Chapter 3: Nightmares.

Steve was sure about one thing; Happiness can be malicious.
To him, Happiness meant changing a part of his behavior and losing his identity, because all his life he didn't experience it truly.
Sometimes, we think that we're not worthy the gracious things that happen to us. We don't accept it, because if we do, we'll get the feeling of being in debt to God.
We think; It is better not to taste the cup of happiness, cause if we'll do, we'll suffer the bitterness at its worst levels once the cup is empty.

In fear to get younger, we forget to grow older.

In fear of crying, we forget to laugh.

Steve smiled at the quote framed on the wall of his room. He turned and walked over to the glass wall, he could see the world through it perfectly. His gaze spoke his mind –Happiness.

Was he happy? Maybe.
Adapting to live in future wasn't hard. He loved the technology, the new high buildings, the LCD TV screens, mobile phones, extravagant five-starred planes, all of it was good. It made his life much easier, and he was lucky to have the chance to witness it.

"Hey Steve," Dean said.

"Dean, hello. I'm sorry I kept you waiting, let's go."

On their way down in the elevator, an awkward silence stretched between them. And Steve felt uncomfortable so he spoke, "Did Nick tell you the details of your job?"

"Um, nope. What is it?" Dean asked.

"Weird. SHIELD did a research on our potential enemy. Three of its members were killed mysteriously. Two of them were from NASA and the third, is one of the most highly-trained soldiers."

"Wow.. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I thought Nick did. SHIELD is keeping this info as a secret though. So, I hope your tongue doesn't slip when we're there," Steve said.

"Yeah, sure."

"And they think it's a work of a demon. They didn't share any further information with Nick Fury."

"That's why you called on us. Makes sense," Dean was talking to himself now.

Elevator's door opened and they saw Tony sitting quietly.
As they came closer they could see his pale face as he drank his scotch.

Without looking them in the eye, "Nick Fury is dead," he said.

An unusual silence spread around the room. How the words were twisted backwards into their throats as they tried to speak. Their bodies tensed, a grieving kind of tension. They didn't know him well, but they sure as hell were happy to have had him as a leader.

"How?" Steve's tone was at its lowest.

"Same shit. They found him dead in his bed, his blood was everywhere," Tony struggled talking.

Tony wasn't close to Nick either. He was now more scared about his own safety, and the safety of his team. After all, the victims had been all powerful and well trained.

"Who the fuck is doing this?" Tony seethed through his gritted teeth. In anger, he threw his glass of scotch on the floor and it blew into several pieces.

"Are there any clues? Steve told me it might be a demon," Dean said.

"Yes."

"Well, that's where our part comes. You did the right thing to call us," Dean soothed. "I'll call Sammy. You get Nick's body, we have to see it for ourselves," he added.

Dim lights of the streets lamps only blurred her vision as her feet tried to recognize the asphalt she was running on. Gasping with tears in her eyes, she sought her way out of the killer's sight.

The footsteps behind her slowly faded. So, she ran into a shadowed narrowed pathway, hiding under escape-stairs. And she took a deep breath, trying to extinguish her cries.

Maria couldn't stay there, it was too dangerous. The killer's eyes would find her in a slight fraction of seconds. She had to run, hide, anything or death would be her last destination. Maria was 15 years old. Too young and incapable to keep her mouth shut, as the killer had said.

Maria saw her father getting killed, and now she was the next target on their list. Her father had been a drug dealer and her life had been all about moving from one city to another. No friends, no family and most importantly; no safety.

Natasha woke up from that nightmare, breathing hard and sweating.

She didn't have the courage to tell Maria that it had been her who killed her father?. And now, every time they were together in a room, Natasha would remain silent, eyes downcast. My past is haunting me, she would cry on the inside.

A cold-blooded assassin. Spy. Killer. How many nights she had wished to erase that from her vocabulary. Killing Maria was an order from a higher person, someone far above her. She couldn't protest, the job had to be done. As Valek, the head of the organization, said they couldn't risk to uncover their identity at any costs.

Anyway, They have never found Maria again.

"You must stop torturing yourself, Nat. Everything is okay now. Look around you, we all are okay. You didn't do anything wrong, you're out of this stupid organization, and you have us… you have me," Clint soothed.

Natasha wept onto his shoulder as her fingers brushed through his chestnut brown hair.

"Go back to sleep," Clint kissed her forehead.

A knock on the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry guys, but Tony wants to speak with us all. We're meeting upstairs," Sam said.

"Yeah, okay. Give us a moment," Clint replied.

At the top of the tower, the Avengers were all gathered together. Natasha and Clint sat on the couch, holding hands. Steve was leaning onto the door frame, Tony stood at the bar and Bruce was still in the laboratory with the Winchesters, analyzing Nick's corpse.

"Winchesters, you got anything?" Tony asked as they entered the room.

"Apparently, Nick scratched himself to death. The skin fractions under his nails say so," Bruce entered the room a bit late, holding papers in his hand, interrupting Tony.

"What?" Tony exclaimed.

"Yeah, that was my reaction."

"It's obvious! Someone controlled his dream," Dean said. "We already dealt with this one," he added.

"Yes. He must have drunk something, and whoever did that, gained control over his dreams. Makes sense," Sam clarified.

"Jarvis, call Maria and tell her to give us access to all the cameras inside their building," Tony rushed out of the room.

The tension got higher as Loki came into the room. His face was pale, as always, his black hair lifted backwards and he wore a pair of white pants and a blue shirt. Without saying a word, he approached the bar and purred himself a drink. Everyone knew that he wasn't there to drink. He was there to gather information.

"Hey, Loki," Sam greeted.

Loki threw him a glance without saying a word.

"What is that doing here!" Clint seethed through his teeth.

"That is still a person, Clint. He got his own room. Get over it," Sam sounded annoyed.

A tiny feeling tingled in Loki's chest, and he wanted to smile at someone defending him, but his pride was more powerful.

The chains pierced through Dean's body. There was no voice left in him to scream, beg, or cry. He was clinging to his sanity, trying to close his eyes at the merciless sight, but his eyes kept opening at the screams of the tortured people. Burning flames, wicked laughs and screams of the damned. That was Dean's personal hell.

He remembered the whip in his hand. The scars it left on their bodies, his blank eyes, their tears, the blood splattering around, the sweat falling off of his forehead.

And, he remembered himself finding to enjoy doing it.

"Dean, wake up. Wake up!" Sam was shaking him.

Dean didn't wake up.

"Wake up! Dean, hey listen to me. It's me Sam, wake up."

Dean gasped, leaping off from Sam's hands. Sam breathed heavily, his muscles relaxed and he took a few more breaths.

Dean's chest was wounded. More of a random scratches. Looking at his own hands, Dean noticed the blood stains under his nails.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"What the hell is this?" Dean looked at his chest. "Fuck. It hurts!"

Sam frowned. "It looks like Nick's, a bit less severe."

Sam got up, he was nervous now. Thousands of thoughts passed his mind in a speed of light, and he failed to catch a single one and settle on it.

"I'll call Bruce, he'll take care of your wound," Sam said as he left the room, leaving Dean alone.

After a brief moment, Steve was there with Dean.

"What the hell happened?"

"I dunno. I woke up like this," Dean murmured.

"Dreaming of hell did harm you," Steve said sarcastically.

"How the hell you know about…"

"Shhh," Steve's right thumb pressed on Dean's jugular vein, and the blood stopped flowing to his brain. Meanwhile, his other hand pressed on a particular point near his armpit, causing the muscles to seize up. And just like that, Dean had gone into sleep again.

Thor had been busy for the last couple of days settling truces with Muspellheim, the Land of Fire. Odin ordered him to travel, because his health condition didn't allow him to do it by himself, and the only one Odin trusted with things like this was his dear beloved son, Thor.

The road to Muspellheim was dangerous. It was a realm of unspeakable heat, quenchless fires, and overhung with clouds of black ashes and fiery sparks. In midst of its blinding heat, sat Surtur, guarding the kingdom of fire with his flaming sword. He had been described thus:

"Surtur with his fiery sword,

A creature of eternal flame,

Muspellheim is his ward,

In end of time, the nine worlds bane."

Thor had to meet Surtur. It would be their first time seeing each other. Surtur had longed for this for thousands of years, saying to his father Odin. "Your son will visit me one day, and I shall meet the God of Thunder."

Surtur's obsession was to take over the nine realms - just like the prophecy had said that at the end of time, Muspellheim would be the only realm left - And he had decided to start with Asgard, but the endless truces delayed his anticipated goal. The truces were carried with extraordinary prizes that Surtur couldn't refuse.

Surtur was armed with a mighty sword which said: "Shines brightly burning more intensely than the sun."

And, ruling his many sons, the destroyers of worlds, Gods and men – he was invincible.

One thing that Thor didn't understand was what would keep such a strong enemy from attacking Asgard and taking over it in a blink of an eye? Whatever it was, he was happy for it.

The gates of the fire palace finally opened after a long wait. Thor had his body burning from heat and his eyes were red.

The fire guardians were three meters tall, carrying swords in their huge hands.

"Oh, Son of Odin, welcome to the Land of Fire. I hope the heat did not bother your majesty," Surtur leered.

"Hello, Lord Of Fire. I'm here on behalf of my father. He could not make it, he has to rest in bed," Thor spoke. "Here's the truce," he added, revealing a white marble stone. Thor couldn't see what was written on it, but he handed it over to Surtur anyway. After a few moments, Surtur smiled and said. "Very interesting. You can tell your father that I agree."

"I shall return to my father with your response."

"Oh, please. Have a drink, you have just arrived," Surtur said.

"No, thank you. I have brother problems, I better go," Thor regretted his words the second they had left his mouth. Surtur shouldn't know the details, it was never a good sign.

Surtur cocked his head towards Thor a little bit, who was standing beneath his blazing royal chair.

"Brother as in your dear brother Loki?"

"Yes," Thor sighed under his breath.

"I doubt your father told you about the truce then," Surtur laughed.

"What?"

"He's sacrificing Loki, his disgraced son, to me to keep his land safe."

Thor's eyes filled themselves with madness.