Hello! Firstly, I've got to say a massive THANK YOU to sssaturnsrings, Gabswb and Marchombre93, for reviewing! This chapter is for you guys, who motivated me to write! Thank you!

And yes, I know it's short, but I hope it'll do for now, because Chapter 8 will be a big one ;)

Tony's POV

Tony scrambled shakily to his feet, his body aching under his suit. His arm hurt, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Two HOURS. Two FLIPPING hours, he'd been out cold. God knows what had happened to the others. Fear trickled down his spine. He had to find them.

The forest was dark, the moon tucked under a blanket of black clouds, so he used his helmet's night vision to guide his way as he trudged through the mud, past collapsed trees, the embers of their wood still burning faintly, direction warehouse. Or what was left of it. He stopped, shocked, trying to mentally organise what had happened.

- First Barton's arrow had landed on the quinjet, and it exploded.

- Lightning struck the water tower that he had been perched on, causing it to topple over, flooding everything.

And then, curse his weak human body, it had let him down. So what on Earth had happened to the warehouse? It had been old, and rather run-down, but it should have withstood the water damage. Clearly it didn't. The field was a Jackson Pollock painting of metal shrapnel, fallen trees, wooden planks, puddles, stretching as far as Tony could see.

"FRIDAY, what caused this?"

"Signal is down boss, unable to access satellite database for recordings."

He cursed under his breath.

"Language…" came a weak whisper from behind him. Tony whipped around, and there was the super-soldier, climbing out from under a pile of what looked like broken plywood and thick steel rods.

"STEVE! Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me!"

"Tony.

Are you alright?"

Tony ripped his helmet off, piercing Cap with a withering stare. "What does it look like Rogers?! Do I look alright to you? We are not alright, nothing is alright, actually everything is ALL WRONG! We seriously messed up. There's something bigger going on here, something that we clearly missed, misjudged it and it and, and…"

It's my fault for screwing up the equipment, he finished bitterly in his head, looking away from Steve, suddenly embarrassed for this unnecessary outburst.

Steve sighed, rubbing at the back of his head with his hand, and Tony looked at him again. Really looked.

His suit was damp and dirty and torn, scratches sprinkled on the exposed skin underneath, a larger gash crossing his forehead. His muscular frame was sagging with exhaustion, and a weird expression was strewn over his face, under a mussed mop of his blonde hair.

"What happened Cap? What happened to us? What happened to the Avengers?"

Steve's POV

Three hours ago

The air whizzed past him, his tight suit keeping him warm as he swooped like a bird down from the quinjet, landing on lithe feet onto the corrugated iron roof.

He was alone.

He crouched down, using his shield to balance against.

He waited.

It began to rain.

Then he saw the quinjet land, and the team get their positions. Barton ran up to keep an eye out from the top of the water tower. Stark stayed in the jet. And the redheaded silhouettes of Romanoff and Wanda slid across the fields, to the far side of the warehouse, where he lost sight of them.

A bullet flew past his ear.

He was on his feet in a second, his shield reflecting the spray of bullets back at his assailants. There was a lot of them, but that shouldn't be a problem, but it was suspicious. So many guards for some low-key second hand Hydra weapons? Something didn't sit right with Steve. Frisbeeing two guards with his shield, he jumped, kicking another in the chest, punching another. He rolled over, his shield like a turtle's shell, when he heard Romanoff over his comms.

"Rogers, we're in. I repeat, we're in," she said.

"Romanoff, there's several Hydra thugs up here," he said grunting as he whacked one in the face. "Be cautious," he added as he threw his shield again, catching another attacker in the midsection.

Romanoff didn't reply. Curse these comms, where they even working?

He tried again. "Romanoff, the situation is NOT clear. Be careful in there. This could be trap. I'm outnumbered on the roof. Go to the quinjet as soon as possible."

She didn't reply.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barton in a similar situation to his, but on top of the water tower.

Then lightning struck, bathing everything in a harsh, unnatural white light, and there was only one guard left standing, the biggest, meatiest, most brutal one, who charged, and collided with Steve, his hands around his neck, and Steve lost his footing, and he was falling through the rain, off the roof, struggling with the monster of a man, landing under him on the hard ground, winded.

An elbow to the head freed him from the attacker, and he wriggled away wearily, and then the quinjet was exploding and where was all this water rushing from, and he was trapped under some metal parts from the quintet's wing, and the torrent of water smacked something hard and cold against his head "my shield?" he thought blearily and all went dark.

Steve's POV

"I woke up to this." He gestured behind him.

"The quinjet in bits, the water tower a melted mess, and you might have noticed Stark, that the warehouse seems to NO LONGER EXIST." His frustration got the better of him and he yelled, desperate.

"You're asking me what has happened to us? To the Avengers? I don't have a clue. It was supposed to be an EASY one. We need to find the others Stark. We MUST."

Tony looked at him at lost for words for once in his life, and Steve sighed aggressively. "You're the genius. Any ideas?"