Silence Is Violence

by Bigmac1989

Carrie and her friends are separated from one another during the COVID-19 pandemic. However, a senseless tragedy and a cry for justice from one of their own unites them, as they use their influence and privilege to convey a simple ruth - that black lives matter. A story written to support the Black Lives Matter movement.

3. Chapter 3

First of all, thanks for your very detailed and gracious review, AppalledWriter! I'm glad you appreciated the realism, because I really wanted to capture the feeling of this movement and this moment in history. The three girls I chose to focus on all have their own reasons for standing up to racist behaviour, either their own or from others. As to the matter of the three fathers, Stark Industries' lack of diversity is more a reflection of Tony's laissez-faire attitude than any genuine oversights. On Antonio, I intended him to be a representative of a certain kind of American – of an older generation, struggling to keep up. I feel he needed to have that encounter with Isaiah, Shay and Jamal to teach him what BLM is fighting for. You're right that his past record when it comes to gay people is…not great. I actually touch upon this in my upcoming story "The Season For Forgiving". As for Thomas, he's a very strong, dominant individual who likes to be assertive. As a result, he sees something that requires one to be meek and submissive, such as religion, as a force not to be trusted. Coupled with his defensiveness over what he sees as an unjustified attack on his livelihood, he's not exactly doing the working class proud right now. This will also be focused on my upcoming story. Regarding the Sons Of The Serpent, I feel that they are the perfect villains for this story and this moment in time. Don't worry, they're going to get theirs!

Guest: I agree with you about how difficult it is for people of colour around the world in general and America in particular. Not being Black or American, I'm writing this story from a position of weakness where I may not have the whole picture. I like to think that I'm doing a good job of highlighting areas where the system can be improved for Black people – although as the review below demonstrates, I can always do better.

Zabuza Momichi23, whilst I'm a bit confused about specifics, it seems that for whatever reason, you didn't like this story. I thank you for your honesty and civility (which is a lot more than I can say for some people when it comes to this topic). Like I said, I am writing this story from a position of weakness, in that I struggle to identify with the struggle of Black America. However, through my research, I like to think I tried my best. If you have any specific criticisms, please let me know.

Latinofan: Thanks for the suggestion. It's always exciting when people visualise actors playing my characters – it's a sign that they are becoming interested in their stories.

Guest 2: While I won't address it explicitly, there is a scene in this chapter that kind of plays into the idea of racial bias in the media.

Guest 3: Hope you enjoyed it! I found it to be one of my most emotional pieces of writing. I certainly feel Carrie and her friends would be in awe of the strength of Rachel Scott's faith and her example.

Guest 4: Olivia deserves some happiness after putting up with Antonio's belligerence for the better part of her adolescence, and Isaiah certainly deserves some happiness after what's happened to him. I think you'll be pleased with what they do together in this chapter.

Guest 5: That aspect will not go unaddressed in this chapter. Danielle is many things, but being in control of her impulses is not one of them. This is by design – I don't want my characters to be perfect little Mary-Sue's that always do the right thing in every situation. I want my characters to feel like they could be real humans living in any city in the world. That includes making mistakes.

Guest 6: Well, here it is! Hope you enjoy it!

Guest 7: I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Guest 8: See my response to Latinofan.

Guest 9: Thank you for your review. Danielle is very inspiring to me, and she is one of my most cherished characters, partly because she is a living testament to the fact that you can turn your life around and find forgiveness and healing in Christ, which is something I truly believe in as a Christian. She has had a difficult life, but I'd say she bought quite a lot of that difficulty on herself and suffered the rightful consequences. Unfortunately, as you will see, her life will not get any easier in this chapter. On the subject of who would play her, I agree that Paris would make a perfect Danielle – she looks exactly like I imagine her to be sans the piercings. Related to this, I was binging "Mare Of Easttown" during lockdown here in New Zealand. Imagine my surprise when I saw that Angourie Rice (Betty Brandt) was in it. Further imagine my surprise when she looked EXACTLY like I imagined Danielle to look like, right down to her being a singer in a band and the sharp looking earrings. The only difference was the blonde hair. Angourie is also an excellent singer – she does a great cover of "We Belong" by Pat Benatar in the finale. Kate Winslet is also magnificent in this series, and it is one I recommend wholeheartedly.

Just a couple of notes: this chapter contains several racist and bigoted statements, mainly by the villains – I do not condone those sentiments at all. This is to demonstrate the nature of the Sons Of The Serpent and the kind of people they are. Secondly, I am including a character from the HBO Gossip Girl reboot as a back door introduction to my Carrie/Gossip Girl crossover. I do not own this character – he belongs to HBO.

"Silence in the face of evil is itself evil. God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act." Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

Chapter 3

The morning of the planned protest dawned with an auspicious mood hanging over the city of New York. It was the perfect early summer day – not so hot that the streets of the city could become open air grills from the heat of the sun, but not so unseasonably cool that one could mistakenly assume it was winter. At their various abodes across the city, Carrie, Brianna, Alexis, Cat, Olivia and Danielle, along with Peter and his friends were all preparing to emerge from their isolation and help to put out the fire that was ravaging their brother's house. The pain that people like Brianna and Peter's girlfriend MJ felt over the situation was plain for all to see, and the group had resolved itself to give that pain the attention it needed.

At the Lawrence house on the Upper East Side, Brianna was dressing in a simple black T-shirt with the face of a young African-American boy on it. This was her younger brother, Andre, who hat been shot to death when Brianna was 11 and he was nine. He was the tragic target of a drug dealer's itchy trigger finger. While these latest rounds of protests were focused on police brutality, Brianna believed that the death of her brother still had something to say to those involved in the fight for equality. She truly believed that the system had failed Andre and his killer both – her brother was dead and the shooter was in prison because of the systemic poverty and lack of educational opportunities in the Black community. The poor man had to sell drugs to make ends meet. More grist for the school to prison mill.

"You know we're going to have to get out of there if things go sideways." Candace remarked, as she stood with her father Kareem and older brother Marcus, wearing the same monogrammed T-shirt that Brianna was wearing.

"You worry too much." Brianna remarked, as she combed her curly hair so that it looked presentable.

"We just don't want what happened to Andre to happen to you, sweetheart." Kareem reasoned.

"Trust me – if there's violence, we won't be the instigators." Brianna vowed, as she checked her hair in the mirror. "Let's go and make Andre proud."

*** BLM ***

Meanwhile, in the Avengers Tower, Carrie and Peter were getting dressed. This would be the super-siblings first ever protest march. For obvious reasons, Carrie had seen very few protests throughout her life, and Peter just didn't have the time between his schoolwork, his complicated family life and his "second job" as Spiderman. However, the wall crawler had begun to care more about the world around him in recent years. He put that down to the influence of MJ. The activist was passionate about many causes, and was always challenging Peter to adjust his thinking and see things through a different lens. Speaking of his girlfriend, she Zoomed into the tower a short amount of time later, in order to provide Carrie and Peter with a briefing on what to expect that day.

"Hey there Peter, Carrie. You guys ready?" The frizzy-haired girl questioned.

"Sure are, MJ." Peter greeted.

"I'm excited, but also nervous. This is my first protest ever, so I could use some advice." Carrie admitted.

"Well, it goes without saying that you should have a sign with you." MJ explained. "Maybe more than one sign – people who don't have signs will appreciate any extras you have. A sign will serve to amplify your voice and others, and act as a conduit for unity."

"Noted." Carrie muttered, as she scribbled down some notes.

"Secondly – keep hydrated. It's going to be a long day, so keeping fit is going to be of importance. You're going to see a lot of bottled water stations about the place – stock up." MJ pointed out.

"Drink…water…" Carrie sounded out.

"Also, tell a friend who isn't going where you're going to be. Maybe write down their contact details on your arm, in case you get arrested or something goes wrong." The mixed-race girl explained. "Also, make sure your phone is fully charged before leaving – you're going to be using it a lot."

"Anything else?" Peter wondered.

"There are some things you should know about being in the protest. You should wear comfy but sturdy shoes – you're going to be walking a lot. You should wear a mask – I don't think I need to stress the importance of that. If you're filming, try not to show other protestors faces – there are privacy issues. If you see a police officer being brutal or acting unethically, you should film it – that's the sort of thing these marches are trying to draw attention to. Also, you should bring milk with you – that works best against tear gas and pepper spray. But there's one thing that you two especially need to understand." MJ instructed.

"Which is?" Carrie questioned.

"Avoid opportunities for self-promotion." MJ declared. "This day? It's not about you. It's about the pain of the Black community and recognising it. The media especially will be looking to you two for comments, as they try to put a white, mainstream viewpoint on the protests. If anyone tries to ask you for your thoughts, simply say that you are here to give support and solidarity to the Black community. It's not that we're ungrateful for the support you're showing, but we really need you to direct attention to our voices right now. If they persist, just Marshawn it."

"What's that mean?" Carrie asked, in a confused voice.

"Marshawn Lynch was a football player for the Seattle Seahawks. He grew tired of answering what he felt were inane questions, so he would give repetitive, monosyllabic answers like "Yeah." Or "I'm here so I don't get fined." It wasn't the most polite form of answer, but he got the message across. What I mean is, if the media continues to hassle you, just reiterate your solidarity for the cause until they get the message." The frizzy-haired girl clarified.

Meanwhile, in another room, Tony and Steve were plotting the role, if any, The Avengers would play in the protests. While it was agreed that their alter egos would march in the streets, the question remained as to how their super selves would interact with protestors and police alike. Tony and Steve were as different to one another as fire and ice, polar opposites of one another. As a result, they both enjoyed their arguments, and today was no exception. The subject of this particular debate was over whether the Avengers should intervene if tensions were to boil over during the rally, as they had in other cities.

"The moment things get sour, we are out of there." Tony announced. "We have to consider the optics of going up against armed officers."

"And here I was, thinking this was all about the pain of our fellow human beings." Steve snorted, shaking his head.

"I understand the protestor's anger." Tony pointed out. "I do!" He defended, upon seeing Steve's skeptical face. "It's just, the Avengers are a brand now. We are a brand. And that brand stands to take a hit if we are associated with negative media portrayals of these protests or violence against cops. But that's just me. I'll suppose you'll go your own way, as you always do."

"Speaking of violence against police, Nat called me last night." Steve pressed on. "She and Clint have been listening out for reports of any planned terror attacks, and they've been picking up quite a bit of chatter from a new group of extremists known as The Sons Of The Serpent. She thinks we should be on high alert. That's why she and Clint are bringing some backup."

As if on cue, a loud rumble filled the air. Turning on the exterior cameras, the pair saw the unmistakeable sight of a Quinjet hovering over the tower. As it prepared to set down on the tower's runway, a second roar combined to create quite the racket. As Tony and Steve watched, a smile crossed the super-soldier's face. The source of that smile was the sight of an African-American man, wearing a dark grey battle suit with red trim. He wore red goggles, and on the back of the suit were what looked like a large pair of bird's wings. The built in jet pack in the wings allowed the wearer to fly. Steve's smile grew broader as he watched the man descend to the ground. This was Sam Wilson, otherwise known as the Falcon. A native of Louisiana, Steve had met Sam when he was still struggling with his adjustment to 21st century life after the Battle Of New York. His Avengers persona was born of his time as an Air Force para-rescue officer, with his bird-like wing suit being an Air Force prototype that he helped test in an effort to avoid terrorist RPG's. Sam had proven himself to be a reliable and consistent friend, as well as a powerful Avenger.

And if Sam was here, he sensed that somebody else wouldn't be far behind.

Slipping on their masks, Tony and Steve took the elevator to the top of the tower to greet the new arrival. The day was slowly starting to get warmer, and the morning air swirled around the duo, providing a-pleasant feeling. Of course, this feeling was tempered somewhat by the distinct odour of jet fuel that filled the air, which came from the engines of both Falcon's suit and the Quinjet that had at last parked up and was preparing to disembark..

"Hot Wings! Fancy seeing you here! Couldn't stand stay-in-nest time any more, huh?" Tony joked.

"If you think I was going to miss this, than you're even more of a dumbass then I thought." Sam shot back, himself no slouch in the quick wit department. As he finished removing his suit and putting on a humble blue mask, a noticeable brightness came to his eyes. "Cap. Good to see you again." He introduced, as he Steve bumped elbows, doing so successfully on the third time after missing on the previous two. "Oh! Oh! Ah, there we go." He joked, in an affable tone.

"Pleasure's all mine, Sam. That was quite an entrance." Steve observed. Truth be told, he had seen far more impressive entrances from the Avengers during the various battles they had fought over the last several years. However, the sheer boredom of recent months had taken such a mental toll on the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan that he was immensely grateful for the spectacle, proving that there was still room for the transcendent in this world.

"Natasha actually challenged me to a race. Wasn't even close." Sam boasted, a cocky grin beneath his mask.

"Now, now. The only reason you beat us was that I told Romanoff to let you win." A voice interjected.

The owner of the voice walked down the jet's exit ramp. He was a middle-aged man with long black hair. At first glance, it would have been easy to mistake him for a woman – were it not for the stubble that littered his face. He was wearing a black vest and grey track pants, as well as a red and white mask. However, the most noticeable thing about him was that his right arm was made entirely of metal, with a red star near the top. His name was James Buchanan Barnes, and he was Steve's best and most loyal friend. James, or "Bucky" as he insisted on being known, had grown up together in Brooklyn at the turn of the early 20th century, even going so far as to enlist together to serve in World War 1. Thanks to Bucky's natural strength and prowess, and Steve's serum-fueled transition into Captain America, they had formed a formidable and the fulcrum of the famous "Howling Commandoes" battalion. However, the Commandoes had lost Bucky during a mission, causing him to fall into the hands of the villainous organisation Hydra and its chief scientist Arnim Zola. Bucky had undergone numerous experiments and brainwashing at the hands of Hydra, emerging as the killing machine known as the Winter Soldier. Enduring over 70 years in various states of cryogenesis, the Winter Soldier was used to carry out missions for Hydra, leaving his mark wherever he went. His appearance caused a sudden defensive reaction from Tony – his parents Howard and Maria Stark had been two of the Soldier's victims, as part of a mission of obtain phials of Howard's super soldier serum – the same serum that had such a profound effect on Steve. This revelation, as well as Steve and Sam's desire to apprehend Hydra terrorist Helmut Zemo without the mandated Sokovia Accords oversight, had been the source of a deep schism amongst the Avengers, with several members of Steve's faction, including Sam and Clint Barton, being locked up in the Raft prison. However, Bucky was slowly but surely being rehabilitated and deprogrammed, first under the care of the King of Wakanda, T'Challa, then under Sam and the rest of the so-called Secret Avengers. Now here he stood, ready to do some good at long last.

"You don't know how glad I am to see you well, Bucky." Steve beamed, as he did a fist bump with his friend's metal arm. However, his smile started to fade as he saw Tony turn on his heels and head for the elevator. Clearly, the death of his parents at his brainwashed hands still rankled him. "Don't be like this, Tony." He begged, desperate for the two to reconcile.

"If I don't remove myself from this situation, I'll say something that I'll regret. And I don't want to be in that headspace. Not today." Tony responded, gritting his teeth.

"That wasn't him." Steve argued, desperate. Upon seeing Tony's cynical expression, he added: "That wasn't the real him. But I know the real James Buchanan Barnes. And he is not going to be that monster again, as God is my witness. And I'm sorry for what he did to your family. But being immature and resentful about this won't help."

"It's okay, Steve. You shouldn't tell him how to feel about this. It was his family. If he has to hate me for a while to get past this, then he can go ahead." Bucky nodded, in a quiet voice.

"Thank you." Tony stated in a firm voice, as he looked the former Winter Soldier square in the eye. "But you don't need me to tell you that you're still on double secret probation." These were the first civil words that Tony had spoken to Bucky since he had learned that he was responsible for the death of his parents. Given the animosity he held, this was to be considered high praise. As Tony got into the elevator, the other occupants of the Quinjet began to disembark. At the head of the pack was Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. Wearing a simple grey T-shirt and black shorts, she had a white N95 mask on. With her was Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye. The profoundly deaf archer had his quiver and bow with him. He wore a bulletproof Kevlar vest over his civilian clothes and wore the same sort of N95 mask as Natasha. Behind Clint was Wanda Maximoff, a skilled sorceress capable of doing great things with her mind, such as telepathy, telekinesis and energy and matter manipulation. She was wearing her trademark red battle outfit, with a matching mask. Bringing up the rear was Vision, a mysterious life form with a grey body with gold trim, and a red face with a gold jewel embedded into the middle of his forehead. Vision had come into being during the Avenger's battle with Ultron, a rogue genocidal artificial intelligence created by Tony. Ultron had created an body to hold his consciousness, powered by the powerful Mind Stone – the jewel like object on the head. However, the Avengers had stolen the body and uploaded the consciousness of J.A.R.V.I.S, Tony's former AI, which had scattered itself across the width and breadth of the internet when Ultron had gone rogue, in an effort to prevent the powerful being from accessing the world's nuclear weapons and triggering Armageddon. The newly-minted Vision had fought on the side of the Avengers, and was instrumental in defeating Ultron. Vision and Wanda had recently started a relationship, which was perhaps strengthened by the fact that Wanda's powers were linked to and enhanced by Vision's Mind Stone. He was also the only member of the party to not be masked – due to him being an artificial creation, his body was able to manipulate its molecules to make him immune to many human diseases, including COVID-19.

"Hey there, Vision. Tony sends his regards – he still misses J.A.R.V.I.S., and I know he'll be happy to see you." Steve welcomed, graciously.

"I wish I could say the same, but Wanda hates it when I lie." Vision shot back. His usually calm voice had some bite to it – he still hadn't forgiven Tony for allowing Wanda to be subject to inhumane treatment in the Raft.

"Vis, no! Not today." Wanda begged, her Sokovian accent still noticeable even with a mask. In response, Vision let out a loud sigh and nodded, as he looked Steve square in the eye. "You're right. Not today. But this won't go away." Vision warned, in a tone that oozed danger.

"Fair enough. I find it difficult to look at him some days myself. But he needs time to work through his issues with Bucky. I'm sure once that has finished, he'll try to make amends with Wanda. But we need to be on the same page today." Steve advised, as the group got into the elevator and descended into the main body of the tower. Once they had reached headquarters, they joined Tony, Bruce, Carrie and Peter, who were now fully geared and masked up and ready to join the marchers.

"Hello, Mr. Wilson. It's good to see you again." Peter greeted Sam, who had since removed his suit.

"Peter, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Sam when I'm not geared up?" Sam joked by way of a greeting. He had been Peter's training partner during a camp with the Secret Avengers, where had been instrumental in bringing the best out of the young webslinger and helping him to realise the maximum efficiency of his powers.

Meanwhile, Carrie and Wanda were catching up, overjoyed to see each other again.

"Wanda! How've you been? I've missed you!" Carrie welcomed, her eyes twinkling.

"As good as can be, Carrie. I've missed you too." Wanda responded, a noticeable spark of happiness in her voice.

Like Sam and Peter, Wanda had served as Carrie's superhero mentor during the final stages of her training. When they had first encountered each other, their powers had combined and reacted with one another to create some sort of dream sequence, where each of them had a front row seat to the other's life. Carrie saw Wanda growing happily with her twin Pietro, their parent's horrific death at the hands of a Stark Industries missile, her anger at the billionaire, the experiments she and Pietro endured at the hands of Hydra, their manipulation and recruitment by Ultron, Pietro's death during the Battle Of Sokovia and her grief, and her imprisonment in the Raft after the Civil War in Leipzig. Wanda, by the same measure, had seen every minute of Carrie's unhappy life. She experienced the sting of the Ultra's cruelty, the shock of the period and the trauma of the closet as though she was living it herself. But she also experienced Carrie's excitement as she discovered her powers and the thrill of her first battle. This had the effect of them forming an instant connection with one another – they had both been through so much in their lives, and they both had a deep desire to protect one another. It was a great benefit to Carrie to learn how to harness her powers from an expert like Wanda – she learned through hours of gruelling training and simulations that, just as Wanda's powers were heightened when in the presence of the Mind Stone , her own powers were at their zenith when she acted completely selflessly, without regard for her own safety.

"So, this isn't your first protest. Care to give me some advice?" Carrie questioned.

"The only advice I guess that I can give is: be loud. You're trying to reach some very important and influential people – noise is perhaps the only way they will take notice." Wanda told her, her prior experience coming to the fore.

"Okay. Here's the plan. Peter, Carrie, Bruce, Sam and Wanda will head southeast towards the Williamsburg Bridge, where you'll meet MJ and her friends who will be coming from Queens, as well as Carrie's friends Alexis and Cat." Steve instructed the group. "Myself, Tony, Bucky and Natasha will head north towards Central Park, with a view to recon and keep an eye out for Carrie's other friends, Brianna and Olivia. Clint, you'll be my group's eyes up high. Vision, you do the same for Wanda's group." Once everybody had received and understood their assignments, the good Captain fixed his gaze upon the group and uttered a pair of words he had not spoken in almost eight months.

"Avengers…assemble."

The two groups would leave the tower separately, in order to display some semblance of physical distancing. Once the group led by Steve had departed, Carrie, Peter, Bruce, Wanda and Sam got in the elevator. They disinfected their hands with sanitiser as the elevator descended, with gentle Muzak playing in the background. The seriousness of what they were about to do, coupled with the easy-listening sound filling their ears, combined to lighten their collective mood. Carrie, Peter, Sam and Wanda all held signs. The two super-siblings signs combined to form a powerful statement of solidarity: "BLACK LIVES MATTER – BECAUSE IF THEY DON'T, NEITHER DO OURS." The red-headed sorceress held a sign written in the Cyrillic script of her native tongue, which translated to: "THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING." Sam got straight to the point: "I SAVED THIS COUNTRY MORE THAN YOU'LL EVER KNOW. BUT WILL I BE NEXT?" When they got to the ground floor, they stepped out into the busy streets of New York City, which were the busiest they had been in months. The noise and chatter from the gathering crowds were disorientating at first. The quiet solitude of quarantine was no preparation for what they were encountering right now.

"Now what?" Carrie inquired, raising her voice to make herself heard.

"Google Maps says the fastest walking route to Williamsburg is to go southeast from Times Square. Hope you've got your stamina and hydration with you – it takes almost two hours." Bruce warned.

"Piece of cake!" Peter retorted, as he clutched his water bottle and his sign together. Vision then gently levitated himself into the air, high above the tower, while the other members of the group set off on foot. Their path took them through Times Square, down 6th Avenue, Broadway, 5th Avenue, East 17th Street, Union Square East, 4th Avenue, Cooper Square, Bowery, East 2nd Street, Avenue B and Clifton Street before approaching the bridge. True to Bruce's word, hydration would be very much required – both Carrie and Peter exercise regiments during quarantine consisted of short bursts on a treadmill or an elliptical, and so took time getting adjusted to walking on proper streets again. Just as MJ had said, there were various checkpoints set up along the way, featuring copious supplies of water, food, sanitiser and masks. All involved were grateful for the opportunity to swap out their drink bottles for fresh ones. However, what most captured the attention of Carrie and Peter was the spirit of camaraderie that had taken over the city. Black, white, Latin, Asian, Middle-Eastern, Christian, Jew, Muslim and atheist were United in body and spirit, in the pursuit of truth and justice. The chants that Carrie had only heard on the TV were now hitting her ears in live stereo sound. Some groups chanted, others sang, while a group had formed a circle around a young African-American girl and cheered her on as she danced. The atmosphere was inspiring and intoxicating. Eventually, they had reached the Williamsburg Bridge's pedestrian path, which saw countless more marchers flood across. As they waited, they were approached by two young African-American women wearing matching "Say Their Names" T-shirt. One had a auburn-haired bun, while the other one wore dreadlocks.

"Hey! Those are some dope signs!" The first girl praised, an enthusiastic focus in her eyes.

"Love the slogan." Her companion chipped in.

"It's not a slogan – it's a statement of fact." Carrie asserted, showing pride in her handiwork.

"Well, you did a great job. Nice to see all the young people representing." The second girl pointed out. A thoughtful look crossed her face as she scrutinised the group. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the sight of Steve in his civilian gear and mask. She let out a quiet gasp as she realised who was standing in front of her. "You're…you're Steve Rogers." She whispered in an awe-struck voice. When he merely nodded his head in reply, she fought to suppress an excited gasp. "Oh my God, we've got Avengers in the house! This is so lit right now!" The dreadlocked girl gushed in a voice vibrating with anticipation.

"We're not Avengers today. We're just normal citizens, fighting for what's right." Steve explained, holding up his hands.

"No super names. Got it." The girl noted, looking at the group. "Just regular names. Anyway, I'm Quinn, and she's Maxine. We've just completed our sophomore year at NYU."

"Nice to meet you, Quinn. I'm Carrie, this is my adopted brother Peter, my mentors Wanda and Sam, and my role model Steve Rogers." The blonde telekinetic introduced, with each member of the group nodding at the mention of their respective names. A ponderous look crossed Carrie's face as she thought of something. "Hey, do you know a Renee Hawthorne? She would've completed her sophomore year this year."

"Yeah, she was actually a lab partner in my Social Development Of Children course. She's really passionate about wanting to help abused children." Maxine explained. "How do you know her?"

"She was in my social circle. A group of students from NYU created a sort of Catholic fellowship group, and that's how I met her." Carrie answered. "How is she?"

"She's good. She plans to join the rally in Philadelphia today. She actually mentioned you to us once or twice. It's only now that I can put a face to the name. " Maxine explained.

"She mentioned me to you?" Carrie whispered, touched by the Philadelphia native's remembrance of her.

"Yeah. And some girls called Danielle and Olivia. She actually wanted to introduce you to us, but she decided against it because it might look like she was guilting us into joining the church. She didn't want things to feel weird." The protestor volunteered. "Do you go to NYU?"

"No – the Xavier Institute in Westchester County. It's a private college." Carrie stated, deliberately neglecting to mention what made the Xavier Institute so private – namely, a training ground to work on her telekinesis.

"Oh. Well, if you ever change your mind, you can hit us up." Quinn offered, graciously. "You waiting for somebody?"

"Yeah, my brother's girlfriend and some of her friends are coming across the bridge from Queens." Carrie nodded.

"Well, we won't keep you. One last thing – would you like some signs, Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers?" Quinn inquired, as she picked up a large amount of signs she was holding. These signs all read 'We Demand Justice" – clearly part of a coordinated campaign. The African-American reached across to the two signless Avengers and passed them over. With that, every member of the group with superheroes was armed with a sign.

"Looking good! Maybe we'll see you around, Carrie. Fight the power!" Maxine called out, as she and Quinn turned on their heels and returned to the main group of marchers. No sooner had they disappeared into the crowd, another familiar voice pierced the air.

"We really need to stop meeting like this, dorks." Light instantly sparkled in Peter's eyes, as he noticed MJ come over the bridge's pedestrian pathway. Accompanying her were Ned and Betty, all of them fully masked and carrying water bottles with them. MJ wore her jacket with various buttons representing the myriad causes she was passionate about, including anti-war, gay rights and, of course, Black Lives Matter. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on their foreheads. Clearly, the long walks weren't only taxing to Carrie and Peter.

"Hey, MJ, Ned, Betty. Looks like the Company Of The Spider rides again." Peter grinned, referencing the medieval LARPing personas the group had developed. When they were in character, they were led by the brave Sir Peter, Lord Of The Spider, accompanied by his squire, a mage, a medic and a herald. Ned, MJ, Carrie and Betty all played their roles well. The idea was the result of an attempt by Carrie to get more involved in Peter's life, in exchange for Peter learning more about her faith and attending Mass with her on occasion. Their medieval personas would not be making an appearance today though – the cause was just too serious.

"You walked all the way here, MJ?" Carrie inquired, slightly surprised – the mixed-race girl was not known for her athletic prowess.

"Yep. Ned didn't though – his mum dropped him at the bridge." MJ quipped.

"Hey! That's not true. She only drove me halfway here!" Ned interjected, a cheeky edge to his voice. "Let's stick to the game plan, shall we?"

"Couldn't agree more." Betty concurred, as she took out her cellphone and played around with it.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go." Steve declared, in a bold voice. The group of eight then began to walk together, blending into the larger crowd that was streaming uptown. As the group wound it's way through the streets of Manhattan, they found themselves engaging and responding to the chants that were being led by Maxine and Quinn, who were walking at the head of the group, holding a pair of bullhorns. The two organisers were leading a call-and-response style chant – a style that was popular in large part because of it's adaptability.

"What do we want?" Maxine shouted.

"Justice!" The group replied.

"When do we want it?" She yelled, rousing the crowd.

"Now!" Came the response.

Quinn was the next to rally the crowd. Putting her loud hailer to her mouth, she called in a clear voice. "When I say "Black Lives", you say "Matter"! Black Lives!"

"Matter!" Carrie and Peter chorused.

"Black Lives!" Quinn riposted.

"Matter!" MJ, Ned and Sam volleyed.

"Black Lives!" The protestor shouted.

"Matter!" Wanda, Steve and Betty responded.

While this chant was going on, a woman reporter and her cameraman, both wearing masks, had approached Carrie and was badgering her for comment. The telekinetic rolled her eyes and let out a big sigh. She sometimes found it difficult to deal with the media – Carrie often felt they were too adoring, bordering on worship or too harsh on their subjects. However, she had adjusted to giving interviews, part and parcel of her new job. However, she was not in a mood to talk today. Especially when there was somebody more worthy of being heard right behind her.

"Carrie Stark, Emily Baker from ABC News. What do you think about your first protest March?" The reporter inquired, as she put a microphone in Carrie's masked face.

"I am here in solidarity with the Black community." Carrie droned, putting MJ's advice into action.

"What effect do you think the Avengers will have on the movement for racial justice?" The reporter probed.

"I am here in solidarity with the Black community." Carrie repeated, hoping the reporter got the message.

"Some people believe you are being hypocritical by marching today, when you previously were a big advocate of social distancing . Do you want to respond to them?" The reporter persisted.

"I am here in solidarity with the Black community." Carrie told the reporter, as if chanting a mantra. I'm here so I don't get fined. I'm here so I don't get fined. I'm here so I don't get fined. Her brain monotonously droned. Shaking her head, the reporter turned to the cameraman and made a cutting gesture with her hand. It was now apparent that she would not get any good quotes from the telekinetic. "Thank you for your time." She remarked, in a cold voice, before turning her attention to Peter. "Excuse me, Emily Baker from ABC News. Do you…" She began, only to be interrupted by the young webspinner.

"Look. I don't know the first thing about what any person of colour might be feeling right now. Okay? But I know someone who has to live that experience every day. Why don't you ask her some questions instead?" He asked, pulling MJ over to the reporter. Sensing the platform she had, she told the reporter exactly what she thought as Betty filmed the encounter on her phone.

"You know what? I'm just sick and tired. I'm sick and tired of this bullshit that's happening to our people! I'm sick and tired of being told to be quiet and know my place. I've had enough of being out here, time after time, trying to get justice for someone who should still be here! I'm sick of seeing the system stacked against us! That's why I'm here! That's why we're here! This is a social emergency! And lady, I hate to break it to you, but emergencies wait for nobody!" MJ vented, her emotions boiling over. This caused her fellow marchers to break out on spontaneous applause, especially Carrie, Peter, Ned and Becky.

Meanwhile, as the protest continued, a man in a plain white mask and a American flag cap started to finger the Chitauri blaster he carried in his black leather jacket.

*** BLM ***

As Carrie's group were marching, Olivia was gearing up to join them. She had dressed herself in an old sweatshirt and track pants – clothes that she wouldn't miss if they were torn or damaged. She tied the laces on a pair of sturdy running shoes, which would be essential if she had to make a quick getaway. She then opened the fridge and grabbed a couple of small plastic water bottles. Water was an effective antidote for the effects of tear gas, a lesson she had to learn as the result of attending several Juventus games in Italy, which often resulted in rowdy and violent crowds having to be quelled by force. She silently prayed that it wouldn't have to come to that, as she placed the two bottles in a small green knapsack. She took a glance at Francesca and Maria, who were both wearing aprons, working on making cookies for the hungry demonstrators. As a feeling of pride surged through her as she shouldered the knapsack.

"Are you sure you don't want to join the March, Papa?" Olivia questioned, as she looked at Antonio reading the New York Post, whose headline featured an account of the use of rubber bullets that had injured Isaiah at the Washington Park protest.

"No, I'm too old. My rowdy crowd days are over." Her father demurred, as he turned the page.

"Okay. Well, I'm heading out now, Papa, Mama." Olivia called, as she donned a disposable mask.

"Be careful. Make sure you keep your phone on." Francesca cautioned, as she continued to bake.

"I will! Bye, Mama!" Olivia farewelled, as she headed into Orchard Street and joined the throngs of marchers. While there were relatively few marchers on Orchard itself, the crowd began to swell in size from the time she turned left into East 1st Street, and then took a right onto Bowery. She held a handwritten sign in her hand that read: "I was silent once. I won't make that mistake again." Casting her eyes around, she was overwhelmed by the sight of such a large crowd together after the difficult time that so many had been through. Like her, people were holding signs, masked up and feeling a mixture of frustration and buoyancy – upset that they had to be here at all, combined with an emerging optimism that this was the start of something special.

Gradually, a series of voices chanting began to fill the Italian-American's eardrums.

"No justice!" The leaders called out, loudly.

"No peace!" The other protestors responded.

"No racists!" The call went out.

"In our streets!" The marchers shouted.

"No justice!" The leaders urged, waving their arms to pump up the crowd.

"No peace!" Olivia finally found her voice, joining in the response.

"No racists!" The leaders put forth the call.

"In our streets!" Olivia cried out, as she thought of her grandfather taking a stand for the freedom for marches like these to occur. Just then, a voice that was unfamiliar to her called out.

"Olivia! Is that you?"

Turning around, the jock noticed three young Black people sidle up to her. She may not have recognised their voices, but she definitely remembered their faces. The voice that had called out to her was Shay, one of three siblings that had made an emergency pit stop at her house last night, along with her older brother Jamal and her twin Isaiah. Isaiah had been on the receiving end of a rubber bullet to his face during a rally in Washington Square Park, and in their desperation, had broke into her father's shuttered dental clinic to try and find first aid. Whilst investigating the source of the break in, Antonio had come to Isaiah's aid and patched up his injuries, offering him a space in the family home to rest and recover before being transferred to hospital. For Antonio, it had served as a jarring reminder of what people like Isaiah were fighting for. For Olivia it had only hardened her her determination to fight for justice.

"Oh hey, Shay! It's good to see you as well, Jamal and Isaiah!" Olivia greeted.

"Look, on behalf of my family, I just wanted to thank your dad for what he did for Izzy last night." Jamal told Olivia, sincerely. "I don't know what would've happened if we weren't able to get that first aid kit."

"My dad's a hard person to like. His views on some things are…antiquated. But he always does the right thing…eventually." Olivia replied, as she remembered how she had clashed with her father on a variety of topics. She then looked deeply concerned. "Are you sure you should be here, Isaiah?" Olivia inquired, as she took in the state of his face. While the worst of the swelling had subsided, he still wore the eye-shield that Antonio had applied. The young African-American was still visually impaired – not an ideal state to be in for a protest.

"They took me to NYP after I left your place. I managed to persuade my mum to discharge me. Had to sign a waiver though." He shrugged.

"Why would you do that?" Olivia inquired, concern and admiration lacing her voice.

"Because I'm living proof that change is needed. If people like your dad see this and think Man, he doesn't deserve that for exercising his rights!, then that's the path to the reforms we've been calling for. You don't have to convince anybody here today – it's the people of his generation that we need to reach." Isaiah declared, pointing to himself.

"My grandpa fought in the Italian Resistance during the Second World War. He taught me that it was always important to stand up to bullies." Olivia told the trio, as her masked face surveyed the streets around her.

"Your grandpa sounds amazing." Shay murmured in admiration.

"He was. He died a few weeks ago. I'm, like, 95% sure it was COVID. He didn't die in a hospital so it wouldn't count officially, but all the signs were there." Olivia informed them with a touch of sadness.

"Damn. Shit sucks. Sorry about that." Jamal sympathised, as he shook his head.

"Hey, don't let this get you down! We're here to speak out and fight back!" Isaiah cried out, in a passionate voice. "Yo, J! Give us some protest music!"

*** Fight The Power – Public Enemy ***

Jamal pulled out his cellphone, opened his music app and began to play. The opening bars of Public Enemy's Fight The Power blared out into the New York day. The strains of the 1990 ode to Black culture and political organisation drew an almost Pavlovian reaction from the crowds on the streets. Within seconds, what had previously been a relatively organised protest had turned into a massive block party. What immediately struck Olivia was the sheer joy on the faces of Isaiah, Jamal and Shay as they danced, rapped and sang. The Italian-American found herself in a group that surrounded the trio, cheering and clapping. When the hook came along, the group belted out the songs title as one – all, that is, except Olivia. She felt uncertain, because she knew, deep down, that it wasn't her song to sing. As if they could sense her anxiety, Isaiah and Jamal gave her a small nod each, while Shay gave her a call of encouragement. "Sing it, Olivia!" Those words caused her hesitation to fade, and Olivia found herself being one with the crowd, singing and punching the air with her fellow activists.

Fight the power…we gotta fight the powers that be!

*** BLM ***

Early that morning, Danielle let out a big yawn as she rolled out of bed. She had set the alarm slightly earlier, so she could complete her morning rituals before turning her attention to the events of the day. Her morning routine included her recital of the Magnificat plus a decade of the Rosary, a morning shower preceded by veneration of the Brown Scapular she was wearing, followed by reading the daily scripture readings for the day and reflecting on them. However, as she read the scriptures, one passage in particular jumped out at her. It was from the Book Of Micah, chapter 6 verse 8, where the Old Testament prophet told the people of ancient Israel what God wanted them to do to please Him: "He has shown you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." This verse was particularly poignant to the young Catholic – her combination of the revulsion she felt at the footage of George Floyd's death and her guilt over her past actions had driven her to act and speak up, and provide a space for others to speak. Danielle wondered what the prophet's exhortation to "act justly" meant to her.

Should she diversify her circle of friends, including more people of colour? Having Brianna and Cat as her only minority friends/associates seemed to reek of tokenism in light of her predominantly Anglo music tastes. Which bought her to her next question – should she listen to more Black music? People of colour had made their mark in all genres of music, including the early days of rock n roll and the evolution of hip-hop. While she respected those musicians' talent and what they had done for the industry, her music interests had remained pretty narrow. Should she use her own experiences with bigoted and hateful behaviour to warn others and be a lesson to them? Should she campaign against inequality in the youth justice system? Her time in juvie had certainly opened her eyes to the disproportionate number of black and brown youth that were incarcerated. Should she join a protest rally? Her and her family's history of lung related issues put her in a very high risk category during the pandemic. Or would the best cause of action to be what she intended to do today – to merely offer support and solidarity via the platform she had promised to provide. Danielle prayed that God would give her the answers she was looking for, before getting up and heading to the kitchen. Thomas and Amira were cooking breakfast in their dressing gowns, Thomas' green and Amira's a bright cerulean blue.

"Morning, Mum!" Danielle greeted, in a tiredly optimistic voice. "Dad." She added, as her tone developed a sudden acerbic edge. The insults that Thomas had hurled her way last night had not been forgotten.

She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a Metallica …And Justice For All t-shirt. Around her neck was a complex looking silver pendant, featuring the alchemical symbol for Mercury – an upside-down crescent moon, which rested atop a circular ring which had a cross suspended below it. This design was framed by a large circle. The rocker had this pendant custom made, at considerable expense. But it had a surprising relevance to what she was about to do that day. The pendant did not just signify Mercury – it was also the symbol of Adam, the protagonist in perhaps Danielle's favourite record, Marilyn Manson's 2001 concept album Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death). The album chronicled Adam's journey to the titular city to make a life for himself. Disgusted by the town's decadence and consumerism, Adam tried to wage a counterculture revolution. However, his movement would find itself co-opted by the rampant consumer culture in Holy Wood, with himself becoming a symbolic figure in Celebritarianism, a grotesque parody of Christianity that venerated dead celebrities as Saints and martyrs. The pendant acted as Danielle's symbol of her mission as a Christian. Like Adam, she was filled with disdain for what she saw as moral and spiritual decay and sought to change it. Unlike Adam, she would endeavour to show the love and light of Christ to others and show them there was a better way, instead of tearing down the so-called "beautiful people". And part of displaying that love and light was standing up for the downtrodden.

"You're up early. We could hear you." Was Thomas' reply, as he tucked into cereal.

"Well, I've got a lot of things to do today." Danielle replied, nonchalantly. "By the way, can I have the garage key? I just want to check on some of my old vinyls."

"Give it back when you're done. And wear a mask ." Thomas instructed, as he grabbed a silver key off a nearby hook and threw it to her.

"Nice to talk civilly to you, Dad." The rocker declared. Once she had grabbed the key, she looked at Amira and exchanged a wink with her. She had informed her mother last night of the action she intended to take to show her support for racial equality, by setting up a place where people could speak their minds. Needless to say, Amira had given her full support to to her plans, and even offered to supply food and drink to the expected gathering. Danielle then headed to her bedroom and put on a yellow mask, reminiscent of Guns N Roses' classic album Use Your Illusion I. Afterwards, she walked out of her front door and over to the garage, which was situated just to the left of her house. As she was about to put the key in the lock, she heard a cry ring out. "Dani!"

Swinging around, the rocker's eyes twinkled. Walking towards towards her were Petra, Dylan and Jessica, her fellow musicians in her band, The Four Last Things. Petra was wearing a green bandanna around her face, whilst Dylan and Jessica each wore a simple blue mask. The fact that these three were here was a sight for sore eyes for the brunette vocalist. They had kept in touch virtually throughout quarantine, but not physically being there for one another hurt deeply. It hurt even more when Danielle lost her grandmother to Covid, and Petra's best friend Lily had a nasty hospitalising encounter with the virus. However, she was now home and recovering – a source of celebration for all involved. Danielle greatly missed being able to jam with her band mates, and was grateful to have them around, if only for a short while.

"P! Hey there! How's Lilly?" The rocker welcomed.

"Getting better. She's taking it day by day. She felt really weird at first when she came home. Like she had returned from space or something." Petra responded, giving an update.

"How are you, Dani? Holding up okay?" Jessica inquired, concerned for her vocalist and friend.

"I'm trying. Dad's not helping. Can we not talk about this, please?" Danielle requested, trying to get back on topic.

"So, what are we doing here anyway?" Dylan questioned.

"We're going to set up a space where people of colour can tell their stories. Least I can do after me and Dad's different but equally shitty racist behaviour." Danielle confirmed, as she unlocked the door.

"Okay. The whole deal with you and the synagogue, we know about. But what did your dad do?" Petra asked, inquisitively.

"Last night, Dad basically admitted that he racially profiles people while he works at the mall. Made me feel like the villain for calling him out. Apparently, since his money pays for my therapy, band equipment, church trips, what have you, he expects me not to question where it came from." Danielle explained to her shocked friends.

"Shithead. Fuck him." Jessica sneered.

"Yeah, what an asshole." Dylan followed up, as he reached down and helped Danielle open the locked garage door. The Horton's red Dodge truck and Amira's purple Toyota Camry sat in the garage, along with an assortment of tables, chairs, crates and other miscellaneous junk. The four musicians entered the garage together, searching for things they could use.

"Okay. What do we need?" Dylan wondered.

"We need seats – lots of them. Anybody that shows up will probably have been marching for a while, so they'll need a place to rest. We'll also need something that can act as the stage – one of these crates should do the trick." Danielle clarified, pointing out the items of interest

"Hey, that could be useful." Petra pointed out a light brown, slightly moth-eaten couch that sat forlornly in the corner.

"Excellent, Petra! That's using your brain! Now, let's both take an end." Danielle instructed. She and Petra took the back end, while Dylan and Jessica took the other end. "You guys ready?" She called out. Upon receiving confirmation, the rocker instructed: "All right. UP!" At her command, the four band members used their combined strength to lift up the couch. It was a delicate balancing act to avoid hitting the car or the roof, but they managed to get it steady. Once they had done so, Dylan and Jessica began to walk backwards, as Danielle and Petra simultaneously walked forward, as they cautiously navigated the couch out of the way of the truck and the garage door. Once they had gotten it out, they turned to the side and carried the couch along for a small distance before gently placing it down on the sidewalk.

"Well, that's the hard part out of the way! Now, getting the rest of the chairs will be a piece of cake!" Danielle enthused, as she allowed her band mates to regain their breath.

As they got back to work, Thomas and Amira watched on from inside the house. "What are those kids doing?" The security guard mused, as he watched them carry chairs out of the garage.

"Oh, she's putting on some speaking thing for the BLM protestors today." Amira informed her husband.

"What? She said she just wanted to check on some old records! Why would she lie to me?" Thomas questioned, in a confused voice.

"If you have to ask that question, then you don't understand why she would. I happen to fully support what she's doing here today." Amira stated, her gaze piercing Thomas' soul.

"They don't care about her – they only care about publicity." Thomas seethed, as he watched the preparations unfold.

As Danielle and her band mates were finishing putting out the chairs, a young Latino with wavy chestnut brown wearing loose jeans and a Prophets Of Rage T-shirt approached the group. "Hola! Is this the place that DJ Dani said to come to?" He greeted, waving as he did so.

"It most certainly is! Welcome!" Danielle replied, as she expressed her happiness through her eyes.

"It's you! Sweet! I'm Rafael – rafi456! You did a video for me where you reviewed Rage Against The Machine's debut record, remember?" The young man questioned.

"You…you're a subscriber?" Danielle asked, stunned and humbled that somebody answered her call.

"Yep!" Rafael replied, before turning around. "Hey, everybody! This is it!" He called out. Suddenly, a group of about 40-50 people appeared. They were mostly African-American or Latin, but there was a smattering of Caucasians and Asians as well. They were all masked, and held signs that bore slogans such as "I CAN'T BREATHE", "JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR", "JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLOYD", "I AM AN ANTIRACIST" and "WE WILL NOT BE SILENCED". Danielle felt surprised that so many had heard her invitation and responded. Her surprise, however, quickly turned to internal panic as she realised demand for chairs would outstrip supply. Thinking on her feet, she addressed the group.

"Hey. So, I'm really pleased so many of you showed up, but I only have enough seating for 20 or so people, so I kind of have to make this first come first served to maintain distancing. The rest of you will have to stand or sit on the kerb. I really hope I'm not out of line here." The rocker pointed out.

"We'll be marching for two or more hours. Half an hour won't make a difference." A girl with light brown skin shrugged. She, along with Rafael, moved to sit down, but Danielle held up a hand. "Hold on. I'll disinfect them first. They've been in the garage for a while." She darted back into the house, ignoring Thomas' demand to know "Who are these people?", and returned with a bottle of Clorox and a wet cloth. Upon ensuring the seats were appropriately distanced and sanitised, people started to sit down. Once they were all seated, Danielle began to speak to the gathering.

"I know, I know. I'm exactly who you want to hear from right now." The brunette began, sarcastically. This drew a few guffaws, noticing that her remarks were intended as a commentary on those who would make the situation about themselves. "If you'd indulge me, I'd like to explain why I decided to offer this platform to you today. As a Catholic, I support the movement for racial justice and police reform. Here's a question for you – what do priests, pilots and police officers have in common? The answer – they can't afford to be bad at their jobs, because they stand to cause damage and misery if they are bad. You don't have to tell this Catholic about the damage evil priests do. It's tiring – and sickening – to keep calling for accountability and reform. My priest likens campaigning for change to cleaning out a dirty, smelly stable. Nobody enjoys the stench and the filth. But it's what has to be done if we want to live in a functioning society."

"Woo!" Petra shouted as she clapped her hands. The brunette pressed on.

" A key tenet of my faith is that human life is sacred until a person's natural death. There was nothing natural about what happened to George Floyd in Indianapolis, Breonna Taylor in Louisville, Trayvon Martin in Florida or Ahmad Arbery in Georgia. These tragedies all came about, because the police shot first and asked questions later. None of those situations had to end the way they did, and that won't change until our police officers become less like warriors and more like guardians. Another tenet of my religion is making physical and spiritual acts of reparation for sin of all kinds, so that the Son Of Man will find faith on earth. Reparation, as you know, derives from the word "repair" – to fix. To make right."

"That's right." A voice called from the crowd, as some nodded.

"About four years ago, I committed a terrible act of hate against the Jewish community here in the Bronx. As a result, I had to hear about the impact my actions had and to repair the damage – both to the structure of the synagogue itself and to the community, many of whom had family histories filled with suffering. Those were physical acts of reparation. Every night, I pray for the conversion and repentance of all those who foster racism and bigotry – a spiritual act of reparation. Which brings me to the reason I set up this platform. Last night, I found out that my dad, a security guard at Bay Plaza Mall, racially profiled various youth of colour over the years he's been employed there. Given that his job helped pay for basically everything my brother and I have ever had, he expected me to be fine with it. Well, I'm NOT fine with it! His actions? They're those of a racist." The brunette continued, in a clear voice.

"Preach!" Rafael yelled out, as some people began to cheer.

"My racism got me put in a cell. That was justice. My dad's racism almost put many young black and brown people in a cell. I He could have ruined the lives of innocent people. I don't care if any of the people he targeted were thieves or not. That's not the way you get justice!" The brunette continued, building up steam.

"You tell them!" Rafael's female companion whooped and pumped her fist.

"This platform – this opportunity to speak your truth? It's my own personal act of reparation for the many sins of my father. Will this solve racism overnight? No. Will it help with the process of getting justice and redress for those who were falsely accused? I can only hope and pray. And with that, I yield the floor." Danielle then stepped away and walked over to join her band mates, to the cheers and applause of the crowd.

"You crushed it, Dani!" Petra gushed, as the vocalist sat herself down on the sidewalk alongside them. Just then, the cheering and clapping suddenly transitioned into boos and jeers. Thomas had come storming out of the house. His face was as red as a traffic light, and he looked ready to explode.

"Go away! All of you, go away! Can't you see that you're going to make yourselves sick?" He raged, whilst not wearing a mask.

"Oh, stop it, Dad! Stop pretending that you care about these people! You only just started being concerned about their health when they called you out!" Danielle shouted, rising to her feet.

"Yeah, remember me? You accused my kid brother of stealing gum, when he had a receipt and everything!" Rafael added, pointing his finger at Thomas.

"You stalked me and my girlfriends around Hot Topic!" His lady companion interjected.

"And you keep stopping me at random whenever I go buy hair gel!" A third young Black woman interjected.

"Dani, be reasonable. You expect these people to give you the benefit of the doubt over your mistakes – why won't you give me that same courtesy?" Thomas questioned.

""Because an angry teen is easier to forgive than an ignorant adult." The hair gel lover retorted. "Now, would I have shown my whole dirty ass laundry collection to God and everyone, like Danielle did? No. But what she said took courage." Turning towards the rocker, she added: "in fact, I find her candour refreshing. You, on the other hand, are a bully. The way you try and blame other people for your own actions is cowardly and beneath contempt. You're a grown ass man! Act like one!" She flourished, to much yelling and hollering from the crowd.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Thomas berated the woman.

"Daria Stephens, voice of the people. And the people told me to say this." The woman, who had curly light brown hair, threw her fist in the air and began to chant. "Hey hey! Ho ho! Racial profiling has got to go!" The message was soon taken up by the entire gathering. Thomas was stunned as he saw the entire group raising their fists and condemning him. Danielle, Petra, Dylan and Jessica were getting in on it, adding their voices to the chorus. Letting out a shout of frustration, Thomas turned on his heel and strode back into the house, to the heckling of the crowd.

"Pussy! Pussy! Pussy!" The crowd taunted, as some gave the thumbs down sign.

Over the next half hour, Danielle and her friends sat and listened to the stories of the various marchers. They told of how they had to endure racial slurs, bullying, profiling and stereotyping at the hands of not just police officers, but also security guards, school authorities, and employers. The rocker and her band felt great anger and sadness as they heard the details of what the speakers had to endure. However, special anger was saved for those who had been profiled and humiliated by her father. How the same person who had supported her through her own journey could also be capable of harbouring bigoted stereotypical thoughts was unfathomable. Danielle made a vow that, if she ever started a family, she would educate her children about the dangers of racism and bigotry. Her thoughts were interrupted by somebody putting a hand on her shoulder. It was Daria, one of the protestors who had called out Thomas.

"Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for setting up this platform. It's a great help for a lot of people to get things off their chest." She explained, as the voices of various people continued to fill the air.

"It was the least I could do. In fact, I think it may be about the only thing that I can do, due to my health status. My history of asthma places me in a high-risk Covid category." Danielle answered, twiddling her thumbs.

In response, a young man in a baseball cap replied: "Come on, Danielle! March with us!" This response generated a cheer from a nearby group of marchers, who proceeded to take up the chant. "March with us! March with us! March with us!"

"Don't pressure her, Demetrius." Daria reprimanded. The young African-American then began to discuss further with Danielle. "If you want to, you can think of it as a continuation of the work you started here today. If you're trying to save your neighbour from a burning house, are you going to worry about getting smoke in your lungs? Look, just March a short distance with us. To the Grand Concourse. Even that would be a powerful sign of solidarity. If you still don't feel comfortable, then you can go back."

Even though Daria did not know it, her words struck a chord within the young Catholic. Her statement was a direct echo of the words Danielle had used to describe her distress over her father's actions. Her strong feelings were born out of a desire to protect Brianna, who had endured her own negative experience with being profiled because of the colour of her skin. This appeal to her conscience and sense of justice was enough to sway her.

"Alright. I'll walk with you. To see how I feel." Danielle accepted. She then turned to her band mates. "Petra, can you and the gang hold down the fort here? Make sure everybody distances themselves?"

"Sure thing, fearless leader." Petra mock saluted, as Danielle rose to her feet. "Hang on, I'll just grab some things first." Heading back into the house, she made a beeline for her bedroom, she grabbed her orange asthma inhaler off the table beside her bed and placed it into her left jacket pocket. After that, she grabbed her rosary. A symbol of her deep faith and devotion, she would carry this to most places. Folding the brown beads up reverently, she placed it in her right pocket of her jeans. Walking towards the front door, she turned to her father.

"I'm going to join the March, Dad. You know, there's a saying in the Bible, about the stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. You may reject their experiences, and you may think what you did wasn't racist. Those people out there? They're going to be the future cornerstone of our society, and they reject your narrow minded views. And so do I. One good thing you've done, though, is inspire me to pray even harder for a vaccine. Because once there is a vaccine, I'll finally be able to get away from you." With that, the rocker exited stage right, much to Thomas' shock and Amira's pride.

Walking outside again, Danielle made her way to the other side of the street, where she was met by Daria, the young man she had identified as Demetrius and two other people.

"Danielle, I'd just like to introduce you to some of my friends. This is Demetrius, my boyfriend, and this is Anton and Valentina, who are old school buddies." Danielle then proceeded to do a fist bump with each of them. Demetrius was a tall young man in a cap. Anton was of a slightly stockier build wearing a "SAY THEIR NAMES" hoodie, whilst Valentina was a very alluring Latina with caramel skin and dyed pink hair. However, there was something that made her stand out from the crowd, namely a T-shirt she wore with a blue, white and pink flag with the message: Black and Latin trans women matter. The rocker found herself internally marvelling at her bravery. She couldn't imagine how much courage the whole process had taken, not just to change everything that was fundamental about her, but to confide in friends that appreciated and accepted her.

"I like your shirt." Danielle told Valentina in a minimalist tone, not wanting to make a song and dance.

"Thank you. Shall we?" Valentina acknowledged, seemingly on the same page. With that, the group set off together as people continued to speak and the remaining members of Danielle's band tried to keep order.

"Speaking of things we like, I like your pendant, Danielle. Is it religious?" Valentina questioned, as the group turned from Bailey Avenue into West Kingsbridge Road.

"No." The brunette chuckled. "It's the alchemical symbol for Mercury, the symbol of Adam, the protagonist in Marilyn Manson's album Holy Wood. In addition to reflecting on the role of violence in American society, it tells the story of Adam's attempt to foster revolution, only for it to be taken over by consumer culture."

"He might be onto something." Daria reflected, as she scrutinised an empty McDonald's cup with a raised black fist.

"He was definitely onto something when he took on the fetishisation of celebrity culture. Holy Wood's official "religion" is a cult called Celebritarianism, where dead celebrities are venerated and JFK is the modern day Jesus Christ, complete with pilgrimages to view his remains." Danielle continued, having got on a roll.

"Damn. That sounds trippy as fuck." Demetrius chuckled, shaking his head.

"Turn on the E! Network sometime and prove him wrong." Danielle challenged.

"Regardless of what we may disagree on, there is one thing that we can agree on – celebrity culture is the worst." Daria declared, a note of disdain in her voice.

"I know. When a society cares more about the love life of some D-lister than making sure young struggling families have a decent quality of life, than that society is starting to lose its way. Saint Kim Kardashian, pray for us." Danielle mused. "Which, I guess, is the message of Holy Wood. Like Adam, I want to tear the old world down and build a better one. The only difference is in our methods. Adam wanted to physically fight the Beautiful People – I want to jolt them out of their apathy through my words."

"Aren't you kind of a celebrity though?" Anton probed.

"That's different. I don't hawk my crappy merchandise in the middle of the worst health crisis in a generation. If I ever start shilling for a mega corporation, you have my permission to kick my ass." The rocker drew a line under the subject. "Enough about me. What do you guys like?"

"We're actually a group of citizen journalists known as the Web Of Justice. We cover stories that are of interest to the people, by the people. I cover stories related to racial justice, Demetrius covers politics, Anton focuses on sports and Val reports on her passion – gender rights and equality." Daria explained the group's function.

"Maybe you could join – we could use a token cishet white girl." Valentina snickered, turning the trope of tokenism on its head.

"You guys are journalists? In that case, I was wondering if I could do an interview on your channel sometime? Maybe talk about how racism can ruin a person's life and act as a warning to others." The brunette wondered.

"That would be interesting, and something I'd like to do." Daria agreed. "But I think that something more useful you could do is to find a way to help somebody who is disadvantaged. That may be more constructive than revisiting the past."

Before they knew it, the group had reached the intersection of West Kingsbridge Road and the Grand Concourse. Having reached the agreed upon minimum distance, it remained to be seen if Danielle would continue marching with the Web Of Justice or go back to her house.

"So, what do you wanna do, Danielle? It's your decision." Daria inquired. Danielle cast her eyes around her. People were laughing and joking as they walked together. Tables were set up at the corners of the intersection, providing water, sanitiser and masks to whoever needed them. Overall, the environment was hopeful and optimistic, showcasing the best humanity had to offer. This was all very inspiring to the young rocker. And if it was a choice between this or returning home to the "delightful" company of her father, there was really no contest.

"You know what? I think I'll keep on walking." Danielle smiled behind her mask, an all too rare occurrence these days.

"Oh yeah! We'll show the man we're not scared of him!" Daria pumped her fist and exulted.

Meanwhile, as the crowds poured into the concourse, two Black volunteers turned to the woman in charge of their table filled with water bottles. "Hey, Shirley and I are going to join the marchers for a bit. Can you cover?" A woman with a short-cropped haircut inquired, politely.

"Sure. Thanks for all your help today, Nadia." The volunteer replied. Nodding, Nadia then turned to her companion, a girl who looked to be in her late teens with her hair in a neat bun. Nodding, the pair slipped away to join the throng of protestors. They added their voices to the calls of "No justice, no peace!" and "We need change!" But these two young women were no ordinary protestors. In reality, "Nadia" and "Shirley" were Nakia and Shuri, former residents of the mysterious African nation of Wakanda, which had recently announced its arrival on the global stage. Nakia was a former member of the War Dogs, Wakanda's foreign intelligence agency. An experienced undercover operative, she was also a former lover of Wakanda's charismatic king, T'Challa, and prided herself in her skills in combat. Shuri was T'Challa's younger sister. Extremely intelligent, she was an expert in technology and at the forefront of Wakanda's innovation in the sciences. The pair had been sent to America to act as ambassadors to America and provide outreach to the black community in Oakland, California. Nakia and Shuri both felt it was of the utmost importance that these disadvantaged communities knew they had somebody in their corner. What Erik Killmonger had planned to do through war, they would do through peace and activism.

And it was their dearest wish that their presence today would remain peaceful.

"We're not really here to volunteer, are we?" Shuri inquired, inquisitively.

"And you felt you had to ask. Our king learned from the War Dogs here in New York that Barnes is going to be out in public today for the first time since your deprogramming sessions. He wants us to surveil him and make sure no one tries to wake up the Winter Soldier, by force if needed." Nakia explained the situation thusly.

"One question. If Barnes and the Avengers are in Manhattan, and we are here in the Bronx, this begs the question of why we didn't just go to Manhattan in the first place?!" Shuri hissed in a low voice.

"For the same reason your brother set us up in Oakland, and not San Francisco or Los Angeles. This is one of the poorer areas of the city, and it is part of our mission to help them, just as we do in Oakland." Nakia pointed out.

"Okay." Shuri noted. Her eyes then lit up in mirth as she caught sight of a Caucasian girl dressed in black with silver earrings. "Look at that coloniser girl! Perhaps we should send her to Wakanda, so the Jabari can use her as a scarecrow to protect the crops!" She giggled.

"Hush. We must be one with the crowd, and that does not include picking on them." Nakia reprimanded.

"You're no fun." Shuri grumped to herself. "Oh! I hate walking!" The young scientist whined. She might know more than almost anybody on earth, but Shuri still had to deal with the travails of being a teenager.

Meanwhile, behind Nakia and Shuri, two young Caucasian woman with blonde hair and dressed in puffer jackets were walking, their eyes scanning the crowd. Just then, the eldest of the two laid eyes on the same girl that Shuri was cracking jokes at. "That's her, Kim. Look. I'd recognise those earrings anywhere." She pointed the girl out.

"If you say so, Wendy." Kimberley, her companion, demurred.

"I'm going to enjoy this. That little whore betrayed us and told the whole world our business, and we're going to make her suffer for it." Wendy whispered in a low voice. As she said this, she thumbed the holster of her Magnum pistol strapped to her body, whilst Kimberley fiddled with the switchblade knife in her pocket. Under Wendy's large jacket, on her lower neck, was a swastika tattoo.

*** BLM ***

Central Park was jam packed with people. Needless to say, it was the fullest the iconic park had been in some time. People were sat on the grass, talking, laughing and eating. Off to the side, a line of police officers stood and watched, their weapons at the ready. Blending in among the crowd were Tony, Steve, Bruce, Carrie, Peter and their friends. The billionaire scanned his eyes around the crowd, assessing the situation. "Nothing suspicious so far. You got anything, Capsicle?"

"Nope. An awful lot of police, although that's to be expected." Steve analysed.

"Look at this crowd, Steve. We never would have seen something like this in our time." Bucky marvelled

"In New York, maybe. Definitely not in some other places though." Steve agreed, returning to his surveillance duties.

Meanwhile, Candace approached the podium that was set up on the makeshift stage and began to address the crowd.

"It's wonderful to see so many people here!" She began, to great applause. "Now, it's important to remember that anybody can be touched by racism. Even if you're a spokesperson for the NAACP. My family knows all too well what this broken system can drive people to – my son Andre was murdered by a young man who should've been in school, but wasn't. Because he had turned to drugs to support his family. Because he had dropped out of high school. Because he wasn't getting good grades. Because he had gone to underfunded, majority Black public elementary and junior high schools. Not all racism is violent or hateful. And the next speaker I want to introduce understands that better than anybody – my daughter, Brianna."

Loud applause ripped around the park as Brianna stepped up to the podium. Her heart was pounding in her chest. It was one thing to speak to a crowded auditorium at school – this crowd had to be at least ten times bigger than the biggest gathering she had ever addressed, when one took into account the presence of the news media. Looking down, she noticed that her right hand was shaking slightly. The African-American cleared her throat and began to speak, in a clear voice.

"A man buying a lottery ticket. A kid with a packet of Skittles. A woman who had the misfortune to live with a drug dealer. A motorist exercising his Second Amendment rights. A child playing with a toy pistol. The one thing they all have in common? They all met their ends at the hands of police officers who shot first and asked questions later. Whenever I heard the names of George Floyd or Trayvon Martin or Breonna Taylor or Philando Castile or Tamil Rice, my reaction was always the same: Not again. I'm so sick and tired of hearing about young people of colour paying the price for a law enforcement officer's lack of patience."

"Yes, ma'am!" A supportive voice rang out.

"Some people will say to me: If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. You know who else said that? Death Eaters. When I think of what the police is supposed to be, I think of the trustworthy men and women who taught me how to call 911 as a child. Not these small armies that I see assembling in some American cities. I don't care what the situation is, you do not need tank-like vehicles and SWAT-like capabilities for everyday police work!" After pausing for a round of applause, Brianna pressed on.

"But this goes beyond just issues with police. As a young Black woman, I've felt the sting of racism in all its forms. When I was just a child, I was racially abused to my face. Anything but a child of God, as the older generations would say. And this was in my Catholic school, where I was regularly told that Jesus Christ loves all people. But not all racism comes through words. At my local cosmetics store, I was racially profiled by the owner who made me open my bag to see if I was shoplifting anything. She thought I was acting suspiciously, and there had been a spate of shoplifting occurrences. Well, the reason I was acting so "suspiciously" was that they didn't have any hair product that suited my hair, and when they did, it was in the "urban" section!" The young activist vented.

"Yeah, Bri! You fucking tell them!" Olivia praised, letting out a loud whoop.

"This movement is more than just one man." Brianna started to heat up. "Police brutality, profiling, racist words, Black poverty? It's all linked. And this all comes from the same thought, the same ugly thought that has festered in this nation for hundreds of years – that some people have more inherent dignity than others. Well, that's false. And that stops today. Once we work to address these deeply systemic issues, America will be an even greater country than it already is – not just for people of colour, but for all of us!"

"That's my youth group friend!" Danielle gushed, as she watched the speech in her phone with Daria and her friends.

At the headquarters for CNN in Atlanta, Georgia, a distanced group of masked technicians were overseeing the live footage from the Central Park rally. All of a sudden, the many screens in the production area were overtaken by a cloud of static. "What's going on?" One of the monitors asked, confused.

"Probably an issue with the satellite. Sun spots sometimes cause problems. Just wait it out." The supervisor shrugged.

"We apologise, we seem to have lost our live pictures from Central Park. We're doing our best to get that feed back as soon as possible." The anchor on duty padded, trying to fill time.

The static snow remained, however. A few moments later, something happened that made the situation more unnerving. The static image disappeared, to be replaced by the image of the yellow and black Gadsden flag. This caused the gathered technicians to exchange confused looks. "Hold on…are we being hacked?" One of them asked.

"Hold on, I'll check the competition. If it's only us that's having this issue, then we're being targeted. If it's elsewhere, than it's something much bigger." The supervisor declared. She then went into a nearby room and began to flip through the channels. Fox News, MSNBC, BBC, CBS, ABC – all bore the same yellow and black image. She let out gulp – the supervisor got the sinking feeling that today would be remembered for exactly the wrong reasons. Back in Central Park, the same image had appeared on the big screen that had been erected, sparking confusion and more than a few boos. After a few moments, the visage of a man in his late forties with blonde hair and a square jaw appeared. He was sitting at a desk, with the same snake-bearing flag prominently displayed behind him.

"Hello, viewers of America and the world. My name is Daniel Dunn." He began, in a smooth, oily voice.

"Oh shit…it's him! Daniel Dunn has been silent for two years. Why make himself known now?" The CNN supervisor pondered, as she watched the speech with morbid fascination.

"Who's that?" Carrie whispered to Tony, an anxious knot forming in her stomach.

"A Rush Limbaugh wannabe who made himself relevant by staging a feud with another radio host. Don't know why he's come out of the shadows now." Tony analysed, as he watched the screen.

"In the halcyon days of my youth – the 1980's, one of the things that always interested me was the emergency broadcast system." Daniel reminisced, as he stared down the barrel of the camera. "Every time there was a significant enough emergency, it would override whatever was on television to broadcast details of the emergency. Well, consider this unscheduled interruption my own emergency broadcast system. No, I'm not talking about the so-called climate emergency where feckless idiots roam the streets in their scuba gear. America is at death's door. And it is you fine people at BLM, or as I prefer to call you, Boot Licking Marxists, who are standing over her corpse. Your support for unfettered immigration has dramatically lowered the quality of life in our Southern States through poverty and crime. Your constant indoctrination of the next generation through our colleges is paving the way for a society of automatons. Your constant cries for the police to be defunded risk abandoning our nations cities to criminals. Your tireless promotion of gender theory risks destroying the very fabric of our society – the family. Well, I won't stand for it! And lucky for me, I've found some like-minded souls who are going to make our last stand. We are the Sons Of The Serpent. Tread on us, and we will bite back."

As the speech continued, numerous people reacted to Daniel's remarks with shock and bewilderment – Brianna and Candace, Carrie, Peter, MJ and Tony, Bruce and Steve, Antonio and Francesca in their house and Danielle and her new companions. One of the police officers supervising the Central Park gathering – who as it turned out, was one of the officers that responded to the break in at Antonio's dental practice – quietly shook his head. He remembered Daniel from his radio days. He was a divisive asshole then, and absence had not made the heart grow fonder. Perhaps he had a valid point to make about the impact of proposed reforms on law enforcement, but that had gotten lost in the cloud of rhetorical smog that was the rest of his speech. However, his protective instincts kicked in when he saw a man in an American flag cap draw a weapon from his jacket and point it at the stage.

"TAKE COVER!" The officer screamed as he drew his service weapon, as screams filled the air around him. Taking aim at the would-be assailant, he shot him twice – once in the shoulder and once in the back. However he had managed to get off two shots before he went down. The first shot hit the podium and shattered it, and the second had missed Brianna and her mother by mere inches as they ran away. However, these weren't any ordinary blasts – they were blue flashes of light. Another blue blast shot over his head, and he looked up to see a young man in a black and gold khaki uniform advancing on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more uniformed men advancing and shooting, using futuristic looking blasters with gold coating. Another loud blast caused the police horse next to him to rear up in fright. The other officers then beat a retreat, setting up a makeshift barricade behind a line of police vehicles on the southern side of the park.

Meanwhile, the reaction was one of pure panic. Brianna was desperately trying to run back into the fray, with Candace trying to restrain her and failing.

"Let me go, Mum! I have to find Livy!" Brianna pleaded, fearfully.

"No! It's too dangerous!" Candace urged, trying to drag her away. Her eyes narrowing in determination, Brianna drew the elbow back and elbowed her mother, hard. Grimacing in pain, she released the hold, allowing her daughter to sprint away.

"BRIANNA!" Candace screamed in fear, as Kareem and Marcus grabbed hold of her hands.

"Let her go, darling. Let's just get to safety." Her husband begged, trying to get her to come with them.

"But my baby's out there!" Candace half-yelled, half-sobbed as people all around her fled.

"You forget who else is out there with her. She'll be fine." Marcus murmured, trying to reassure herself more than anybody else.

Olivia, Isaiah, Jamal and Shay were running away from the fighting. Throwing themselves behind a tree, the shocked and frightened foursome scrambled to find an exit strategy from their current predicament. Well, predicament was actually somewhat of an understatement. Emergency was perhaps closer to how the group perceived the situation.

"You guys come back to my place with me. It'll be safe there." Olivia proposed, as the noise of combat filled her ears.

"No. Come to our place, Olivia. It's closer." Isaiah countered, looking into the Italian-American's eyes.

"I'm not going to ask you to risk yourselves for me!" Olivia argued, pulling her arms around her legs. "Not after what you've been through!"

"Your family has done enough for us. Let us return the favour." Jamal urged, as he sized up the situation. However, their attention was captured by the tell-tale popping and hissing of tear gas canisters. None of the group were any strangers to tear gas – Isaiah, Jamal and Shay had encountered it at previous marches, and Olivia had dealt with it at soccer games in her native Turin. It was perhaps this experience that spurred the jock into action. Opening her backpack, she pulled out the bottles of water she had bought and passed them to the African-Americans.

"Use this for your throat and eyes. It'll lessen the worst effects of the gas." Olivia told the group, as the cloud of gas crept towards them.

"What about you?" Shay asked, in a worried voice.

"I'll be fine. It's going to suck, but it's not like I've never dealt with it before." Olivia shrugged, a fatalistic note to her voice.

"You protested before?" Isaiah wondered.

"Nope. Italian soccer." Olivia quipped, lending some levity to the proceedings. She took a deep breath. "Okay. Lie down face first. We want to be exposed as little as possible." Nodding, Isaiah, Jamal and Shay joined in taking a deep breath. Once they had done that, the four planted their faces on the Central Park grass as the menacing cloud of tear gas passed overhead.

In the Bronx, Danielle, Daria and her associates all ran for cover as a group of the same khaki clad terrorists opened fire on the crowd of demonstrators on the Macombs Dam Bridge near Yankee Stadium. Chaos erupted as people jumped into the river below in an effort to protect themselves from the violence. As blasts and screams filled the air, the group retreated along East 161st Street. As this happened, two sets of individuals began to make their move.

"Come on. We don't have much time." Wendy urged Kimberley, as they set about with the villainous scheme. They settled on and followed the group of five that was Danielle, Daria, Demetrius, Anton and Valentina.

"I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this." Nakia sighed, as she and Shuri unzipped a large bag they had stored in their rental car, parked on East 166th Street, just off of the Grand Concourse. This bag contained several Wakandan weapons, including Nakia's curved blades and Shuri's Panther paw gauntlets and helmet. The last time these weapons had been picked up in anger, it was to aid in an insurrection. Now they would be put into action to stop one.

"Luckily for us, panthers eat snakes for breakfast." Shuri grinned, as she geared up for battle. Once they had both ready, they emerged into the Concourse and strode towards the battle. Just in front of them, they saw a pair of Serpents cornering an elderly Black couple and advancing in them with their weapons drawn. Seeing red, Nakia drew one of her blades and threw it at the assailant, knocking the weapon out of his hands. Before the enemy had time to process what was happening, the War Dog was upon him, knocking him out with a spinning heel kick. Enraged, the other Serpent began to advance on Shuri. The budding scientist exchanged gunfire with her opponent for a few moments, however she quickly found herself at a size and strength disadvantage. As the Serpent advanced upon her, he suddenly dropped to the ground. Nakia had launched a surgical strike on his knees, disrupting his vertical base and bringing him to the ground. A quick strike to the back, and the Serpent was down for the count.

"I had him covered." Shuri remarked, in a plaintive tone.

"I would sooner believe Bast could grow wings." Nakia shook her head and snorted. "Do you enjoy seeing me trying to explain your escapades to your brother?"

"Yes. Very much." Shuri smirked, causing Nakia to sigh and shake her head. Drawing her Wakandan staff, she thumped it on the ground three times, as was the custom of the Wakandan fighting forces before they went into battle. A look of pure steel entered her eyes. "Now let us give aid to our people against their oppressor. Wakanda Forever." She intoned, before crossing her arms across her chest in the traditional Wakandan gesture of strength and unity. After Shuri replicated the gesture, the duo returned to the fray with a burst of energy in their step. More blasts were fired over her shoulder as Nakia struck a Serpent down with the blunt end of her spear and pinned another with her blade. Turning around, she saw a group of War Dog soldiers backing her up.

"And I thought Shuri and I would be lonely." Nakia muttered, as she went on the attack.

While this was going on, Danielle and her associates were sheltering in an alley behind the Concourse Plaza cinema. The brunette found herself cringing inwardly, as she and her companions found themselves crouching down on the filthy ground. The garbage bags they used as cover emitted a terrible smell. It was certainly a very unpleasant and unsanitary situation to be in. However, this was their only option while the danger persisted. Sensing an opportunity to take Daria's mind off their current predicament, the rocker asked the journalist a question. "So, what's the deal with this Serpent gang? Ever heard of them?"

"No. But their leader I know. Daniel Dunn got kicked off a radio station here after he was busted for instigating hate among his listeners. He even got a Black co-worker involved doing his bidding. He's bad news." Daria explained, in a helpful voice. Suddenly, a taunting voice rang around the alleyway, causing Danielle's blood to run cold.

"Hello there, YouTube bitch." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see two young women dressed in dark clothing standing at the far end of the alley.

It's them! The girls who got me to vandalise that synagogue! She thought in horror. The brunette would recognise that voice anywhere. She had befriended them one night in Devoe Park, burning with resentment and hatred. They had offered her a sympathetic ear and even shared their cheap booze with her. She thought that she had found some true friends, some people who truly understood her situation. However, all she had gained was a foretaste of Hell itself.

"Take this. You'll need it – it gets tough out here after dark." She remembered one girl saying as she gave her a switchblade knife.

"I knew it! You're one of us!" She remembered their excited response to her anger against Amira, as one of the criminals showed off her swastika tattoo.

"Yeah! Fuck off and die, Jew scum!" She remembered shouting in the dead of night as she and her fellow vandals threw rocks and spray painted the side of the synagogue walls. It was a memory that filled Danielle with the greatest shame. Meanwhile, the two Nazis patrolled the alley and continued to issue threats.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are! We know you're in here. We saw you walking with a pack of niggers." Wendy sang with a wicked flourish.

"Come out now, and we promise that you'll be the only person to die today." Kimberley added, as she cast her eyes around the grimy environment.

Letting out a sigh, Danielle made her choice. She had seen the family of George Floyd mourning in the news and had been cut to the quick. She looked at her new companions huddled on the ground and came to a decision. Nobody was going to die for her today. Pushing the garbage aside, she rose to her feet in defiance. "You want me, you black hearted scoundrels? You've got me." She challenged, defiantly.

"And there she is. The woman of the hour." Wendy declared, before shaking her head in mock sadness. "What happened, Dani? You had so much potential."

"Don't call me that." Danielle hissed, in a low and angry voice.

"Tough crowd. Well, while I prefer Judas, I suppose Danielle will suffice." Wendy retorted, a noticeable sneer in her voice. "Anyway, you had so much potential. Especially when you took the rap for our little synagogue adventure. Thanks for that, by the way. We couldn't afford another charge on our records. We thought we could mould you into a good little soldier when you came out of juvie. Imagine my disappointment when you decided to reinvent yourself as this happy little Catholic hippie, but I didn't mind – at least, not until you bought our business out into the open. And for that, you're going to die a traitor."

"Oh no you don't!" A voice behind Danielle yelled, causing the brunette to swing her head around in shock. Daria, Demetrius, Anton and Valentina had emerged from their hiding places and moved towards her would-be abductors. "Nobody's dying today! In case your pea-sized brains can't comprehend the situation, it's two against five. You're just begging for an ass-whooping!" She growled, defiantly.

"Good thing we bought equalisers, then." Kimberley pointed out, as she pulled out her knife and Wendy pulled out her gun. The former twisted her hand and stabbed the air in a threatening manner, while the latter pointed her weapon at the group of five. A tense, still atmosphere filled the air as nobody dared move a muscle. Fear and uncertainty gripped the minds of Danielle and her fellow justice fighters. Nobody knew what would happen next.

"So. We've reached an impasse. Tell you what. I'll let Danielle over here make the choice as to what happens next. Either she comes quietly, and the rest of you walk away, or she resists, and we'll put all of you down like the animals that you are as she watches, then we kill her and leave your bodies for the rats and flies. So. Dani, what do you say?" Wendy smirked, knowing the abbreviated term would get under the brunette's skin.

"Your argument is with me! Leave them out of this! I'll come with you." Danielle half-begged, half-promised.

"Oh hell no, Danielle! Don't do this, girl!" Demetrius pleaded, a sentiment echoed by his friends.

"I'm not letting you die for me. If this is the time God calls me to His throne of judgement, then I accept it with humility. Besides, what is it that BLM protestors like to say when things get rough? White people to the front? This is me putting myself at the front, taking the blows for you." Danielle justified her stance.

"Holy shit…" Anton breathed heavily, while Valentina covered her mouth with trembling hands. The day had started out full of optimism, and now it looked as though they were about to see someone be led away to their execution.

"Can I just give them some of my stuff before you take me? It won't be long." Danielle asked her kidnappers.

Kimberley nodded, a look of warning in her eyes. Danielle then reached in her pocket and passed her phone over to Daria. "Could you please contact my parents and band mates and tell them what happened? The uncertainty will be the worst thing." She asked, politely.

"I will." Daria promised, a lump forming in her throat. Danielle then reached into her pocket and pulled out her brown rosary beads and pressed them into Daria's hand. She then removed the silver pendant she wore around her neck. Passing it to the journalist, she asked her. "If I don't make it back, can you give these to my parents? Just so they'll always have something to remember me by?" She requested.

"Okay." Daria choked out, not trusting herself to say any more for fear she would break down.

"Thank you, Daria, Demetrius, Anton and Valentina. It was a pleasure to meet you." Danielle farewelled the group, courteously.

"God speed, Danielle. May you be safe." Valentina spoke for the entire Web Of Justice group. After these words were spoken, Kimberley pulled a set of zip-tie handcuffs out of her jeans pocket. Putting Danielle's arms behind her back. The neo-Nazi looped the ties over her wrists and fastened them together, securing their captive. Kimberley then took Danielle by her left shoulder, as Wendy took charge of her right and proceeded to dig her pistol right into Danielle's back. The rocker shivered as she felt the cold hard metal press into her flesh. Turning to the others, Wendy gave them an instruction. "Close your eyes and count to 600 before you leave. I know – math is hard for your kind." The kidnapper ordered, as she and Kimberley proceeded to frog March Danielle right out of the alleyway. The trio walked about five blocks east to a parking building East 163rd Street, near Boricua College and a vet clinic. Walking up several levels in the otherwise empty parking garage, they reached the getaway car – a early 2010's Toyota Camry model with navy blue paint.

"Well, this is it, YouTube girl. Get in." Wendy ordered, as she popped the trunk. Staring into the void, Danielle felt a realisation seep in. This wasn't some horrible nightmare. This was real life. She was being kidnapped, and very possibly being led to her death. The realisation caused the young brunette to tremble uncontrollably. Her fear did not impress her kidnappers one bit.

"Did she stutter? Get in, bitch! Or we'll throw you in!" Kimberley snarled and ripped off Danielle's mask, as Wendy waved her pistol menacingly. Taking a deep breath, Danielle approached the trunk, swung one foot up over the side and tentatively placed it in the trunk. Annoyed with her hesitancy, Wendy grabbed the rocker's torso and roughly shoved her inside, causing her to bang her head on the side. The brunette let out a cry of pain as she found herself looking up at her abductors.

"Don't worry, we poked holes in the trunk so you can breathe. Wouldn't want you to suffocate before we get to have our fun." Wendy laughed, as she slammed the trunk shut. In the narrow, cramped space, Danielle was thrust into the deepest darkness she had ever known. Putting her legs on one side, she couldn't help but note the eerie similarity to a coffin as she felt the vehicle start and begin to drive away.

*** BLM ***

Back in Central Park, Tony, Bruce, Steve, Carrie, Peter and the rest of the Avengers and their associates were taking shelter behind a gazebo. Fortunately for them, it was easy to corral everybody they needed because they were so close together. The initial blasts and explosions had proven to be shocking and disorientating, especially coming as they did doing a peaceful protest. The initial response of many, in addition to the shock, was one of burning rage at the clearly insecure ex-radio host for daring to attack innocent people. And, as their motto went, if one person had been harmed at their hands, you could be damn sure they would avenge them.

"That's Chitauri weaponry! How did those bums get their hands on that? I thought S.H.I.E.L.D confiscated all the good stuff after the battle." Tony wondered, as he surveilled the scene.

"There was a lot of alien tourism after the invasion. People were excavating ruined buildings looking for anything Chitauri. They must've gotten to some weapons that our guys couldn't." Natasha deduced, her spy senses now at full power. At that moment, the sound of panting and heavy breathing filled the air. Looking up, the group saw Brianna stumbling towards them. Her eyes looked red and irritated – a tell-tale sign of tear gas exposure.

"Brianna! What happened? What are you doing here?!" Carrie gasped, as she checked on her friend.

"Gas on the south side. Left to find Livy-" Brianna managed before coughing and spluttering heavily. Carrie opened a water bottle and doused the activist's eyes with the cooling liquid.

"What are you doing here? You should've stayed with your parents!" Cat exclaimed.

"They'll be worried sick about you!" Alexis agreed.

"Livy's my friend. I wouldn't be at peace with myself if I didn't at least try." Brianna answered. She then looked the Avengers straight in the eyes. "Will you please save my friends?" She pleaded in desperation.

"We'll try." Bruce answered, in a voice that showed that nothing was certain.

"This calls for a game plan." Steve announced, shifting into Cap mode. "Tony and I will aid the police here in the park. Carrie, Peter, Bruce – your job is to exfiltrate your friends and get them safely to the tower. Bucky and Sam, you go uptown and deal with any forces there. Nat, Clint, Wanda and Vision – head to the Brooklyn Bridge and keep the Serpents from advancing into Brooklyn. Does everybody understand?"

Once everybody had answered in the affirmative, Tony allowed a small smirk to cross his face. "That leaves one more thing. Friday? Gear us up."

The transformation was instantaneous. Tony felt himself be covered in the signature red and gold battle armour of Iron Man. Steve emerged dressed in the blue uniform of everybody's favourite Star-Spangled man with a plan, Captain America. Peter found himself changed into your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, and Carrie had put in the battle regalia of Psystorm, New York's very own guardian Angel. The Captain inspected his forces. Iron Man opened his weapons systems. Spiderman shot a web strand to the roof of the gazebo. Psystorm silently flared her powers. The Winter Soldier punched his fleshy hand with his metal hand, showing he meant business. Black Widow had drawn her pistol. Wanda had summoned a small ball of red energy, whilst Falcon, Vision and Hawkeye watched on from their high vantage points. Meanwhile, Brianna, Alexis, Cat, MJ, Ned and Betty silently looked in and hoped this would be enough. Once he was satisfied with the state of affairs, Cap turned his attention towards the fight.

"Let's go defang some serpents." He declared, in a low voice.

At the rally site, the NYPD forces found themselves being pinned down by the Sons Of The Serpent forces. The boys in blue fought gallantly, however they were no match for the Serpents and their alien weaponry. The officer who had raised the alarm and his African-American partner were firing their weapons at the Serpents, then dropping down behind the makeshift barricades of police vehicles. As blue blasts of energy sailed over his head, his partner turned to him. "You seemed tense earlier. You know BLM aren't the bad guys, right?"

"I know that!" He growled, suggesting that now was an inopportune time to bring this topic up.

"You want me to bring it up later? There might not be a later." His partner shrugged, as he turned around and fired at the Serpent forces.

"It's just…I kind of feel responsible for what happened to that kid in Washington Square. I knew Fields was bad news. Knew he was taking money from the Triads to crack down on their rivals. If I had said something before, maybe Fields wouldn't have been in the park that night with rubber bullets. If we get out of this, I'm going to IA. But I think we might need a miracle." The officer explained, in between rounds of gunfire.

However, the tide was about to turn in their favour. Standing between them and the line of fire, dressed in full battle regalia was Captain America. Holding up his red, white and blue shield in front of him, he absorbed the laser blast that was meant for the police. Hovering in the sky, just above the tree line, was Iron Man, his weapon systems activated and ready to strike. The officers looked on at the heroes with a sense of awe and gratitude.

"Traitor! Why do you stand up for these people?! They're trying to tear down the country you fought for!" A Serpent soldier shouted in anger.

"That's where you're wrong." Captain America declared, in a strong voice. "I didn't fight for a country that puts its boot on the necks of the weak. I fought for a country that lifts up the weak." The Captain then lifted up his shield and threw it with all the strength he could muster at the soldier in question. It struck him right between the eyes, putting him to sleep. Meanwhile, Iron Man fired his Unibeam at the Serpents from his hands and chest, causing them to dive and take cover. Captain America sprinted towards the battle lines. He raised his fist towards a Serpent who tried to challenge him and slugged him in the chest before striking at his legs and performing a judo toss.

And just like that, the Sons Of The Serpent were on the run.

Meanwhile, Spiderman and Psystorm, along with Bruce, were leading their assigned group out of Central Park in an effort to get them to safety at Avengers Tower. They were walking quickly towards the exit of the park, where the world famous horse and carriage rides would usually depart from. Unfortunately for them, the small band found their path to freedom blocked by a group of Serpent soldiers. The four Serpents pointed their weapons at the group in a menacing fashion.

"Well, if it isn't Psystorm and Spiderman. Guardians of New York…more like guardians of the weak!" Their leader, a man with a thinning hairline, laughed as he advanced.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Psystorm retorted, her eyes glinting with fury underneath her golden helmet.

"I don't like people who think they're better than others because of their race or their strength." Bruce agreed, glowering at the Serpent forces. "It makes me…angry."

As he said the last word, Bruce's skin began to brighten and develop a greenish tinge. His muscles began to swell as the clothes he was wearing began to rip and tear. His skin turned a bright green, and his form grew in size until he was towering over the now terrified group of Serpents. Bruce Banner was no longer his old self. Standing before them was one of, if not the most powerful of all the Avengers. The terror of man, alien and Norse god alike, he was by far the most popular of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. The Sons Of The Serpent found themselves facing none other than the Incredible Hulk.

"Holy shit! Fire!" The leader ordered, as he pointed his blaster at the beast. However, Hulk picked up another Serpent off the ground with minimal effort. As the soldier screamed and flailed his legs, the captain rolled his eyes, as he turned his focus to Spiderman and Psystorm. "Hulk's out. Let's get these two instead." He ordered, as he and his fellow Serpents opened fire on the duo. As their non-powered companions took refuge, Psystorm tried to levitate a nearby fire hydrant to use as a weapon. Meanwhile, Spiderman used his web shooters to climb the outside of a nearby athletic club building. "Can't hurt me if you don't have your little toys!" He quipped as he dispatched another web that wrapped itself around one of the Serpent's guns. With a yank, he tried to remove the weapon from the assailant, who furiously tried to pull it back. Another Serpent fired at the web and split it in half, ending Spiderman's attempt to steal the Chitauri blaster. However, by this time, Psystorm had levitated the fire hydrant and threw it at the Serpent who had destroyed the web. It crashed into his chest with a thud and put him on the concrete. The water main that had been broken by the lifting of the hydrant began to spray water everywhere, making it look like they were fighting in the middle of a rain storm. Three was now down to two.

"Thanks for the assist, sis." Spiderman saluted, as he shot his webs downwards and encased the downed man head to toe in webbing. 'Looks like an improvement to me." He joked, grinning beneath his mask. He then used his webs to swing away from the Serpents fire and found himself on the façade of a piano shop. The wall crawler used his Spidey senses to climb the wall of the shop whilst the villains tried to shoot him. As the blasts missed, they shattered the windows of the shop. Spiderman then swung to the nearby real estate building and used all his strength to crawl to the top of the twelve storey structure. Turning to his right, he shot a connecting web to the nearby Central Park information kiosk. The missed blasts knocked chunks of concrete off the front of the buildings, causing Psystorm to take evasive action. The webswinger swung cockily across the Columbus Circle to the top of the centre, evading more gunfire.

"What's the matter, manly men? Can't take down a kid in his PJ's?" Spiderman laughed, as he grabbed hold of his web and swung down the street towards the Serpents who were still firing. He took one hand off his swinging web to shoot more webbing at a Serpent's feet, tying them up. However, this turned out to be a big mistake, as a blast snapped his swinging web and hit his shoulder. The impact caused the wall crawler to plummet to the street below crashing into the road on his buttocks as his left knee struck the concrete with significant force. He then fell onto his shoulder. As he went to shoot another web, he gripped his right shoulder and let out a cry of pain. With him being slow to get to his feet, the Serpents saw this as an opportunity to attack.

"PETER!" Psystorm cried out, as she saw the villains advancing. However, to her absolute shock, she saw MJ emerge from her hiding place behind a row of trees. In her hands was a blue recycling bin where the protestors would put their empty drink bottles and other such items. A look of fury written on her face, she hurled the can at one of the Serpents, sending him to the street as it hit him in the stomach. Blue energy blasts filled the air as his finger pulled the trigger as he went down.

"Hands off my boyfriend, you piece of trash!" The frizzy haired girl snarled in defiance. Ned, Betty, Alexis, Brianna and Cat were on their feet at the mixed-race girl's display from heroism. As the downed Serpent tried to reach his weapon, Psystorm telekinetically levitated him and threw him in the direction of the Columbus Circle. However, the ruckus enabled the last standing Serpent to discover the location of the heroes mundane friends. "Hold it right there, Psystorm! Back off, or I'll destroy your little friends!" He threatened, his voice slightly wavering. However, he felt the earth begin to shake. Looking up, his eyes grew as big as saucepans when he discovered the source – the Hulk galloping down the street. Getting up close, the green monster got in the enemy's face and let out a deafening roar, causing the assailant to look like he was standing in the middle of a hurricane.

"Never mind." The Serpent murmured meekly as he put his weapon on the ground, conceding that his side had lost this skirmish. A satisfied look on his face, Hulk gently set down the soldier that he had picked up off the ground. It was a great source of amusement to all concerned that he was still screaming – apparently throughout the entire confrontation. The rest of the group emerged from hiding as Psystorm and MJ rushed to check on the fallen Spiderman.

"Are you okay?" The Angel-like hero asked as she checked on Peter as she lifted his mask off.

"Yeah. I'll survive. Ow." Peter winced, as the two women in his life picked him up.

"Where does it hurt, Peter?" Alexis inquired, as he was steadied on his feet.

"Shoulder. Lower back. Knee." Peter grunted, as he began to wince and limp. Hulk led the group onto Broadway, as they made the short walk back to Avengers Tower. As they made the journey, Psystorm and MJ helped to keep Peter steady, as he was still shaken after the events of the battle. As they saw the distinctive A shape of the tower loom over the skyline, Peter turned his head to MJ. "Thank you, MJ. You saved me. But why? You could've gotten yourself killed."

"I came here to make the news, not watch it." MJ declared, in a flat voice. "Hold on, dork. We're almost there." She added, in a more comforting tone. Meanwhile, Psystorm was contacting Friday. "Friday, override stay-at-home protocols. This is an emergency, and visitors need access to the tower for their safety." She instructing.

"Protocols overridden. Preparing health checks and medical bay. Social distancing measures will be initiated." The AI responded. Nodding, Psystorm turned to the group. "Friday's going to let us in. She'll check your temperature, then you go straight to the medical bay which is on the third floor. You'll need to keep your distance and keep your masks on." She instructed. Nodding, the group approached the entrance. Psystorm, Peter and MJ were the first to enter. Once Friday cleared their temperatures, they took the elevator to the third floor, where they walked straight into the medical bay, where a table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by medical items like a heart monitor, a stethoscope and a sink for the good doctor to wash his hands. A first aid kit sat on the wall. The two young woman helped Peter up onto the table and steadied him. Once Psystorm was satisfied Peter was okay, she took her helmet off, allowing Carrie to show her face again. As she grabbed a blue mask and put it on, Brianna entered the sick bay after being cleared. Grabbing a nearby chair, Carrie invited her activist friend to sit down. The African-American nodded her thanks as she pulled her cellphone out and called her parents, tearfully apologising for worrying them and assuring them she was safe. Carrie noticed that Brianna looked like she just had a large weight lifted off her shoulders, and after the phone call she asked her activist friend why.

"I know where Livy is. A friend of mine from another school said he saw her with some other protestors outside the park. A bit early to call safe, but at least I know where she is." Brianna nodded, thanking Carrie for her concern.

The blonde then grabbed more chairs and began to space them out. As Brianna continued to check her phone, Alexis and Cat entered the room and took a seat each, followed by Ned and Betty. Bruce eventually bought up the rear, wearing a surgical mask as he finished pulling on a jacket. No longer the big green monster, he was in full "Doctor Banner" mode.

"Peter, I'll just take you for some X-rays to determine the extent of your injuries. As your physician, I cannot in good conscience advise you to return to battle at this time." Bruce informed Peter calmly.

"No shit, Sherlock." Cat quipped, as she looked at her phone.

"I'm coming with." MJ insisted, brooking no dissent.

"Us too." Ned added, as Betty nodded in agreement.

"Very well, then. I'm going to have to ask you to put on a mask, Peter. Carrie, it looks like Psystorm's going to be flying solo for the time being. Are you up to that?" Bruce issued two sets of instructions.

"Of course, Bruce. I'll make you proud." Carrie vowed, as she put her helmet back on. As she strode purposefully out of the tower, she got into contact with the AI. "Friday, find Olivia's phone."

"Current location: Corner of West 112th Street and Lenox Avenue." Friday informed.

"Thank you." Psystorm responded gratefully, before firing up her rocket powered wings, attached to a flight harness similar to that worn by the Falcon. Taking to the early summer skies, the Angel of New York set off to the north, set to unleash divine judgement on the Sons Of The Serpent and rescue her friend.

*** BLM ***

While Psystorm, Spiderman and the Hulk were battling the Serpents

Burning. A horrible, deep burning. That was how Olivia felt as the NYPD deployed tear gas assailed her senses. Her eyes resembled waterfalls as the irritation began to do its work. Her chest rose and fell as she coughed and spluttered. By no means was she alone in her suffering – Isaiah, Jamal and Shay were similarly affected. But as they had water bottles with them, they were able to mitigate the worst effects by taking sips of water and washing the gas out of their eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, Isaiah pulled Olivia off the ground, as the Italian-American gasped and cried.

"The gas is starting to fade, Olivia. Here, let me help you. " Isaiah offered, as he poured what was left of his bottle into her eyes, helping to clear the gas. Once that was done, the young African-American picked up a full, unopened bottle that lay in the ground. "Here. Take small sips." He instructed, in a gentle voice, as he placed the Italian-American's head in his lap, almost as if she was a new born child. As he placed the bottle to her lips, Olivia gratefully sipped away. The slow and gentle sips she took enabled the cool liquid to flow down her throat, soothing the burning caused by the gas.

"Awww. They look so cute." Shay cooed, in a voice that was slightly rough due to the coughing caused by the gas.

"Thanks, Isaiah." Olivia whispered, scratchily. "I feel much better now."

"You can make out later. We have to get back to our place." Jamal announced, as he got to his feet. By now, the cloud of gas had almost entirely dissipated. Behind them, they could still see the laser blasts and hear the gunshots from the battle going on behind them. They could see laser blasts coming from the Columbus Circle as well.

"Ok. We're near the Great Lawn. Our place is on West 131st, so that's about 20-25 minutes of walking. Once we get out of the park, it's almost straight onto Malcolm X Boulevard. But that's if we don't run into trouble." The oldest sibling assessed. "We had better get going."

Jamal and Shay led the way, as Isaiah and Olivia followed them. The quartet walked out of the green surroundings of the park, looked both ways, and started following Central Park West north. So far, things were looking good. All the conflict appeared to be confined to the park, and nobody had approached them or try to hurt them. However, as they reached the corner of West 107th Street, a shrill angry voice rang out.

"Hey, you bitch!"

Turning around, the group noticed a woman with curly brown hair, wearing a yellow T-shirt, blue Jean shorts and a white mask approach them. When Jamal began to ask just who the interrupter was calling a bitch, the woman was crystal clear in who she was calling out. "You! You cost me my job!" She accused, making a beeline for Olivia whilst pointing directly at her.

"What are you talking about? What the hell?!" Olivia demanded.

"September 2 2016, fuck you, evil woman named Karen, I'll never buy from you again…ring any bells?" The woman snapped. Slowly but surely, the cogs began to turn inside Olivia's head. The Italian-American vaguely recalled seeing her brown hair before. But from where? Eventually, the words she heard quoted back to her jogged her memory. Specifically, memories of how her best friend had felt humiliated and demonised. The realisation began to dawn on Olivia, and it was not a welcome one.

"You're…you're Karen. From Lower East Beauty." She whispered in acknowledgement.

"That's right. And thanks to your smear campaign, Lower East Beauty fired me." Karen seethed in fury.

"You know what? Nobody fired you. You lost the job for yourself when you decided to profile my friend, you racist cow." Olivia fired back, righteous fury swelling up within her. She and her companions had been put down enough today. Now it was time to fight back.

"How am I racist? Your little friend just stood there and didn't move around the shop after I showed her to the product she had requested. It looked like she was casing the shop. I had to treat her like a potential shoplifter – better to be safe than sorry." Karen retorted.

"By that logic, if she WAS a thief, then I, as her BFF, would also be in on the act. You should've searched both of us if you were so concerned. Yet you only searched one of us – the Black girl. I wonder why?" Olivia pondered, as she tapped her foot on the street.

"I knew it. You people are all the same." Karen laughed, shaking her head. "Whether it's five years or 200 years, you just can't let grudges go."

"Because you're doing such a stellar job of that." Olivia bit out, sarcastically.

"So writing "FIRE THIS BITCH!" In all caps, four years after this supposed traumatising experience, is letting go of a grudge?" The beautician fired back.

"Yeah, you are so over this grudge that you kept the receipts of the people calling you out. And FYI, I didn't write that." Olivia giggled.

"Well, can you blame me? I'm out of a job, my friends won't talk to me, and I can't go see my parents because of Covid. When you think about it, I suffered way more from this girl that was on stage today." Karen whined, in a plaintive voice.

Olivia slowly nodded her head and pursed her lips beneath her mask. It was taking all of her physical and spiritual willpower not to lash out and attack this irritating woman. She doesn't know how apt her name is! The Italian-American thought wryly. Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to the former assistant and began to speak slowly and deliberately.

"Three things. First of all, we're not having this conversation if you just treated Brianna and I equally. Brianna, not 'that girl'! She has a goddamn name! Second of all, I'm not perfect – I did something that alienated me from my friends, and I had to eat some shit before I got let back into their good graces. You're a big girl – take your fucking medicine! And you think you're so special? You think you're part of an endangered few, like the California condor, that can't travel while the rest of us are all throwing barbecues up in here?! I don't know what to say to that. But I do know what to say to you. The four of us? We got tear-gassed today. This brave guy right here?" At these words, she pointed to Isaiah and his still-bandaged eye. "He got hit in the face with a rubber bullet. And if you truly believe that you, with your steady supply of food and your cable and whatever else, are more of a victim than he is? Well, you can't fix stupid. In conclusion, I stand by what I said in that Yelp review. Fuck you, fuck your quiet, genteel bigotry and super Kentucky fried FUCK your delusional entitlement! By the way, anybody who calls anybody else little is one of the smallest people of all."

With that, Olivia, Isaiah, Jamal and Shay turned in their heels and left a downcast Karen in their wake, staring dejected in the street.

Unbeknownst to the Italian-American, her encounter was being filmed in a cell phone from a boy that was standing a few feet away. He was Caucasian, with black hair, a yellow jacket, blue jeans and a black mask. His name was Obie, and he went to a private school on the Upper East Side. Once he was satisfied, he opened up his contacts, found the name Brianna, and sent the video off to her with them following message: Here's your BFF, Bri. She's gonna be famous in a few minutes.

As they walked away, the three African-Americans were very impressed with Olivia's courage – and her mouth.

"Damn! That girl got told!" Shay laughed and slapped Olivia's shoulder.

"You must talk some mad trash on the soccer field, huh?" Isaiah added, grinning like an idiot.

"Only if you puss me off." Olivia smirked, basking in her triumph.

"Okay, guys. We're getting closer. Just a left turn onto Lenox and Malcolm X Boulevard, and it's practically a straight-ahead walk to our place." Jamal announced, stirring hope and optimism within the group. They rounded the corner onto the boulevard and began the walk north towards safety. However, at the corner of West 112th Street, they would meet their next challenge. A large, hulking brute of a Serpent, holding a blaster, stood in their path. The man's hair was a rather bizarre sight to see, dyed in American red, white and blue. There was no doubt whose side this delusional man thought he was on.

"Stop right there! Hands up!" The fighter ordered, raising his weapon in their direction. Slowly, the group did as he asked them to.

"Ha ha! Not so tough without the super A team around, are ya? Backs up against the wall! Come on!" He yelled, gesturing to a shuttered hairdressing studio across the street. Shuffling their feet whilst anxiously glancing at one another, Olivia, Isaiah, Shay and Jamal lined up against the back of the studio. The Italian-American began to feel a burning rage towards their captor. How was it just that a group of people who just wanted dignity for their fellow human beings were about to seemingly meet their ends at the hands of a maniac? Inhaling deeply and summoning her courage, the Italian-American issued a challenge to the Serpent.

"Oh wow. You're such a big man, picking on children. You're not tough at all." She sneered, a note of contempt in her voice.

"Tougher than you, I'll bet." The Serpent riposted.

"Then why don't you put down that alien toy of yours and prove it." Olivia demanded, looking him square in the eye. "Unless you're a pussy."

"What did you say?" The tall soldier growled, in a menacing voice.

"Olivia! What are you doing?!" Isaiah hissed, more fearful than angry.

"You heard me, pussy. If you're so tough, let's see you beat me one on one." Olivia declared. Turning to Isaiah, she looked him straight in the eyes and vowed: "I won't let anybody hurt you. Not if I can help it."

"This is crazy! You'll get yourself killed!" Jamal protested.

"My grandpa was prepared to die for what he believed in. Why should I be any different?" Olivia reasoned, throwing up her fists.

The Serpent let a cocky smirk cross his face. "Okay, then. It's a deal." He agreed as he set down his weapon. "I'm going to enjoy teaching you a lesson, border jumper."

"I FUCKING LIVE HERE!" The Italian-American screamed, as she rushed head long into the battle and took a swing at her enemy. However, it was easily blocked, and Olivia soon found herself thrown to the street. As the Serpent began to advance, she began to remember the various lessons in fighting and self-defence she had learned from her brother, Marco. A budding UFC welterweight fighter, he had seen it as his duty to educate her on how to keep herself safe in the big city. These were only for use whether she felt genuinely threatened. Now that Olivia was in a fight for her life, now was the time to use them. Lashing out with her right foot, she collected her assailant square in the nether region. As he doubled over, Olivia got to her feet, grabbed hold of his shoulders and began to strike him in the face. Her fists pounded repeatedly on his eyes and nose. The Serpent slugged her left cheek extremely hard, causing her disorientation. As he prepared to deliver another blow, the Italian-American struck the Serpent's left ear. The palm strike caused the enemy to stagger back, holding his ear in distress. Isaiah, Shay and Jamal were shouting and cheering, not daring to believe she could get this far.

On paper, there was no way that Olivia should have been going blow for blow with this man. He had almost a foot of size on her, and he was certainly more experienced at hand to hand combat than her. And yet, the Italian-American was going toe to toe and blow for blow with him. The young woman was fuelled by anger – anger at the state of the world, anger at her recent family tragedy, anger at America's disastrous handling of Covid, anger at what had happened to Brianna and Isaiah. It was almost as if God had presented all her problems to her in the form of her very own Goliath, and dared her to knock him down.

As he steadied, the Serpent nodded in Olivia's direction, respecting her toughness. "You've got some skills, girl. And some guts. But this ends now."

From then on, the nature of their duel changed. The Serpent had begun to punch and box clever, making this a more tactical fight as opposed to a basic street duel. He used his height and reach advantage to stop Olivia from getting close to him and keeping her on the back foot. He kept firing jabs at her torso and her face, gradually wearing her down. As he saw her starting to stagger, he went for the finish. The Serpent threw a sharp left right combination into her gut, causing to cry out in pain and double over. As Olivia looked up, she saw her opponent load up on a huge right hand which was aimed straight for her jaw.

It connected with a sickening thud, sending pain signals throughout her face. Her head bounced off the road as she fell, and her world was made dark.

Psystorm P.O.V.

"OLIVIA! NO!" Psystorm screamed, as she watched the towering Serpent knock her friend unconscious. She was stunned as she watched a young African-American boy about Olivia's age rush at the enemy to try and attack him. However, his punch was easily blocked and he was thrown to the ground. A man who looked to be slightly older charged forward and got a few punches in, however he too was dispatched. Looking down, she saw a young woman rush over to Olivia and check on her. Grateful for her presence, Psystorm descended to street level and squatted bedside her.

"Is she okay? She's my friend." The superhero urged, as the protestor put her fingers on Olivia's neck.

"I've got a pulse. She'll be fine." The African-American nodded reassuringly.

"Thank you. I had to protect some other friends during the initial attack, so I couldn't get to her." Psystorm explained, desperately. "What's your name?"

"I'm Shay. These two headstrong idiots defending the family honour are my brothers, Jamal and Isaiah. We met Olivia after her dad patched Izzy up after he got hurt at another protest. I'm just repaying the favour." Shay told Psystorm, as she related the context of their being together. Realisation then hit the young protestor. "You're Psystorm, right? The Guardian Angel? You mind doing something about that guy?" She asked as she indicated the Serpent, who had just clocked Isaiah square in the mouth.

"With pleasure." Psystorm growled, as she sauntered over to the tall America haired man.

"At last! A true heavyweight, not in size but in power!" He cackled, as he focused on Psystorm.

"Shut up and take your medicine, you big bully." The Angel snapped back, as she flared her powers. Several items, including a lamp post and the street sign above, began to tremble and shake. Isaiah and Jamal, who had joined Shay in assisting an unconscious Olivia, tensed up. They knew they were about to witness something special. Focusing with all her might, she levitated a nearby Stop sign and sent it flying at the henchman, who dived to his right in order to avoid being hit by it. Rolling to his feet, he ran over to his blaster, picked it up, and fired straight at the young Avenger's head. Psystorm rolled into the alleyway and took cover as the laser energy whisked right by her. Using all her instincts, she ran and took cover behind a nearby supermarket. Seeing a broken bottle on the ground, she sent it flying at her assailant as he rounded the corner. He took shelter behind an adjacent café to avoid the shards. These would be their positions for several minutes. Attack and counter-attack, flare up and power blast, Psystorm's telekinesis and the Serpent's Chitauri blaster vied for dominance. Eventually, hero and villain peeked out across at one another. They knew nature abhorred a stalemate, and that one of them was destined to go down. The Serpent charged Psystorm with all his might and prepared to fire as the Angel fired up her wings and flew to her target. As the villain raised his weapon to fire, Psystorm made a move that would decide the battle. She stopped underneath the blue laser blast and grabbed the giant's legs and pinned them together so he could not move. Using his weight against him, she tackled him to the ground, the impact causing his weapon to be knocked loose. Before he could try to reach it, Psystorm deployed a little trick she had learned from Olivia's brother, Marco. Grabbing the opponent's right forearm, Psystorm positioned his arm and elbow between her knees. Squeezing her legs near his shoulder, the superhero then pulled his arm towards her, initiating what was commonly known in mixed martial arts as an armbar. The goal of the moth was to hyperextend the opponent's elbow, causing him to either submit or risk serious injury.

"Why did you do this? What was your mission?" Psystorm demanded, in a harsh voice.

"Fuck off." The Serpent gritted in pain. These were not wise words, however, because Psystorm pulled his wrist towards her chest and applied pressure with her hips, sinking the hold in tighter and applying further pressure to the elbow. The Serpent's face was contorted in agony. Forced to choose between betraying his leader and the ignominy of having his arm broken by a girl, he decided to bite the bullet.

"Okay! I'll tell you whatever you want! Just leave my arm alone!" He begged. Having achieved the desired outcome, Psystorm released the arm and got back to her feet. The villain was hissing and wincing as he cradled his arm and massaged his elbow.

"What was the goal behind today's attacks?" Psystorm questioned, aggressively.

"The goal was to overthrow the city government. We were the advance party. After we had decimated law enforcement, a second wave of troops would take out the Mayor and his cabinet and install Daniel Dunn as Mayor by force. And it would've worked if you guys didn't show up." He responded whilst rubbing his shoulder.

"Where is Daniel Dunn now? How protected is he?" She interrogated.

"Dunn and his partner, Montague Hale, have a personal guard of 300 men to protect them. They're real tough bastards. Former Hydra Strike members, Black Ops, former Navy Seals – the best of the best. And they don't have these kid toys, if you know what I mean. You'll never get to them." The Serpent pointed out. A small smirk crossed his face. "How does it feel, torturing somebody for information?" He needled.

"I wasn't torturing you. I was doing whatever it took to win the fight." Psystorm shot back. Lifting him up by his khaki shirt, she punched him hard in his face, bloodying his nose in the process. "And now it's finished." She declared with conviction as she walked around and picked up his weapon. As she approached the group of protestors, she saw a sight that bought her heart. Olivia, though obviously hurt and groggy, was sitting up and conscious. Isaiah and Shay were sitting on the street with her, looking encouraged.

"Olivia! Thank goodness you're okay!" Psystorm smiled, as she knelt down in front of her.

"Carrie? That you?" Olivia murmured, before wincing and rubbing her head. "Gah! Why does it feel like the Green Line train just hit me?!" Withdrawing her hand with the side of her head, she was shocked to see blood stain her fingers.

"Take it easy, Livy. You might have a concussion." Carrie warned, not bothering with the costume as she showed her face to her friend. "But you remembered my name. That's a good sign. Do you remember who these guys are?"

"Yeah. Isaiah, Shay and Jamal." Olivia answered, flashing a weak smile at Isaiah. The African-American youth returned the gesture as their eyes locked on to each others. Reaching out his hand, Isaiah pulled the Italian-American to her feet and grabbed her shoulders as he helped her to stand.

"Guess, this is a bad time for the first date, huh?" Isaiah joked, lending some levity to the situation.

"I'll take her to the tower. Give Bruce a chance to check you out." Carrie promised.

"Yeah. About that." Jamal interjected. " if you're taking Olivia, then somebody has to take that thing." The older brother then pointed to the Chitauri blaster that Carrie held. "Do you really think it's a good idea for a bunch of Black kids to walk around with God as my witness alien weaponry in this situation?"

"Point taken." The blonde conceded. "Okay, I'll take the blaster back to Bruce for research, and you can take Olivia. But where's the nearest hospital?"

"Mount Sinai's only a few blocks away." Shay informed, as she checked her phone.

"Okay. I'll leave you to it, then. You're going to be okay, Livy?" Carrie questioned, concerned.

"I'll be fine, Carrie. Go save the others." The Italian-American murmured.

"Brianna's safe. There's only Danielle left. I'll go get her." Carrie vowed, before taking to the skies with the blaster in hand. As she flew, she got in touch with Tony. "How are things on your end?" She asked.

"Cap and I are mopping up the last resistors now, with the help of the National Guard." The billionaire answered. "How'd you go, Carrie. Got your friends out?"

"Mostly. Peter took a spill during a skirmish, and Bruce is X-raying him. Olivia got clocked by a Serpent and is being taken to Mount Sinai Hospital for a head wound and possible concussion. I also found out something about the Sons Of The Serpent's plans. They were plotting to overthrow the city government and install Daniel Dunn as mayor. An honest-to-God military coup." Carrie noted, feeling slightly ill.

"Shit. The good news is he's probably going to go to ground – he wouldn't dream of coming to New York now. Not with us and the National Guard here." Tony noted, sagely.

"Just because he's going to ground, doesn't mean we should stop worrying. The Serpent I stopped told me that Dunn and his partner are guarded by elite soldiers, including former elements of Hydra." Carrie pointed out.

"A problem for another day." Tony mused to himself.

"How are the others doing?" Carrie wondered.

"Bird Boy and Mr. Metal Arm are taking out the Serpents on the Upper East Side. Nat and her crew are holding the line at the Brooklyn Bridge." Tony updated. Scene's from the battles flashed to Carrie's HUD, including Sam protecting himself from blasts with his Falcon shell and stroking back with missiles, Bucky pummelling an opponent with his metal arm and firing his arm cannon, Natasha exchanging gunfire with a Serpent before Clint sniped him with an arrow from the top of the Brooklyn Bridge and Vision and Wanda incapacitating Serpents with waves of powerful psychic energy. "How's everything going with the rescue ops?"

"Brianna, Lex, Cat and Peter's friends are all safe. Olivia's in safe hands at Mount Sinai, so that leaves Danielle." Carrie responded. She then heard Tony let out a long sigh. The telekinetic tensed – it was never good news when Tony wanted to avoid discussing something.

"There's something you need to know about Sister Act, Care-bear. I'm sending you a video." A video of a breaking news report from ABC News showed up on her HUD. The chyron at the bottom of the footage read: "BREAKING: YOUTUBE PERSONALITY FEARED KIDNAPPED." The blood inside Carrie's veins turned to ice.

"Now for some more breaking news from today's disturbing attacks in New York City. We have received several reports – which we should note are unverified at this time – that YouTube personality Danielle Horton has been abducted during the course of the attacks. The blogger, known to her audience as DJ Dani, was last seen near the Concourse Plaza cinema in the Bronx. While NYPD sources confirmed they were following some leads, they would not comment further on Horton's case. However, several people familiar with the blogger spoke anonymously to ABC News suggesting that her disappearance and the ongoing terror situation may be linked. Horton has been open about her past links to neo-Nazi gangs, serving a year in youth detention for her role in the anti-Semitic vandalisation of the Van Cortlandt Jewish Centre in Kingsbridge Heights in 2016. She has apologised publicly for this conduct several times, with our New York affiliate having recorded footage of her addressing the synagogue to deliver a public apology. Horton has spoken out strongly against racism and anti-Semitism ever since, and particularly in the last few days, where she publicly criticised her security guard father for allegedly participating in racial profiling. Given what we know about the Sons Of The Serpent, the question must be asked: are they willing to intimidate and silence anti-racist voices?"

*** BLM ***

The hum of the engine and the sound of her own beating heart were the only sounds Danielle heard as the car carried her to her destination. Ever since she had been taken prisoner by Wendy and Kimberley, her mind had wandered to various ideas, in a vain attempt to disassociate herself from what was currently transpiring. The first topic she dwelt on was what she had been protesting that day – systemic inequality. Surely news of what had happened to her must have become public knowledge by now. She imagined breathless reporters looking for answers and search parties being formed. And yet, she thought bitterly, this crime would probably not have such visibility if it had been Brianna or Daria being kidnapped. This was known as "missing white girl syndrome", a phenomenon that emphasised telegenic, desirable and often white victims over others. It seemed almost appropriate that the point that so many were trying to make should be proven at her death.

"The second idea she contemplated was martyrdom. As a Catholic, she loved reading about the lives of all the Saints and martyrs who gave their lives in service of Jesus. Danielle was particularly enchanted with the stories of those martyrs who were killed in their teens for standing up for their faith. She thought of Saint Philomena, killed for her refusal to marry the Emperor Diocletian and give up her consecrated virginity, Saint Joan of Arc, who was falsely condemned as a heretic by a partisan tribunal and Saint Olivia of Palmeiro, killed by invading Vandals. The brunette also greatly admired Saints Maximilian Kolbe and Edith Stein, martyred in the hell on earth that was Auschwitz, as well as the Carmelite martyrs of Compiegne, executed by French revolutionaries. As someone who was discerning joining the Descalced Carmelites, Danielle could only pray that she display even a tenth of their devotion and obedience. The Church had a formal term for members of the faithful who were killed thusly – martyr in odium fidei (in hatred of the faith). Another term for those who suffered under totalitarian regimes was in odium caritas – a hatred of charity. Regimes like the Nazis, the Soviets and the French revolutionaries had little regard for the sanctity of human life, and as such constantly sinned against the virtue of charity. If Wendy and Kimberley's purpose in kidnapping her was because of her condemnation of their actions, which had its very roots in her newly found Catholic faith, then surely their actions should also constitute hatred of the faith? And did not their open, naked hatred of others constitute a rejection of Christian charity, the virtue which enabled Christians to carry out Christ's great command, love one another. Lord, if it's Your will to give me a martyr's crown today, make me worthy to receive it. She prayed, fervently.

The third thought she went was an unsettling one – one that bought on a wave of incredible sadness. I don't want my dad's last memory of me to be one of anger. With tears rolling down her face, Danielle began to pray the Lord's Prayer, the Hail Mary and the Glory Be, the staples of her prayer diet. Prayer had kept her strong during the tough times she had endured during her life, and she hoped it would keep her strong at the hour of her death.

Eventually, the brunette felt the car slowly coming to a stop. She tensed up as she heard doors slam and vague chatter, as well as the sound of footsteps. Shrinking back as the trunk opened, she saw Wendy and Kimberley looking down at her.

"Cheer up, Jew lover. It won't be long now." Wendy catcalled, a look of malevolent cruelty in her face. She and Kimberley reached down and hauled Danielle out of the trunk and began to frog March her into the house. Looking around, she noticed a truck across the street bearing advertising for Sellers & Son Plumbing in Yonkers. I'm in Yonkers? That's not too far from home. She thought, with a small tinge of relief. Her kidnappers walked her through their humble abode. On a table to her left in the kitchen were a stack of various bills, featuring red warning stamps such as DUE, PAST DUE and FINAL NOTICE. It was clear that these two women were struggling to make ends meet. It was not an excuse, but it was a reason – fetid living conditions tended to cause one to search for a scapegoat, which was often found in minorities. Turning on a light, the duo led Danielle down to the basement. It was cold, mouldy and damp, causing her to rub her arms and shiver. She was released from her zip ties and forced into a small chair, as Kimberley then picked up a frayed electrical cord and began to re-tie her hands. Wendy took the used zip cuffs up the stairs with her, presumably to dispose of the evidence. Once she had returned, her two kidnappers took a seat on the couch on the opposite side of the basement. After what had seemed like an eternity, Danielle found the courage to speak to her kidnappers.

"Listen, I know how this works." The brunette began. "I've seen the movies and shows. You've let me see your faces. I'm not getting out of here alive. I just want to know some things about you two. You have defined my life, in such a bad way. Would you do me the courtesy of telling me your story before I go?"

The two neo-Nazis exchanged looks with one another before Wendy nodded. 'Sure. The dead can't tell secrets." She agreed.

"Okay. First of all, what your names?" She inquired, looking them in the eyes.

"Wendy. This is Kimberley." The blonde criminal introduced.

"Those are beautiful names. How long have you known each other, Wendy and Kimberley?" The brunette probed.

"Our whole lives. We're sisters. This is actually our childhood home." Kimberley answered, openly.

"What's your relationship to the Sons Of The Serpent?" Danielle inquired.

"We're not members. But we support their cause. I'm tired of being a second class citizen in my own country." Wendy fumed.

"How did you end up in Devoe Park that night?" Danielle wondered.

"It all started when we were twelve. Our parents were out shopping at a fruit market across from the SMR parkway. However, the store got hit by somebody collecting protection for the Russian mob. Our folks tried to step in and…he got them." Wendy whispered this last part, sadly.

"I'm so sorry. I know how it feels to-" Danielle began, but was cut off.

"This isn't your story, you dirty half-breed." The older sister growled, causing Danielle to wince.

"Anyway." Kimberley stepped in. "Nothing happened. Bastard got off on a technicality. We were living with our uncle, and that just set him off. He told us that the Jews ran the Russian mafia, and that they had influence in the D.A's office, and that was why our parent's murderer went free. And that was the first time we learned he was into the neo-Nazi scene."

"We didn't care about camps or gas chambers. All we knew was that our uncle and his neo-Nazi buddies were going to hurt the people who destroyed our family. That thought was the only thing that kept us going. One day, his crew found the guy who did it and burned him and his whole family alive. He actually showed me the video. I have to admit, it was very satisfying." She smirked at Danielle, who was fighting hard to stop the bile rising in her throat.

"When I was 16 and Kim 14, he introduced us to his crew, HKB or Hakenkruezbrudern – brothers of the Hakenkruez, or as it's more commonly known, the swastika." As Wendy pointed up, Danielle cast her eyes around the walls. Sure enough, the swastika was prominently displayed. In addition to the red Nazi standard, the symbol also appeared on a black and red striped flag surrounded by clenched white fists, as well as a pink version on a white background surrounded by lillies. In addition, there was the Gadsden flag that the Sons Of The Serpent rallied behind.

"You like them?" Wendy simpered.

"Fascinating." Danielle drawled, sarcasm rolling off of every syllable. "Wake me up when I care." If they're going to kill me anyway, I might as well troll them. They expect me to be meek and deferential – that's not going to happen! At least not when their chamber pot of an ideology is concerned!

"The black and red flag is my uncle's group's flag. I asked him if he would let Kim and I join. He said no, you know, brothers and all. But he did encourage me to start a chapter for young women and girls. That's what this flag is for." Pointing out the pink and white flag, she continued. "This is my flag. Our chapter's flag. HKS – Hakenkruezschwestern. The Sisters. We even have our own ink." Rolling up their sleeves, Wendy and Kimberley showed Danielle the gang's symbol – a lily with the swastika marked in the petals.

"We were a refuge for young white women who had issues with minorities and who felt lost in mainstream society, First, we hook them with booze and karate. Then we hard sold them on the idea they had to use these skills to defend their streets for their people. Whether it was against black and Latin thugs or Muslim terrorists and rapists, if they had any wounds from minorities, we would pour salt in them, stoke their anger and secure them to our cause. They all felt like this new, tolerant society was screwing them over. They were just like you." Kimberley explained.

"And you could've been part of this, Danielle. I meant it when I said you had potential. That night when we met you, you had the same air that many of our soldiers had – that life was beating you down. Of course, the grudge against your Jewish "mother" was the icing on the cake. We couldn't believe our luck! All we had to do was show you that there were like minded people and you would've been ours. You can still be a part of it." Wendy continued. "You see, membership took a major hit after two of our girls got popped for selling meth. Apparently, safe spaces don't seem so safe when the drug trade is involved. So, we'll give you one chance to save yourself."

At this point, Wendy produced a pad and pen and offered them to the brunette blogger. "All you have to do is write to your parents and tell them that you didn't mean it when you denounced our ways the first time and that you're leaving home to fight for the White race. What do you say, DJ?"

"I'd rather eat actual shit than endorse your worldview for one more minute. And speaking of shit, your idea of what the world should be looks like a full chamber pot, and smells like one too! God gave this world a rainbow, not a blank sheet! And I'd rather stand with the truth of the one true God than the fantasy of a man who died in a bunker like a coward!" Danielle growled, looking Wendy straight in the eye.

"I'll take that as a no then." Wendy remarked, tossing her hair. "Here's a little secret: The vermin of this world are going to be crushed under our boot one day. You just secured your place with them, traitor."

*** BLM ***

While Danielle and her kidnappers were talking

Carrie sped across the New York sky in her Psystorm battle gear. She may be flying lightly, but her heart and soul were weighed down by the terrible news regarding Danielle. She would never forget the scared and anxious faces of her friends, with their eyes giving her one unmistakable order: Bring her home. And her task was not made easier when Tony informed her that the Avengers would not be able to accompany her on this leg of the mission. Even though they had more or less defeated the main Serpent army, they would need to undergo lengthy debriefs with S.H.I.E.L.D and the National Guard. However, Tony did give her a lead – and an opportunity.

"My research showed that there's only been one white nationalist gang for women active in the Bronx in 2016, when Danielle was arrested. That was HKS, the acronym being German for Sisters Of The Swastika. I guess SOS didn't fit the brand. It was started by a Wendy Briggs and her sister Kim. Their uncle is Hunter Briggs, a known neo-Nazi who's doing time in Sing Sing for murder and illegal firearm possession. These girls won't play around – you're going to need backup. Fortunately, a friend of mine says he can help."

With Nakia and Shuri

Nakia put her head down and sprinted as hard as she could. Jumping on the top of an overturned car, she hit a flying leg strike to an attacking Serpent knocking him over. Shuri fired her energy gauntlets at the pavement, creating a cloud of dust to blind her opponent. Once that was achieved, she took advantage of the cover to land several blows to his body. Just then, the communicators both women had began to beep, signalling an incoming message from her brother. Turning it on, the visage of her brother, T'Challa, the king of Wakanda and the Black Panther, flashed on the screens.

"Hello, Shuri, Nakia. How is your mission?" T'Challa questioned.

"We've taken care of the Serpents, but their resistance means we can't reach Barnes." Shuri huffed..

"Rest easy, dear sister. Your therapy has done wonders for Barnes – he passed his test with flying colours. Which is just as well, because you have a new mission." T'Challa explained, in his rich African accent.

"What?" Nakia inquired, intrigue in her voice. She loved nothing more than to serve her king in combat.

"Tony Stark's adopted daughter, Carrie, is an Avenger as well. And she needs your help to recover an associate of hers that was kidnapped during the Serpent attack." The Black Panther informed his sister and lieutenant.

"Doesn't she have the other Avengers? Why can't they do it?" Shuri inquired, annoyed at the thought of being saddled with another bloody coloniser.

"Due to their allegiance to S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers are required to undergo certain formalities after their operations. You two have more flexibility in that regard. Tony Stark helped secure justice for my father and the people of Wakanda. Now it is time for the favour to be returned." T'Challa analysed, thoughtfully. "Here is a photo of the girl in question from Stark's database." A photo of Danielle flashed up on the communicator, causing Shuri to let out a gasp. "That's the scarecrow girl! The one I pointed out to you!"

"Stark believes she is being held by a leader of a Nazi gang." T'Challa gave his thoughts.

"Any links to Hydra?" Nakia pressed, looking for actionable intelligence.

"My source doesn't believe so. At any rate, Carrie should be with you right about now. Good luck." T'Challa announced, signing off. A loud noise like the blast of a rocket filled the sky. A creature dressed in white and gold circled in the sky and descended to the ground. The gold mask came away, revealing a young woman underneath. Looking at the pair, she introduced herself. "Hi. I'm Psystorm. And you must be Nakia and Shuri."

"That's Princess Shuri to you, coloniser." Shuri muttered, attempting to show her influence.

"Warriors and enemies do not respect titles. They respect skill and power." Nakia noted, sagely. She then turned to Carrie. "In the Wakandan armed forces, one must prove their strength to be accepted to guard the nation." She half-informed, half-challenged. The former spy wanted to see whether this new warrior was worthy to follow into battle. Nakia then felt the earth begin to pulse. She and Shuri looked up in amazement to see Carrie, with her arms outstretched, telekinetically levitating everything that wasn't nailed down. Stones, bottles and crates were floating, and even cars and street signs were beginning to shake. With a flex of her arms, the items were then lowered to the ground.

"Powerful enough for you?" Carrie remarked, raising her eyebrows.

"Impressive. If you can fight well, you will be a useful asset." Nakia mused, as she pondered what she had just seen. "Now, let's get down to business. Shuri will help track down your friend."

"Luckily for us, a few moments is all I need." Shuri grinned, as she set to work. Bringing up Danielle's picture, Shuri started her investigation. "I'll cross-reference her facial features against all CCTV cameras in the Bronx today." She announced, as she ran the search. When the results were returned, she grew interested. "Okay. I've got several hits. Narrowing down to after the initial Serpent attack, I have two. One opposite the Bronx Criminal Court, and one in a parking building on East 163rd. And…we've got them!" The communicator screen showed Danielle being escorted to a white car by her abductors. Focusing on the car's license plate, Shuri continued her search. "Now, I'll cross-reference the car's plates with New York's DMV records."

"You can do all this on that?" Carrie inquired, flabbergasted.

"Oh trust me, white girl. Whatever you currently have, we had before you, and we did it better." The princess smirked, taking pride in the accomplishments of her people. "And bingo! The car is registered to a Wendy Briggs, who lives in Yonkers."

"That was one of the names Dad gave me. How soon can we get there?" Carrie asked, hope beginning to surge.

"Only five minutes, if we go really fast. I'll get us a ride." Shuri remarked, pressing some more on her screen.

In an grocery store in the Bronx, several civilians huddled amongst the produce as they sought refuge from the fighting. However, beneath the floorboards, several African men and women were watching the events of the Battle Of The Serpents on monitors. A flag that was striped green and red with a red panther head on it. This was the flag of Wakanda, and the Panther head represented Bast, the Panther god of the African nation. These people were agents of the War Dogs, Wakanda's foreign intelligence agency. They had watched throughout the day as Nakia and Shuri, along with a battalion of War Dog operatives had fought to protect the citizens of the Bronx. The victory was all but won, but some assistance still needed to be given.

"I've just received communication from the princess. Looks like she needs a quick ride." N'gane, the chief of the New York station, announced. He was a balding, muscular man who wore oval-shaped glasses – strength and intelligence in one lethal package. Having previously served in the Wakandan army, his skills at reading a battle situation were held in high esteem by many within the royal court and the War Dogs.

"Can we spare her and Nakia, though?" A woman who worked as an analyst remarked.

"We have secured the Bronx, the Avengers have almost secured Manhattan, and the State National Guard has been deployed, which will hopefully account for any stragglers and a second wave. Deploy RR-7." N'gane ordered, sternly. "Let us show this white Angel how to travel in Wakandan style." He flashed a grin, as he looked at Psystorm on one of the monitors.

In the Bronx Zoo, in a state of the art habitat, a wondrous-looking white rhino reached down and luxuriously munched on a pile of grass. A gesture of goodwill between Wakanda and America, this unique animal had been loaned to the zoo for a period of three years in an effort to promote the previously hermit nation. Great care had been taken with this exhibit, with every effort made to closely replicate the lush plains of Wakanda. On sunny days, the roof of the habitat would be opened, allowing the rhino to get some warmth on his hide.

Well, whatever parts of it were not covered in vibranium armour, anyway.

As the rhino looked up from eating, a sensor that was attached to his head emitted a energy pulse, as the door on one side of the exhibit opened. Letting out a series of roars, the rhino lowered its mighty horned head and charged through the door and into a tunnel which would take him to the streets. This was no ordinary rhino – this was a Wakandan rescue rhino, trained specifically to assist the people of his homeland in battle. The fact that he was disturbed in the middle of a meal meant only one thing – urgent assistance was required.

After waiting a few minutes, the trio felt the earth start to shake. Shuri and Nakia looked encouraged, whilst Carrie was lost for words as she saw what could only be described as a armoured rhinoceros galloping down the Grand Concourse. People either screamed and ran for cover or filmed in their phones. Eventually, the rhino skidded to a halt in front of them and lowered its magnificent head, like a horse beckoning a rider.

"Well, jump on!" Shuri invited, as she climbed aboard the unique creature, accompanied by Nakia. Carrie soon joined them, knowing this was her only chance to get her friend back.

"Now I'll put our route into the rhino's GPS…and hold on tight!" Shuri warned. Carrie soon realised what she meant as the rhino began to gallop at full pace, following the route that Shuri had planned from their base near Yankee Stadium to their target in Yonkers. As she felt the rhino move under her, Carrie let out a loud squeal and desperately clung tight to Nakia's torso in an effort to stabilise herself. To her surprise, the skilled fighter showed no sign of complaint. Carrie instinctively realised that she had probably encountered more discomfort than that in her line of work. As they neared the Yonkers city limits, Carrie tried to telepathically reach out to her friend.

I'm coming, Danielle! Hang in there! She thought, desperately.

*** BLM ***

Upstairs in their house, Wendy and Kimberley were dousing one of the bedrooms of the small house with gasoline. As soo as they had killed Danielle, they intended to burn the house to the ground, and any evidence along with it. They had come this far, and for the elder sister Wendy, there was no going back. The younger sister, however, had other ideas.

"Hey Wendy, I'm starting to think maybe we shouldn't kill her. Maybe we should hold her for ransom instead." Kimberley suggested.

"Why? What good would that do?" Wendy questioned, as the quiet splatter of gasoline being poured continued.

"Maybe we can get some of these bills paid…get the house fixed up…start a new life free from all this…" The younger sister sighed, a note of unearned optimism in her voice.

Wendy let out a disgusted laugh and shook her head. "Of course. You never had the stomach for this, Kim. You never were a true believer. That much was clear. If Uncle Hunter hadn't explicitly told me to look after you, you would've been cut loose a long time ago. Quite frankly, it was a miracle you were able to stick to the script in there."

"So cut me loose, then. You know I never bought this anti-Semitic bullshit that you and uncle revelled in. Why keep somebody around that weighs your precious cause down?" Kimberley retorted.

"Because I love you." Wendy declared, a rare note of emotion in her voice. "And I loved Mum and Dad, who would've wanted you to be safe."

"You think Mum and Dad would've wanted this?!" Kimberley shouted, raising her voice to Wendy, who shrunk back briefly.

"I know they would've wanted their killer to pay the price. Anything after that is irrelevant. So, go on. Leave. Live your own life. You had better hope the authorities don't find out you were involved in this shitshow. Prison won't be kind to you without our family's influence. It's better this way, trust me." Wendy responded, her voice becoming heavy and devoid of its usual bite.

"So. What's next?" Kimberley sighed, defeated.

"Uncle has friends in Kentucky. We'll lay low there until the publicity dies down. Maybe we'll start up our crew again under a different name. Gold only knows there's disaffected youth to burn right now." Wendy answered, finishing her gasoline pouring. Once she had finished, she moved on to the kitchen and living area. Her task completed, she then picked up her pistol and loaded six bullets into it. "It's time." She whispered, as she and Kimberley walked across the sodden carpet and descended the stairs to the basement. However, they did not notice the giant animal galloping down Roberts Avenue.

Nakia and Shuri dismounted from the rhino gracefully, whilst Carrie, who was still adjusting to the armoured creature, was slightly more clumsy. The telekinetic was grateful beyond belief to Nakia and Shuri for agreeing to assist her. It was the budding genius of the princess and advanced Wakandan technology that had enabled them to come this far. Now it was time for Nakia's skills to come to the fore, the spy's lengthy experience of infiltration and warfare being vital to this next phase of the mission.

"The first thing we need to do is surveil the perimeter, in order to make sure there is no ambush waiting. I will take the left side, so you can take the right, Carrie. Stay low." The Dora Milaje soldier ordered. Nodding, Carrie split off from Nakia as she cased the right hand side of the house. She stepped gently and tenderly around the car in the driveway, and peeked under it to make sure there were no nasty surprises hidden underneath. She then slinked alongside the side of the house, keeping her gaze low and looking for things like booby traps or IED's. As she searched, she came across Nakia, who was doing likewise for the other side of the house..

"You find anything?" Carrie inquired.

"No. Didn't expect to either – these don't seem like the types that can afford advanced hardware." Nakia assessed, bluntly. "Okay, let's check out the house as well. Be careful – they could have set a trap."

The trio then entered the dwelling. As they stepped in, they noticed that the floor was slick and sticky. As their footsteps squelched along, Shuri's ears pricked up when she took a closer look at what was coating the garment. "Nakia, Carrie, this is gasoline. We had better be careful – they might be planning to burn us alive or destroy evidence." Nakia and Carrie nodded as they took the warning of the princess to heart.

Meanwhile, Wendy and Kimberley were in the basement with Danielle. Their captive had her hands bound in front of her, whilst Wendy had the loaded pistol pointed at her head. "Any last words?" Wendy smirked.

"You know, I understand why you two turned to white supremacy. I do. Because you loved your parents so much, and the pain of thinking about what you lost was so horrible that you turned to hate. Anything to avoid thinking about the injustice that your parents had suffered. But you see? The issue was never that man's ethnicity or religion – it was his criminality. And justice was clearly not done by the courts. That's why I marched today. I marched so that no other family would see their loved one's killers go free, and turn to radicalism to cope. The kind of reform that's needed? That can only come through the dismantling of systemic racism. Which your fellow travellers claim doesn't exist." Danielle stated, firmly. Her gaze never wavered from Wendy's eyes.

"Clear." Nakia whispered, after clearing the main living area.

"Now, if killing me will somehow fill that void in your soul? Then, by all means, go ahead. But it won't. I know this because I was there, with you. I was able to take out my frustrations, but it didn't help one bit. Because hurting innocent people and communities because of your anger is wrong, and I knew it was wrong. And you know it's wrong. The saving power of Jesus Christ through the ministry of the church was my only remedy. It's the only reason I have the hope of going to heaven. And if I am fortunate enough to get into heaven, I will intercede for you before the Father's great throne, that your proud hearts may be broken and repent. The reason I'll do that, despite everything, will be that drove me to cry out in protest, the thing that changed me, the thing that will endure long after our bones have been interred in the earth - God's eternal, undying love. Will you do me the favour of letting me pray, before you do what you're going to do?"

"Clear." Carrie confirmed, investigating one of the bedrooms.

"Make it quick." Kimberley confirmed, much to Wendy's ire.

Danielle then bowed her head and began to pray. "O my Lord, I am deeply sorry for having offended You, and I detest all my sins; because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend You my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and amend my life. Amen. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…"

"Clear." Shuri announced as she cleared the second bedroom.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses…" Danielle continued to offer supplication.

"Clear." Nakia informed, completing her investigation of the bathroom. Then her body tensed, as she put her hand to the wall. "I hear something."

"It sounds like someone's whispering." Shuri nodded, as the group put their detective skills to the test.

"That's good – it means that Dani's alive." Carrie assessed, hopefully.

"The basement is the one place we haven't cased yet. If she's alive, she'll be in there. Let's go." Nakia announced, as the trio began to descend the staircase.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…" Danielle whispered as she thought of her rosary and her Heavenly Mother.

"That's definitely her voice! She has to be in there!" Carrie whisper-gasped, excitedly.

"Hold on. I'll run some diagnostics on the door. Make sure it's not booby trapped or hooked to a bomb or anything like that." Shuri warned, as she pulled out her device to scan the door.

"Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen." The brunette finished her prayer, placing her soul in the hands of the Lord. She then raised her tied hands in front of her, formed her two pointer fingers into the shape of the cross and kissed them, tenderly. She then let out a small nod.

"The door's clear! Now's our chance!" Shuri urged. Focusing her gaze intently on the door. Carrie cupped her hands and focused a huge blast of telekinetic energy on the door knob. The knob began to tremble and shake as the telekinesis began to warp the gears inside the lock. Meanwhile the three people in the room had just cottoned on to what was taking place outside. Wendy's look of arrogance had transformed into one of shock and concern.

"How did they find our hiding place? Was it you?!" Wendy demanded, rounding on Danielle.

"Don't look at me. My phone's back in the Bronx. The cops wouldn't be able to track it." The rocker responded, not daring to believe her good fortune.

"Well, it wasn't me. I never told anybody where we live." Kimberley added, stating her innocence.

"Who's out there?" Wendy demanded, an angry edge to her voice. "Is it the cops? Feds? Well, it doesn't matter. Because if you take one more step, I am going to kill this bitch right here!" As she said this, she pushed the barrel of her gun directly under Danielle's chin. The prisoner squirmed as she felt the cold touch of death on her skin.

"It's not the cops." Carrie called out, as she finally loosened the locked door. "It's your worst nightmare." With all the power she could muster, the door flew off its hinges, smacking Wendy in the chest and knocking her to the ground. The pistol went flying across the basement. Kimberley was so shocked by what happened, she didn't even notice Nakia striking her square in the ribs with a left-right combination. leaving her doubled over in pain.

"Carrie! You came! Who are these people?" Danielle gasped in surprise, as the blonde worked in untying her.

"I'll explain later. They're the ones you should thank, I wouldn't have gotten here so quickly without them." Carrie pointed out.

"Well, whoever you are, thank you. I owe you my life." Danielle smiled, grateful to be getting out of this situation in one piece.

"And our king owes Carrie's father a favour. We were also in the area, so it was an order we accepted and obeyed." Nakia pointed out.

"We panthers don't get hunted. We do the hunting. Plus, I wasn't going to let anything happen to my scarecrow girl." Shuri added, a grin crossing her face as she was finally untied.

"Scarecrow girl?" Danielle asked, not knowing whether to be insulted or amused.

"Your hair is wild, like the straw of a scarecrow. Has nobody ever told you this?" The Wakandan princess inquired.

"Enough of this foolishness. Let's get going before they come around!" Nakia ordered. Danielle then stood to her feet and began to walk out of the basement. However, halfway up the stairs, the brunette let out a cry of discomfort and grabbed the back of her leg.

"What is it, Danielle? What's wrong?" Carrie asked, frantically.

"It's cramp. In my leg. From being immobile for so long." Danielle winced in pain as she bit her lip.

"Can you walk on it?" Nakia inquired. However, a loud bang and the sound of a bullet whizzing past the spy's right ear answered the question for them. Wendy had recovered, albeit with some bruises and blood on her face. She held the gun in her right hand, and looked mad as hell.

"Never mind. I guess we'll play it by ear. Carrie, secure Danielle – she's your friend. We have the firepower to hold these two off. " Nakia sighed as she got into her battle stance. Quickly, yet gently, Carrie gathered up Danielle with her telekinetic power and gently levitated, flexing her body parts so it looked as though she was lying down on an invisible bed. Securing her in the telekinetic field. The blonde carefully carried her up the stairs, whilst Wendy, Shuri and Nakia engaged in a three way fire fight.

"How about this, Dani? This is travelling in style, huh?" Carrie joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'll be honest, Carrie – I'd be a lot more thrilled if my life wasn't at stake." Danielle deadpanned, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. The telekinetic continued to levitate the brunette through the house, skilfully manipulating her around corners and through doors, with her body almost touching the ceiling. Eventually, she was guided out of the house, where she was effortlessly lowered onto the lawn. Danielle let out a loud gasp as she felt the fresh grass in her hands.

Meanwhile, the battle between the Wakandans and Wendy was continuing. The white supremacist was engaging in a heated battle with Shuri as they exchanged fire. Shuri and Nakia stood on the second level of the staircase, whilst Wendy lurked below.

"Embarrass me, will you? Go back to Africa!" Wendy sneered, as she fired a bullet at the princess.

"Your basement looks like the wetlands, and yet you call us primitive?" Shuri scoffed, as she fired off some more energy blasts with her gauntlets. Wendy darted out from her cover and fired, but only the tell-tale click of an empty chamber echoed around the house. This caused the neo-Nazi to gulp and the Wakandans to smirk. Nakia drew one of her two blades and threw it at the gun, knocking it out of her hand, then leapt over the railing and struck her opponent with the blunt end of her spear, knocking her out. Nakia and Shuri then walked into the basement to confront Kimberley, who was kneeling in the ground with her hands raised.

"I surrender, okay? I surrender!" Kimberley begged, looking for any signs of mercy.

"Talk." Nakia commanded, turning the spear around and lowering the sharp tip so it was pointed at Kimberley's throat.

"Look, I never believed in any of this. I never wanted any part of this life. But my uncle and Wendy were just too dominant and controlling. Every time I tried to question anything, they told me that I didn't care about what happened to our parents if I didn't support their cause. That was how they kept me in line – through emotional abuse." Kimberley explained, gulping and quivering.

"Who planned the kidnapping?" Nakia probed.

"Uncle gave his blessing and offered advice. But it was Wendy's plan." The kidnappers admitted.

"Why?" The Wakandan spy demanded.

"She had gained a huge following after she told her story of how she renounced her racism. Wendy worried that her story and testimony would drag people away from her influence. Plus she put our business into the public domain. But I don't want any further part of that." Kimberley babbled. Upon seeing Nakia and Shuri's looks of scepticism, she continued. "I tried to save Danielle's life! Does that mean nothing?" She bargained, desperately.

"And how would you have done that?" Shuri inquired, cynically.

"Persuade Wendy to hold her for ransom instead. Then, I would have gone to the cops while I was going to the supermarket and told them everything. Either that, or I would've released her while Wendy was off doing something." Kimberley reasoned.

"A likely story. As you westerners are so fond of saying, tell it to the judge." Nakia decreed, as she proceeded to bind Kimberley's hands with the same rope that had once bound Danielle, before Shuri grabbed her gauntlet and put Wendy's wrists in energy cuffs. The pair then escorted the vanquished villains up the stairs and out of the house, where they were met by a group of police vehicles – and a group of cheering neighbours. The African-Americans on the block, in particular, took great joy in the Wakandans triumph, as they heckled the detained kidnappers.

"Oh yeah! Get that black boot in your ass!" One man laughed, as he filmed in his phone.

"Bet you did Nazi this coming, bitches! Enjoy your stay in the Hills!" A woman in a mask taunted, referring to Bedford Hills Penitentiary, New York state's maximum security women's prison. Wendy gritted her teeth as the makeshift restraints were removed and the Yonkers PD officers at the scene formally placed them under arrest and handcuffed them. Kimberley, on the other hand, stared off blankly into the distance as she and her older sister were placed into the waiting black and white police cruiser.

Carrie was helping massage the cramp out of Danielle's leg. The brunette held her leg up high, like an athlete, as the blonde telekinetic continued to work on her muscles. Having downed a couple of sips of water from a nearby bottle, Danielle slowly rose to her feet.

"You okay?" Carrie inquired, concerned for Danielle's welfare.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can walk now." Danielle confirmed, nodding her thanks as she walked around and got her blood circling again. At that moment, a Yonkers PD policewoman approached the duo. "Miss Horton? I know you've had a rather overwhelming ordeal today, but I'm going to need you to come and give a statement." She requested, politely. She then held out a disposable blue mask for her to wear.

"Sure thing." Danielle responded, in a strangely numb voice. She accepted the mask, put it on, and walked over to a parked police vehicle with the officer. As the pair started to talk off in the distance, Nakia and Shuri approached the telekinetic.

"Thank you for your assistance, Carrie. You displayed great power and were quick on your feet." Nakia praised.

"No. Thank you, Princess Shuri-"

"Thank you!" Shuri sighed, theatrically.

"-and Nakia. I wouldn't have saved Danielle without you. You're the heroes of her story, not me." Carrie thanked, in a humble voice.

"Don't be so demure. If you hadn't come up with the idea to levitate Danielle when we began to take fire, we would have been sitting ducks for that Nazi's assault as we tried to physically carry her. Your quick wit and protective nature enabled us to take the fight to them, once and for all. We just saw some reports about your bravery in the battles with the Serpents in New York. For this, we recognise you…Winged Tigress." The spy explained.

"Winged Tigress?" Carrie whispered, confused.

"A mother tiger will always fight to defend her Cubs, no matter the cost. You went up against a man twice your size, and took heavy alien and human gunfire to safely secure your friends. Barnes is known as the White Wolf by our people, because of his ferocity in battle and his clean slate after his Hydra brainwashing. There can be no more fitting honour for somebody who fights with such tenacity and love." Nakia explained the new title.

"Thank you…" Carrie breathed, feeling humbled by the honour she had received.

As Danielle returned from her statement, she addressed the Wakandan duo. "Once again, I'd like to thank you for saving me. I don't know how to repay you."

"If you wish to repay us, continue to attack injustice wherever you encounter it. As one who fights for Wakanda in the shadows, I always believed we should use our technological advancements to help our brothers and sisters, both on the continent of Africa and across the globe. The story of Wakanda's emergence from isolation has many of its roots in what you marched for today." The War Dog explained.

"Wakanda is rich in vibranium, one of the rarest and most powerful metals in existence. It is through this abundance of vibranium that we have been able to build a society you would call futuristic. These? All made from vibranium." At this, Nakia pointed to the weapons she and Shuri carried, as well as the rhino they had ridden to her rescue, which was surrounded by a swarm of onlookers. The sight caused Danielle's eyes to bug out of her head.

"We were the shining, hidden jewel in the crown of Africa. It was the secret part that angered me. It certainly angered Prince N'Jobu, King T'Chaka's brother, who had witnessed deep systemic inequality first hand living in Oakland. He wished to take vibranium from our mines to help the impoverished Black community he lived in, and King T'Chaka killed him for it when he resisted. His traumatised son, Erik, was abandoned in California instead of being bought to his rightful home. As a result, he found meaning in the one thing many disaffected youth turn to – violence and war. He challenged T'Challa for the throne, won, and threatened to wreak a terrible vengeance on the world that had oppressed and mistreated his brothers. Thankfully, that was averted. Tell me, Carrie and Danielle – how would you characterise the mood of the protestors today?" Nakia finished her monologue thusly.

"Tired. Desperate. Fed up." Carrie noted and Danielle nodded her agreement as they thought of Brianna and Daria respectively.

"Then you have observed but a portion of their feelings." Nakia declared. "That anger, backed by our weaponry, would have seen horrific consequences for many across the world, including Wakanda. And the reason for all this was the refusal of those in power to help those who were crying out for equality. That is why King T'Challa revealed Wakanda to the world and established relations with America – the Wakandan crown will no longer refuse to help when it clearly has the means to do so."

"So, are these the weapons that were going to be used against us?" Danielle inquired.

"No. The CIA destroyed the shipments before they could reach here." Nakia pointed out.

"Then how is this caliber of weaponry in the country?" The brunette wanted answers.

"Do you really expect a government to leave its intelligence service unarmed, and do you expect a spy to reveal their secrets?" The War Dog questioned.

"And if anything isn't 100% legal, diplomatic immunity is a wonderful thing." Shuri added, chuckling. Upon seeing the confused looks on the girls faces, she continued. "Oh. I forgot to mention, you're looking at the joint Wakandan ambassadors to the United States."

"But I still have connections to my friends in the shadows, the War Dogs. That was how we were able to be here and bypass the various lockdowns." Nakia elaborated.

"Speaking of being ambassadors, my brother the king is insistent on promoting Wakanda to as many people as possible. The media say you are a YouTuber, Danielle?" Shuri probed.

"Yes. I talk about music." Danielle nodded.

"You have a YouTube channel, and we have a country to promote. Maybe one day, when the current heightened situation has abated, we can help each other out." Nakia offered., helpfully

"And fix that hair! Yowch!" Shuri exclaimed, covering her eyes in mock horror.

"I'd like that." Danielle smiled, giggling at the princesses antics.

"Well, I wish we had met under happier circumstances. We must return RR-7 to his natural habitat." Nakia farewelled. "Until our next encounter, Winged Tigress." She and Shuri then walked over to the rhino, climbed back on top as the crowd cheered and rode in the direction of New York. As the rhino disappeared into the distance, Carrie and Danielle walked over to a parked Empress ambulance. They sat together inside the white and red emergency vehicle, as a masked EMT wrapped a foil shock blanket around the brunette. The brunette was extremely grateful as she fidgeted anxiously. After an eternity, she asked: "How are the others, Carrie?"

'Good. Everyone except Livy is safe at Stark Tower. Olivia took a rather nasty blow during a fight with a Serpent and is at Mount Sinai." Carrie explained the situation.

"Is she okay?" Danielle pressed, worry seeping in.

"Just got an update from Antonio. She'll need stitches, and she might not be able to eat hard food for a while, but she's in good spirits." Carrie replied.

"Good. That's…that's good." Danielle breathed. The brunette then began to tremble and shiver beneath the blanket.

"Are you okay, Dani?" Carrie gasped, in a frightened tone.

"No. No, I'm not." The brunette shook her head as her voice took on a distinct quiver. "I almost died today. If you and those Wakandans had been here a few minutes later, I wouldn't be here. I'd never talk to Mum again, or cheer on Michael, or jam with my band, or talk to you guys. I'd never pray or go to Mass again. I would've died without the Sacraments. I would've died with Dad thinking I hated him…"

At this point, she couldn't go on. Danielle shook her head and began to weep. Taking her rocker friend in her arms, Carrie hid her tears from those outside the ambulance as Danielle cried and sobbed heart wrenchingly. The brunette's small frame trembled as the Avenger held onto her tight. Carrie was now learning the same lesson that Tony had learned after Lagos and Sokovia – just because you are prepared for the big moment, doesn't mean that you are prepared for the aftermath.

It wasn't a city that was broken – it was a human being.

"Why does death have to be so hard, Carrie?" Danielle lamented, the recent loss of her grandmother biting hard.

"I don't know, Dani. I don't know." Carrie sighed, her eyes shining with tears.

As the day drew to a close, Carrie and Danielle's friends were getting picked up from Avengers Tower by their worried parents. Brianna was being hugged tighter than she had ever been by Candace and Kareem, as Alexis and Cat were taken in by their respective family units.

"I'm so sorry. I never wanted to scare you guys." Brianna whispered. "Is Grandpa safe?"

"Yes, he is. And you don't have to apologise for doing what you think is right." Kareem comforted his daughter.

MJ and Peter, who was laid up in a sick bed, were in the middle of a conversation when Bruce returned with a file full of X-rays.

"Peter, I just got your X-rays back. You have bone bruising in your left knee, right shoulder and lower back, as well as a grade 1 left PCL tear. I'm going to recommend you stay off your feet until further notice, so I can discuss your options." The doctor diagnosed. MJ's phone then chose the exact wrong moment to go off.

"Parental s are outside, so I've gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow, dork." MJ quipped, as she farewelled her boyfriend. Her voice then developed a slightly tender edge, as she added: ""Get better, okay, Peter?"

"Will do, MJ. Will do." Peter grinned weakly, as he blew the frizzy-haired girl a kiss.

At Mount Sinai Hospital, Olivia was resting in bed, wearing a blue hospital gown and a matching mask. A series of stitches closed up the wound that had been caused by the punch from the Serpent. A bandage had been wrapped around her head and under her chin. Her jaw had been dislocated during the assault, and the bandage would serve to prevent her jaw from opening too wide during the recovery. Thankfully, she was expected to make a full recovery after about six weeks. Antonio, Francesca and Maria were playing their part as the dutiful family, looking very concerned in their masks. A PPE-clad nurse entered her room, holding a tablet in her hand. "Looks like some people want to say hello." She greeted, her eyes friendly. Taking the device, the Italian-American's eyes lit up as she Isaiah and his family waving at her. "Hey!" She beamed happily, her eyes twinkling. "Shay, Jamal, Izzy! Thank God you're safe." The bandage caused her voice to come out as a dull murmur.

"Really? It's Izzy now?" Shay joked, clearly amused.

"She can call me whatever she wants, because she saved my life. Our lives. Isn't that right, Livy?" Isaiah winked.

"Olivia has a boyfriend! Olivia has a boyfriend!" Maria sang, gleefully.

"Aaaaw! Wedding bells!" Shay swooned and mock fainted.

"He's not my boyfriend. He's a boy, who just so happens to have become my friend through circumstances." Olivia issued an unconvincing denial.

"Yeah, whatever you say." Jamal scoffed, shaking his head. "We all saw the way you looked at him when he helped you up."

"You got me." The jock conceded, giggling slightly. "Although, if this were to become something more, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." She locked eyes with the young African-American man. You didn't need to see under her mask to know she was smiling. A woman with a blue dress and a man wearing a custom-made Harlem Strong T-shirt stood next to Isaiah and his siblings.

"Mr. De Rossi, Olivia, hi. I'm Annette Evans, and this is Roderick, my husband." She introduced.

"We just wanted to thank you both for what you did for our son. You had no obligation to help, but you did." Roderick followed up, in a grateful voice.

"He sought aid from my dental practice. It's only fair." Antonio demurred.

"I guess the reason I feel so protective of Isaiah is because I wasn't protective enough of Brianna, my first friend. I was either too young or wasn't around when she was picked on and couldn't stand up for her. I wasn't going to make that mistake again." Olivia answered, truthfully.

"Well, in any event, you were there for our boy when he needed you the most. When the situation improves, you are most welcome at our house, Olivia." Annette smiled.

"Wow. You're really trying to push this, huh? But seriously, I feel humbled that I mean that much to you." Olivia replied, truthfully. Turning back to her parents, she asked them: "Does Marco know?"

"Oh yes. He's already put out the call to Dana White to get him 5 minutes with that barbarian." Francesca huffed.

"Your brother's UFC?" Jamal inquired, impressed. "Shit, no wonder you took it to that guy."

"MARCO "ANGELO DELLA MORTE" DE ROSS AY!" Olivia declared in a full roar, muffled by the bandage, doing a spit on imitation of UFC ring announcer Bruce Buffer and his announcement of her brother and his nick name. The comedic impersonation caused people on both sides of the screen to laugh – heck, even Antonio let out a chuckle. The Italian-American's heart began to swell with happiness. To her, this made the stitches and the bandaged jaw worth it.

"Perhaps save the histrionics for after your recovery, Olivia." The nurse gently reprimanded.

At Danielle's house in Bailey Avenue, Thomas was sat on the couch, cradling his chin in his hands. He looked despondent about the situation involving Danielle, which he blamed himself for. Whilst they had received the fantastic news that she had been found safe and sound, a cloud of tension still hung over matter how much Amira tried to tell him he shouldn't blame himself and that the responsibility for this lay at the kidnappers feet alone, Thomas refused to accept any comfort. The only reason that Danielle was marching in the first place was because his actions had provoked her. He made a promise to himself that he would do anything in his power to improve his relationship with minority communities, as his daughter had.

All of a sudden, the door to the house swung open and a trembling voice called out: "Daddy…" Standing in the doorway was Danielle, her face scrunched up with emotion. Springing off the couch, Thomas sprinted over to his daughter and gave her a big hug, followed by his wife. The three family members embraced for what seemed like forever.

"It was so scary…" Danielle sobbed, her nails digging into her father's shirt.

"Shhh. You're safe now, sweetie." Amira cooed, soothingly.

"This is all my fault." Thomas added, dolefully.

"No, Dad. This was never your fault. And I don't hate you. I may hate some of the things you do, but I don't hate you." Danielle reassured, as she wiped her eyes.

"Well, Michael is, of course, thrilled you've been found. Would you like something to eat, Danielle?" Amira requested.

"No thanks, Mum. It's been a long day, and I just want to sleep." The brunette shook her head and took off to the bathroom. After a quick, hurried brushing of her teeth, she quickly got changed into her pyjamas and climbed into her bed. As she turned in, she smiled tearfully as she noticed her phone, pendant and rosary stationed neatly on her bedside table. Daria, it seemed, had carried out her wish after all. With her posters of rock bands above her, and Jesus and Mary watching on from the prayer space next door, she pulled the bed covers right over her head. Hidden from the world, she dreamed that she could forget the traumatic ordeal she had endured.

But dreams, as it has been said, are for children.

*** BLM ***

Next chapter: In the epilogue, lessons are put into action, romance blossoms, closure is reached and new friendships are formed. But not all is well in the heart of winter…