"Send the rest."
With one command from Loki, Chitauri poured through the hole in the sky in droves. More floating beasts swam through into the New York City air amongst them. Logan could see them, on the roof of Stark Tower, but he didn't dare alert Cassandra. He remained still, heels dug into the gravel as he held tight to her shoulder. Thunder rumbled as strips of lightning cracked above, rocketing from Thor's hammer and barreling toward the swarms. Thor perched himself at the top of the Chrysler building, turning the metal tip into a lightning rod, for a better shot.
Storm took aim at the large, armored beasts in an attempt to stop them—or, at the very least, slow them down. However, she accomplished neither. They spread out and began to travel the streets, their outward arms catching the sides of buildings and tearing through them as they passed. An arm sunk deep into the side of an office building, the windows shattering in quick succession along its path, and Lori dove behind a desk to escape the spray of glass. She, Rogue, and Kitty were on the twenty-third flour, guiding civilians in danger out of the building.
Kitty waded through two desks as she ran toward the windows, toward Lori. "Lor, you okay?" she asked, when she reached her. Lori climbed to her feet with a glance over her shoulder, eyes drifting quickly to the openness of the far wall, the glimmering shards sprinkled all over the office carpet.
"I'm good," Lori nodded. "Let's get to the next-"
Sounds echoed through the broken windows, shrill hollers of Chitauri warriors as they climbed the outside of the building. Then, there they were, landing on the carpeted floor after they swung themselves inside, with blasters drawn almost immediately. Kitty instinctively grabbed hold of Lori's arm and fazed them both, before turning on her heels. "Go!" Lori shouted, turning quickly as well.
The Chitauri opened fire. Blaster bolts hit random office objects—computers, filing cabinets, chairs—and all burst into flames and debris around them. A few bolts even shot clean through their intangible torsos. They ran toward the stairwell near the center of the floor. It was an open floor plan, with nothing much other than desks and bookshelves in their way. The pair made it to Rogue, who waited anxiously with the stairwell door in hand, open and ready for them to dive in and escape with the civilians they'd gathered.
Kitty slid in as Rogue continued to hold the door, but Lori heard an unmistakable sound—a scream. She stopped abruptly, bracing a hand on the doorframe as she leaned back to look out at the office space. Her eyes searched frantically for any evidence that what she heard was in fact from this building, on this floor. "Come on, we need to go!" Rogue insisted, shouting to be heard over the noise. "You heard what Cass said—call for backup."
"All of our backup is out there!" Lori reminded, glancing at her as she waved her hand outward, toward the broken windows.
Then, another scream. It pulled Lori's eyes back toward the windows with a snap of her head, her heart thrumming in her ears, caught in the back of her throat. "Just let me look," Lori looked to Rogue briefly. "Get everyone down to the lobby, tell the others what's happening on the way."
Rogue's eyebrows knitted, jaw falling. "We're not leaving you here-!"
Lori darted out. The door almost fell closed behind her, Rogue's quick hand catching it just before, just enough to pull it open. Lori shielded herself, blending in with the background of her environment as she walked lightly, quickly to the far left wall. The Chitauri were moving down the center and toward the right, so she stayed on the other side. Moving quietly enough, she made her way toward the windows.
She could hear it—a woman terrified. Breathing heavily, whimpering shakily, most likely hidden beneath one of the desks. How could they have missed her? Lori continued forward, bending to glance under each desk she passed on her way. She slowed her pace, taking quiet but deep breaths, as she reached the end, now traveling the line of the windows. "Help! Please!" quiet shrieks came from her right, and she instinctively froze.
Sure enough, a woman was sheltering in place so far beneath her desk, there was no way to easily spot her. Lori checked the position of the Chitauri present before lowering herself to her knees. "Shh," she shushed the woman, making herself visible. "Be very quiet, okay? I'm gonna get you out of here. Take my hand."
Lori held out her hand to the woman. And, although her hand shook violently, she was quick to reach out and take it, rolling to the side and onto her knees to crawl out. "Who are you?" the woman whispered.
"Shadowgirl—I'm with the X-Men."
"The X-Men are here? Oh, thank god. I'm Victoria."
"It's nice to meet you, Victoria. Stay close to me. Whatever you do, don't let go of me, okay?" Lori instructed in a hushed tone, as she began to stand. She masked her skin, along with Victoria's, as they moved into view of the Chitauri. The pair were completely invisible as Victoria nodded, and clutched Lori's arm tightly. They moved slowly, taking quiet steps along the line of desks toward the open hall. It was a direct path to the stairwell.
Although, Victoria shook like a leaf in the wind, small sounds of terror escaping her lips. Lori knew the closer she got to the stairs, the harder it would be to hide—after all, the Chitauri were almost there themselves. But it was then that Angel reached the outside of the building, Captain America tucked beneath him like a red, white, and blue missile. He dove fast toward the windows, hitting the brakes just before crashing through them to give more power to his throw, before hurling Steve their direction.
Steve tucked and rolled as he reached the carpet of the office floor, before springing up with shield in hand. It drew the immediate attention of the Chitauri—all turning around to fire at him directly—but he was more than ready. He threw his shield, the vibranium bouncing off two Chitauri helmets and then the wall. Its trajectory curved, speeding back toward him. Steve caught the shield as he ran forward, leaping up, and pushing off the corner of a desk. He brought the shield down atop one of the closest Chitauri.
Victoria instinctively ducked from the blaster fire, diving forward, beneath another desk with a scream. She let go of Lori, lurching both of them out of transparency. Three Chitauri remaining turned their blasters on her as Steve rammed the shield into another's face. He just barely caught their sudden change in position, glancing quickly over his shoulder to confirm what they aimed at was her. "Hey!" he shouted to get her attention, acting with no time to plan ahead. "Look out!"
He twisted and threw the shield—attempting not to throw it hard enough she couldn't catch it—but he could not spare the moment to make sure she received it. Steve was forced to keep fighting, gritting his teeth as his fists became his only weapon and defense. Lori, by the windows, gasped as the shield pummeled toward her. She took steps forward and ducked, reaching up to grab hold of the straps beneath it in order to lessen its impact, sheltering on her knees behind it.
However, despite carpet burn on her knees from a slight slide due to force, that was not the hardest hit. The Chitauri fired their blasters and a bolt hit the center of the shield's star. It bounced off easily, but the force of the hit shoved her back as though she were hollow. Her body fell backward as the shield tumbled from her unprepared hands, thrust across the two feet of carpet remaining, before she tipped over the edge of the broken window at her back. Suddenly the flooring had disappeared, and she was in a free fall.
She fell straight down as a rock in a pool, flailing arms reaching for a kind of life ring that wasn't there as a shrill scream ripped its way out of her throat from somewhere deep within her gut. A place of terror she'd never quite reached before. Something white entered her peripheral, seconds before a sticky substance wrapped itself around her torso. Her whole body lurched—hard—against the force as her momentum slowed, even going so far as to reverse. "Hang on!" someone shouted. "I've got you!"
The white substance acted as a kind of rope, and she held onto it tightly as she was swung gracefully toward the ground. Overhead, a red and blue blur shaped like a man held the other end as he, too, swung with a second chord of white. He used buildings, gripping to them in order to slow the both of them down as they dropped lower. Then, finally, they'd reached the sidewalk. Lori's feet touched the ground and she found herself forced to walk quickly a few steps to offset the still quick pace of the landing. The man in red above retracted the white substance clinging to her torso and swung upward, rapidly gaining height as he continued to travel along the street.
Chest heaving, throat burning, Lori stared in bewilderment—but it faded quickly into grateful amazement. It was no secret that a vigilante in a red and blue costume swung around Manhattan with spider-like abilities. After all, it was all over the internet, and had been for some time. Though, the X-Men had not yet been introduced to the web-slinger of New York City personally.
After a moment, the adrenaline had leveled out, and she was able to push herself forward, back toward the office building. That was when she heard the voices in her earpiece, frantically asking for her, questioning her safety, her whereabouts. She reached the glass doors and yanked one open to enter as she reached up for the device. "I'm okay, guys," she spoke into it, nearly out of breath. "I had a little help. Head's up—Spider-Man's in play."
Not too many blocks away, the Hulk was joined by Thor atop one of the floating beasts as it terrorized the streets. Hulk grabbed the Chitauri warriors atop it with them by their heads and threw them from the beasts back. Thor used his hammer as a weapon, hitting any warriors dumb enough to get close. The Hulk tore at the beast's armor, ripping free a large sheet of it. He then sunk it into the beast's back. Thor took the opportunity to hit it as hard as he could with his hammer, driving it deep into the beast, and it bellowed as its nose dropped.
The beast fell into a rapid decline, plowing head first into the front of Grand Central Station. It came to a stop just before the ticket counter. On the streets, Bobby and Scott worked together to keep the bridge clear, with Jubilee and Beast just down below. They'd worked their way back as the groups shuffled, repositioning to better keep the Chitauri still pouring in from making it past the blocks just around Stark Tower. It was tiresome, fighting the seemingly never ending wave of alien threats.
Still, they pressed on, and Bobby created another wall of ice to block an incoming blaster bolt. Then, behind the ice—an orange glow hit the Chitauri who had fired at him. The warrior shrieked as another hit its face, and another followed quickly after. Its weapon hit the ground as it, too, dropped to the pavement. With a look of shock, Bobby turned his head. Something deep within his gut twinged at the sight of John Allerdyce. Whether from concern for John's health or his own, he was unsure, but it remained all the same.
"Gotta say, I'm a little offended you'd throw a party and not invite me," John dryly quipped as he met Bobby's surprised gaze, before blasting a thick flame at another Chitauri.
Bobby shrugged, mentally forcing himself to unstick. "Well, I've been a little busy."
"Where's Cass?" John asked. He turned to take steps toward Bobby, and Bobby looked skyward.
"Rooftop of the tower," he answered, quickly. "She's the only one with a chance of closing that thing. Logan's with her. Are you actually here to help?"
John furrowed his brow. "No, I'm just gonna stand here like a dumbass. On your left."
Bobby sidestepped as John wound back his arm, ducking out of the way before a fireball could singe his hair. The fire blasted an incoming Chitauri square in the face, but John grimaced at the burning in the skin of his abdomen. Every stitch, keeping his skin together by some miracle, was pulled thin. He shouldn't be here—hell, he shouldn't be upright. But he couldn't back out now.
So, he continued to direct beams of fire at nearby Chitauri as Bobby froze others with his ice. Scott wasn't too far away, near the center of the bridge, but his sights were focused on the sky. Chitauri zipped by on their hovercrafts, but some lingered upon spotting the X-Men on the bridge. Scott blasted as many as he could straight out of the sky. "You almost died," Bobby reminded John, in brief a lull. "This isn't the time to play hero, John."
"I may be living on borrowed time, but I'm not leaving without Cassandra," John was adamant, though reserved, as he forced the words through gritted teeth. He finished burning another Chitauri before turning on a heel to see his old friend, allowing his determination—and grief—to be seen within his eyes. "Not this time."
Bobby understood—dear god, he understood. Still, he couldn't help but be concerned. John's skin was still a shade too pale. He slouched, giving his torso some slack as not to pull too hard on the loose stitches. It was clear that he was not in even remotely good health, but Bobby knew he wouldn't be able to talk him into leaving. So, he nodded. "Alright. Then let's do what we can until she gets that portal closed," Bobby conceded.
John returned the nod, a silent 'thank you' for giving in, for allowing him to help as he so desperately wanted. He found himself glancing upward, eyes lingering briefly on the speck that was the roof of Stark Tower. She would never believe that he was there, he knew. That he'd finally come back for her, like she'd done so many times for him. But it didn't matter. As long as she came home safe, nothing else truly mattered.
"We've got about a minute before New York is toast," Tony's voice came through all earpieces. "I've got enough juice to get the missile through the city, but I can't take it through the portal."
Steve was back on the street now, covered in grime, his suit ripped and oozing his own blood—but he was still standing. Police guided a crowd of civilians out of the bank behind him as he touched his earpiece. "Cyclops, is there anyone on your team capable of guiding a missile?"
"That's a negative, Cap," Scott replied.
Mr. Stark, guide the missile toward Stark Tower. Charles' voice sounded inside Tony's head as though he'd installed a second J.A.R.V.I.S. in his suit. Tony was confused, speeding over the water to intercept the missile, in more ways than one. "Oh, you must be the telepath friend," he commented, dryly sarcastic. "Quick question—what exactly do you plan to do with it when I get it there?"
Reinforcements have arrived. We will handle it from there.
Tony sighed heavily, but continued on. There weren't many other options—if any at all—and he was already about to reach the missile. With no time to argue or adjust the plan, Tony flew below the missile and reached up, latching onto it as it barreled toward the edge of the city. On the roof of Stark Tower, Cassandra could see it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the bright line behind the Iron Man suit and the trail of dark smoke lingering behind the nuclear missile.
Lavender had begun to coat the area of the force field immediately surrounding her energy beam, the beam like a tendril as it fought to dig deeper, pushing against the flexibility of the field. It was energy she hadn't possessed—hadn't commanded—for a long time. Feeling the rush, the agony of it all, was like a cold slap across the face. She'd promised never to take it this far again. To only result to using the full strength of her abilities in a life or death scenario. And, even then, only if it was the only remaining option.
Was this not life or death? Was this not the only option left? So, then, why did she hesitate? Cassandra could feel it in the way the muscles of her hands twitched, the way her lungs didn't quite work right. The thought of causing as much damage as she had all those years ago was utterly terrifying. Cassandra. Charles spoke gently within her head. Once you see the missile rise above the tower, close the portal. Logan's grip on her shoulder briefly tightened, a gesture to say he'd heard the plan, too.
But memories danced before her vision like the dead come to life, flashes of heartache she'd inflicted, the unrelenting pain she had caused. Not only on the one she'd loved most—but on herself. It was the only way to end their fight with Magneto, and it came at a great price. A price far too high. But this was necessary, she told herself, as she buckled down. Just as that act of heroism had been, so was this. Necessary. Despite the cost. "I know what you're thinkin' kid!" Logan shouted over the high wind and loud hum of battling energy. "Push it out! Focus on my voice! You know you're strong enough to do this. It's in there, kid. Find it!"
Cassandra's eyes screwed shut, the muscles in her hands straining as her fingers curled, centralizing the combined energy within her palms. The beams that came from her hands were strong, but they fused together two feet ahead to form one, pressurized blast of power. The purple energy dipped deeper into the force field and the blue translucent energy quivered. It was faltering, but it wasn't thin enough to break through just yet. Tony guided the missile toward Stark Tower and veered it upward, following the height of the building.
His thrusters were beginning to falter as well, blowing sparks like puffs of air in a garden hose. But then he felt it—the missile was guiding itself. It moved faster through the air, spiraling skyward as Tony allowed his suit to come down from overdrive, instead landing on the outer deck of the top floor. Though, already standing there, was an elderly man. With a burgundy cape flowing off his shoulders, his head was shrouded by a metallic looking helmet.
The man's hand was also skyward, his eyes following the missile as it climbed into the blue of the sky. Logan was about to snap his teeth, gritting them far too hard for any normal human, when the nuclear missile passed the height of the roof. A jolt of adrenaline shot through him and he looked to Cassandra. "Now, kid! Close it!"
Cassandra's eyes instinctively snapped open. A vibrant purple-pink flooded her blue irises as sparks trailed the beam of lavender from her palms. The energy surged up from the depths of her gut, coming out of the shadows of her spine. It joined the purple beams of energy, enriching them nearly tenfold, and the translucent blue snapped. It gave way, fading out around the machine harboring the Tesseract. Cassandra's beam dove in, shooting straight into the center of the Cube, and lavender flooded the beam trailing toward the sky.
It traveled rapidly, racing the missile as it, too, sped toward the gaping hole in the universe. Though, the missile won out. It disappeared into the blackness of the portal's center. Lavender colored its way upward, fanning out to encompass the entirety of the open portal. Once it had covered it all, Cassandra clenched her fists, and the purple pulled inward. It folded in on itself, swiftly closing the hole in the sky, before falling back down.
Chitauri across the city fell dead. Hovercrafts crashed into buildings, parked cars, exploding upon impact. One remaining floating beast took an immediate nosedive and dropped dead on top of a building. The energy retraced its steps in a matter of seconds. As it reached the Tesseract, it surged—sending out a small burst of energy. The force caused Logan to stumble back, his feet faltering, and he landed against his lower back atop the gravel. Cassandra took the majority of the blast.
She fell against him, limp as her inner organs seized. Logan was quick to sit up, adjusting her across his lap in order to better see her face. Her eyelids were gently closed, as though she'd closed them for sleep herself, but the color had drained from her skin. He paused to listen, searching for a heartbeat, but he was met with a silence so deafening, it was far too loud for his sensitive ears. "Kid? No, no- come on," Logan moved her to the gravel, rising to his knees beside her. "Don't pull this shit with me. You hear me? Wake up, Cassandra."
Fingers interlocked, his palms held weight as they pressed rhythmically into Cassandra's still chest. Her frame swayed from the force but her heart remained motionless. Yet still he listened—he listened and he pushed, and his own heart stilled further with every passing second. "Cass, Logan—you guys okay up there?" it was Scott, his voice coming through the earpiece.
"Scott, she's not breathing- we need help!"
"Hold on, help's coming," Scott replied, a newfound urgency to his tone. "Kurt—get Kitty up to the roof, now."
Kurt's voice followed. "I am on my way."
Storm's boots touched the gravel of the roof and immediately she was walking quickly, hurrying to Logan's side. Angel flew up the side of Stark Tower at a speed reminiscent of the S.H.I.E.L.D. missile before landing on the roof as Storm had done. Logan continued to administer CPR, despite the lack of results—it seemed to help him more than Cassandra, giving him something to do, to feel useful. After a few more seconds, a blue cloud appeared a few feet away as Kurt and Kitty arrived.
Kitty sprinted the distance and dropped to her knees, skidding into the gravel without thought of the physical consequence. "How long has she been out?"
"Long enough."
A withered male voice turned the heads of everyone but Logan—who feverishly continued chest compressions despite noticing the shift in conversation. It was Magneto, lifting himself to join the others on the roof from the deck below. In his grip was a familiar god of mischief, hefted up by the metal of his attire, pulled tight around the Asgardian's neck. With a flick of his wrist, Magneto dropped Loki onto the gravel. "What the hell are you doing?" Warren questioned, taking a step forward.
"Let him fix the mess he made," Magneto insisted, as his feet touched the roof. "After all, he's about the only one who can at this point."
Loki was weakened, riddled with cuts and sore spots, but his mind had never felt clearer. He'd been in control of himself the moment the Hulk threw him against the ground. It jostled him free, that voice that lingered in the far depths of his mind—trapped within his own body. Now, everything was clear. Including the sight before him. Cassandra, pale and unmoving, and Logan still pounding against her chest in the hopes of waking up her heart. A sharp pain shot through his chest as his own heart sank into the pit of his stomach.
"No- Cassandra?" he scrambled, palms bracing against the gravel, internalizing the ache flooding through his body from the movement. Loki crawled, moving as quickly as he could to her vacant side, and his eyes swept over her face. It was far too pale, far too vacant. Under his breath, he whispered, "What has he done?"
"If you're gonna do somethin', do it now—before I remove your head from your fuckin' shoulders," Logan told him, through a clenched jaw.
The volume, the anger and pain in his voice startled Loki, though it was understandable. "You're going to need to stop that," he replied, tipping his head in a brief gesture toward Logan's hands. "Give her some space."
Begrudgingly, hesitantly, Logan retracted his hands. Though, his gaze remained heated, glaring into the side of Loki's face with an unwavering rage. Loki moved closer and leaned forward, before holding a hand over the left side of her chest, hovering above palm-flat. "Breathe, my love," he whispered, as a green shimmer pulsated briefly from her chest. It flickered from beneath her suit, beneath her skin. As it disappeared, her heart thrummed to life, beating against her rib cage—then, her lungs inflated.
Cassandra sucked in a sharp, but deep breath, an abundance of white light swarming her once dark vision. It was painfully bright, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut as she continued to breathe deeply. Logan's shoulders shuddered as he exhaled, his metal bones flooding with relief as he moved forward. He reached down and scooped up her frame into his arms, bringing her to his chest. In her disorientation, her hands fumbled, aimlessly moving around his shoulders instinctively—but she didn't understand much of anything.
Any noise sounded like it was filtered through a tin can, quiet and a bit distant. She was nauseous for no explainable reason and her throat felt constricted. The dizzying swirl of such sudden movement, sitting upright so quickly, ensured nothing felt as it should. Although, how was one supposed to feel after coming back from the dead?
