets, the trays on the racks to find them all picked clean. Thor strolled over to the walk-in fridge. He grabbed the handle on the large, metal door and braced. His arms swelled as he drew on the rusted handle, the door whining and screeching open on its brittle hinges. He got in front of the door as it gave some birth and he pushed it all the way back. He turned, hoping his bit of effort had seen some sort of return, but his shoulders fell at the bare, oxidized shelves, some of them having dropped off the wall.
"Anything?" Steve croaked from the kitchen.
"Nothing," Thor groaned as he dragged himself back to center of the floor. He leaned on a prep table, exhausted and bored. "This has certainly been a waste of a day, eh?" He chuckled to spite himself and whoever was waiting outside.
Steve gave him a disdainful look through the gaps in the shelves.
"What?" Thor said, his arms out at his sides in defense.
"We've still got fifteen minutes," Steve said. "Let's check the rest of the mall."
"There's an army outside."
"So, we'll slip out the back." Steve's face dropped indignantly. "I've seen armies. They're not an army."
Thor puffed and nodded.
They collected at the rear emergency exit door. Steve gently tested the release bar as Thor got in a ready stance. Steve looked to Thor for confirmation. He nodded then Steve whirled around and braced his shoulder against the door. He shifted his hip into the release bar and drove it open. It scraped along on its hinges as Thor gusted outside doing a one-eighty sweep of the parking lot. The lot was clear of hostiles but filled with the rank smell of decades old garbage rotting into the foundation of the building and into cracks in the pavement. The mall hooked around to meet them a few hundred meters away northwest. Steve staggered up next to Thor and the two dashed across the lot into the storefront.
It was reminiscent of the Borgata; filthy, dank, decrepit and clinging meekly to itself. There were empty clothing racks with their paint flaking, giving way to crusty brown and orange scars from the elements. They scoured shelves caked in dust and that smelled musty and moist. Coming up empty, they scuttled out into the halls. The acrid, spongey smell grew stronger as they proceeded through the mall corridor. Shop after shop was barren. They slipped into another store where the smell was at its strongest. Just over the threshold, Thor tapped Steve's shoulder, both their noses scrunched. He nodded at a corpse slumped forward on the floor against the cashier counter. There was a small mound of a backpack on the deceased man's back and a shoulder bag lying next to him. It was frayed around the zipper and the fabric was unravelling.
"I'll check it out," Thor said.
Steve nodded and stood guard at the entrance. Thor went and knelt over the man and gingerly touched his shoulder. Steve watched in glances, a stern dimple in one side of his mouth deepening. Thor unzipped the backpack, reeling back from the more pungent smell of rotting meat. He shielded his nose and took a breath then opened the bag next to the body. Inside the bag was a small handful of t-shirts and other assorted fabrics hastily cut.
"Patriot," the radio in Thor's jacket crackled. "Patriot, come in."
Thor huffed, internally wincing at the callsign, then drew out the radio. "This is Patriot, go ahead."
"Patriot, this is Scout. We can't get to you. Picking up a lot of trucks in the mall lot."
"Shit."
"There's a rail line at the convention center to your north. You'll be able to cross the river there."
"But we'll be totally exposed."
"Well, if you try the expressway, they'll chase you down and that's a whole bunch more problems."
Thor frowned.
"I'll cover you the whole way," the radio said. "Get a move on."
"Yeah, yeah, okay, roger that, we're coming," Thor said. He sighed through his nose and looked to Steve, putting his radio away.
Steve's brow was furrowed as he watched out into the hallway, like he was waiting for his dog to pee. He noticed Steve wincing, adjusting his stance. His face would periodically scrunch, likely blinking away pain. Thor set his neck and cleared his throat. Steve twitched and turned to Thor.
"What's going on?" Steve said.
"They're here, but now we gotta to get to them," Thor said.
"What? Aren't they in the lot?"
"No. The Gennisians are all over the street out front. We gotta get to the convention center and follow the train tracks over the river."
Steve nodded, his expression unchanged. "Let's get moving."
They slipped out to the street a block back northeast of North Arkansas. They anchored themselves to the wall of stubby, cube, outlet buildings and followed them back toward the expressway. Thor led, Steve keeping a hand gingerly on his back in case he needed his attention, he told himself. They rounded the corner and down the corridor, they could see the highway, and the courtyard to the convention center just before it. They made use of remaining car chassis, their paint chipped away and resting on their shoes and pads, for extra cover.
Steve struggled to stay low as he was still tender from the crash. He was now reminded how much pain he was really in now the adrenaline rush had passed and everything was quiet: there was only sprinkling, misty rain having let up from earlier. The winds had settled, but had significantly cooled off the day. He allowed himself to be more convinced of his hand on Thor's back being for support.
Thor stopped dead. He raised his hand. Steve stopped up behind him, taking a knee. Thor's eyes searched the skies. He tapped his ear and pointed beyond the buildings. Steve followed Thor's finger. He could hear the hum and whirr fluttering over the rooftops, dampened in the moist air.
"Sounds like a drone," Steve murmured.
They followed the sound as it drew near. They turned around, pressing against the car, low as their bodies would allow without lying down, and spotted the drone cross the road a little ways back beyond the mall. Steve's eyes narrowed as he watched the drone lilt past.
Steve sighed and settled. "It's a toy with a phone camera." He turned back and got on his feet. "Let's move."
They followed North Michigan through the convention center complex. There were husks of military trucks and the sparing few remains of bone fragments and fabric about the ground, likely soldier and civilian alike. They navigated the para-slalom of barbed wire and yellowing sandbags into the drop-off area. They entered through the remaining frame of revolving doors to the spanning lobby for the event halls. It seemed as though, from how it gaped, the building would release a deafening, pathetic groan, but the silence was jarring to the ears every second it did not. There were rusted skeletons of medical beds and other equipment. There were tents and tarps collapsed about the ground where water had worn away the fabric. The entire hall was enveloped in a foul musk of organic decay where the ground was tainted with dried, brown pools. A number of these pools had trailed away from bodies actively still being broken down by bacteria and recently gnawed away at by scavenging animals. Steve held his stomach as Thor lugged them through. His brain played their mundane, daily grind towards death with breezes of malnourished, hoarse whispers of each day's found an escalator and followed it up to a floor with a gusty wind blowing around stray leaves and other dirt.
The bay windows to the railway were scattered about the floor. Thor turned to Steve, hobbling up the stairs, catching himself on the railing with both hands. Thor stepped down and set an insistent hand under Steve's forearm to help him up. Once at the top, with his rifle trained in one hand, an indignant Steve on his other arm, Thor guided them to the platform, the day outside seeming still. They squinted as the mist met their faces. Their feet crunched on the glass shards. They stepped over the frames outside onto the undisturbed concrete and suddenly the whirr of small rotors fluttered down the tracks to meet them, the drone observing them from a little way up the parallel freeway.
"Shit!" Thor blurted as the sky cracked and a burning flash slashed the vehicle out of the sky.
It sparked and leaked oily black smoke in a spiral down to the road.
Thor turns to Steve, a look of proud relief on his face. His pride faded seeing Steve's face frozen in shocked frustration.
"Thor!" Steve said. "What have I said! No abilities!"
"But they already know it's us," Thor stated.
Exasperated, Steve released himself from Thor and hobbled over to the wall to support himself and take a breather.
"What, are we not going now?" Thor said over his shoulder.
"I just need a sec," Steve grumbled, his breaths laboured.
Thor's attention was suddenly yanked south back down the freeway toward the sound of a motor. A black truck roared up the road and screamed to a stop. Thor darted back to Steve and shoved him back into the station, sending him end over end. Thor drew his rifle and opened fire on the hostiles as they scrambled out of their truck under shattering glass and bursting metal. Thor pinned one down against the truck, the doors coloured in their blood. The other three had settled behind the truck, laying down suppressing fire. Thor took cover back in the station behind a pillar, next to one Steve had crawled behind.
Steve gave Thor a patronizing look. Thor scowled and resumed returning fire.
"No need to make them more scared and angry," Thor said between bursts.
A hostile popped up from the other side of the truck's hood, their rifle trained on the station. Just as soon as they got a finger on the trigger, their skull was blown out the side of their head all over an accomplice. The others shrieked as their second casualty went down. They started firing wildly westward to where ever they thought the shot came from. Another shot whizzed in and Thor saw the explosion of blood and skin through the front window of the truck.
The remaining operative scrambled for the cab of the truck as Thor emerged from the station. They climbed in behind the wheel. They held themselves in their seat for a second, trembling as they clung to the wheel. Their mind was racing. They were the only survivor. They needed to radio for backup. Or evac. They realized they had zoned out, grunting themselves as they came back into the situation. Panting, they started the truck up and got it in gear. The truck suddenly rocked to the ground as Thor landed on the hood. He swooped around to the driver's door and threw it open, tossing the driver out. Thor grabbed the operative and flung them back into the side of the truck, crumpling the frame. They went limp, still barely conscious. Thor grabbed the human and ran his fist across their face, snapping their head left, the point of contact breaking skin.
"Where's all that fight now, huh!" Thor roared. His fist smushed the face of the unresponsive survivor again and again and again and again. He flung them back across the freeway. They collided with the guard rail, rattling off dirt and water that had collected. Thor loomed over the human, limp and bleeding.
"Thor!" Steve cried from the platform. "Thor, enough!"
Thor paused and looked back to the tracks. Steve had propped himself up against a window frame, clutching himself. He was scowling, his face stone. Thor's shoulders lifting with each breath, he looked back at the Gennisian. Thor threw a punch, but they didn't even flinch. He sighed and reeled his fist back then gathered himself.
He regrouped with Steve and walked them down the tracks over the river. It was quiet again. Even the rain had stopped. The river quietly lapped along and an icy breeze scraped their faces like a straight razor. They reached the bridge house at the center as Celeste hopped off the foot of the ladder.
She swished her red locks out of her face as she set her feet down. Her face was grubby and wet, like the rest of her from being in the sniper's nest through the rain. Her face was frosty, partly from age, partly in disdain.
Thor greeted her with a haphazard, impish grin.
Her gaze settled on Steve, still displeased her stare only seeming colder.
"Nice to see you, too," Thor said.
Celeste sighed and nodded down the tracks. Her rifle brandished across her chest, she marched them the balance of the bridge to a trail carved out in some overgrowth. They ducked the branches through to a small clearing, completely curtained around by pine trees, except for where a dirt road met them.
Ari was resting against the front of the van, holding their radio at their shoulder. Their hair was a controlled mess, though still retaining a bit of shape. A smirk was unwinding across their face as the men trailed in behind Celeste, Thor with Steve draped off one shoulder and the bag of fabrics in the opposite hand.
Guarav scurried to open the side door of the van in preparation to receive. He got blankets laid out for Steve then glided back outside to aid Thor. His big eyes were even wider seeing Steve up close. His large nostrils flared larger as he tried to think of something to say. He got under the other arm of Steve to help Thor, giving Steve an endearing pat on the chest which Steve accepted gracefully.
Celeste halted abruptly. Thor nearly bumped up against her, catching and readjusting Steve and the bag.
She whirled around at Thor. "I thought we were very clear."
"Steve's already said it, thanks," Thor retorted.
"Hey, hey, guys, please," Pete said, his porky frame chugging over to help Guarav. He disarmed his SAW machinegun and slung it over his shoulder.
Thor released Steve to the men with one arm and shirked off the fabric bag with the other.
"Hey, you found some stuff!" Pete said over his shoulder.
He planted his feet on the ground and pushed as Guarav heaved Steve up into the van.
"Okay, guys, I'm hurt, but I can still move," Steve said, writhing against them.
"No, no, we got this, Cap," Guarav said.
"Don't call me that," Steve snapped, trying to catch himself.
The two men stopped and looked at each other, partly bewildered, partly just dumb.
"But, isn't that just a rank?" Guarav said plainly. "Like, aren't you actually a captain?"
Steve resignedly settled. "Just get me in the van."
Guarav and Pete scrambled back into the motion and got Steve down on a blanket. Pete grabbed a backpack and tucked it under Steve's head.
"So," Pete called, following Guarav out of the van. "What's in the bag, Thor?"
Thor and Celeste remain locked on each other. Celeste's face never changed from passive displeasure. Thor was trying to keep his scowl cool and calm. He wanted to reinforce his unassailability. Celeste's eyes never left Thor's face, her stance unwavering. Thor shifted his feet a third time. He was looking to the others for validation. Ari watched on in amusement, to Thor's dismay. His face dropped and he was beginning to get impatient. Celeste was unmoved at the infantile fit brewing just below Thor's surface.
Pete waddled over to the bag and peaked inside. "Oh, you got some cloths! That's great! You know, winter's in just a couple months, so…"
Thor and Celeste remained silent, lost to the world around them. Guarav leaned against the van, arms folded. Steve had sat up a bit and watched from inside the van. Ari picked at their nails, casually glancing back and forth from the situation.
"Thor," Steve called, "c'mon."
Thor glanced at Steve, but quickly redirected back to Celeste. His shoulders then fell in a puff, looking deflated. "I'm going to be honest. I've forgotten why we're doing this."
Celeste looked to the sky, seemingly exhausted from the exchange. She turned and strode back to the van. "Steve."
"Yeah."
"Control Thor."
"Yes, Celeste," Steve replied cordially, lying back down.