Author's note: Oh. My. Gosh. I feel like it's redundant to post another apology, but here goes. Sorry I took way too long with this update. First I had to do a bunch of research and junk, then I realized that I've never written an actual battle scene before and I wanted it to be perfect, and then I got writer's block for awhile. And then I went on vacation. In fact, I'm still on vacation, but I got inspired, so now you all get a chapter. Hopefully, after my vacation's over, I'll be able to start posting regular updates again, but I suppose it's fairly obvious now that such an event is unlikely at best. ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

WARNING: Character death ahead. Tread softy.

LIST OF NAMES, for clarification.

Clint: Friend: Davon

Thor: Sparky: Paul

Tony: Light: Michael

Loki: Chill: Jasper

Natasha: Red: Ariana

Steve: Reg: Timothy

Bruce: Ghost: John

Hulk: Muscles: Nathan

Though again, they'll be using their Caravan names during this chapter.


Previously:

"As long as you stand between us and the safety of the city," Reg said to the man before them. "We're bound to be on less than pleasant terms."

The man sighed. "I knew you would say that," he stated. "Very well, if that's how it must be. You know, I'd always hoped to face you one day. I must admit it's a bit disappointing that you don't remember me."

"Why?" Friend asked. "Who are you?"

"It's very simple," the man said. "I'm the Winter Soldier."


Friend and Reg both frowned, unsure what the man had meant by what he said. Winter Soldier? What did that mean?

They didn't have time to wonder, however, as suddenly, the radios in their ears both shorted out, sparking. The shock startled them and they both reached up and yanked the devices from their ears before they could cause any more pain. In that instant, the Winter Soldier attacked.

He went for Reg first, hitting him hard and fast before turning to Friend and rushing towards him. Friend managed to dodge the first attack, but was unprepared for the second hit. The Winter Soldier hit him square across the jaw, sending him reeling.

Catching his footing, Friend looked up to see the Winter Soldier had turned back to Reg and was now fighting him. He was fast, very fast, hitting Reg one second and dodging with ease any attack Reg made. And then there was a gun, and the Winter Soldier was shooting at Friend over Reg's shoulder, as the two grappled and fought. Friend jumped aside and pulled his own weapon, despite the close proximity of Reg, and the fact that the two were still sparring, both moving fast.

Shooting his gun, it hit precisely where Friend wanted it to, which was the Winter Soldier's side. It ricocheted off his armor, like Friend knew it would, but at that close range, still caused the Winter Soldier to lose his hold on Reg for an instant. Reg's reflexes were superb as usual, and he took advantage of the loosened grip to take hold of the Winter Soldier's arm and throw him to the ground.

The Winter Soldier rolled over, tripping Reg and getting to his feet as Friend ran up the side of a pile of rubble, jumping to the wall and vaulting from the side of it, shooting at the Winter Soldier from above. The Winter Soldier shielded himself from the attack with his arm, which was covered in metal plate armor, which gave Reg time to get to his feet and continue his attack.

Friend had determined the Winter Soldier's basic fighting style by this time, and developed a strategy that would hopefully give them a chance to win this battle. Nodding covertly to Reg in order to let him know he had a plan, he moved into action. He just hoped he'd got this right.


After the radios all shorted out, the three teens in the basement found themselves facing the bomb without the technical support Ghost would have been able to supply them. They all stood in silence for a moment, staring at the large black box with the blue numbers counting down from 14:32.

"...Should I hit it?" Sparky asked.

"This is no time for jokes, Sparky," Chill said in exasperation. "We've got less than fifteen minutes to try and deactivate this bomb, or the city will pay, and us with it."

"It's not like any bomb I've ever seen," Red noted, slight trepidation in her voice despite her calm demeanor. "I don't even see any opening anywhere. We can't get inside to see how it detonates."

Chill frowned. "I still say it feels strange," he said. "Almost as if it's resonating in me."

"Resonating?" Red asked. "How do you mean?"

"I mean," Chill explained. "The energy of the bomb is reacting to the energy inside of me. Almost like a piece of metal that is pulled to a magnet. Whatever this bomb is made of, it is very much like the energy in me that grants me the powers I possess."

"You mean, how you freeze things, and how you can disappear and teleport?" Sparky asked.

"Yes, just like that," Chill said, kneeling down and examining the bomb. "And I can tell that if I understood my own power, I would consider it a matter of ease to deactivate this device. But I don't, and it is driving me mad!"

Red also kneeled down. "Well, I'm good with explosives," she said. "And your instincts about this energy are most likely right. Maybe if we work together, we'll figure something out."

Chill nodded. "Presently, it's our only hope of survival."

Sparky shifted his weight anxiously. "This is useless, my being here," he stated. "You know I'm no good at this sort of thing, I'll only delay you, and the enemy is engaged elsewhere. I could be helping the others."

"You may leave," Chill said. "If we are attacked, we are more than capable of defending ourselves. And without the comlinks, we don't have contact with the others."

Sparky gave them a small smile. "Good luck," he said before turning and running through the door.

Chill turned and glanced at Sparky as he left, silently wishing him the luck of the gods- wait, what? Oh well- but turned back to his work and feverishly tried to find a weakness in the black box. Unless he and Red could manage to stop this bomb from detonating, they were all doomed to die.


Ghost gripped the arm of his seat and felt his head hit the back of the chair, as the quinjet lurched suddenly to avoid rapid fire: the other jets had engaged them in combat. From his seat, Ghost could see buildings spinning into view, and he felt a wave of nausea as they zoomed straight towards the cement and glass of a high-rise only to pull up at the last second, the building rising above them like a road before disappearing completely into sky; then more buildings came into view from overhead, upside down. The jet went into a barrel roll and leveled out before turning to avoid another building, and Ghost found himself squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily.

"They're on our tail," the co-pilot said to the pilot, and Ghost opened his eyes again, just in time for another lurch, as the sound of gunfire went off loudly, ringing in his ears. He winced at the sound of scraping metal; they must have been hit somewhere.

"Report," the pilot demanded. "Report!"

Ghost took a steadying breath and turned to where the computers were all flashing in the back. "Uh…" he said. "L-light damage to the armorment, all systems holding."

"You gotta stay focused," the co-pilot said calmly, turning and looking Ghost in the eye. "We'll get through this if we keep our heads, got it?"

Ghost nodded. "R-roger," he said, sitting up a little straighter and turning to the computers. There was the sound of more gunfire, and this time, they all felt the impact. The quinjet shook massively, and Ghost once again felt his head hit the back of his chair. A small alarm started beeping, and Ghost forced himself to look at the computers. "Engine 2 is stalled," he reported.

The pilot cursed. "I'm gonna have to land," he said, trying his best to steer the jarring quinjet.

"They're behind us again," the co-pilot declared, and the pilot swerved the quinjet to avoid the ensuing gunfire. The side of a building loomed in front of them, and with little time to react, the pilot swerved again. The left side of the jet smashed into the windows of the building, and hit the concrete wall with force. The cockpit sparked and there was the sound of a small explosion, rocking the ship and blinding Ghost for a moment. He blinked his eyes a few times and yelled for the pilot, hearing no response. The blindness passed and he saw that both the pilot and co-pilot were unconscious, if not worse.

Then the jet began to free fall. Ghost yelled as they narrowly avoided the buildings on either side; praying to any deity that might be listening, as he grasped the arms of his chair until his knuckles were white and closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

They hit the floor. Ghost felt his neck snap forward painfully, and he felt his chin hit his chest, causing his teeth to gnash together hard. A horrible headache flared up suddenly, and he lost all other feeling as the Jet grinded and scraped to a halt. Finally, everything was still, and Ghost groaned painfully, reaching up and putting a hand up to his head. There were still alarms going off in the jet, and he could hear a hissing, crackling sound, as well as feeling heat coming from somewhere. The jet was on fire. Opening his eyes, he blinked a few times, trying to get used to the sudden light from the fire.

The jet was half buried in rubble; they'd crashed into one of the buildings. The cockpit was completely covered, and if the pilots had survived the explosion, it was over for them now. Ghost felt an urge to throw up, but swallowed it down. He had to keep it together. He had to stay focused.

Hands shaking, he struggled with his seatbelt for a few moments, before finally getting it undone. Staggering to his feet, he climbed over to the door hatch and pressed the button to open it. Nothing happened. He pressed it again, getting a sinking feeling in his gut when once again, the door didn't open. Behind him, a proximity alert went off, and he turned, seeing a red flashing notice. The enemy jets had circled around, and were coming back in. Now that the jet was down, it was only a matter of seconds before they would be in range, and one blast from their guns would send the ship up in flames.

Ghost began to panic and he hit the door a few times, trying to get out, but it was no use. Turning, he watched as the readout alerted him of the approaching jets. This was it for him.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a thud on the outside of the jet; then another, and a third. Then he heard the screeching sound of ripping metal, and then he heard Muscles roaring.

"MUSCLES!" He yelled, banging on the door. "OVER HERE! YOU GOTTA GET THE DOOR OPEN!"

Outside, there was silence for a moment, and then Muscles roared again, and the door was ripped off the side of the jet with a bang.

"GHOST!" Muscles yelled, pulling Ghost out of the jet by the arm, almost yanking it out of the socket, and Ghost felt his shoulder dislocate. He yelled out in pain, but it soon turned into a relieved laugh as Muscles released him apologetically. "I hurt Ghost?" He asked in worry.

Ghost nodded, but smiled. "It's not serious," he said. "And you saved me first."

Then he remembered the approaching jets, and jumped up. "We gotta get out of here," he told Muscles. "The guys who shot us down are coming back to finish the job!"

Muscles growled and looked around at the sky, and Ghost heard the engines of the enemy jets getting closer. They needed to get somewhere the jets wouldn't be able to reach them. If the enemy was forced to land and come after him on foot, Muscles would be able to handle them easily. Looking around, Ghost patted Muscles' forearm. "Come with me," he said, running towards one of the many buildings surrounding them.


Light grunted as he took yet another hit from the teenager, and was sent flying through the air, hitting a bus hard as he landed. He fell to the floor and struggled to catch his breath. He'd only been fighting this dude for seven minutes and he already knew for a fact that he had broken several ribs and probably had some sort of concussion. The kid hadn't been lying when he'd said he had all of their powers; he had Red's fire and his hand-repulsors, as well as Friend's eyesight, Sparky's lightning, and Muscles' strength, and even Chill's ability to teleport. Aside from this, he also had Reg's ability to heal himself, so even when Light did get a hit in or manage to fire at him with his gun, every wound closed up after a few minutes.

Though, Light had taken notice that the teenager seemed to have a subdued version of each; in every respective area his control and even the power itself was lackluster and immensely weaker than their powers, but the combined force of them altogether made this boy the powerful foe he was.

Light struggled to his feet and shot at the kid again, before the gun was knocked out of his hands by the kid, who had teleported so he was standing next to him. He grabbed Light's wrist and clenched his hand tightly, causing Light to gasp in pain. He held up his free hand, and shot the kid with his hand-repulsor. The kid released Light's wrist and teleported away, and Light turned on the spot, trying to see where he had gone.

The kid had been right, he was really good at hide-and-seek. In fact, Light had decided that the only reason he was still alive was because the kid was too busy playing the game. Which, he didn't even seem to be enjoying. He acted completely bored of this whole "evil" thing, which made him even more dangerous. Light knew that as soon as this kid got bored of this game, he would be done.

Light didn't need to defeat this kid. He knew that. He only needed to keep him entertained, keep him busy. Keep him hiding and seeking here in the platforms so the others could figure out what to do with the bomb. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. But he would try his best.

"Is…" he paused, coughing hoarsely. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Don't wanna end this too quickly," the kid said, his voice echoing throughout the huge area. "When I'm done here I go back to the grey room."

"Ah, yeah, I know how that is," Light called out, walking slowly down the platform, keeping his eyes open for movement. "I'd extend playtime a bit, too. So, what's the deal? Why are you bombing this place?"

"Don't expect a monologue," the kid said. "I know you were told the real target."

Light heard the tone of boredom in the kids' voice and tensed, as suddenly the kid was behind him, knocking him to the ground and kicking him once. Light laughed dryly as he got back to his feet, knowing without having to look that the kid had already disappeared to hide again.

"Let me finish," he said. "Why the terminal? Why not just bomb the building itself, or Columbus Circle or something?"

"Now, that question is worth an answer," the kid said. "This place is more centrally located."

"Haha," Light said. "Nice pun. You win supervillain of the week. But it's gotta be more than that, there are plenty of other places you could have planted that bomb."

"Yeah, well, this place also causes more mass panic," the kid admitted. "It's more public, it's busier. More people come here in the span of a day."

"Oh, so it's a military target and an opportunity for sending a message," Light said. "I suppose that makes sense."

"You're starting to bore me now," the kid said with a sigh.

"Duly noted," Light said, tensing slightly. "Marco!"

"Polo," the voice whispered from behind him, and Light turned with a gasp right as the kid threw a punch to his stomach, causing Light to double over. The kid then elbowed him in the back and Light fell to the ground the rest of the way. Light coughed up a bit of blood as he tried to push himself up with his arms. The kid then picked him up by the throat, and held him at eye level. Light choked, trying to pull the kids hands away from his throat.

"Look at me," the kid said, and Light looked into his eyes. He had expected to find boredom, maybe anger, possibly bitterness or hatred, but what he saw left him completely baffled.

The kid looked truly sorry. As if he were trying to silently apologize for what he had done.

And then he threw, and Light was flying again. He hit the wall hard, feeling all the breath get knocked out of him as the back of his head bounced against the wall. He saw red stars behind his eyes, and then he was falling. He hit the floor and let out a small cry of pain as his knee and ankle both twisted upon landing. He tried to get up, but just fell over again, and he looked up as the kid jumped down to where he had landed- down on the tracks, it looked like- and walked slowly towards him.

"I'm done here," the kid said, raising his hand and turning the palm towards Light. "But you understand… I have no choice."

Light glared at the kid, not in anger, but in an attempt to get the kid to realize how much he meant this, how much this mattered.

"No," he rasped out. "There's always a choice!"

The kid blinked, he looked truly startled. But then he shook his head. He held up his palm, it began to light up, Light held his breath-

And then Sparky was there, and he punched the kid while his attention was on Light.

The kid looked up at Sparky, who frowned. "You are the one who laid waste to this city?" He asked. "The one who attacked civilians, who harmed the city guard, and intends a bomb to destroy all in its path? You are the one who did this, yes?"

The kid glanced at Light, then turned back to Sparky. "Yeah," he admitted, nodding. "That was me."

"And you attacked my comrade," Sparky stated. "All of this will be avenged." With that, the fight was on.

Light felt a strange stirring as the two moved out of view and he pushed himself up into a sitting position against the wall. What Sparky had said… it had somehow made him feel better. Hopeful, somehow. Like they actually had a chance.


The Winter Soldier was a strong fighter. If either Friend or Reg had been fighting alone, they might not have managed a win, but as a team, they were finally wearing him down. Working together, Reg sparred with the Winter Soldier in hand-to-hand combat while Friend fired range-attacks with his gun, jumping in every once in awhile to give Reg a chance to heal from the attacks.

The Winter Soldier hadn't said a word since the fight started, and if Friend was half as good at reading faces as he thought he was, he would say the Winter Soldier had changed personalities. Gone was the bitter look from before; instead, the Winter Soldier had a dead look in his eye, as if he were simply performing a boring task instead of fighting two people he had claimed to know and hate only minutes before.

As Friend moved into position for a clear shot, the Winter Soldier threw a punch towards Reg's face, and Reg blocked the move with his arm, leaving his side wide open for attack. In that moment, the Winter Soldier could have raised his other hand and fired his weapon, and Reg would have been down for the count. But instead, the Winter Soldier lagged for a moment, and Friend knew it was time.

Firing three rapid shots toward the Winter Soldier, Friend successfully drew his attention. The Winter Soldier raised his arm to shoot at Friend, who paused to give the Winter Soldier an opening, something to further distract him. Reg, seeing the opportunity, ducked under the Winter Soldier's outstretched arm and elbowed him in the back. The Winter Soldier fired, but missed due to the jarring attack, and then turned once again to face Reg, moving to hit him square across the jaw with his gun. Reg blocked his arm, but stayed where he was, leaving Friend with a clear shot at the Winter Soldier. Firing his weapon, Friend first shot the gun out of the Winter Soldier's hand. Turning his head towards Friend, the Winter Soldier made his final mistake. With one more shot, Friend ended the fight in the only way he could, his perfect aim aiding him to the last.

The gun fired. Time paused. The Winter Soldier blinked, a spark of recognition in his eyes, a glimmer of memory, and an instant of pure, torturous remorse. And then it was gone, and he fell, his last second one of agony.

It was over.


Ghost could hear the jets flying overhead as he and Muscles ran into the ground floor of the building. It was a reception area, a bit posh by the looks of it, and completely empty, alarms still going off.

"Alright, here's the plan," Ghost said. "I'm going to hide behind the reception desk and try to get the radios working again, while you beat up the guys who come in here after us. Got it?"

Muscles smirked. "Beat up bad guys, got it," he said, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

Ghost offered a small smile in return before running over to the reception desk and ducking behind it. He immediately began fiddling with his SHIELD issue watch, wasting no time. After a few moments, Muscles let out a roar and there was the sound of gunfire, letting Ghost know that they'd been found. He tried to tune it all out and continue working as the sound of building breaking could be heard now along with the gunfire, and a rather unmanly scream coming from one of the enemies. Suddenly, a body hit the wall overhead and fell to the ground directly in front of Ghost, causing him to jump with a gasp.

The man didn't move, and so Ghost tried to steady his shaking hand and continue working. "Come on, come on, come on…" he muttered. Finally, the watch beeped once, letting him know he had a connection again, and he let out a nervous laugh as he sent a message to SHIELD letting them know the urgent situation.

And then suddenly, one of the enemies was standing there next to the desk, and Ghost found himself staring directly into the barrel of a gun as it fired. He winced and stopped breathing in surprise before the enemy was suddenly knocked out of view, replaced with Muscles, who growled in a rage before turning to Ghost with a look as close to fear as he could manage.

"Ghost got shot?" Muscles asked in worry.

Ghost couldn't answer, a cold feeling spreading through him as he looked down at his shirt. His clean, hole free shirt. He felt no pain, he hadn't felt any pain. Why!? He'd been shot! At point blank range, he'd been shot. There was no way the man had missed. So why wasn't he bleeding? Why wasn't he dead?

Muscles suddenly grinned, and then let out a relieved laugh. "GHOST PHASED OUT!" He roared. "SHOT WENT RIGHT THROUGH!"

Ghost looked down at his shaking hands, and realized that he could see through them. He'd phased? He was… he was still alive. For a second, he felt a surge of panic, before his hands returned to a state of solidity. Letting out a deep breath, he leaned back against the wall. The silence of the room let him know that Muscles had been victorious. Now they just had to wait for SHIELD.

"We did it," he said, before remembering the others. "Let's just hope everyone else is doing alright."


Down in the basement, Red paced back and forth behind Chill, who was sitting on the floor, holding his hands up to his head and muttering under his breath, eyes closed.

"Can you stop that?" He asked suddenly. "I can't concentrate."

Red huffed as she stopped pacing and sat down next to Chill. "It's how I think," she said.

"Yes, well, it's hindering to me," Chill stated. "There has to be a way to disarm this bomb."

"Saying so over and over doesn't make the answer come to you," Red said.

"It's more helpful than stating the obvious," Chill shot back.

Red rolled her eyes and stood back up, resuming her pacing behind Chill. "Let's go over what we know," she suggested.

"There's a bomb in the basement," Chill recounted sarcastically.

"It goes off in less than five minutes," Red continued, ignoring Chill, who sighed.

"There is no visible way to disarm the bomb, or even to examine it," he said.

"Right," Red said. "And if you can't disarm a bomb, what do you do?"

"I don't know," Chill said, exasperated. "Throw it out!"

Red turned to him. "Wait," she said. "That might actually work!"

"How would that work?" Chill demanded. "It goes off in three minutes. We would barely even get it out of the basement in that time."

"The resonating energy," Red continued. "Whatever it is, however it works, it's got the same energy flow that gives you your powers."

Chill stood up. "Right," he agreed, having realized what she was saying. "And I can teleport to any destination, instantaneously. If we could trigger the same reaction in the bomb, we could send it to an unpopulated area outside of town. We can throw it out!"

"But how do we trigger it?" Red asked, examining the bomb. "And what's more; how do we trigger the teleportation without setting off the bomb itself? The wrong move and we all go up, and the city with us."

"We don't have time to figure it out," Chill said, walking over to the bomb. "I'll have to carry it."

"What!?" Red demanded. "That's crazy! What if you don't get out in time!?"

"Look, it goes off in around 45 seconds," Chill said. "If I hold it while I teleport, the resonating energy should cause the bomb to react in the same manner. It won't react negatively to my energy. Probably. And if it does blow during teleport, it will be too late to do any damage to the city."

"But what about you?" Red asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Fifteen seconds," Chill stated, picking the bomb up carefully. "No more time to discuss alternate plans. Go and help the others, will you? There's a good girl."

With a grin that could only be described as infuriating, both Chill and the bomb disappeared in a flash of light, and Red growled angrily for a few seconds before turning and running back to the staircase. She could only hope that Chill's plan worked, and that he was able to get out in time. Until then, she was needed elsewhere.


Light was completely helpless and hating it as he watched the teenager give Sparky a thrashing. Sitting up against the wall and breathing painfully, (was the pain in his side an indicator of a collapsed/collapsing lung? He sure hoped not) Light couldn't even manage to call out a warning as the teenager appeared out of nowhere, using both fists to hit Sparky across the back of his head. While the teenager was skinny as all get out, his combined strength of Muscles, Sparky, and Reg seemed to be enough to bring the much larger man to the ground.

Sparky laughed and spat a bit of blood on the ground as he got to his feet. "Is that all you can do?" He demanded with a grin.

"You have my compliments," the teenager said, appearing about ten feet in front of Sparky. "Not many people can withstand my attacks this long." Surprisingly, he had a small smile himself. "We should hang out again sometime."

Sparky looked a bit worse for wear; even through his strength and near-inhuman ability to take a punch, he still staggered slightly as he stepped forward. "I'm afraid that is an impossibility," he said. "I wouldn't want to find myself in undesirable company."

"Suit yourself," the kid said with a shrug. Sighing, he pretended to look at a watch that didn't exist. "Well, that's a thing," he said. "Congrats, guys, you managed to get rid of the bomb."

Light looked down at his own watch; the kid was right, the bomb should have gone off a moment ago. He smiled; no matter how this ended for him and Sparky, the city was safe for now.

"Shall we end this, then?" Sparky asked.

"What?" The teenager said, feigning surprise. "And ruin all the fun?" he laughed and shook his head. "Naw, we'll just have to settle things next time. I'm late for an appointment, and I'd better go check on my babysitter anyway. He stopped responding to my emails. See ya later, kids."

Sparky moved to attack, but the kid vanished, and Sparky's fist went through open air. Grunting in frustration, Sparky turned and ran over to Light. "How badly are you injured?" He asked.

"Oh, you know," Light panted. "N-nothing a little R+R won't fix."

Sparky looked confused. "R+R?" he repeated.

"R-rest and relaxation, buddy," Light groaned. "L-listen, if this is all over, how about you go and see what h-happened to Reg and Friend, 'kay?"

Sparky nodded. "I shall return with Reg as soon as possible," he said, standing and running back towards the lobby.

Light closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. No longer needing to stay awake, he felt the room grow dark as his mind began to shut down. Before he blacked out, however, he managed to send a message to SHIELD.

We did it.