Natasha kicked Clint in the face, hurriedly sliding down a sheet of metal. He followed her down, as expected, and they exchanged flurry of blows. Unfortunately, Clint had the weapon and she did not, meaning it was high time she found one… Or stole it.

She grabbed ahold of his bow from the string. He pulled and kicked, but she wrangled it away from him and slid backwards, pointing the sharpest end like a sword. Clint drew a knife, running straight at her, but Natasha blocked and headbutted him in return. He was sloppy in this altered state.

He threw a punch, allowing her to grab his arm and twist it, hoping to break skin. Sorry, Clint. But before she could make him bleed, or better, break his arm, he threw the knife from his captured hand to his free one, and Natasha just barely missed a slice that would have spilled her brain all over Fury's nice metal catwalks.

She jumped onto his back and got Clint in a stranglehold, aiming his own knife at him, but he managed to throw her against the side of the catwalk, knocking her off, and followed up by aiming the knife at her exposed throat instead. His arm slammed down on top of her neck, attempting to keep her in place. Natasha shook sweat off her face and pulled her face away from the glinting blade. Seeing no other option, she bit him. He dropped the knife as Natasha wiped the blood away from her chin. Clint quickly picked himself up and ran at her, but Natasha jumped over his head, resulting in him hitting his head on the guardrails. Hard.

"Auugghh…" Clint blinked at her. "Felichia?"

Natasha punched him in the face. He sprawled, banging his head once again. That should knock that spell out of his brain. She hefted his unconscious body in a fireman's carry and began to trudge back to Fury. She hoped the rest of the team could take out the remainder of Loki's forces. Loki had hoped to use the commotion caused by The Hulk to escape, but Strife had taken care of that problem. Stark and Rogers should have finished repairing the engine by now. And from what she knew of Thor… she nearly groaned. He would go after Loki.

Loki could scarcely believe how easy it had been to trick his brother into containment. Why, he himself had been the one to dislodge the cell in the first place! He wondered…

"Humans think us immortal," Loki informed his brother, "Should we test that?"

A sudden grunt from one of the pawns who were guarding the door distracted him.

Damn, a blasted S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

"Move away from the controls," What was his name-? That's right, Coulson ordered.

The weapon in his hands did not look Asgardian-friendly, but Loki had a plan. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent advanced slowly. "You like this?" He asked, hefting the weapon. Loki slowly put his hands up.

"I started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer." He shook the weapon again. Loki put the appropriate expression of fear on his face, though inside he was boiling. How dare these humans even think they could ever possibly match gods?

Coulson shrugged, appearing quite relaxed. "Even I don't know what it can do." He turned to Loki, priming the weapon for fire. "Wanna find out?"

Any further threats were silenced by the golden spear pushed through his chest. Loki's illusion at the other end of the walkway faded, and he pulled out the spear, admiring his handiwork. He ignored his brother's screaming and casually kicked the weapon away from Coulson. The agent stared at him with blank eyes, the colors in the iris already muted by the incoming coldness of death.

Loki smiled widely as he tapped the release button on the control station. It opened the hatch under Thor. Blustering wind whipped Loki's hair and robes around, creating a striking resemblance to a king cobra, going in for the kill. Goodbye, brother.

The cage dropped.

Loki closed the hatch, staring at the spot where his brother had been moments before. Had he truly just killed him for good? A strange feeling settled in his chest. It wasn't grief… but joy?

For the first time in a long, long, time, Loki left the room with a true smile on his face. He didn't deign to speak with the dead man. He had more important matters to attend to.

"Agent Coulson is down." Fury said into his radio. He gave one last glance to his friend and left the hanger. Coulson had been brave, and kinder than the rest of them, and so many other things Fury would never be able to experience again. He ran a hand down his face and rubbed his temples. Thor was gone. The Hulk out of commission. Barton was back, but with heavy injuries. Strife, Romanoff, Stark, and Rogers were all fine. That was four out of the seven ready to fight. Unfortunately, the mental state of the Avengers was scattered. They nothing keeping them together.

Fury was going to change that.

"Shit." Cloud buried his head in his hands. Coulson was gone. Natasha was barely keeping it together in the seat next to him, but Cloud felt as though he would break the second somebody spoke to him.

Another death on his watch. Another friend, once again gone for no good reason at all. Another friend that he hadn't told 'goodbye'.

Cloud rubbed his face in his hands. "Shit." He repeated.

Steve's eyes were downcast, Stark was resting his elbow on the table and cradling his head, Natasha was trying to be strong but blinking back tears, and Fury himself appeared to be shaking. Cloud wished he had some Hypers right about now. It would feel awful to artificially get rid of his grief, but right now he would take the numbness over anything.

Fury finally spoke, his voice like gravel in the cold, silent room. "These were in Phil Coulson's jacket." He threw a couple of bloodstained Captain America trading cards onto the table. Cloud felt like he was going to be sick, but he swallowed back the bile in his throat and kept listening.

"We're dead in the air up here. Lost communications, nothing on the cube, Thor is gone, and we have no idea when Banner or Barton will recover…"

Steve picked up one of the trading cars, flipping it over to dully study both sides. Fury shook his head. "He never did get you to sign them."

It's a little late for that now, Cloud nearly snapped, but he held his tongue. Even Stark was quiet as he examined a few cards, turned them over in his hands like he could turn back the clock. Cloud picked up a card and tucked it into one of his pockets. He had the Ribbon from Aerith, the Buster Sword from Zack, and now the trading cards from Coulson. I'm like the grim reaper, collecting tokens from dead friends wherever I go.

Fury began to stride calmly around the table. "Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract." Fury began. Cloud's mood further soured. "I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier."

"There was an idea. Stark, and Strife, both know this. It was called the Avengers initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people-"

"And aliens." Cloud muttered.

Fury side-eyed him but added, "And aliens, to see if they could become something even more. To see if they could work together when we needed them too," Steve looked away and Cloud closed his eyes, "To fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea."

Cloud's eyes snapped open. Was Fury actually- "Fury, I swear-"

"Cloud!" Natasha raised her voice. It was a wavering thing, but it still stood strong. He paused. "Just… please, sit down."

Cloud sat down.

"In heroes." Fury finished.

Stark got up and walked away. Cloud shook his head and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. I never was and never will be one of those.

"Well…" Fury said, watching Stark disappear with disappointment in his eye, "It's an old-fashioned notion."