Despite how the cold wind chills me to the bone, I follow Ruby through the crowded streets of Stuttgart, dodging people chattering in German. "Will you slow down?" I call over the bustle. "In heals!"
"Walk faster!" Ruby throws back over her shoulder, though she does slow to a more manageable pace. Considering how jet lagged I feel right now, even the slight decrease in speed is welcome.
We arrived here just this morning, New Year's Day. Ruby and I have wanted to make a trip across Europe since we were children, and today we started here. We intend to travel further north, passing up through the U.K. and ending in Oslo, Norway. We'll be in Stuttgart for a couple days, though. Ruby, the art nerd that she is, wants to see the museum, so we're doing that tomorrow. Right now, though, we're just strolling through the streets like aimless tourists.
"There's a plaza over there," Ruby calls back. She looks behind her only to make sure she grabs my hand, and begins jerking me in a different direction. "We should take pictures."
"Fine, just quit trying to pull my arm out of socket, will you?"
Ruby doesn't respond, but after fighting against the flow of traffic, we make it to the plaza. It's nothing special, really, but it's pleasant enough, and it's out of both the wind and the crowd. "Great," Ruby comments, looking around the plaza. "Let's take a picture with that building in the background." She points to a beautiful building, complete with towering white columns, gold detailing, and huge windows that look into an intricately designed room with towering domed ceilings and blue, gold, and red patterns that remind me of a church. Across the marble floor, men in expensive suits and women in luxurious gowns mingle. A string quartet sits to the side, playing what I know can only be beautiful classical music. Part of me longs to be there, amongst the modern day nobility toasting with small glasses of champagne and making idle chatter, but the other part knows that will never be. I shake my head to clear the thought, a small, sad smile on my lips. The elite of the elite is no place for an escort like me.
Ruby's already found someone to take the picture, and although a small bit of sadness creeps into my heart, the rest remains filled with excitement at the prospect of what this trip holds for us. As ruby spins me around and circles her arm around my waist, my moment of middle class sadness dissipates into young gaiety. The flash of the camera brings my completely back into the moment, a lighthearted giggle escaping from my mouth, then another, and another still. My head feels funny, light sort of, the kind of feeling I get whenever I'm with Ruby. She picks up my giggle as she retrieves her camera, and when she comes back, she hooks her arms my neck, swinging me to and fro. "I love you, Avery."
"I love you, too, Rue," I reply through my laughter.
We revert back to our teenage years, flying around the plaza, climbing the low stone wall that circles the generic city park garden, laughing so hard random people ask us if we need a taxi. We're so loud, so joyous, so raucous, that it takes a while for the screams to reach me.
Initially, I think it's just another group of people having the same fun as Ruby and me, but as the screams multiply and grow louder, my spirit falls. My heart races. My palms sweat. Something isn't right.
I cautiously look over my shoulder, stricken to petrification as the mass of beautiful people from their complimenting building flood into the streets with shrieks and fearful gazes. My neck cranes over the crowd on its own will, hoping to catch a glance of whatever has frightened them so. Shoulders beat and bruise me as people speed past me in escape, but my only thought is for whatever danger lies ahead.
The sirens from a nearby police car wail, headed to the entrance of the building, but are cut short as a blue light flashes and the car flips over its own hood. I can hear Ruby's voice shouting my name, but for some reason it doesn't register. "Kneel before me!" a man's voice raises above the crowd, yet no one heeds him.
"Avery!" Ruby's voice finally reaches me truly. She grabs my head and begins pulling me once more. "We have to go!"
"But…" I mutter to myself, looking back in the direction of the voice as Ruby pulls me away.
"KNEEL!"
This time the voice carries enough power to halt everyone within range instantaneously. One by one, the people of the plaza, rich or poor, gorgeous or homely, male or female, kneel in a ripple. As the people descend, one man remains standing, dressed in clothes of green and leather, covered in a gold armor that I don't understand the use of. He holds a staff, glowing with the same blue light that flipped the cop car, and upon his head, covering the black hair that curls at the nape of his neck, a helmet with two large, curling antlers sits, both objects gilded in gold to match his armor. His eyes meet mine, so green I feel they match his clothing perfectly. He cocks an eyebrow, turns slightly, and points the scepter at me. My instincts scream danger, but my body has locked up. It's not until Ruby, who sunk to one knee when the people around us did, pulls me down harshly do I even comprehend what's going on.
"Is not this simpler?" He begins, turning back to face the crowd square on and extending his arm open in a warm gesture. He begins a slow amble through the crowd, and a sense of respect for this man washes over me. "Is this not your natural state?" Strike that. Respect lost. "It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity." His voice has lowered to a carrying whisper that somehow feels comforting. My eyes, trained on him from the moment I saw him, wander across the plaza. At least eight other forms of this man circle the area, blinking and flickering like holograms, casting watchful gazes across us, as if we are cattle. I don't know if I tried to hit them or throw something at them if anything would happen to either of us, but as satisfying as that sounds, it's probably not a good idea to test that theory. "You were made to be ruled," he continues, still walking through the throng of the kneeling public. "In the end, you will always kneel."
There's silence, and within that pause, my gaze travels back up to the man. He casts a furtive gaze at me, only lasting a split second, but it causes my stomach to twist uncomfortably.
"Not to men like you." The voice of an elderly man interrupts the quiet, and the ensuing rustles of people shifting their position to look at him only carries out the disruption.
The armored man grins and smirks. "There are no men like me."
Another short pause. "There are always men like you."
He straightens himself, his smile, though it hasn't changed, dangerous now. He raises his scepter menacingly. "Look to your elder, people." He aims the weapon at the man. "Let him be an example." The same blue light from before expels from the claw like fixture at the end, heading somewhere over my right shoulder, where the voice was coming from. Women scream in shock, but the true disruptive noise is the sound of something hitting metal. The blue light returns to the man, knocking his feet out from under him in the process.
"You know," a new voice begins from the same area as the older man, calling my attention back to see another man dressed in a red, white, and blue costume, holding a shield, "the last time I was in Germany, and saw a man standing above everybody else," he starts for the man in green, my gaze following him, "we ended up disagreeing." I know him, or at least I've seen him before. In a history book from high school. Captain America.
"The soldier," the other man addresses bitterly, rising to his knees. He chuckles and uses his staff to bring himself back to his feet. "A man out of time."
"I'm not the one who's out of time."
A black plane – at least I think it's a plane – hovers low, a large gun appearing below it and arming. "Loki, drop the weapon and stand down," a woman from within the aircraft commands over a loudspeaker. Before her voice has even echoed, Loki – I guess that's the guy with the fancy, magic glow stick – fires off yet another ball of blue light at the plane that it just dodges. Captain America retaliates and throws his shield, catching it on the ricochet from Loki's armor.
Now that chaos has broken loose, the public scrambles away again, screaming as blue light flashes and cries of battle reverberate. "Avery, run!" Ruby screams, but I can't. I physically can't. I won't move. "Avery, what is wrong with you?" She yanks me up from my knees and begins dragging me with the crowd. "Move your damn feet!"
I finally gain some control over my own body, enough so that Ruby feels comfortable enough to let me go and know I'll be following. And I am. Closely.
Another flash of light. A sharp, inexpressible pain develops on my left side between the middle of my waist and the bottom of my hip. I was following Ruby. She doesn't notice that I crumple to the ground. She keeps running away. She disappears into the crowd. She leaves me screaming in agony.
Blood pounds in my ears so deafeningly loud that it blocks out the discord of the fight. My head swims, caused by whatever has hurt me, and it takes all I have to stay conscious. Although I can't hear them, I can feel cries and groans of suffering rip from my lips. My eyes, closed so tightly the muscles around them begin to ache, see stars behind the lids.
Suddenly, arms slide under me, and I'm lifted up into the hold of a stranger. I let my eyes open drowsily as unconsciousness begins to win out. Above me, the mask faced of Captain America stares straight ahead. He glances down at me, eyes filled with gentle worry and tries to tell me something I can't hear. My heads lolls over to see Iron Man cuffing Loki. When did Iron Man get here? Or has he always been there? Oh my God, I can't even think straight.
The edges of my vision begin to fade, what I can see speckled with flashing white stars, yet somehow I manage to see Loki look over, a mischievous, knowing smirk on his lips. I hate that son of a bitch. I hate him. I hate him… I hate…