Everything hurts. Blood from a cut on my lower lip is salty against my tongue. That might be tears, too, I'm not sure. My head's whirling, an all-too-familiar sensation these past few days. It's tempting to lie here, hidden in the dust, and sleep until this all goes away. I don't know why I expected this to turn out in our favor. Why would a bunch of strangers be able to save the world, anyway? Not that the organization we all work for hiding huge secrets from us made that any easier.

Luke. He's still here, in his cell. And as long as he is, I need to fight for him.

Something tells me he won't be for long.

My back screams at me as I scramble to my feet. Ethan's waiting by the door, and I survey him for injuries. A cut along his forehead drips blood. "Can you walk?"

I point to his head. "Can you?"

He smacks me on the back of my head. "We need to get to Luke before Loki does." Cap's words come back to me now. That if I die, that only makes Luke's death an even greater possibility. That's a paradox, if I've ever heard of one- Ethan punches my arm. "Ow!"

"God, Kara, learn to listen for once, yeah?" Turns out he wasn't hurting me for his amusement, because in his fist is a tiny earpiece. "So we can communicate with the others." He puts his in first, so I can see how to do it, and I follow suit. "Surge, checking in."

"Riptide, doing the same."

"Find Luke," a voice I recognize as Agent Hill replies, "Make sure he doesn't get away."

Turns out scrambling for a weapon in fear of the Hulk isn't a bad thing, because I'd found a vending machine down the hall. Metal crashes as the thing breaks, and soon lukewarm water floats around me. "Not bad," Ethan murmurs. The sprinklers burst, and soon he has a stream of water around him as well.

"Touche-"

Slow clapping interrupts my remark, and I don't even need to look up to know it's Luke. Above his mask, his eyes glow the same icy blue that I've grown to hate. Those eyes stare us down over the giant hole in the floor. Definitely going to have to make sure I don't fall right through that. "You guys really fucked yourselves over."

"Found him," Ethan mutters.

"He's here for the staff," I inform.

"Well then, sibling extraordinaires, I think it's time to play a little hot potato." I'm this close to ripping out my earpiece and stomping on it. I won't kill him. Not even if it comes down to his life or mine. But if he gets the staff, it won't matter, because the world will be one step closer to ending, anyway.

This is a fucking paradox if I've ever heard of one. I'm sick of it.

My ability reacts to my irritation immediately, two jets of water rushing forward and lashing Luke's wrists to the wall. "Stay." At my word, his restraints freeze. Kinda badass.

I don't want to do this. I don't want to be here.

He tilts his head, and I'm suddenly reminded of who he reminds me of, who he's still answering to. "Cute." Fire burns in the palms of his hands, and Ethan flicks his hand out as Luke drops. A whip of water extends out, reaching over the gap in the floor for his feet. We've got him. Not even my best friend, an airbender, is fast enough to dodge that-

I hate being wrong. Luke dashes forward, pushing himself over the divide, propelled by the air itself. He's got to land eventually, though. Come back to us.

The second he touches down, I shove him back with a blast of water. Or at least, I try to, since he meets my attack with a gust of wind that sends my weapon right back in my face. On top of everything else, I'm not willing to get my hoodie and sweatpants soaking wet, so I'm immensely glad when the water returns to float around me.

I should've let myself get drenched, because in the next moment, Luke dashes behind us and grabs the staff.

This can't be it. There has to be something we can do.

What if I can't do it?

Ethan acts immediately, sending volley after volley of ice chunks at him. I follow up with jets of water, but with the scepter, he's unstoppable. Each of our attacks is either shattered or taken head on, and as the seconds tick by, the urge to scream grows in my chest. None of this is worth it. The world or my best friend, I can almost hear Loki ask. Which will it be?

We've never fought before this, before Stuttgart. But things have changed. He ran, hid from us for two years. I have these abilities that have brought me onto a helicarrier that's currently falling out of the sky. I have a world to save.

But at what cost?

My attacks must've stopped along with my train of thought, because the next thing I know, I'm on my back on the ground. Someone, probably Ethan, slams against the corridor wall, and fear spikes in my chest. Before I can get up to protect him, though, Luke looms over me.

I meet his eyes, not sure if this is the last time I'll ever be able to do so. If it is, at least I'll have died at his hand.

The first time I got drunk with Ethan and Luke, we promised to die together so that way none of us would have to attend the others' funeral.

Instead of stabbing me, slicing my neck, or whatever other terrible ways he could kill me, Luke kneels.

He studies my face just like how he used to do when our conversations would quiet. When we'd sit in silence, just enjoying the other being by our side. He knows I won't kill him. He knows I'll let the world end before I do.

What kind of superhero am I?

"Remember this before you try and save me."

And just like the other night, he yanks the air out of my lungs long enough for the world to go black.

—-

"Agent Coulson is down." Of all the things to wake up to, that one's the worst.

The first person to welcome me onto the helicarrier, to tell me everything was going to be okay (without explicitly saying it). He was going to tell me stories about my parents' time as SHIELD agents.

An icicle the width of my head and the length of my body stabs into the floor in front of Ethan. He punches a hole right in the center of it.

If none of my other superpowered teammates kill Loki, I will.

—-

The only good thing to come out of this shitstorm is Agent Barton. Apparently, I just need to hit Luke on the head as hard as I can and he'll be good as new, since that's how Agent Romanoff brought back Clint.

Luke can quite literally fly, so the execution is a little trickier than the idea.

None of this is fair. Has it ever been? Ever since Luke disappeared two years ago, everything just seemed to go so terribly wrong. Now, our odds are stacked sky-high against us. What makes any of us think we can win this?

I realize now that having motivation is one thing. Actually completing the task is another thing entirely.

"These were in Phil Coulson's jacket." The least I can do is pay attention. It's not like this is a precalc class, which I one-hundred percent paid attention to. At least sometimes. (Fifty percent of the time.) "I guess he never did get you to sign them."

The blood coating the Captain America trading cards splatters onto the glass table.

I stare until I'm sure the image is burned into my mind.

My brother's in the chair next to me, and he hasn't moved since he sat down. He just keeps staring and staring out the window, an accurate reflection of what I feel but don't show.

"We're dead in the air up here." Rogers reaches forward, picking up a card and staring down at his cartoon visage. I wonder what that feels like.

I hope I never get that kind of celebrity. Ever.

"Our communications, the location of the Cube, Banner, Thor…" Right. Doctor Banner had apparently launched himself off the helicarrier to attack a jet. Valid. It was attacking him. Thor had fallen to Earth in the glass cage meant for Loki.

Ironic. Almost painfully ironic. "I got nothing for you. I lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming."

Not like SHIELD was giving us much of anything in the first place. Hiding things so they could use us as pawns in their stupid game. But hey, play stupid games, win shitty prizes. I think that's how the saying goes. "Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number, though, 'cause I was playing something even riskier."

I don't want to know. I'd do anything to not be here, to be home, eating lunch with my friends in the seniors-only area of campus. Cuddling with my cat when I get home. Eating a good, home-cooked meal.

I haven't been a SHIELD agent for longer than a week, yet all I want is to be normal again.

Wants hardly line up with needs, though.

"There was an idea, Stark knows this, called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they could become something more."

What if I don't want that? Does it even matter? Do I have a choice?

My tears drip onto the glass. "To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could."

Drip.

Stark looks up and into the windows, following Ethan's gaze.Director Fury straightens his posture. "Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea. In heroes."

Drip.

I scoff, and Stark walks away. Ethan shakes his head and does the same, just in the opposite direction. I doubt he knows where he's going. He never does.

Drip.

"Well. It's an old-fashioned notion."

My tears stay tears as I get up and walk away. I don't know where I'm going, either.