Recruited - Chapter Fourteen

Steve Rogers believed himself to be a patriotic man. He fought for his country; he sacrificed all that he had to save his home-state and its people. And now, trapped aboard the helicarrier with no place to go other than into the firing line, Steve struggled to remember what he was fighting for. The world had changed. With his sacrifice, the world spun on. Wars waged. Death mounted. Was this what he and the rest of his comrades had fought for?

Staring down at the flooring, the soldier let out a breath of hot air and steeled himself. Stark had escaped the clutches of the main base and taken stance in the now ruined laboratory, fixing his abraded armour, leaving the soldier alone. Steve had mapped the layout of the helicarrier to memory, knowing that the below-level medical wards would be occupied with the wounded agents and engineers. After her encounter with Dr. Banner's other self, Widow would surely be seeking aid.

And with his heavy footfalls, Steve exited the level and made his way to the medical bay.

He walked along the corridor, steel blue eyes peering in through the rectangular glass windows, stopping only when he caught sight of the illustrious SHIELD spy.

Pressing the silver button, the door to the engaged medic ward opened. The grey steel frame moved to the side, and Steve nodded his head at the red-headed woman. "Time to go," he said.

Black Widow inclined her head. "Go where?" she asked, voice impassive as she stared at the soldier.

"I'll tell you on the way," said Steve, well aware of the digital eyes and ears built into the infrastructure of SHIELD's airbase. "Can you fly one of those jets?"

The door to the adjoining bathroom opened, and a familiar face stepped out; the soldier recognised him as Clint Barton, the agent exploited by Loki's mind tricks. The man held a used towel in his hands, his triceps visible in his sleeveless attire. His face was set, his lips forming a hard line. He nodded in greeting to the Captain. "I can," he said.

Steve's eyes flickered from the archer to the female spy, watching as Widow dipped her head in silent confirmation.

He's OK, read Widow's expression.

Steve turned back to the other male. "You got a suit?"

The man nodded.

"Then suit up," ordered Steve, returning to his Captain mindset, exiting the medic ward.

"Who's left?" asked Stark, not bothering to look up as the soldier entered the still trashed aviation level. Broken glass littered the floor; yellow and orange sparks emitted from the still live electrical equipment. The signature red and gold Iron Suit was wrapped around Stark's body, the face plate flipped open.

"Black Widow and Hawkeye," said Steve, trying to get his tongue around the code names of the two SHIELD recruits.

Stark's brows rose. "Barton's no longer Loki's lapdog?"

"Doesn't seem to be," answered Steve. "From what I gathered from the ruined security footage, Loki dropped Thor and the cage out of the sky. There's no telling where he is."

"And the Hul-". Stark paused. "And Dr. Banner?" he amended.

Steve shook his head. "He fell from the ship."

"What are we?" asked Stark, rolling his eyes. "The new Fantastic Four?" At Steve's blank expression, Stark sighed. "Pop culture reference, Captain. You know, you should really-" he broke off, tilting his head to the side in greeting as SHIELD's two assassins stalked forward. "Barton," acknowledged Stark, eyeing the archer with a decisive look. "Good to see you're back to your less-cold self."

Hawkeye merely stared at the billionaire. "Stark."

The soldier folded his arms across his broad chest. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you get past Loki's mind control?"

Black Widow stepped forward, fixing the SHIELD enhanced athletic black tape around her hands. "A little cognitive recalibration."

"Cognitive recalibration?" repeated Steve, frowning, unsure of the implications. "What does that mean?"

"It means," said Stark, flipping the head plate of his suit down over his face, his voice blaring out of the built-in microphone and speakers as he prepared to take flight. "Anna's going to wake up with one hell of a headache."

And the Iron Man shot upwards into the air and out of SHIELD's airbase toward Manhattan.

With his face set in determination, the Captain turned back to Hawkeye and Widow. "Let's go."

Steve marched the three down the corridor, past the SHIELD agents hurrying to fix the damage done to the mainframe. He led them to the hanger, his shield attached to his arm, stalking forward towards an almost vacant jet. The soldier climbed aboard, gaining the attention of the young SHIELD engineer crouched by the controls.

"Hey," said the engineer, "you guys aren't authorised to be in here-"

"Son," reproved Steve, shaking his head, leaving no time for the agent to respond. "Just don't."

And with an intimidated stare, the engineer scurried off the plane, unease creeping into his mind at the thought of being stared down by two of the world's deadliest assassins, and the first Avenger.

"OK," said Steve, strapping himself into one of the seats, the image of Iron Man now a mere red and yellow dot in the clear blue sky. "Manhattan is our point of call. From what Stark said, Loki will be hell bent on destroying the city. If he's on schedule, Loki will have his army. He has Anna controlling the city."

"How so?" asked Barton, turning to face the soldier.

"Wellington can start a fire sale," murmured Widow, flicking the controls on.

Barton's face remained impassive, but his voice sounded disgruntled with the new information. "You're telling me Loki plans on having the doc wipe out all of Manhattan's safety measures?"

"Pretty much," said Steve.

Barton nodded, taking control of the jet. "Let's go."

Calm. Quiet. The streets of Manhattan breathed with new life. New Yorkers ambled up and down the avenues, slipping inside coffee shops and office buildings. Times Square thrummed with its glittering atmosphere. Wall Street buzzed with excited chatter. Central Park flourished in pinks, blues, and greens. From his approach in the blue, Stark surveyed the sights with mild admiration. The spot in the distance, the absence of the two American landmarks, reminded the city of its former destruction. But New York survived.

If Loki and his army conquered the American dream and all that it held within its ideology, would it live on?

"Sir," said JARVIS, his voice resounding in the speakers of the Iron Suit. "I've turned off the Arc Reactor. The device is already self-sustaining. Dr. Wellington has collapsed twelve of the thirty-seven systems."

"And how long till she collapses them all?"

"Fifty-five minutes, Sir. The safety measures are all in place. Dr. Wellington is currently attacking each in turn."

Stark ignored him, hovering above the roof of Stark Towers, looking down at the figure of the mind-bended scientist. "Shut it down, Dr. Selvig," he ordered.

The grey-haired astrophysicist stared up at the superhero with wonderment. "It's too late!" shouted the doctor. "She can't stop now. She wants to show us something! A new universe."

"OK," said Stark, not one for polite conversation; he held out his hand, revving the turbo-blasts. Two bursts of flames shot from the palms of the suit, hitting the glowing blue sphere with vigour. The hits rocketed off of the tesseract, returning back to Stark. The bursts of energy slammed into him, sending him flying back into the air. He struggled to control his height and velocity.

"The barrier is pure energy," came JARVIS's voice. "It's unbreachable."

Stark stared down at the landing strip adjoined to the top level of the building, eyeing the form of the raven-haired God standing upon it. "Yeah, got that," commented Stark. "Time for Plan B."

"Plan B, sir?"

"Distract Loki. Save Anna."

"Sir, the Mark VII is not ready for deployment-"

Stark refrained from rolling his eyes at the AI. "Then skip the spinning rims, we're on the clock," he instructed.

The genius lowered himself down to the landing plate, keeping his eyes set on the God. As Stark shed his armour, the hero and villain kept eye-contact.

Once inside, the God of Lies sneered at the billionaire. "Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity," he mocked, raising his sceptre to gesture to his newly found power.

Stark shook his head, making his way to the bar area of the floor. "Uh, actually, I'm planning to threaten you," he said, keeping his voice light despite his initial hesitation.

Loki smiled, a dark smirk pulling at his lips. "You should have left your armour on for that."

"Yeah," agreed Stark, "it's seen a bit of mileage. And you've got the, uh, little stick of destiny." He paused and turned back to face the man. "Would you like a drink?"

Loki laughed. "Stalling me won't change anything. It won't bring your friend back. Remarkable girl that she is."

"No, no. Threatening," reminded the genius, trying hard to keep his composure, his posture stiffening at the mention of his analyst. "No drink? You're sure? I'm having one."

The god turned away, evidently displeased at Stark's countenance. "The Chitauri are coming," promised Loki. "Your friend is no longer an ally. Nothing will change that." He turned, smiling. "What have I to fear?"

Stark emptied the bottle of bourbon into his glass. He looked up, catching the god's gaze. "The Avengers," he answered. He smiled, exaggerating his modest expression. "It's what we call ourselves. Sort of like a team. Earth's mightiest heroes type thing."

Loki smirked, evidently confident in his army's ability. "I've met them."

"Yeah," laughed Stark, his expression uncomfortable. "It takes us a while to get any traction, though, I'll give you that one. But let's do a headcount here: your brother, the demigod," as Stark continued his speech, the god turned away. Stark reached across the counter and secured the digital metal cuffs to his wrists. "A super-soldier, living legend, who kind of lives up to the legend; a man with breath-taking anger management issues," at this, the god smiled, "a couple of master assassins. And you, big fella. You have managed to piss off every single one of them."

"That was the plan."

"Not a great plan," insulted Stark. "And taking my star employee? What did I mention about taking my stuff?"

"You refer to the girl as mere property? I have given her knowledge and purpose; all that she lacked in her dull existence. She will thank me. And in her gratitude, she, along with the rest, shall kneel before me."

"No," confronted Stark, anger pulsing through him, "she won't. And you just don't get it, do you? When they come, and they will," he assured. "They'll come for you."

"I have an army."

Stark stared back at the God, defiant. "We have a Hulk."

Loki raised his brows, gesturing the city beyond Stark Towers. "I thought the beast had wandered off."

A dark stare crawled its way onto Stark's face. "You're missing the point. There is no throne. There is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes, and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you. Because if we can't protect the earth, you can be damn well sure we'll avenge it." He finished his speech with a slow sip of his drink, watching the god's actions with cautious eyes.

Loki strode forward, malice set in his face. "How will your friends have time for me?" he asked, moving closer with every word. "When they're so busy fighting you?" And with the curling of his lips, Loki raised the sceptre, forcing it against Stark's chest. The sceptre glowed, its power force thrumming from its centre, grazing the thread of Stark's clothing. The material of the sceptre met Stark's chest with a light clink.

Nothing happened.

A frown formed on the god's face. He repeated his action, staring at the billionaire with mild confusion. "This usually works," he murmured.

Stark fought back a small bout of laughter. He half-smirked. "Well, performance issues," he began, "they're not that uncommon. One out of five, actually-".

The words died on his lips.

Loki gripped the man's chin with great force, throwing the human to the ground. Stark slumped against the floor, his breathing ragged. He stared across the room at the Mark VII cabinet.

"JARVIS," rasped Stark, pushing himself onto his knees. "Any time now."

But the God of Mischief was not finished. His hand flew under the man's chin, fingertips embedding into Stark's flesh. He hoisted the man from the ground, edging toward the glass walls. "You will fall before me," hissed Loki, his stare unhinged, baring his teeth like a rabid animal.

Stark did not heed the god's warning. "Deploy!" he commanded, keeping his gaze transfixed on the cabinet. He gasped in pain as Loki's grip intensified. "DEPLOY!"

The next thing Stark knew, he was falling out of the sky, heading toward the ground with such speed he thought he was going to vomit. He raised his hands in front of him, the metal cuffs facing the cloudless sky, and braced himself for impact; his skin scratched and torn from the shattered glass.

Stark heard the suit before he saw it, the Mark VII hurtling out of Stark Towers, shards of glass floating to the earth. With the scanners reading his location, the metal cuffs burnt his skin as the suit moulded itself around his falling body. He sighed in relief as the armour encased him, protecting him from what would have been certain death. As he neared the streets of Manhattan, the billionaire started the turbo-boosters, rocketing back towards the now-ruined level of Stark Towers.

He hovered by the broken glass windows, facing his palm out toward the enemy. "And there's one other person you pissed off," spat Stark, "his name is Phil." And before Loki could attack, a blast shot from the suit and embedded itself in Loki's chest, sending the God to the floor.

But it was too late. Blue beams of light soared from the tesseract, a blue and brilliant white portal manifesting in the sky. Stark looked back at the building, his gaze travelling down the floors till it reached the sidewalk, his mind seeing the layout of the below-ground floors, envisioning Anna trapped beneath the towers, her mind compromised.

Stark turned back to face the sky. "Right," he muttered, switching the interface of the suit; blue turned to red. "Army."

And, having made up his mind, the technological giant shot up towards the portal, sending blasts of fire and blaze toward the incoming other-worldly threats.

As the jet neared the sights of Manhattan, Steve watched as Widow and Hawkeye controlled the plane.

The redhead handed each of them a small earpiece. Steve listened as the woman explained how it would work. "We'll be able to contact one another through these," she said, her explanation brief. She turned back to the front of the plane, watching as Hawkeye dipped the jet toward the Stark Industries tower. "Stark," uttered the female, knowing that the billionaire would be able to pick up their signal, "we're heading North-East."

Stark's voice carried through the speakers of the jet. "What?" he asked. "Did you stop for drive-thru?" He paused. "Swing up Park. I'm going to lay them out for you."

Hawkeye obeyed Stark's command, punching a black button by the controls, driving the jet between the skyscrapers.

Steve raised his brows. "What is it?" he asked.

Hawkeye didn't answer. He just punched the button again, bullets and blaze firing from what could only be a turbo weapon attached to the plane. The hits rocketed against soldiers of Loki's army, sending them to the ground.

"Nevermind," commended Steve, hanging onto the frame as the jet swerved, heading toward Stark Tower.

From their place in the sky, the three watched as the two Gods fought atop the landing strip of the building. "Nat?" asked Hawkeye, steering the plane toward them.

"I see them," said Widow, flicking another of the controls.

But before they could solidify their attack, Loki raised his sceptre and sent a stream of blue light at the plane, destroying their engine.

The jet shook with the force of the attack. Steve braced himself for impact as the plane lost its elevation, skimming the buildings, crashing to the ground.

Widow and Hawkeye unbuckled themselves from the pilot seats, ripping the headgear from their bodies. Steve led the way out of the jet, boot-clad feet barely touching the ground as he hurried to the square, his shield held steady in his arms.

"We've gotta get back up there," he ordered, looking at Stark Towers. "Dr. Wellington will be in there."

"How're we going to get past Stark's security?" asked Hawkeye, readying his weapon. His keen eyes surveying the damage.

"Don't worry about it," crackled Stark's voice through the headsets. "JARVIS will grant you access. You might need a little something to help you get past the last door, though."

"Alright," heeded Steve. He turned to Widow, nodding his head, leaving Hawkeye to position himself against the army. The two hurried into the now evacuated building, their footsteps echoing around the luxorious lobby; marble flooring paired with the latest technology; glass television screens streaming information related to Stark Industries' latest projects.

"Captain Rogers," came the voice of JARVIS, ordering the intruders to pause. "The elevator door to your left. I have already overridden Dr. Wellington's entry codes and granted you access to the lower levels."

Steve stared around the building, looking for the source of the voice. "Where are you?"

"His name is JARVIS," murmured Widow, hurrying to the elevator, Steve beside her. "He's one of Stark's inventions. He runs the building."

"A computer?" asked Steve.

"Of sorts," responded Widow, sighing as the elevator doors closed. The lights flickered on and off, and JARVIS' voice broke the lull.

"Dr. Wellington is located beyond the second door. Her vital signs read positive."

The elevator descended. Steve glanced around the small compartment, looking for sign of how far down they were dropping. How far underground could the building go? A minute later, the doors to the elevator opened and the two stepped out. A heavy steel door greeted them.

"A little help, Captain?" asked Widow, gesturing to the door, her black pistol held tightly in her hands.

Steve stepped forward and, with his strength, pushed the doors apart, the automatic mechanics clicking into place. The two doors eased apart, leaving a two-foot threshold for the two to cross. Turning back to Widow, Steve nodded his head and moved into the room first, his gaze travelling all around the room before it landed on the figure hunched over by the desk, brown hair matted with blood.

Her fingers moved fluidly across the keyboards and displays, her movement effortless.

"Dr. Wellington," ordered Steve, slowly moving closer to the woman. "You don't have to do this."

Anna tilted her head to the side, surveying the two Avengers with glassy blue eyes. "Yes, I do. New York City has to fall." A rehearsed countenance.

Black Widow glanced to her right, signalling to the Captain. "It's no use," she said, knowing that words would not help. "Allow me."

The redhead stalked forward, eyes focused on the compromised woman. The analyst readied herself, outstretching her fist to connect with the spy's jaw, her fingers tugging at the red locks of hair with anger. The girls fought, Widow mildly surprised at the fight trapped inside the analyst. She imagined that it had everything to do with Loki's mind control. Widow thought that, if tempted, Wellington would fight to the death. But, knowing what it was like to have your mind toyed with, the assassin was eager to end the brawl.

And with one final blow to the head, the brunette fell to the floor unconscious.

"What?" asked Widow, a second later, her breathing somewhat ragged. She eyed the Captain with a raised brow; his eyes transfixed on the slumped form of the analyst. "Never seen a girl-fight before?"

He swallowed. "Did you-"

"I didn't do any permanent damage," answered the redhead, striding towards the fallen woman, judging the analyst's position. "Like Stark said, she'll have a headache. Maybe a slight concussion."

"A concussion?" repeated Steve, alarmed.

Utilising his enhanced strength, Steve stepped forward and crouched down beside the unconscious woman. He slid his hands under her form, her head lolling against his chest. Steve stood up, Anna's light form near weightless in his arms. He looked around the room, trying to find a suitable resting position for the woman. The soldier strode toward a small row of plastic chairs, settling Anna down onto them. He took a step back, blue eyes searching for injury. The skin by her jaw had started to colour, a dark purple bruise forming.

"Whenever you're ready, Cap," said Widow, her expression bored with the display.

Steve nodded. "Let's go," he agreed, collecting his shield. And with one last glance toward the analyst, Steve led Black Widow out of the building and back into the firing line.

The roar of the the ongoing battle stirred Anna from her injury-induced sleep. The woman opened her eyes, recognising the dull colours of Stark Industries government centre. She lifted her head, her sight blurry, and jumped in fright as a loud thunder-like rumble sounded above the floors. Instinctively, Anna raised a shaking hand to the back of her neck. She pulled it away only to find her fingers were now stained with dried blood. Her brows furrowed, confusion seeping into her mind. What?

But it was not the blood that alarmed her - it was the three midnight blue lines running down her left forearm.

Anna's eyes widened and she struggled to process her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was dropping to the ground on SHIELD's flight-ship, the God of Lies stalking toward her.

Loki.

But how did she get from the carrier to Manhattan? Why was she tucked away in Stark Industries' hidden floors? Who had placed her upon the seats? Tony?

Her head swam with dozens of thoughts and possibilities, but one thought stuck out in her mind.

What the hell is in my arm?

"JARVIS?" called Anna, concerned when she heard no response from the AI. She gazed around the room, her eyes catching sight of the phone jacked into the computer system on the opposite end of the floor. Stalking forward, her hand cupping her neck to help alleviate the pain, Anna's eyes widened in horror. A fire sale. Had she done this? She ejected the phone, the systems crashing before her on the monitor. She hurried over to the adjacent wall, uncovering a second silver plaque with a number of digital ports hidden behind it. She hastily inserted the phone into the slots, tapping away furiously on the keys. Please work.

"JARVIS?" repeated Anna.

"Welcome back, Miss Wellington," came the AI's voice, his tone neutral. "You have had quite a day."

"JARVIS, we need to reset the systems-"

"Might I suggest that you take a moment to recover?"

She ignored his suggestion. "Where's Tony?"

"He is currently engaged in battle. Shall I alert him to your status?"

"Engaged in battle where?" asked Anna, ignoring the AI's question, knowing that JARVIS would do so without her permission.

"Manhattan, Miss. He and the rest of the Avengers are fighting against Loki's army."

Anna swallowed, feeling the bile crawl up her throat at the mention of the God. Her head felt heavy and she fought back a wave of sickness. The analyst rubbed at her eyes, aware of the ruined make up now coating her fingertips, the mascara crumbling from her lashes.

Loki was taking over Manhattan. Her home.

He had played with her thoughts and self-control. Her mind flashed with memories of his ruling.

The school. The teacher. The children's screams. "Oh, God," moaned Anna, biting her fist hard enough to draw blood. And the woman crumpled to the floor, hot tears pooling from her eyes, her gaze transfixed on the blue lines etched into her skin, but her mind was far away, imagining the destruction she must have caused.

AN: OK… Let me just state that I absolutely hate this chapter. I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate it.

I thought this chapter would cover the entire battle, but that would make it around 12,000 words and I honestly do not want to keep writing the battle because it's not… mine. Does that make sense? I imagine you've all seen Avengers now, so repeating everything in the film is quite silly. I prefer writing my own material, and writing Anna into these scenes was hard because I just didn't want to do it, but it had to be done.

(I know a few of you have said that you don't want me to follow the movie, but, guys, this is going to be canon. It's going to follow the movies.)

Also... A few people have been tweeting me/PMing me and demanding that I update. A couple of you have found my Facebook and have since started messaging me with demands for updating etc. Guys, that's not OK. I'm glad that you like/love the story, but if you demand an update, it honestly makes me not want to write. And finding me on FB is a little creepy.

I am a school teacher, and as such have very little time in the evenings to write. I try to do as much as I can, but sometimes updates are going to be slow. I can't help that.

But... I must admit that I am completely overwhelmed. Recruited has over 700 alerts, 400 favourites, 400 reviews, and over 60,000 hits. The last chapter reached 100 reviews. Thank you.

Soooooooo... Let me know what you think?

Please Review! ~ LittleApril