Anxiety pooled in the pit of her stomach as it became clear no response was coming. She tried to reach further, deeper, as she walked the halls of the helicarrier—but there was nothing. No voice, no feeling. Simply emptiness. A trembling hand reached up to wipe once more at her cheeks as she sniffled. This was a bad sign. Most likely, a sign that something had happened to Charles. Being independent from him felt different before, when she knew he would be there if she called again. Now, it felt vulnerable, isolated in a way that made her skin crawl.

Still, she kept her features blank as she walked beside Steve. He lead the way back toward the bridge. There was no doubt that Director Fury would be waiting with a list of questions and, possibly, a pair of shackles. However, the pair never quite made it there. As they passed the small laboratory set aside for Dr. Banner, movement caught Cassandra's eye—and she wished it hadn't. Inside, Tony Stark was giving Bruce a hand. He walked around the back of Banner, who was focusing on a computer, saying things inaudible from the outside. Then, Tony touched a pen-like device to Banner's side, and Banner jolted at the small zap it gave.

A small bout of the rage she'd felt before lingered like a ghost in her chest, and it bellowed at the sight of Tony's actions. She turned instinctively, stepping through the open door of the lab with a shout, "Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Steve stopped walking upon hearing her voice, turning to find she'd left his side. He moved quickly to backtrack and enter the lab behind her as Tony spoke only to Banner. "You really have got a lid on it, haven't you?" he spoke rhetorically. "What's your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?"

"Tony, the nineties called. They want their ignorance back," Cassandra scowled, standing on the other side of the table from both men.

"Jesus, who pissed in your cheerios?" Tony's quip was dry, grumbled as he turned to walk away from Banner. As he reached the corner of the table, he reached out and plucked a silver pouch of dried blueberries from another table nearby. Cassandra rolled her eyes—if anything, for the sake of removing them from him—and instead looked down, at Loki's scepter propped up on the table for tests.

The shimmering blue at the end was, she realized, actually quite pretty. "I saw what happened with Loki," Banner spoke suddenly, pulling her eyes away from the scepter. "You okay? It looked pretty intense."

"I'm fine, just...worried," she shook her head, exhaling.

Tony turned on his heels, stepping back toward the table before stopping, and shoving his hand into the silver packet. "Oh, really? What about? Your boyfriend's homicidal tendencies, or yours?"

Cassandra's gaze steeled as it shifted in his direction, jaw clenching against the anger that threatened to misuse her tongue. "Hey, show some respect," Steve told Tony, visibly annoyed by the billionaire's attitude.

"No, no—let him call the kettle black," Cassandra briefly waved a hand in a gesture to Steve, before glaring mercilessly at Stark. Tony's features flattened into a sour expression as he continued to shovel blueberries into his mouth. "Besides, Tony Stark doesn't respect anyone who isn't white, rich, and male. Would you like to share your violently anti-mutant views with the class? I mean, might as well while you're running your mouth."

Banner's slightly rounded eyes shifted from Cassandra's face to Tony's, shoulders tensed. Steve's head tilted as his expression echoed shock. Though, Tony appeared unmoved by all of it. "Why, so you have a reason to kill me? Might as well, like you said. It's not like you're going to face any consequences," he retorted.

"I suffer consequences for existing—I don't need to be dangerous for some arrogant shit-stick like you to take it upon themselves to take away my basic human rights and throw me in a cage. Of course, you'll turn a blind eye to the government experimentation like a true boot-licker because it doesn't win arguments. Last I checked, due process still exists and human beings are human beings."

Steve looked to Cassandra, alarmed. "The government experiments on mutants?"

"I personally know four people with horror stories, but there are many more," she nodded a little, glancing up at him briefly. "It doesn't help that Stark Industries builds them weapons to do it more effectively."

"And what proof do you have of any of it?" Tony questioned, challengingly, as he gestured out his arms.

"Tony, I bunked with a girl who could walk through walls, another could turn herself invisible. My professor was a telepath I still talk to," Cassandra tilted her head an inch, eyes narrowing at Stark. "You can't keep shit like that secret from us. The least you could do is have the balls to own up to it."

"Wait, so, let me get this straight. Stark industries is building weapons for the government, so they can kill mutants. And you know this because a telepathic school teacher told you," Bruce removed his glasses, carefully folding the frame.

"No. A shapeshifter told me. The telepath told me Fury's not far off from following suit," Cassandra corrected.

Steve was in a permanent state of shock as more and more new information hit him square in the chest. It seemed all he could do was ask questions. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is building weapons, too?"

"I can't confirm why but, yes. And they're using the Tesseract to do it. Supposedly, there are some base models on board."

"Do you know where they are?" he asked her, intrigue spiking.

Though, Cassandra wasn't immediately sure. She paused for a moment to think, eyes sliding off to the left, toward the open expanse of the room. It was not an image she had seen. However, that didn't always mean it wasn't there. That was often how Charles translated information—easily digestible, understandable pictures. The pictures, of course, belonged to feelings, to memories. They were always left behind, but the question now was if they were somewhere she could reach.

Charles' words played back, rewinding and running again as if from a tape recorder. She could feel it in her gut. The information was there—she simply could not see it. "Maybe," she tilted her head left and right in a so-so gesture. "We might end up inside a wall, but I can give it a shot."

"Look—not everything has to be so dramatic, okay? Give it an hour and I'll have all the information we need," Tony spoke up, digging his hand into the silver pouch.

"If it's all the same to you, I prefer to do things the old-fashioned way," Steve told him, confidently. Then, he looked to Cassandra and gave a nod. Tony, once again, rolled his eyes—this time, with the dramatic flare of an arrogant toddler. Cassandra ignored the man-child billionaire as she looked up at Steve and held out her hand, palm up. It was dangerous to attempt a jump without clear knowledge of the destination.

Though, this wasn't the first time she'd teleported with nothing but an idea. There had only been one or two, but each time had been successful—why wouldn't it be now? Steve turned to face Cassandra fully before clasping her hand with his. Then, together, they vanished into a cloud of purple. Bruce sighed heavily as he continued with his work. The conversation, the information that had come to light, was difficult to swallow. If anything, for the fact that he was forced to continue to work with Tony.

However, Bruce understood the importance. He knew this was a serious task, many lives were at stake, and he was willing to continue if it meant saving those lives. But he wasn't quite sure how to feel about the Stark Industries CEO moving forward. Tony wandered off to another monitor, tossing more blueberries into his mouth, and Bruce's eyes followed him. When Cassandra returned, Bruce decided, he would ask for proof. And something told him she would be able to provide it for him.

Cassandra wobbled, dizzied as she reappeared in a dimly lit room. A wall of black crates sat stacked high behind Steve, still holding onto her hand, all with various numbering printed onto the fronts. Steve glanced quickly at their surroundings, taking in a deep breath. "Is this it?" he asked. "Where are we?"

"Um...I think so. It looks like storage," Cassandra gave a small shrug, pulling her hand out of Steve's grip. She turned to look around as well, eyeing the line of crates behind her, too. There had to be some kind of indication, some kind of marking that could tell them if they were, in fact, in the right place.

So, she took slow steps along the aisle of storage containers and attempted to read the serial numbers. Steve followed slowly behind, watching her curiously. "What are you looking for?"

"I don't know. You think a tag that says 'dangerous weapons the government shouldn't be allowed to have' would be too obvious?"

Reading the numbers, however, was pointless if she was unaware of their purposes. It was infuriating to be so close, yet so clueless as to how to close the gap. Steve huffed a quiet chuckle, a few steps behind. Surely they wouldn't be too difficult to locate. If they were at all in the same room, he was willing to spend however long it took to find them. Though, at the same time, he knew finding the Tesseract was time-sensitive and, arguably, much more important.

He told himself this was how he could be of use. There was nothing he could do to locate the Tesseract at the moment—that was a job for the scientists. Maybe finding these weapons could help, too? Even still, proving they exist, adding some culpability to the theory, would be an excellent start. Then, a pull in Cassandra's gut. Her feet halted abruptly and Steve stopped quickly as not to run right into her back. She could feel it, pulsating along her spine like a game of hot and cold.

The motion of the warmth pulsating along the length of her spine began at the base and washed upward, fading out as it ascended, and she found herself looking up. Above them was another level, a metal walkway spanning the length of the room. "Up there," she pointed a finger toward it, drawing Steve's attention to its existence.

Steve didn't hesitate to jump, fingers circling around the metal railing of the second floor, and he swung his legs over effortlessly. Cassandra easily teleported up, appearing just behind him as Steve began following the walkway. She was quick to follow after him, but a gentle vibration caused her to pause. Instinctively, her hand flew to her back pocket, digging out her now ringing cell phone. Though there was no caller name, she recognized the number. Cassandra reached up a finger to press the green answer button and continued after Steve, walking a little faster to catch up from falling behind.

"Hello?" she answered the call quietly, holding the phone up to her ear.

Steve pried the door to a secondary storage room open, using brute strength to dislodge the computerized locking system. Once it was open, he stepped inside, Cassandra not far behind. The room was somewhat small—at least, in comparison to the last. In this room, the crates were silver, in stacks of two's and three's in sporadic placements. Almost like, Steve observed, they were loaded quickly.

Logan's voice crawled through the speaker as Cassandra entered the secondary room. "Hey, kid, it's me. What the hell's goin' on? Are you in some kinda trouble?"

"Um...not yet," she answered him half-heartedly, her thoughts tied up in watching Steve open one of the silver crates along the wall. "Is Charles okay?"

"He's unconscious, but he'll be okay. Be honest with me—do you need backup?"

The opened crate revealed a black mask, an oddly shaped gun placed beside it, with a symbol printed on the side. Hydra. Steve moved to the crate beside it and opened it, as well. Inside, the same contents. He twisted to look at Cassandra over his shoulder, features contorted with anger and rue. "No, this place is insane on security. If I need help, I'll send up a flare. I promise," Cassandra spoke into the phone, swallowing hard.

"Who is that?" Steve asked, turning away from the crates.

"Kid, is someone in the room with you?"

Cassandra held the phone to her chest in a pointless attempt to keep her response from reaching Logan's finely tuned ears. "It's a friend of mine, another mutant. He's just checking on me," she told Steve. Then, she held the phone back up, "It's a friendly. I gotta go."


Director Fury marched into the lab to find Tony sitting cross-legged atop the table, next to the scepter. Bruce stood a foot to Tony's left. "What are you doing, Mr. Stark?" Fury questioned, approaching the idle pair.

"Uh, kind of been wondering the same thing about you," Tony answered.

"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract," the Director reminded, biting his tongue. Though, there was no hiding his frustration.

Bruce spoke up, "We are. The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile."

"Yeah, then you get your cube back. No muss, no fuss," Tony's eyes shot to the screen near his face at the sound of a small beep. "What is 'Phase Two'?"

It was then that Cassandra and Steve returned from their storage room venture. However, this time, Steve was not empty handed. He let go of Cassandra to step to the left, before placing one of the Hydra weapons they'd found on the island. All eyes were sent straight toward it at the loud, metallic thud it made—all but Fury's. The Director stood with his hands on his hips, eyes slightly downcast. It was all beginning to spiral, he knew.

"Phase Two is S.H.I.E.L.D. uses the cube to make weapons," Steve answered, firmly, as he glanced around at the others. Cassandra remained beside him, her eyes a steely glare, hot against the side of Fury's face.

Director Fury attempted to explain the find, "Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean-"

He was interrupted by Tony. "I'm sorry, Nick. What were you lying?" he asked, sarcastic, as he turned the screen in front of him to face Fury. On the screen was a schematic, a plan for just that—Tesseract-powered weapons. There before them all was proof of what Cassandra had said. And the Director had been backed into a very difficult corner to navigate. However, Agent Romanoff and Thor entered the room before he could attempt such a feat.

Bruce used his folded glasses to point at Romanoff. "Did you know about this?" he questioned, slowly moving around from behind the table.

"You want to think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor?" Romanoff replied, ignoring the question.

Cassandra folded her arms tightly over her chest. "Answer him."

Romanoff's eyes moved to Cassandra, demeanor colored in an echo of defense and anticipation. "Loki is manipulating him," she tried to explain.

"That's not what we're discussing, if you haven't noticed," Cassandra narrowed her eyes, tightening her shoulders to help control the tremble of her muscles. "Why the hell is S.H.I.E.L.D. using Nazi weaponry to design weapons of mass destruction powered by the Tesseract? Something that, by the way, doesn't even belong on this planet."

"Because of him," Fury finally spoke up, aiming an index finger at the tall, blonde god standing near him. "Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge-match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously out-gunned."

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet," Thor defended, allowing his arms to fall to his sides.

Fury turned to face him. "But you're not the only people out there, are you? And you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, that can't be controlled."

"They're not supposed to be controlled. How do you not see what kind of slippery slope you're on?" Cassandra questioned, heat swelling beneath the skin of her palms. "Make weapons to protect us? Fine. But this government has a long, bloody history of misusing its power to kill innocent people. This isn't smart—it's reckless."

Thor took steps forward, adding to her statement, "And your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war."

"You forced our hand," Fury stood his ground, looking to Thor. Then, to Cassandra, "We had to come up with something."

"A nuclear deterrent. Because that always calms everything right down," Tony commented.

Cassandra's heated gaze moved swiftly to Tony, still standing by the screen. "That's rich coming from the man who made billions making advanced military weapons until they threatened his own safety," she snapped, spitting the words at him with vitriol. "Or, at least, you stopped making them until you realized you could solve the mutant problem."

"What are you talking about?" Director Fury questioned her, turning back toward her with a perplexed expression.

"You're all so fucking naive! Bigger weapons don't fix jackshit—they just create a bigger response. And now you've told all the realms that we're open for business while jacking off over the Tesseract, inventing more ways for innocents to die and due process to be awarded only to 'normal' people. Do you honestly not know about the Sentinels? Government experimentation? Plastic guns with darts full of the mutant cure? That is where shit like this starts, and it ends with every powered person on this planet dead or under a fucking microscope because you wanted to play God."

Cassandra had taken steps forward as she spoke, fingers balled tightly into fists, paling her knuckles. Fury stared down at her defiantly but his features were ever so slightly relaxed. It appeared as though he were truly listening, understanding her very real concerns. However, everyone else in the room had taken a different approach. They all stood back, eyes round and fearful, apprehensive as the blue held by the scepter started to violently glow halfway through.

It was Steve who came forward. He carefully placed a hand on her shoulder, gentle as not to startle her and cause a reaction, and her eyes were forced to peel themselves away from the Director. "Cassandra, take a deep breath," Steve looked only at her, worried eyes cautiously meeting hers. "I understand what you're saying, and you have every right to say it, but you're doing something to the scepter."

Cassandra blinked, confused eyes moving to the table where the scepter remained propped up. Sure enough, the blue orb glowed brightly, the heat in her hands just as energized. Had she truly done that? Though, she wasn't sure what she'd done other than turn the lighting up a notch. Gritting her teeth against the lingering rage, she forced the energy away, back up into her arms—where she could feel it crawling through her veins. The scepter's blue glow dimmed abruptly, and she gasped quietly.

"Son of a bitch," she muttered, under her breath. This was Loki's plan. To get her close to the scepter, to manipulate her into giving life to its otherwise idle orb. Instinctively, she hurried toward it, stopping just short of bumping into the table, and she reached out her hand. "Any idea what this is made of?"

"Uh…" Bruce was uneasy, shifting his weight. "I can't say that I do—my guess would be something similar to the cube."

"So, if it's full of energy, I could theoretically sense anyone connected with it," her words were rhetorical. Bruce's eyes widened, the information lighting an invisible bulb of realization above each head in the room, and he moved to stand on the other side of the table from her.

"Yeah, you probably can," he nodded quickly. "Is that what you do—you can feel energy?"

Cassandra shrugged half-heartedly as she began to search for the energy emitted from the scepter. "Sense, manipulate, create."

"Why didn't you just ask her to locate the Tesseract?" Bruce questioned, lifting his head to look at Director Fury, still standing just across the room.

"After what you just heard, you really think she would've if we asked?" Fury countered, calmly.

He had a point. However, the truth behind it didn't make it look any less lazy. If Fury had played this game differently, maybe she would have? Maybe she would have eagerly helped locate it? But the secrecy and their first meeting only soured any goodwill there could have been. Still, Cassandra focused on the orb inside the scepter, and the blue began to flourish once more.

Lavender wisps sparked amongst her fingers, veins on the underside of her arm visible in deep purple beneath the skin. She'd never felt energy, power, quite like this before. It spawned out to many inhabitants, many minds it had been plugged into, powering them through various tasks at Loki's command. Then, she felt it. Clint. "I found Clint," she blurted it out in a rush of focused excitement.

Agent Romanoff came forward, standing a foot beside Cassandra. "Where is he?"

"He's…" Cassandra focused a little harder, zoning in on a single individual use of energy. He was not far, she knew. He was so close, somewhere just outside, near but beyond her reach. And it struck her. "H-he's outside the helicarrier?"

Despite the sudden revelation, there was not time for discussion, or even comprehension. Clint stood at the door of a quinjet that hovered just enough out of the helicarrier's orbit, just enough to avoid damage as he aimed an arrow in his bow. Then, he fired it at one of the helicarrier's engines. When the arrow hit its target, the engine exploded violently, large pieces of its workings falling off into the depths of the atmosphere. Flames from the explosion were sent barreling rapidly through the vents of the helicarrier, coming to a head beneath the laboratory.

Flame and heat burst through the vents, cratering in the flooring, and those in the room were pushed outward by the force. Tony, Steve, Fury, and Thor were sent spiraling to what remained of the floor as the glass of the room's windows shattered out of their frames. Agent Romanoff, Bruce, and Cassandra plunged into the fiery crater, falling onto the grate of a large vent below. They hit the metal hard, broken glass and metal pieces falling on top of them.

Agents all across the helicarrier were thrown into action as the craft struggled to keep itself in the air. Steve clambered up from the floor and helped Tony to his feet haphazardly, and they moved as quickly as they could out of the lab to spring into action as well. Fury sat up, shaking his head in an attempt to free himself from a bout of disorienting fog and dizziness. Though, instinctively, he reached a hand up to his ear piece. "Hill!"

"External detonation," Agent Hill replied, through the comm. "Number three engine is down. We've been hit."

"Can they get it running?" he questioned.

"Somebody's got to get outside and patch that engine."

Cassandra heaved in a dry breath, gaining nothing but smoke-tainted oxygen and a sharp pain in her rib cage. Broken wires sizzled and popped, damaged pipes steamed, and it felt like the whole craft was spinning. Noise hit her ears hard from all directions, all sources—but faint grunting, panting, caught her attention. Slowly, she eased her head to the side. Bruce was on his stomach, clutching desperately to the metal grate as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably.

He could feel the rage taking hold. It was in the way his heart raced unnaturally, how his gut twinged, and his head felt like a pressurized container. Cassandra pushed against the grate, rolling onto her side, and winced loudly at the pain shooting up her spine. "Bruce? Hey," she tried desperately to get his attention, gritting her teeth through the pain and dizziness as she continued to push herself upright. "Everything's okay. We're gonna be fine. Bruce? Do you hear me?"

Agent Romanoff was slightly disoriented as well, face down on the grate. She'd hit her head a little too hard, blood trailing its way down the side of her forehead. But she rose up on her elbows at the sound of Fury's voice in her ear, calling her name. Instinctively, she reacted, making to get up. Something forced her leg still, prohibiting her from truly going anywhere. She twisted over her shoulder and sighed heavily at the sight of her leg pinned beneath a large metal pipe.

So, instead of standing, she reached a hand up to her ear piece. "We're okay," she told Fury. Then, she looked to Cassandra, now finally on her knees atop the grate. "We're okay, right?"

Cassandra neglected to respond. In truth, she hardly heard Romanoff's voice. She bent over Bruce's anguished frame, a hand on his shoulder, speaking as calmly and gently as she could muster given the state of their situation. "Fight it, Bruce. You can do this," she attempted to be encouraging. "Just stay calm—breathe."

Maintenance workers spotted the fallen trio. They began to make their way toward them, but Romanoff waved them away urgently. The pair of workers were quick to disappear at the Agent's behest, running away from them. "Cass, my leg. You have to move the pipe," Romanoff turned to see Cassandra.

"Hold on-"

The Agent interrupted, speaking swiftly, "You can't stop him, okay? We have to get out of here. Now."

Cassandra could feel the energy building within Bruce. It was far too rapid, far too strong. Somehow, the energy there felt alive all its own, carrying the same weight as any other person's energy she'd touched. The mass of green muscle and rage became clear now in her mind. It had a face, hair, hands, a heart and a brain. It felt alive because it was alive. What Charles had shown her was an image of what lay restlessly beneath the doctor's skin, and there was no telling the damage it could incur should it get out. No, not 'it'—he.

Romanoff was right, she knew. Though, that knowledge did not ease the ache in her chest as she let go of Bruce's shoulder. Reluctantly, she shifted closer to Romanoff's leg, and reached for the large pipe. It was then that Bruce began to change shape—his skin melted into a dense green shade, muscles growing and bulging, ripping the fabric of his purple dress shirt. The Hulk was not coming. He had arrived.