OKAY! So, here it is, after such a loooooong wait! I am sorry for taking so long, but I have been busy doing other things like job hunting and getting some work experience as well as writing an original story (screenplay). This chapter isn't my best, and I have had some trouble trying to make it work. It is one of those necessary inserts for story progression and character introduction. Please feel free to leave feedback so I can make improvements. This is good practice for me :)

Music of interest for this chapter includes:

"Palladio Rebuilt" - Kerry Muzzey (sounds very Hans Zimmer-ish :D)

"Uprising" - Muse (basically, most of this album)

Once again, I own no one (apart from any OCs) and this is purely fan-based, inspired by movies and comics of the Marvel universe and any other fictional moving pictures of the action, crime and science-fiction variety. Enjoy ;)

A World Made Free

Onboard the Helicarrier, what followed the heavy silence and disbelief was a flood of commands and urgent responses. No sooner had the failed mission brought the entire crew to stillness did their director turn on his heel and make his next string of orders perfectly clear. Fury had immediately issued a warning to the White House to have the President evacuated; an order that was followed and executed so quickly even Loki was unable to trace them. When the god eventually showed up at the front doorstep of the White House it took minimal effort to get passed what guards had remained before he was left with an uncomfortable mixture of disappointment and intrigue at the President's absence. But that feeling was short lived, and more pressing matters were at hand. Playing cat and mouse with his enemies was only part of the fun.
The god had quite conveniently obtained a small news crew, and with some "persuasion" (at gun point undoubtedly, but under Loki's intimidating glare most likely) the frightened group set up a camera and microphone in the Circle Room. He was already well versed in delivering a speech or two to an audience, as you all know, but this time there was no crowd before him. More importantly, there were no Avengers to rudely interrupt him either.
His stage was set, the curtain pulled to, and his invisible audience awaited his words beyond that small circle of glass. The words had never before slipped so naturally from his lips.

"Ladies, gentlemen, liars, and deceivers… Good evening," he began, and the world listened.

Meanwhile, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent had picked up the broadcast and made an urgent announcement to Fury who immediately ordered it be displayed. The agent complied, and less that a second or two later the Bridge was once again filled with the velvet undertones of their enemy's voice and his smug grin beaming down on them from the massive projection. He was sat in the President's seat, looking very comfortable and quite pleased with himself. To the eyes of billions around the globe who watched their TV sets or stood in their busy city streets gazing at the large screens plastered over so many of the tower blocks, not a single ornament or decoration appeared to be damaged or misplaced. But just out of the camera's scope it was a very different picture. Many body guards and officials lay dead or unconscious on the floor, crimson staining the carpet, and a small local news crew stood by, shaking with fear as gunmen kept them in check.
Fury gritted his teeth as the god continued.

"I am Loki. I am he who found the guilty and delivered you swift justice. However, their blood alone is not enough to avenge the blood that has been spilt at their hands. I speak now of S.H.I.E.L.D. They are the dogs of your guilty leaders who remain loyal even now, to ghosts and shadows. They house these self-proclaimedheroes who survived when your loved ones perished. They are a house of secrets and lies, lies written in the blood of the innocent that paid the price of your leaders' crimes…"

Something clicked then in Fury's mind and he suddenly appeared far less composed and far more urgent than he had moments earlier.

"I want all agents in all bases on high alert, now!" Fury ordered. "And get Coulson on the line!"

. . .

Coulson's phone buzzed in his pocket and he dropped the metal arm of the Mark IV in the silver box before answering it. The look on his face meant that it was not good news, and he moved hastily to the holographic screens at the desk. Pepper was most unnerved.

"Phil…?"

The agent uttered a "yes" and an "understood" into his phone before lowering it from his ear and typing a quick command into the computer's keypad.

"It's Director Fury… I'm afraid Barton and Romanoff have been compromised," said Coulson who did not appear to be his usual self.

"What?" breathed Steve. He stopped packing the armour.

Another screen lit up amongst the countless others above the desk. It was a live broadcast, one that had invaded every channel, and that familiar grin beaming back at them from the glare of the screen cut through the soldier all too easily, sending a shiver down his spine.

"That's the White House," Pepper uttered in disbelief.

The screen then flickered with picture after picture, name after name of high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D agents, including Fury. Immediately after there was another catalogue of names and faces, only this time it was of people on S.H.I.E.L.D's own watch-list. Steve saw the faces of Stark, Romanoff, Dr. Banner, Barton, and himself appear one after the other, their identities made known to the world.

Loki continued with his little speech.

"These are but a few who call themselves your protectors. You may be familiar with some of them, consider them heroes even. But what you do not know, what has been hidden from you, is the truth. The truth that they are, according to these S.H.I.E.L.D people, considered a threat to your safety. I ask…what kind of protector entrusts your safety to monsters and murderers?"

Steve was utterly speechless, though a thousand and one thoughts swarmed within his mind like angry bees, a growing rage and a terrible fear consuming him in a long relentless drone. Every word that spilled from the lips of that monster fuelled its fire, added to the deafening roar, and in that moment, even with the magic of the serum that still flowed through his veins at an alarming rate, Steve had never felt so powerless in all his life.

Loki's confident and commanding frame appeared on the screen once more, leaning forward, hands pressed firmly on the table in front of him.

"And what of your leaders? They argue amongst themselves. They send you into the battlefields in their quest for power, only to squander it. I implore you, rise. Rise above your deceitful leaders. Shun them. Cast them out into the unforgiving night, and I will bring you the sunrise. I offer you unlimited power, and I ask of you one thing in return…"

He rose from his seat and revealed his glowing sceptre, standing tall and proud before his worldwide audience.

"…Pledge your allegiance to me, and you will know peace."

. . .

On the other end of the line Fury was still watching the broadcast, along with the rest of the crew on the Bridge. On the large projection, Loki smiled as he stood tall with his sceptre in hand. He said nothing more, just stood, but the blue glow of his sceptre appeared to intensify and it reflected rather ominously in the god's eyes. The silence of his enemy made Fury quite uncomfortable, and he wondered for a moment if the transmission had frozen.

It hadn't, of course, but he had every reason to feel uneasy, for there was a purpose behind Loki's action (or lack of).

Several agents began to murmur to themselves and with other agents, and those of them that had been seated stood suddenly and appeared rather agitated. And then their murmurs grew louder so that words could be heard, and louder still until an entire string of them began to sweep across the Bridge and through the passageways of the ship like a poisonous wave, awakening hidden fears and doubts in the hearts of those with just enough of such things to convince them that Loki's words were truth.

"He's right. All they want is the Tesseract" and "We're fighting for murderers and power-hungry thugs. They're the real monsters" were just a few of the words that reached Fury's ears, and he wasted no time in making his own voice heard to the deluded agents below.

"That's enough! Don't forget whose side you're on here and what you're fighting for."

"And just what is it we're fighting for exactly? Not the people of New York that's for sure," one agent said in a condescending tone.

"Yeah – I didn't see you deal with the Council after they walked all over you. You're on their side," said another.

"Remember who you're talking to boy," Fury bit out. "Need I remind you of the atrocities this guy has committed in his pursuit to enslave every single man, woman and child on the face of the planet!? Or have you all completely lost your minds!?"

It took seconds for an argument to break out between those still loyal to Fury's cause and those who had succumbed to their own doubts. Such things had been nestled deep within their hearts, buried like a seed in the Earth, and over the course of time it had grown, fed by the terrible series of events that had taken place long before New York had been reduced to rubble. Loki had merely loosened that last layer of soil for the seedling to breach the surface, and each one of those angry and fearful agents had well and truly seen the light then. A poisonous blue flicker of a light, but a light none the less.
As the arguing escalated into angry shouts Fury put a hand to his gun and, remembering Coulson was still on the line, spoke into his comms as clearly as he could over the noise.

"Secure the suits and evacuate now. Loki's cast some sort of spell through the broadcast and it's turned a lot of agents. When that helicopter reaches you, be on your guard. Right now, even our own men can't be trusted."

No sooner had Fury finished delivering his command to his best agent did another deliver some disturbing news. All of the arguing had been quite convenient for Loki, and it had offered enough of a distraction that the crew's attention was drawn from their monitors and work. They had been far too busy watching Loki's little speech and questioning their own motives to notice the five F22 Jets approaching fast from the West on their radar.

"Sir, we've got five birds approaching from the west. We've been ordered to land and make port at the nearest Navel base or they'll open fire –"

"—ignore that order. We're not landing unless I say we're landing!" Fury shouted.

That, of course, did not go down so well with the agents that had turned. It wasn't long before all hell broke loose and threats were replaced by gunfire. Fury took cover behind the nearest line of computer monitors and continued to deliver a string of orders through his comms to Sitwell and Hill, desperately hoping that they had not turned too.

"I've lost all contact with the Quinjet II. They're off the grid –" said another agent before his screen was rendered useless by a stray bullet as he ducked beneath his desk.

The lack of response from the Helicarrier tried the patience of the F22 pilots. One of them fired a warning shot at the ship, causing it to shudder so that its crew lost their footing and the emergency alarms were triggered. An agent tried to turn the ship westwards, but he was caught in the gunfire still taking place despite the situation. Then the Helicarrier turned suddenly, causing all sorts of warning messages to flash erratically on the navigation screens and further alarms to trigger, and with no reply transmitted to the awaiting jets the next series of ammunition was no longer a warning. Two of the main engines took the brunt of the fire and the ship dipped sharply, spinning out of control towards the ocean below. It would be minutes before impact.

With no other choice Fury fired at the rogue agents, gripping onto a railing to keep from sliding down the Bridge. Agent Hill appeared soon after; a desperate and panicked look on her face.

"I've got to access the main database. Cover me," ordered Fury.

Hill complied without question and continued to open fire on the rogue agents as they moved quickly towards the nearest computer that was not rendered fully useless. The room was filled with panic as many agents fled to evacuate the ship and others remained to continue fighting in blind rage.
Fury typed a few long lines of code into the computer and within seconds he was in S.H.I.E.L.D's main database, filled with every top secret file and every member's identity ever recorded. Agent Hill questioned his intentions as she continued to cover his back.

"Sir, what are you doing?"

"Protecting our future," he responded flatly as he typed in a long string of code that was most likely a password.

Agent Hill did not understand.

"Sir? –"

"I don't know how Loki got his hands on those files, but no one else has full access to the main database but me. My guess is he's after what's left of the response team. If that's his play, I'll lead him on one hell of a chase, but I can't take the risk of him finding the rest of us. There's too much at stake. Anonymity is the only defence we have left now."

The word "DELETE?" suddenly appeared in bold red on the screen. It took little more than a simple push of a button on the keyboard for every remaining agent of S.H.I.E.L.D to become a nameless face with no birth certificate, social security number or its equivalent in other countries. Every single file ever recorded was gone in a matter of seconds, the system itself rendered useless. It was Fury's last resort, and one he never thought would come to pass.
Moments later the two of them made a run for the evacuation level as the ship's countdown echoed overhead.

"30 SECONDS UNTIL IMPACT."

They braced themselves against the walls of the passageways, alarms growing louder as the ship creaked and shuddered.

"15 SECONDS UNTIL IMPACT."

The lights flickered, and the closer they got to their destination the darker it became. Red warning lights flashed steadily in time to the alarms in the dark towards the few remaining escape pods.

"10…9…8…7…6…"

Fury hit the controls to the door and scrambled into the vessel along with Hill.

"5…4…3..."

With a loud hiss the door closed tight, and the pod zoomed down the dark narrow passage and into the light.

"2…1…"

The nose of the ship plunged into the surface of the ocean, shattering the glass of the Bridge and flooding it. It continued to dive, breaking into two halves under the force of the impact as a series of explosions from the remaining engines erupted into a huge fiery cloud of heat and black smoke. The flying fortress of Earth's tragically short-lived team of heroes was reduced to flaming wreckage on the ocean's surface, sinking into the cold dark depths of the Atlantic and with it, the future of mankind.

. . .

Coulson tried to contact Fury but each time the line was dead. He lowered the phone from his ear. It took a lot to rattle the likes of agent Phil Coulson, but given the circumstances his initial reaction would have been expected of anyone, no matter the training. When he finally did say something it was down the phone again, after pressing a few buttons and dialling another number. Pepper couldn't believe what she was hearing and seeing on the projections in front of her, and the new images of a great explosion several miles from the east coast was inescapable.

Coulson hung up and turned his attention to Pepper.

"I've arranged to have the items transported to a secure location, but I suggest you also pack anything else of value. And activate any security protocols in place to avoid information being compromised," he spoke coolly.

"You mean to say you're destroying the workshop?" asked Steve.

"If we have to."

Steve clenched his fists and turned suddenly towards the door.

"Steve? Where are you going?" Pepper asked, suddenly aware of his swift movement.

"To get my shield," he replied bluntly, and with a little more anger than was probably necessary.

He stormed up the stairs and headed for his room. When he got there he was quick about ripping the shield from its protective cover, but just as he turned towards the door he caught a glimpse of one of his old black and white framed pictures from the war. It was a small group photo of himself with the Howling Commandos - a little tattered around the edges, but a nice gift given to him from Pepper. The photograph was Howard Stark's, and Tony had found it amongst other things in the large crate that Fury had given him.
Steve reached for the frame and took out the photograph, quickly tucking it safe in his trouser pocket. He had barely made it into the empty hallway when he heard a loud knock at the front door, followed by a voice demanding entrance to the premises. Steve approached the living area with caution, his shield at the ready as the knocking grew louder and more insistent. He caught sight of Pepper approaching from the corner of his eye and he motioned her to stop.

"Miss Potts!? I am the District Attorney and I have with me very impatient officers and a court order. The Iron Man weapon is a threat to national security and the United States government hereby confiscates it and all related technology."

Pepper cautiously approached a device on the wall beside her to view the security footage. There was indeed a large group of heavily armed police with itchy trigger fingers behind a smartly dressed man. She wanted to press the intercom button and tell the man exactly where he could stick that court order, but she resisted the temptation.

"Miss Potts, if you do not comply we will be forced to use any means necessary to confiscate the weapon."

Steve moved quickly and silently towards her and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Listen to me carefully. I need you to go back downstairs and activate the security system as quickly as you can. As soon as S.H.I.E.L.D gets here you load whatever is packed and leave with agent Coulson. Do not wait for me. I'll keep them busy. You got that?"

"Steve –"

"No buts, just do as I say, okay?"

Pepper bit her lip and nodded reluctantly. Then she remembered something.

"Wait! I just need to get one thing!"

She ran past Steve and down the hall into her bedroom, practically sliding across the floor and pulled out a small wooden box with delicate engravings from a secret compartment underneath the bed. Placing it in the nearest bag she could find she dashed back into the living room, clutching it close to her like a small child. When she reached the steps to the workshop she paused and turned to face Steve again. Neither said a word, but they understood each other perfectly.

Stay safe.

And then Pepper hurried down the steps, out of sight.

Steve turned his attention back towards the door and raised his shield. It was suddenly quiet from all the banging and shouting earlier, but that silence was short lived. A myriad of bullets tore the front door and half of the wall surrounding it to pieces, and Steve ducked for cover behind the sofa as the room became a deadly playground of flying debris. The glass windows cracked and shattered, and then the noise died down somewhat as armed men made their way into the house. Just as they thought it was empty, Steve leapt from behind the tattered seats and began to make a fine mess of the intruders' front teeth and noses as they met his clenched fist and shield. The fight was gritty and dirty, a fight that reminded Steve of his last mission during the War when his blood boiled with rage and an unyielding need to avenge the death of his best friend. If that was the case back in 1945, then in the present time the situation was no different. There were lives to be avenged, and others to be protected, and he would damn well see to it that they would be.

. . .

"All files are securely encrypted and relocated, Miss Potts."

"Excellent JARVIS. Now, I need you to activate the security protocol for me."

Just as the AI obliged, Coulson got a call from their ride outside that had just landed, and he made arrangements for the crate to be carried out under the noses of the armed men upstairs. Pepper grabbed her bag and her cell phone then entered one last command into the computer.

"Okay JARVIS, time to play hide and seek."

"My favourite", the AI responded humorously, "Safe journey, Miss Potts."

"And you."

Pepper smiled faintly then headed out through the garage entrance with Coulson and another agent.

"What about Captain Rogers?" Coulson shouted over the loud whirring of the helicopter's blades. Pepper looked back at the house in the hope that he was on his way that very moment, but any sign of him still remained to be seen in the dull light of evening that was swiftly approaching.

"We're leaving. Captain's orders," she said without meeting Coulson's eye, and boarded.

The concerned agent followed soon after. Within seconds they made their escape, unnoticed and unhindered, all the while Steve continued to fight off the group of officers. When the last had fallen he caught a glimpse of the S.H.I.E.L.D helicopter making its way across the water, and heard a deep rumbling noise that made the floor tremble beneath his feet. Without wasting another second, Steve leapt through the broken windows and dived into the ocean below, barely escaping the massive explosion that was the end of Tony's workshop, his Malibu home, and any armour left behind.

. . .

London, England.
8 months later…

A broadcast of the recent violent clashes on the streets of London played out on a small TV set - its sound almost inaudible. The room was completely dark, lit only by the flickering luminescence of the news feed, but it was enough to reveal the disarray that was the upper-most apartment in a building not far from Trafalgar Square. It was close to midnight, about quarter past eleven according to Big Ben, on New Year's Eve. But hardly a soul could be heard or seen wandering the streets, at least not with any intention of welcoming the New Year. The pavements and roads were littered with broken glass and items left behind from mass lootings, and abandoned taxis that had been set fire to during the frequent raids and riots lay scattered amongst the carnage. It was a sight not uncommon in other parts of the world too.

Though he had not gained complete control over very many countries, Loki had successfully laid the foundations of his new empire by allowing chaos to take the reins. For the most part, much of the world was divided into two sides: those loyal to Loki's cause (mostly fuelled by the lingering doubt and hate he had freed in their hearts through countless television broadcasts), and those who dared to stand against him. The latter was much less organised than the first, and mainly comprised of separate resistance camps and military units that worked independently through lack of trust.

When Loki's followers began to form extremist groups from within governments, institutions and the general public, all out civil war crept onto the streets of major cities around the globe, invaded homes, divided families, and left millions dead or dying. Regimes fell or became more corrupt to suit Loki's ideals, and no country that remained strong enough to sustain any form of government trusted any of its neighbours or former allies. Old ties had been strained to their breaking point, and it all played out wonderfully for Loki. That is, all but the lingering resistance that would not yield, no matter how hopeless things seemed. It was a quality that Loki both admired and loathed in the human race. Such a thing could easily be inspired in his followers given the right encouragement, but for reasons beyond his understanding it was always so much stronger in the hearts of his enemies.

The sound of a mobile phone ringing broke the eerie silence in the apartment, and the silhouette of a female figure appeared sluggishly from the couch facing the TV, arms stretching upwards as she yawned and reached for the source of the noise on the armrest.

"Yeah?" she croaked, clearing her throat a little. There was a long pause before she stood suddenly.

"Are you sure!?"

Her voice suddenly sounded more desperate, and she darted towards the nearby window to peer through the curtains cautiously. "Don't! Don't go anywhere, okay? Just stay off the streets. I'll come to you."

The nervous woman hung up and reached for her coat –plain black and rather weathered with several missing buttons – and wrapped an old tattered navy scarf around her neck, raising it so that only a pair of curious blue eyes could be seen below a messy nest of long chestnut curls. In no time at all she had left the room and stepped cautiously onto the empty street. It was bathed in a pale moonlight which inspired all sorts of odd shadows to fall, and the narrow passages between buildings were almost pitch-black.
Another figure peered gingerly from one of the dark alcoves across the street and immediately flinched back, afraid of being seen by unwanted eyes. The cloaked woman took a quick but thorough glance at her surroundings to ensure they weren't been watched before continuing.

"Fine weather for a stroll this evening, don't you think?" a voice whispered from the dark.

"Cid, I know it's you," the woman whispered back, blatantly unimpressed.

A young man wearing a long black coat and sporting a vibrant head of red hair stepped forward a little so that he made himself known to the woman, remaining cautious enough not to leave the safety of the shadows.

"I can't believe you're not taking this thing seriously," said the man, quite flustered.

"I can't believe you are. Besides, you're not doing a very good job. Anyone could've spotted your red hair from the other side of London. The whole point of appearing unnoticed is to remain unnoticed." She rubbed her hands in the cold and eyed the freezing fog making its way towards them from the end of the street. "Were you followed?"

"No, been real careful."

He peered around the corner feebly.

"I'm nervous, okay? And I have every reason to be, given the circumstances." He pulled up his collar so that it pushed up a tuft of ginger hair at the back of his neck, still looking around apprehensively. "Though, if you ask me, the streets are far too quiet."

The woman shushed her friend as she ushered him back down the narrow alley he had been waiting in, following close behind. When they reached what appeared to be a manhole, Cid opened it and went down first, turning on a small flashlight as he reached the bottom. The young woman did the same.

"This is dangerous, Cid. It's going against protocol."

"Well I wasn't going to sit and wait for them to contact me. I'd have better luck getting through to a human being on a broadband customer service line than hearing anything from HQ. Besides, I'm not sure it's really any less dangerous where I was."

They walked further into the darkness, the sound of running water and their footsteps echoing around them, and the occasional scurrying of a rat rattled their nerves. Eventually they reached another passageway which took them directly to one of the tracks of the abandoned London Underground.

"On the phone, you said you found something. What's happened?"

Cid paused a moment before he answered.

"Hell has happened."

They approached a large, reinforced door at the side of the tracks, and Cid stood aside for the woman to swipe an ID card over a small black pad on the wall beside it. An LED light flickered green and the door clicked, allowing the two figures to enter a secret level of offices right under the city itself. It was S.H.I.E.L.D's London base of operations, one of only a few scattered across the globe, and known only by a select few of S.H.I.E.L.D's senior operatives.
The main room was brightly lit and full of busy agents attending rows of computer monitors.

"Davies! What the hell are you doing here!? Why is he here!?" An angry-looking agent asked one of his assistants before approaching them from the far-side of the room. Cid took in a deep breath to calm his nerves, preparing to string out a long-winded excuse. He was instantly cut-off however.

"And agent Stevens too? Does someone want to tell me whatin the name of fuck is going on!?"

"Sir, agent Davies believes that he has discovered something that requires your immediate attention. I felt it necessary to escort him here."

"And that discovery would be?"

"He hasn't quite told me…" Agent Stevens muttered as Cid opened his mouth to say something but was rudely cut off yet again.

"I see. Stevens, does this look like a bloody bed and breakfast to you? Because I'm getting the distinct feeling a lot of you are treating it that way."

She didn't say anything but mentally she was knocking his block off, and grinning at the thought too.

The senior agent turned to Cid again.

"Well then, Davies. Care to share this news that was so important you had to put the entire safety of this team in jeopardy?"

"Sir –Johnson's cover was blown. They got to him. I couldn't do anything, not without risking my own. After they took him, I got cold feet. I couldn't trust using the phones, so I panicked. I had to get the information here some other way."

Stevens suddenly felt sick to her stomach. They had lost many agents already, far too many good ones too. But it was rare to hear that one of S.H.I.E.L.D's top spies had been captured and rarer still when no record of their identity even existed.

"Is that it?"

Stevens looked to her superior in complete shock at the lack of emotion in his voice.

"And you had to come all the way here to tell me that? Why didn't you stick to protocol?" the senior agent spat out.

"To hell with protocol! I was sitting on death row in there!" Cid shouted. The other agents in the room turned their heads from their screens to watch. Even Stevens seemed surprised at such an outburst.

"The things I've seen – no level of training prepares you for that. You're all sat here in your comfortable rabbit hole, away from the real danger that's up there. To hell with you, all of you! I'm not going back out there..."

Something inside the young man cracked then, and he smiled wryly as he spoke.

"…I'm done."

Agent Stevens could relate, because she was out there in the thick of it too, seeing the riots on the streets first hand. But Cid had it far worse. He'd been appointed to do some snooping within the increasingly corrupt government, some under-cover work, and every minute, every second, he was at risk of being exposed. Being caught wasn't the worst of it though; it was the horrors that person would be subjected to that were truly terrifying.

"Cid…" She muttered, but he would not look her in the eye.

"That's not up to you," the senior agent said flatly. "Johnson's situation is unfortunate. But, what I want to know is how they found him. There's no record for Loki's men to find. Someone had to have known who he was."

All eyes in the room were on Cid, but the agent said nothing. He didn't have to.

The damage had already been done.

They all heard a loud rumbling noise above before it rolled towards the main entrance and blew the entire wall clear across the room, sending the agents hurtling into the rows of desks behind them. Immediately, a swarm of heavily armed men in military uniform flooded through the gaping hole and began to open fire.

Agent Stevens scrambled on all fours and hid behind an upturned desk. Her hair was matted and stuck to her forehead and face in long, bloodied strands. Her vision was fuzzy, and her head throbbed, but she still managed somehow to reach for her gun and sit herself upright against the back of the desk. Across the room she could make out a flash of red hair – Cid – hiding behind a wall of rubble and furniture. Cid looked at her, his friend, the only one who he had ever really trusted, and who had trusted him.

"I'm sorry, Grace," he said, though she could barely read his lips let alone hear him over the gunfire and screams. There was genuine regret in the way he looked at her, but there was also fear and exhaustion, the look of a man that had been forced to balance on the edge of oblivion with no one to save him from falling. Grace could hear the distant sound of Big Ben ringing in the New Year, a twisted irony as the last S.H.I.E.L.D stronghold in the country was broken.

Then Cid turned and made a run for it through the maze of upturned tables, escaping into the night, and she never saw him again.