Peter wasn't sure if the aliens were colourblind or just incredibly unobservant, but he managed to make it all the way to the West 85th entryway of Central Park without being spotted. Sure, the air presence wasn't quite as heavy today, but he spent his entire time lurching between buildings and over avenues—he thought someone would have seen him. Besides, red and blue weren't exactly the most inconspicuous colours, especially for Manhattan.
And yet, there he was, perched on the roof of a city townhouse directly across the street from the entrance to Central Park. A pair of guards patrolled the roadway, and the usual green traffic barricade was set down across the pavement. He watched them for a little while, but it seemed he hadn't picked a particularly busy area of the Central Park slave camp. Lips pursed, he leaned over just enough, checking for any sign of a tank rumbling by on its usual route around the area. However, aside from the guards in uniform and the few random black outfits wandering through the "civilian population", it seemed pretty quiet in the warm June afternoon.
For now.
Eyes now focused on the sky, he waited, until he finally saw a blast of fire shoot across the horizon. Johnny Storm was a beacon, a signal to start, and he shot straight out of what Peter assumed was Times Square—a healthy distance from the Baxter Building. With all their sewer travel, he was surprised that the aliens hadn't tried to take the underground tunnels yet, but he had seen more and more people down there these days, and many were armed: it would take an actual army to overrun the sewer system, and they weren't going to let that happen.
Besides, the entryways were too small for an army to storm… They'd be picked off one by one.
Peter grinned as Johnny whizzed by him, and on the signal, he sent two streams of webbing down to the fire hydrant at the street level. He then pulled with all his might, heaving the heavy thing out of the ground and sending a massive outburst of gushing water onto the roving creatures below.
It managed to catch the guards' attention, anyway. He hopped down two storeys onto the terrace balcony of the old building, and then used his webbing to destroy the security hut: off came the windows and the door, followed by the support beams that held the roof in place. It wasn't much of a security checkpoint or anything, but it sent two more officers scrambling out of the rubble that the small structure was reduced to.
After dodging a few poorly aimed bullets, he swung down onto the street level, upturned a few parked cars, muffled a guard with a bit of webbing to the face, and then used the street lamps as anchors to swing his way down Central Park West. Whenever he saw an opportunity for random destruction, he took it. He pulled soldiers' helmets off, yanked their feet out from under them, and managed to lift and hurl abandoned bikes and scooters at random. When he glanced back, he noticed a steady stream of officers pouring out of the park, armed and ready for combat, and then sought out higher ground for an easy escape.
These jerks might have studied humans for years, learning their fighting styles and methods, but they definitely weren't prepared for humans warped by radioactivity.
And a vengeful Loki.
He grinned before swinging down West 65th Street, a mob of black uniformed non-humans hot on his tail.
"Been a long time since we've done this."
"Can't really say I'm much of a field-man anymore," Reed mused. Ben glanced at his friend: if he took away the grey streak in his hair, Reed Richards looked just like he did ten, fifteen years ago. Standing on the brink of chaos in his blue Fantastic Four uniform, Ben knew that no matter how hard he tried to deny it, Reed needed a bit of action every so often, if only to get it out of his system.
He had to think that—Ben couldn't be the only one, and he'd be damned if the only other person at home he could empathize with was Johnny fucking Storm.
They both glanced down when Reed's phone trilled, and he leaned forward to view the message. Two minutes to go. They had to give Johnny a chance to get out, and Peter needed to cause a bit of a distraction. Their job, on the other hand, was something they should have done weeks ago—or so Ben thought, anyway. He wasn't about to voice the opinion to Reed or Sue, because he understood why they wanted to stay hidden. There were two precious reasons sitting at home, and while Ben loved Franklin and Valeria like they were his own kids, he still thought they should have done something back when all this started.
How many other people's kids died due to the inaction of the Fantastic Four? How many died because Franklin and Valeria inadvertently chained their parents to the Baxter Tower? It was nobody's fault, but in the end, Ben personally thought this should have been taken care of weeks ago.
"Give me a second," Reed muttered, stretching his upper body up so that he could lift the grate covering. There were voices somewhere down to their left, voices that Ben thought had been following them since they slipped into the underground network, but nobody ever came close enough to cause a problem.
Today was the first time they had seen an underground settlement. There were tents and fires and boxes of supplies, but the inhabitants were asleep when he and Reed had crept by in the shadows.
"Two uniforms," Reed whispered down to him. He looked up sharply all of a sudden, lowering the metal lid, and then shook his head. "One uniform."
He dropped down to Ben's level as something rumbled over the grating, which was one of the few wide enough in the city to allow for Ben's shoulders to fit through.
"Peter's gotta be putting on a show," he chuckled, gesturing upward. "Let's go."
The duo climbed the ladder together, the metal creaking under Ben's weight, and he skipped two rungs at a time once Reed was on the street level. They appeared on Fifth Avenue and East 69th Street, materializing in front of the lone alien officer as if out of nowhere. He went for his walkie-talkie, which was clipped to his belt, but Reed's extended arms were soon on him. Pedestrians scattered out of the way, talking rapidly in a language that neither Ben nor Reed understood, just as Reed slammed the alien's head into a nearby lamppost—repeatedly.
Coloured by black blood and bone tissue, the creature lay limp on the ground as they jogged by. Reed managed to hide the body in the bushes, almost as an afterthought. Sirens screamed on the other side of the park. They weren't running in blind: Reed had already scouted various prison areas across the sprawling park landscape, and this one happened to be quite small—according to the cameras.
Sure enough, not even twenty feet from the road, they happened upon a fenced in area. The three guards monitoring it were taken care of easily: Reed wrangled them together and Ben crushed them into the ground—figuratively speaking, mind you, but they made an awful mess all the same.
Over the garbled speak of the walkie-talkies, Ben heard Loki's name.
"Look! It's the Thing!"
He frowned: that name definitely wasn't his favourite. Fucking Johnny… encouraging it in the papers…
Still, there was a job to do, and they needed to move quickly.
"I need everyone to remain quiet and calm," Reed said over the rising voices. People pressed their fingers to their lips to shush their neighbours, and Ben got to work on bending the chain-link holding fence. There had to be at least thirty people in there, squished together, of all ages and ethnicities. There were, however, more men than women. "We're here to get you out."
They wanted to make those alien assholes worry. They wanted them to know that their control on Manhattan was slipping, and they could lose prisoners just as easily as they'd taken them.
"Easy, easy," Ben grumbled, staring down a few of the guys who tried to shove through the hole he managed to rip.
"In order to ensure that none of you are infected, we're going to use this to prick your finger." Reed held up small blood tester, one that a friend had left in their apartment after a dinner party in May. "It won't hurt, but we need to make sure you all bleed red."
Aside from some brief pushing, which Ben put a stop to pretty quickly, the prisoners moved out in an orderly fashion. He expected them to break off in all directions once they were out of the cage, but they seemed used to the herd mentality, huddling together beneath the shade of a massive tree. Sure enough, each one bled red, and Reed gestured for them to follow him and Ben through the treeline. Many crouched low, as if that would make them more difficult to spot. Ben took up the rear to ensure no stragglers were taken.
"Thank you," a woman whispered, suddenly touching his arm. He nodded. "I thought we were going to die in there."
"That's what we're trying to stop from happening," he managed, trying to sound as calm and collected as he could—no need to spook anyone. "We're going to try to make this right. We got something brewing for next week."
"It's about time." He looked sharply at the tough guy to the far left, but when he said nothing further, Ben let it go.
The group stopped at the edge of the park, and that was when Reed gestured for everyone to drop down behind the brick barrier. A vehicle raced down the street, moving by them in a hurry. Ben crawled across the grass to Reed's side and stayed on his stomach to avoid detection.
"We ain't got much time."
"What's your name?" Reed asked the man beside him. The guy looked to be in his late twenties, with brown hair and an average build—nothing special. His clothes were done for, however, and there were a few purpling bruises on his sweaty face.
"Garret."
"I need you to bring these people into the sewers, Garret," Reed said carefully, thumbing the grate over his shoulder. "We're going to take the heat away from here, so we can't come with you."
The man nodded a few times. "Okay, I guess I can do… that…"
"Follow the sewer north," Ben added. "We propped open a door for you about four blocks from here… Go through it, and you'll be in the subway system."
"There are small shelters with regular people and food down there," Reed continued. "Just make sure no one gets left behind."
"I… Yeah, okay, four blocks there's a door." The man nodded again. "Got it."
Reed then looked to Ben. "Ready?"
"Are you kidding me?" Without waiting for the go signal, he pushed himself up and leapt over the small barricade. Pedestrians lingered on the other side of the street, watching with avid fascination and horror as Ben barreled out into the road and bodychecked a car. The vehicle flipped twice, effectively silencing the shrieking siren on top, and Reed soon joined him, lifting the sewage grate with one hand and wrenching a gun away from an officer down the street with the other.
Reed had chosen well. Instead of jumping down the sewer hole first, that Garret fellow waited at the top, urging everyone forward and offering a helping hand to those who needed it.
"Here," Reed said, pushing the gun he stole into Garret's hands. "Take this and only shoot when necessary."
"Got it, my man."
When the last of the prisoners were gone, the man slid down through the hole and disappeared—just as a brigade of uniformed officers showed up.
"What timing," Ben mused, punching a fist into his palm. "I was hoping I'd get to crack some more skulls today."
"Not here," Reed said as he moved the grating back over the hole. Then, together, they took off in the opposite direction, leading the pursuing officers as far from the manhole as possible. There was a subway station near Radio City Music Hall that they intended to pull a disappearing act in, and in the meantime, if they happened to murder a few aliens in black uniforms—so be it.
Ben snatched a man up and threw him through a window, which triggered the store's alarm system. It felt damn good to be back on the streets again.
"Have you ever used your powers for bad?"
Loki looked at her slowly, little wisps of hair fluttering around his face in the warm afternoon breeze, and then arched an eyebrow. It took her a moment to realize how he might have interpreted the situation, and then let out a huff.
"No, no, I mean these powers," she said. "You know… the duplicates?"
"Ah."
"And by bad I mean hijinks and tomfoolery… obviously." He smirked at her, which made her smile, and then settled down on her elbows, overlooking the city's skyline from the safety of the tower's roof. Dressed in a pair of fitted shorts, much to Loki's thinly veiled glee, and her brother's old sweater, she was happy that she hadn't been stuck on babysitting duty. For once, Sue opted to sit with the kids while the rest of them went out to do something that might help with the fight. Today, when their strategizing meeting drew to a close, they all agreed that they needed to get samples of the serum out to Captain America in Brooklyn, and while it would have been easier for Sue to travel under a cloak of invisibility, it would have taken longer.
Johnny, on the other hand, boasted the ability to hop between Manhattan and Brooklyn in two minutes tops, and seemed even more confident now that Reed had triangulated Captain America's position on Kent, just south of the Williamsburg Bridge.
Well, what was left of the bridge, anyway. With the general plan set in motion to take the city back two weekends from now, they wanted to set up a coordinated attack with however many forces the Captain had under his command: a united front was better than a scattered one. However, they couldn't risk him doing something too soon, not before they were ready with the serum in gas canisters for maximized coverage. So, Reed figured that if they could get the Captain onboard with their plan, they'd be able to get more areas across the city as a whole rather than just clearing out Manhattan.
However, the jets were on Johnny in a heartbeat last time, and the rest of the tower offered themselves up as distractions with the aim of keep all of their forces busy. If Johnny really only needed a few minutes to get there, the distractions needn't be for much longer than that. In the meantime, Ben suggested they actually do something good while they were causing havoc across Manhattan: there was a small group of prisoners settled in a relatively guard-free section of Central Park that he wanted to bust free, and once he brought that to light, a plan was formed around that.
Peter would draw heavier security presence away. Reed and Ben would help the prisoners get underground. Loki, on the other hand, would simply be an agent of chaos—mischievous yet safe from the top of the tower.
"I had other means of trickery when I was young," he told her after a long pause. He then crouched down next to her, mimicking her stance by resting his arms on the dusty cement wall, gaze turned outward. "Other spells that were more useful for frightening servants and little girls my age..."
"You sounded like a brat," she said, her chin on her arm. A cloud suddenly moved out of the way, blown across the bright blue sky by a particularly strong gust of wind, and she squinted in the sunlight. "A huge brat."
"I was just as loveable as I am now," Loki remarked. She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. "I was the court favourite, you see."
"Uh huh."
"Much beloved, the doted upon son really…"
"Okay, I really don't know enough about your childhood to catch all of your sarcasm," she told him, scooting a little closer so their elbows touched. He exhaled noisily, a single forced bit of laughter, and then shrugged.
"I suppose you'll need to be educated."
"Hmm."
A bolt of fire suddenly shot out of Times Square, and Max swatted at his arm, pointing.
"Look! Look!"
"Yes, I too have two working eyes," Loki muttered, and he ducked just in time to avoid getting smacked. Before she could try again, he sidled up behind her, pressing her to the wall and running his hands along her arms. "Now, now, none of that."
Despite the distraction, she was able to monitor her wristwatch: they were to wait one full minute before starting. When the one minute mark was reached, she turned back to him, nose and lips hovering over his cheek.
"Do it."
He stole a kiss swiftly before extending his arms out to the city, fingers dancing on the summer breeze. For a moment, there was nothing, and then there was everything. Loki's clones flooded off rooftops and poured into the streets. They tumbled down from buildings near and far, and Max let out a shrill gasp when a number raced by her side and leapt over the edge, plummeting to the streets below.
It was a sea of Loki, and from what she could see, they were incredibly destructive. When she first met the duplicates, she just assumed they were wisps of air, but seeing them now and the mess they left behind them, Max decided they were something else entirely. Garbage cans knocked over, people on the ground, mailboxes ripped from the sidewalk.
"We should just use your little guys to free the whole city," she breathed, leaning over to get a better view. She couldn't help but smile, especially when the clones overwhelmed an oncoming police vehicle nearby, swarming it and leaving it with no plates, windows, or antennae.
"That would require an excess of concentration," Loki said in her ear, and when she looked back at him, she saw his forehead wrinkled, eyes shut. "I'm afraid they are only doing a select number of tasks, and will start to fade soon… Ten minutes, perhaps."
"Well, colour me impressed." She leaned back against him when he slumped forward, and then giggled when, with a twirl of his finger, she started seeing Loki clones fall from the sky at random. "You're just showing off."
"Trying to, it would seem." He nuzzled her neck suddenly, which made her squirm, a smile on her face. "Is it working on you?"
"Oh, never," she giggled, tilting her head back to kiss him again. "Never ever, ever, ever…"
She broke away, lurching forward to see the shrieking sirens coming from the cars below. They raced by the tower, a tank following shortly behind—atop which two Loki duplicates sat, and their posture was quite relaxed, casual even.
His hands soon slid back up her arms, until he wrapped himself around her, his face resting in the crook of her neck. Max, meanwhile, watched the chaos unfold, listened to the sirens, and smiled.
Johnny's eyes narrowed as he squinted down at what was supposed to be Captain America's refuge in Brooklyn: it looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off. Reed hadn't said anything about leveled buildings and explosive stains on the concrete, but he was as confident as ever about the location. Over his shoulder and across the waterway, sirens were going crazy through Manhattan. A green swarm moved steadily along one of the roads in sight, bubbling up over a military base and leaving it dismantled—Loki's duplicates were like ants attacking a bigger bug, but as he hovered to watch them, he could see their colour starting to fade, their numbers shrinking.
It was a temporary assault, unfortunately, but it was just what he needed to get over to Brooklyn without a bunch of heat on his tail.
Haahaaaaaaa heat. He chuckled to himself: why was no one around when he was actually witty? Shaking his head, he touched down on the ground, his flames extinguishing, and readjusted the shoulder-strap across his chest. Precious cargo sat in there, along with a replica of Stark's original recipe, and if the Captain was somewhere in this mess, he hoped that the man would know what to do with it.
"Hands in their air!"
Johnny threw his arms up—comically, he hoped—and whirled around to the source of the voice. Two men in standard military uniforms crept out from behind an upturned dumpster, cautiously approaching him with their rifles trained on his chest.
"Afternoon, boys," Johnny said with a grin.
"Identify yourself."
No black uniforms today. His eyes swept across the pair: they looked ordinary enough, but then again, so did everyone else.
"Johnny Storm," he said finally. He pointed toward the insignia on his blue outfit. "One quarter of the team dubbed the Fantastic Four."
But really, he should count as a half: he was the only one who bothered with promoting the group these days, even if it was through boozy nights at a club somewhere.
"I'm not infected," he said after a long moment of tense silence. "We're holed up in the Baxter Building, and I need to see Captain America now."
"We're going to need some proof of non-possession."
"Seriously?"
They were, in fact, serious, and Johnny let out a dramatic sigh as they led him off to the upturned dumpster. There, they took a vial of his blood, and after identifying it as red, they gave him clearance. Suddenly, the dumpster's side opened, revealing a set of stairs that led underground, and Johnny was beckoned to follow one of the officers. Excited, he bobbed along after the man, taking in everything as best he could. It was dark for a moment when the door slid shut again, but once they were down the stairs, Johnny found himself in a command center fit for a king among kings.
Spiraled and metal, the room was filled with tables and chairs and papers and computers and monitors, and people rushed to and fro making a whole hell of a lot of noise. It actually reminded him of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base he had visited once, back when Fury was trying to recruit him and his team, and decided that only made sense—wasn't the Captain their little lapdog?
"Storm?"
A deep voice called to him, and he whirled around to stare into the face of the one and only Captain America—Steve, wasn't it? The man was just as broad as the pictures made him out to be, with a crew-cut hairstyle and a toned-down version of his patriot uniform, and when he extended his hand, Johnny shook it.
"Captain," he started, his head cocked to the side. He tapped his bag. "I'd like to talk to you about the Saving the World from Evil Aliens Initiative."
The Captain's gaze held level, but Johnny could see a flicker of confusion behind his eyes. "Beg your pardon?"
"What? Didn't I sound like Fury?" He chuckled and covered one of his eyes. "Is this better?"
"Is this why you're here?" The man's eyes traveled up and down his frame slowly. "To crack jokes?"
"No, no, no, it's just… breaking the tension." Johnny cleared his throat and handed his bag over. "It's a gift… from us to you."
"And who might us be?" He watched the man pass the bag along, and the uniformed assistant standing at his side began to root through it.
"Well, my sister Sue, Reed Richards, Ben Grimm, Spiderman, Loki—"
"Loki?" the Captain said sharply. Johnny could practically see the hairs bristling on his back. He shook his head, waving his hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
"No, no, it's cool," he offered. "We found him in the sewers with his girl a month ago, and he's been helping us. Turns out the aliens took him prisoner and used him as their posterboy. It's a whole different thing this time."
"Loki is a trickster in mythology and reality," the Captain insisted. "You shouldn't put your trust in him."
"Yeah, well, I just watched his clones demolish a couple of military bases on the other side of the river." He wasn't sure why he was getting defensive over the guy, but he found he couldn't help himself. "What exactly have you guys been doing today?"
The two men held one another's stares for an uncomfortable duration, neither backing down, until the Captain finally gestured back to the bag. "What's in there?"
"Well, it's more of a gift from Tony Stark than from us," he mused, folding his arms across his chest. Some of the noise died down behind him when he said the name, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed a few people paying closer attention to the conversation suddenly. "It's a serum, and it kills aliens with no harm to humans. Apparently, he's used it in South America and it's a dream. We've run trials—"
"Tony Stark hasn't made contact in almost two years," the Captain said stiffly. "Excuse me if I don't jump onboard when he suddenly resurfaces to take the glory—"
"Fine, don't trust him," Johnny argued, "but trust Reed Richards. You know, Reed Richards? Genius? He's done the clinical trials, and we're working on getting it into a gas and… well, basically gassing the life out of anything we find."
"And—"
"Look, you got any prisoners in this underground bunker?" Johnny pointed to the bag. "Let me show you what it can do… We could really use your help with this one…"
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I have to keep it short today… My bus for work is SOON. I had a lovely time writing Max getting a gun in the last chapter, because we've all seen her interest in weapons, but it was about time she got her hands on something legit, no? Plus Loki character development is alwaaays a plus! I wanted to show the team here in NYC doing something finally… They're all superheroes, and in their world, it isn't just the Avengers kicking ass. PLUS CAPTAIN ANGST AND GARRET AND UGH I HAD SO MUCH META ANALYSIS TO SHARE AND IMMA BE LATE FML.
GUH no time for anythinggggg I had to say. I have to run. See you next week, and can't wait to read some reviews after my shift today—they're what get me through minimum wage hell. MUCH LOVE, AND SEE YOU NEXT WEEEEEEEEK!