CHAPTER NINETEEN-LONG BLACK VEIL
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Thor
Stalking through the halls of the Dravec ship, I feel every ounce of the weariness plaguing me. Too long I've gone without worthy sustenance. Too long I've been hunted like a common tuatholin on a foreign world. Too long have my people been without their king.
"They are well," Heimdall assures me at my right.
My gaze cuts to him, his golden eyes bright in the dim crimson light staining the hall like blood. "I thought your eyes could not see our people."
"They could not pierce through the haze of that planet's atmosphere. The treachery and bloodshed of the Dravec was too thick, it clouded my vision. But I can see them now. Valkyrie has kept them safe, as she swore."
I raise a brow.
"They may all be inebriated," Heimdall amends. "But they are well enough."
A smile dares to curl itself upon my lips. "I am pleased to hear it."
"And eager to receive their king, I might add. The world they have sheltered on is no home."
"I have thought on this much," I tell him as the towering hall begins to curve. "I know no better place for them than Earth."
Heimdall is silent for several minutes, and the sounds of our boots pounding on the metal grate of the ship echo loudly in my ears.
"You have a fondness for Earth and its people," he starts. "And I have seen why. The friends you have made, the allies you have forged, they are to be commended."
"But?" I prompt, hearing the weight in his voice.
"But our people have suffered a trauma that none ever should. The destruction of Asgard, their homes, their history, the only world many of them have ever known...Earth may welcome them, but is it a place to create a New Asgard? To rebuild our culture anew? A place that will truly be their home?"
I frown, and another kind of weariness settles over my shoulders like a kingly mantle. "I know not then, what I should do, if things are as you say."
My friend's hand settles upon my shoulder. "Let us focus on the present, and think on the future at a later time, when you've had a chance to rest."
"You are a good friend."
"You are a good king."
We reach a looming set of double doors, the height nearly those of the ones in my father's great hall, before it was destroyed. I push them open, a hand on each door, and together, Heimdall and I enter the trophy room, where another king waits.
T'Challa, I have learned, is the king of Wakanda, a great nation that until recently, had obscured itself from the eyes of their neighbor countries.
He stands regal in the center of the room, his helmet left on his own ship, so that I can see the multitude of expressions crossing his face. Expressions I know well and still feel in my own chest. T'Challa stares at a jagged uniform upon the wall, and I cross the length of the room to stand beside him.
"Fifty years ago," he begins. "My people were taken by these monsters and hunted as you were. They were not as fortunate."
I look at him, seeing the pain, the king's guilt that he bears well, though he was too young to have ruled at that time when his warriors were abducted and slaughtered. My hand grips his shoulder, king standing beside king, feeling the weight of our pasts, of our people upon us.
"It is no easy thing," I murmur. "To rule."
"No," T'Challa agrees heavily. "It is not. Had I the ability, I would wipe this ship and the planet below out of existence entirely."
"Come," I say. "Let us gather up these remnants of tragedy."
He meets my eye, and I continue, feeling a burning within my blood.
"And then we will do the Dravec the greatest dishonor we can reap upon them, and wipe every trace of them from the universe."
T'Challa's jaw sets, and I see the same fire in his eyes as he claps my shoulder in return.
"Let's begin."
Scott Lang
"And now you're back, from outer space! I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face!"
"Please stop."
"I should have changed that stupid lock-"
"Scott."
"I should have made you leave your key-"
"Hey. Tic-tac. That's enough."
"If I had known for just one second, you'd be back to bother me-"
"SCOTT."
I stop singing. "You know, you could have just hung up. I'm the one doing the grunt work here over on the U.S.S. Doomsday."
"Steve wants us to keep communications open," replies Sam in my ear. "He's worried about stragglers. Doesn't want any surprises."
"Trust me," I say, looking down at the cold corpses dotted around the massive weapons hall. "These guys are deader than dead. No more surprises on our end."
Sam's voice lowers. "I think he's just a little rattled from everything. Dude also lost a hell of a lot of blood."
From far in the distance, so faint I can barely hear it, Steve calls weakly, "I heard that."
"Just tellin it like it is, man. Now shut up, and let the woman finish stitching you up."
"Tell me again, why I don't have the pleasure of your company over here," I grunt as I drag what might be the Dravec's version of a grenade launcher or plasma cannon or whatever over to the pile I've stashed by the bay door. I'm trying to grab at least one of everything for the others to take apart and study to compare to our own tech back at home.
If it were me, I'd be leaving it all here to rot. The less psycho alien tech we have on Earth, the better.
"Twisted my ankle in the fight."
"Yeah, sure. Gotta watch out for those weak, delicate ankles of yours."
"You know, the more you shut up, the faster it'll go, and then we can all go home."
I drop the massive, heavy weapon onto the pile with a grunt of effort and bend over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath. "I work faster when I sing. You're the one slowing me down."
"What's your guys's ETA?"
"Well I'll have to check with the gods and kings," I straighten. "But I'm all finished on my end. Got enough weapons and tech and data to keep Stark and Shuri busy for the next ten years."
Sam's quiet for a minute, then says, "Okoye's on their line with T'Challa. Sounds like they're wrapping up too and heading your way."
"Good. I could use some super human strength to finish lugging this stuff onto the shuttle."
I open the bay doors and start taking the smaller items and boxes of tech and Dravec supplies I had loaded myself onto our shuttle. And for Sam's sake, start singing again. "Go on, now go! Walk out the door! Just turn around now 'cause you're not welcome anymore!"
"I'm five seconds away from disobeying the Captain and muting this line."
"What do you have against Gloria Gaynor?"
"Her? Nothing. Your rendition? Everything."
I consider this. "I got Taylor Swift in my arsenal, too. You want 'Shake it Off' or 'Bad Blood'?"
Silence.
"Where'd you go, Sammy?" I place a container of gray, fabric like bandages onto the stack in the shuttle's cargo. "I also do a mean 'Baby Shark'."
Nothing. Not even a groan.
Did he hang up on me?
I tap my ear piece. "Hey. What's with the silent treatment?"
Sam's voice returns, urgent, just as Thor, T'Challa, and….the other guy with the big sword whose name I can't recall, round the corner, massive black chests carried between them. "We got a problem."
I stiffen, locking eyes with T'Challa. "What kind of problem?"
"The poison kind."
"Shit," I breathe as Thor demands, "Who's been poisoned?"
"It's Steve. Something must have been coating that spear that got him. Bruce is getting a sample of it right now, but we're gonna need the alien records to identify it to find the cure."
"How bad is it?" I ask.
Tensely, tersely, Sam replies quietly. "It's bad. Hurry up and get over here."
"On it," I say as Thor and Heimdall load their black trunks onto the shuttle. T'Challa and I have just bent to lift some of the more massive weapons up to place with the others, when the dim red lights above begin to flicker.
We still, our eyes going up.
"Huh," I say.
"That is not your doing?" asks Heimdall warily.
"Yeah, not so much," I mutter as the lights go steady, then flicker more violently than before. My hands are on the handle of a particularly hefty weapon when I glance instinctively down the end of the hall.
My insides seize in instinctual terror at the sight of the massive figure looming there, gone one second in darkness, then there again, silhouetted against the red light of the ship.
"Shit!" I exclaim, straightening suddenly.
"What is it?" T'Challa demands.
I go to point at the figure down the hall, then freeze, dread draining along my insides at the sight of the empty space. "Ohhhhhhh that can't be good."
"Speak plainly," Thor says with a frown, a large crate in his hands. "What did you see?"
"There was something there," I insist, gesturing in the opposite direction. "I think it was a Dravec. Biggest one I've ever seen."
The lights flicker, then remain steady in their dim, ominous glow.
My words send a tension through the wide hall, but even so, T'Challa and Thor exchange looks. "We swept the whole ship," the Wakandan king says slowly. "Everything is dead."
Uh-uh. Nope. No way. "You guys, I'm telling you, it was there. I say we ditch the evil alien weapons and get the hell out of here. Now."
Heimdall's eyes narrow, a flash of burnished gold. "A hasty retreat may be wise."
"You see something, my friend?"
We are submerged into darkness, and my breath catches sharply before red light flickers feebly back into existence. "Yeah...I'm done. It's always the red shirt that goes first, and guess who's uniform is red, guys? Guess. Nope. I'm out of here."
I take a step towards the shuttle, and then a large hand is seizing the back of my neck, gripping it tight and hard before I am wrenched to one side. Stumbling, my eyes are wide as a black spear goes shooting by a hair's breadth from my nose, close enough I nearly feel the sting of it slicing open my skin.
Thor keeps a steady hand on my shoulder as the weapon drives itself all the way to the hilt in the metal frame separating the Dravec ship from our shuttle.
As one, we all turn to look down the hall.
The lights flare erratically, casting the towering form in horrific crimson. My heart hammers in my chest at the sight of it, standing at least twelve feet tall. It's so large, I take it in pieces, the narrowed red eyes, the tear of its mouth, fangs bared, maskless. Black armor, thick and gleaming, decorated with streaks of red like badges of honor. Harsh tattoos like a jagged crown circling its brow, a row of glistening spikes running down the center of its head and down its back, growing larger and sharper as it goes. Weapons strapped everywhere.
"What is that?"
"If I am not wrong, and I rarely am," Thor says in all seriousness. "I think that's a Dravec Queen."
"A what?" I splutter. "How can you tell it's even female?"
"The females are uglier than the males."
Looking at the creature flickering in and out of sight at the end of the hall, I have to admit, he's not wrong. Cap wasn't paranoid after all, I realize, to worry about more on the ship, even though we would have bet money we'd wiped them all out.
The queen had hid, or maybe there was another part of the ship we hadn't even known was there. Or maybe she'd come up from the surface after deploying her armies and watching their destruction by our hands.
Oh shit.
"Get to the ship," Thor breathes. "Now."
The queen cocks her head, slowly, then reaches behind her back to draw out a gleaming black gun, the barrel like a cannon, large even in her massive hands.
"Move!" T'Challa yells.
We dive, scattering like ants from Raid as a crimson beam, hot and electric, blasts above our heads, the roar deafening and burning as some part of our shuttle explodes. I glance back in horror, but the only thing smoldering is a case of Dravec weaponry we had hauled aboard. The shuttle is still intact.
My vision is obscured as Heimdall leaps over my head, metal singing as he draws the massive sword from his back. Wide eyed, my gaze follows him as he charges down the hall at her, the gray fabric draped over his shoulders flaring like a cape, making him look like freaking Aragorn facing down Mordor itself.
The queen raises her smoking gun.
"No!" yells Thor, surging to his feet.
Red light explodes, flaring so bright it looks like it enveloped the warrior whole, and my insides clench in horror. But then the blast shifts, the light moving in a concentrated halt, and I realize that Heimdall is still miraculously alive, feet planted, sword before him, the metal blade absorbing the crackling energy emitting from the gun.
His teeth are clenched, brows furrowed and muscles bulging in strain, and then, as his shoulders bunch up together, he lets out a cry of effort and swings the sword in the queen's direction. The blast ricochets back down the hall, and the Dravec has to dive to the side, gun dropping from her gauntleted hands as she avoids the fatal explosion.
Heimdall is charging again, determined, sword still crackling with residual red electricity, but the queen has already risen, black blades sliding free from gaps in her wrists.
The lights go out, and there's the screeching sound of metal against metal before sparks burst in a flash, briefly illuminating Heimdall's fierce expression as he bears his sword against the combined might of the queen's wrist blades.
Darkness.
Red light flickers and fills the hall, just in time for us to see the Dravec Queen whirling, knives catching on the crossguard of the sword to wrench it from Heimdall's hands with a twist. Her black boot cracks into Heimdall's chest, and he hits the wall and crumples.
"NO!" Thor is bellowing again, having charged towards them the moment his friend had sent the blast back to the queen.
Lights out.
Lights on, and she has Thor against a wall. Both his hands are around her forearms, his muscles trembling as he barely stops her black wrist blades from driving up beneath his chin and into his skull.
T'Challa leaps onto her back, vibranium claws shining as he sinks them into the sides of her hideous face.
The queen shrieks, the sound ten times louder than the ones down on the alien planet, piercing my ears and making me cringe. She loosens her grip on the Asgardian to thrust her arms up, forcing T'Challa to flip off her back to avoid getting skewered by those blades.
Both kings regroup, one on each side of her, and she crouches, hate burning in her gaze as she prepares her attack.
"Hey!" I shout, drawing those malevolent eyes towards me. They widen as they see what I hold in my hands. "What does this do?"
Thor and T'Challa leap to the sides, backs against the walls as I pull back on the trigger mechanism of the huge plasma cannon in my hands.
I grin triumphantly as it flares with red light, the queen's eyes widening as she tenses, and then the weapon lets out a dull whine and stutter, the lights going out feebly with a disconcerting wheeze. My smile falls as I look down at the broken cannon, then back up at the others, trying to avoid Thor's incredulous look.
"To be fair, I've never used one of these before," I say.
The Queen spins, nailing T'Challa in the side with a vicious kick that sends him flying, then slashes out at Thor's throat.
He rolls against the wall, leaping away as her wrist blade slices through the metal of the wall. Her blows come again and again, lightning fast and expert, brutal and merciless. It's like if someone turned Natasha Romanov into a vicious, bloodthirsty alien and let her hone her murderous craft for a hundred years.
It's terrifying.
Still, I'm an Avenger now, and so far, I haven't exactly impressed the God of Thunder or the King of Wakanda.
So I charge after them, watching as Thor does his best to stave off her attacks, so focused on defense that he can't even get one blow in.
Her blade catches him across the chest and he cries out, stumbling back.
Here goes nothing, I think breathlessly, terror and exhilaration surging together into one freaky rush through my veins as I slam my helmet on my head and press the trigger attached to the side of my palm.
Lights out.
Lights flicker on, and the queen's expression twists with confusion and shock as our eye levels meet, as I race, twelve feet tall now myself, towards her.
"Pick on someone your own size," I say, unable to help myself, then slam my fist into her ugly mouth.
She goes staggering away, her whole body turning with the blow, straight into T'Challa's claws that he rakes across her eyes. Shrieking, screaming, she lashes out blindly with her wrist blades, and he darts away.
Black blood streams from the lines cut into her face, dripping from her ruined eyes across the hollows of her cheeks. She shrieks with each jagged breath, charging forward like a rabid animal, her fury and pain finally making her sharp moves sloppy and rushed.
Spinning, slashing out, I avoid her blades and punch her straight in her wounded eye, then when she rears her head back in pain, my fist jabs into her exposed throat.
Her screams cut off with an abrupt choke.
"How do you like that?" I taunt with a delirious laugh, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill of standing so much taller than the muscled statures of the Asgardians. "I'm Sigourney Weaver, bitc-"
My word cuts off with a yell as her wrist blade drives into my right shoulder. Agony bursts, deep and white hot, stealing my breath as I stagger back into the wall, holding onto her gauntleted forearm as she drives it deeper. Hot breath fogs the visor of my helmet, fangs spreading as a vicious cry rips from her throat, her other arm raising high.
A gleam of metal, and then her victorious yell turns to another shriek of horrible agony, which I echo as she tears her blade from my shoulder. Blinking my watering eyes and clamping my left hand over my wound, I see several things that take my mind a few sluggish seconds to comprehend.
Heimdall stands there, sword in his hands, which is dripping with black blood like ink. A severed arm, encased in hammered armor, lies on the floor. And the Dravec Queen is crouched down the hall, screaming, bowing over herself as blood gushes from her shoulder where that arm used to be.
I blink. Once. Twice.
"Dude," I breathe. "You Mark Hamilled her."
Then the blood loss hits and I sink to the ground, my body shrinking back to its normal size in a delirious, dizzying rush.
Blue light battles against red as the air begins to crackle with energy. Thor's single eyes is glowing fiercely, electricity roiling across his skin as he charges into the air. Lightning bursts, around him, from him, through him, and plows into the Dravec queen in a white hot flash.
I blink away the spots in my eyes, seeing her on the ground, writhing and smoking and snarling.
T'Challa stands over her, a Dravec spear in his hands, and he puts a foot on her ruined chest, face dark and teeth bared as he says, "For Wakanda."
Then he drives the spear into her throat, the shrieks cutting off with sickening gurgles as her body convulses, then stills.
We all stare, breathless and hearts pounding, silence loud as the lights flicker one more time, then remain steadily on.
"Go team," I say feebly, then keel over and pass out.
Natasha Romanov
I know my poisons.
An entire catalogue of them rests securely in the back of my mind, built and ingrained there from my years of training in the Red Room.
I'd like to say that I go through them efficiently and carefully in my head, sorting through chemical makeups and applications and time frames and antidotes in a methodical manner. But as Steve lies on the floor, black veins spider-webbing out beneath his skin from the stitched wound on the back of his shoulder, I am racing through my own mind, tossing over file cabinets and dumping out contents until my head is all fluttering pages and chaos.
Of course I know whatever he's been poisoned with won't be from Earth, and I won't find the answer waiting for me in a secure lockbox to open. But if I can identify the most comparable toxin we have, maybe it'll make identifying the alien poison faster, maybe we can slow the spread before it's too late.
My palms are clammy, my head dizzy as knowledge races through my head like the speedful skimming of webpage.
Polonium 210. Used to assassinate Alexander Litvinenko in 2006. Nearly impossible to detect and only truly dangerous if inhaled or injected.
Ricin. A few milligrams can kill a grown man when injected, swallowed, or inhaled, causing death in a few days at most.
VX. Most dangerous chemical nerve agent on the planet. 0.4 milligrams are all that's needed to-
Steve's hand tightens on mind, his glazed and glassy eyes looking up at me blearily, stealing my attention away. "I know that look," he murmurs, his voice clear and loud to me even over the cacophony of the others around us arguing and spitting out statistics and theories.
"Oh, do you?" I ask, brow raised, keeping my face and voice inexplicably calm, as if we are having this conversation over coffee instead of his deathbed on a Wakandan ship deep in space.
"You're panicking."
"I don't panic."
Steve's eyes flutter shut, and my heart seizes in my chest. "You hide it better than anyone else I know."
"Wouldn't be much of a spy if I couldn't."
His breathing is too shallow, a sheen of sweat coating the bare skin of his back as it rises and falls. A rolled bundle of blankets has been placed under his head to try and make him comfortable. My eyes zero in on his chapped, colorless lips as Bruce and Sam speak in hushed, hurried tones, their hands moving across his shoulder blade as they pull out a case of equipment.
There's not much they can do without identifying the poison first. Anything they could inject him with, any added compound into his system could pose a threat, working with the toxin instead of against. They keep up the semblance of working though, refusing to be idle, as much for their comfort as it is for Steve's.
BTX. Batrachotoxin. Steroidal alkaloid, harvested from poison dart frogs found deep in Latin America. Not able to be replicated or drawn up in laboratories, only within the frogs' natural environment.
"Talk to me," I say softly, urging those eyes to open again. "What's new with you?"
He manages a wry smile. "Not much. Took a vacation. Somewhere tropical. Wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Ran into some trouble with the locals."
Despite myself, my own lips curve, and I try not to notice when Steve's hand doesn't clench mine so tightly. "Also managed to pick up a virus, I see."
"Should have...gotten the vaccination before going...out of country."
"There's always next time."
Hie gaze turns distant. "Next time," he breathes.
I look up to look eyes with Bruce, my heart skipping at the panic I see in those brown depths. He speaks in a whisper, glancing down at Steve before looking back at me. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"
Slipping back into the archives, I'm screaming as I rip through file after file, feeling the blood staining my fingers. So many poisons I learned. So many I employed. So many…
Outwardly, I give a tight shake of my head, my jaw set.
Bruce's brows furrow, his face strained as he mutters an answer back at Sam. Beyond them, Clint, Rhodes, and Tony stand rigidly, helplessness etched in their tense forms. Bucky's leaning back against the metal cabinet, eyes locked on Steve's. I can see him going through his own mental catalogue of poisons and toxins.
Okoye and Shuri are at the monitors, scanning through what they already have of the Dravec technology to try and decipher what they can. But they won't have anything concrete until Scott and the others return.
Wanda kneels beside me, Vision standing at her back.
I look at her sharply, a stuttering in my chest as hope worms its way past my defenses.
Seeing my look, her weary expression goes guarded. "I don't know if I can help," she admits. "But I might be able to draw some of it out, at least stop the spread."
The others have gone silent as Wanda shifts to Steve's other side, across from me, and Bruce quickly makes room for her. None of us miss the way the young woman's hand trembles as her fingers hover above the wound. Movement shifts, and my eyes turn to narrow on Loki, hovering in the background, having moved closer as Wanda did.
Drawn to her, to her power, his clever gaze is locked curious on her hand. Feeling my stare, he looks up at me, his expression going carefully blank at my scrutiny.
There isn't time to do anything else, because a faint, scarlet glow draws my attention.
Wanda's fingers are curling, slow and graceful, but a slight tremor belays the fluidity of her motions. Her face is scrunched in concentration, her irises glowing in turn as a thread of brighter light connects her fingertip to the slash across Steve's skin.
His hand suddenly grips my hand too tight, immediately cutting off circulation as all the muscles in his back go rigid. I don't say anything or make a sound, but a concerned look from Bruce tells me he's noticed my discomfort. Steve could break every bone in my hand in an instant. I still wouldn't tear myself away from him in this moment. I won't let my friend bear this pain alone.
Wanda's breathing sharpens, and Vision's hand moves to her slender shoulder as her body gives a small shudder, like a chill has worked its way down her spine.
The red glow cast on Steve's pale skin makes the dark veins look even more ominous and repelling, but I swear their snaking lines have pulled back. Steve's grip on mine is tight, and his back no longer rises and falls. My eyes flit to his face in alarm, only to see that he's holding his breath, expression tight as he stares somewhere past me.
Light flares, and then Wanda slumps with a heavy sigh as her hand falls, and the light goes out. "I'm sorry," she says weakly. "If I were at full strength...and I don't...healing isn't…"
"It's alright," Bruce assures her, patting her other shoulder awkwardly. She looks at him in surprise, and he gives her a small smile. "You did good, kid."
Something passes between them, eases like a release of some silent tension I hadn't even known was there. An understanding. Forgiveness maybe.
Steve lets out the breath he was holding, his hand relaxing slightly against mine. "That was fun."
"Where the hell are the others?" Tony demands, his patience snapping. In the same moment, there's the sound of movement towards the back of the ship, and a tired voice slurs, "Whasgoin on?"
Stark immediately moves for Peter where the teen is sitting up, tired eyes blinking in alarm, and the two begin to converse in tight, hushed tones. It gives Tony something to do, and I'm grateful for the kid's timing. An idle, helpless Tony Stark can make any situation escalate quickly.
The whole ship shudders as the shuttle docks, and several members of our growing party move for the bay doors, clearing up the space enough for me to see Loki and the two other aliens clearly. Korg keeps gravely silent, stroking the back of his slug-like comrade in his arms.
I jerk my chin towards the Asgardian. "You strike me as the sort to be familiar with intergalactic poisons. Care to make yourself useful?"
Several pairs of eyes move towards him, and he tenses at the attention. Clint folds his arms over his chest, expression steely as he adds, "Or do you need some more persuasion?"
Loki cuts him a glare, then steps forward to get a closer look at the wound. My trained eye notices the slightest tension in Steve's body at the Asgardian's nearness. "I confess myself unfamiliar with the Dravec's culture and their use in toxic weaponry."
"So you're saying you are useless then," Clint says dangerously, and Rhodes smirks at his side.
Loki tenses. "I'm saying there's no way to tell just by looking at it. Now, if I were to have access to the Dravec's files, I could translate the information for you. But alas, we have nothing and so I can do nothing."
The bay doors open with a hiss, and Thor comes striding through, looking worse than he had when he left, something clutched in his fist. He tosses it to Shuri where she stands at the main console, and the princess immediately plugs the small piece of tech to the connecting cord.
"You were saying?" I say pointedly to Loki. He scowls.
A great deal of groaning has my head whipping towards the doors again as Scott comes limping through, pale and bleeding, arm slung over T'Challa's shoulder, Heimdall close behind them with a black crate in his hands.
"This is it," groans Scott. "I'm done for...this is the end for me...promise you'll build a monument in my honor."
T'Challa's face is less than sympathetic. "The wound is not even that deep. You passed out from shock, not blood loss."
"...are you sure?"
Sam moves to Scott's side as the king deposits him on a bench and moves to join his sister. Tony steps forward, Peter half a step behind as the older man demands, "What the hell happened?"
"We were ambushed by the Dravec Queen," Thor says.
"The what?!" Peter exclaims, eyes round.
"Fear not. She was no match for our combined might. Her soul is being dragged to the gates of hell alongside her soldiers as we speak."
Peter's gaping mouth shuts with an abrupt click.
Shuri exclaims, "Got it!", and red light glares from the screen as Dravec symbols flit across it. Clint clamps a hand down on Loki's shoulder, who goes rigid, and the archer says, "Hop to it, oh mighty translator." Then his voice drops so low I can barely hear it. "If you need more incentive, think of what that moment will be like if you let Cap die in a room full of every pissed off and devastated Avenger in the universe."
Pale faced, Loki joins the Wakandans at the console.
Bruce passes off a sample of blood he'd drawn from Steve to Vision, who swiftly takes it to be tested and examined in order to compare it to what we are hoping is a list of poisons and antidotes in the Dravec files.
Steve's hand is limp in mine.
I look down sharply, alarmed, to see his eyelids shut and his face sheet white.
"Steve?"
I slip my hand out of his, putting fingers to his pulse point and one hand on his back. Everything is utterly still.
Steve Rogers isn't breathing.
A/N: Okay, ONE more cliffhanger. That's it. I promise.
I am working on the next chapter as diligently as I can, and it will definitely be significantly longer than these ones, so may take a little while. Also, if you haven't already noticed, I posted the first chapter of My Country 'tis of Thee, an expansion of my Let Freedom Ring two-shot. I will try to update that one soon as well, but we shall see what I have time for.
You GUUUUUYS. PippinStrange's new fic has me fangirling so hard it's not even funny. I even dreamed about it the other night, no joke. It's going to be one insane ride, and you should most definitely check it out, as well as her other work, if you haven't already.
I'm keeping this author's not relatively short as I'm sick and must go back to bed, but I wanted to thank everyone who left a review and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
twylght: THanks!
Puppens101: Duuude same. So excited for Venom's reappearance, but I also feel quite evil. Poor Peter. XD
NW nightwalker HP: No, they really can't.
cargumentluv: Aw yay! I'm so glad!
PippinStrange: Guuuuurl THANK YOU! I love hearing your favorite bits! Your reviews put the biggest smiles on MY face. So excited to be back to writing with you again!
niyah606: Two reviews! Wow! Thank you so much! "Best way to bring in the new year" Omg you are too kind. And as for Steve, well...:D
monkeybaby: Thank you!
MaddyLandin: Ahhhhhhh thank you! That made me so happy to read! I love how much you guys are into this!
Mojomonster: :D Wow. Thank you very, very much! I'm so glad that you enjoy all the povs and suspense! I promise next chapter we will get into some resolution!
Heroes21: I knooooow.
DarylDixon'sLover: THanks!
LoonyLovegood1981: Till the end of the line *SOBS* Your suspicion about Tony and Peter may or may not be correct, only time will tell. ;) I love that you fangirl over my writing and adore all of your reviews! Thank you so much!
gammathetaalpha: Thank you! IronDad is one of my favorite things!
faithandfamily1st: Thanks!
KiernanCo: Gah thank you! And uh...I guess we will find out next chapter about Steve. :D
MewWinx96: Thank you for your review! Glad you enjoyed!
Nerdalier: Lol!
Thebookworm33: Omg your review! Sorry to hear you're sick! I just got sick myself. No bueno. :/ THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS! I love hearing your favorite bits and you really are too kind!
WolfsHonor: Ah thank you so much! Yes, never forget I am the Queen of Cliffhangers. I should really change my author name. lol. THis was the last one for this fic, I promise! lol! Thanks for your review!
AllShallFade777: You sound very confident about that. ;) Thank you so much!
HDDNeptuneFTW: Thanks!
gov the scoffer: Ah thank you! If I ever get a free minute, I'd love to check them out!
Nyota Scarlet Starfire: Omg thank you so much. I never realized how much I ship Wanda and Vision until I started writing them!
CinderCat: Thank you!
BeccaRave: Thanks! You as well!
Writer-at-Heart0: Thanks! I figured the Dravec wouldn't go down so easy. (Like that epic war on their home world was easy XD). And about that hint...Just maybe ;)
seireidragon: Thank you so much! I'm looking forward to everything chilling out too!
Lucyolympus17: Thanks! GLad hearing that you enjoy my work, and Pippin's as well!
Guest: Happy New Year! All the way in Indonesia! WOW! I love hearing from readers all over the world. Still blows my mind. Thank you so much, it made me so happy to hear how much you enjoy my series!
AppleSpongeCake: Good Lord. I should have expected that. Threat duly noted.
JustAFemaleGeek: EEE! THANK YOU! :D
RedHood001: Your feeling you mentioned in your review may have sparked a bit of inspiration that altered this chapter somewhat ;). Love hearing your thoughts and all the bits you liked. Thank you so so so much!
NerdyPenguin06: OMG thank you! Welcome aboard! I love getting new readers and reviewers! I'm so glad you love it, that makes me so happy to hear!
screechyfangirl: Thank you!
You guys really are too good to me. When I am rather cruel to you. XD
COMING UP:
Chapter Twenty: I was There When it Happened
Did the Dravec manage to take one final victim with them? Will Steve survive, and if he does, will he be unscarred? Will the Avengers make it home? Stay tuned for the FINAL chapter of Riders in the Sky, where your questions are answered, everything is wrapped up, and there may just be a special end credits scene that I am dying for you guys to read.
MUCH LOVE!
~Queen