Madness of the Serpent

Plunge

Steve held one arm tightly around the waist of the strange woman, his other hand gripping the ceiling handhold as the Quinjet began to fall from the sky. Frost had hit her head against the interior hull when Loki had blasted out one of their engines, and the Captain had grabbed her quickly to secure her from further injury.

Glimpsing up to the smoke-obscured cockpit window, Steve was amazed at the archer's expert maneuverability with the aircraft. Somehow, Agent Barton was able to control its descent, only once clipping the side of a building with the right wing as they came down hard in a relatively empty plaza.

Either they had incredibly good luck or Barton was an inhumanly skilled pilot. A little bit of both, more than likely.

Breathing only a fraction faster than normal, but otherwise completely unaffected by the rough landing, he checked on the girl's condition. She had a red mark on one temple to match the older cut on her cheek, but otherwise, she looked unharmed. Stunned maybe – she didn't make a sound or panic from the near-miss as most civilians would have.

"You all right to walk?" he asked her once the Quinjet was completely stationary, and she affirmed her readiness with a singular "Yes", her hand feeling along the scrap on her head. He released his hold and she seemed able to stand of her own accord, so he grabbed his shield and nodded to Agents Romanoff and Barton.

"It's going to be pretty hectic out there, so stay close," he said, making sure Frost looked him in the eye to indicate she was alert and understood his words.

"Ready?" Barton asked, giving the girl a smile much too enthusiastic considering they had just been in a plane crash.

"Yes," she responded again, her expression unreadable as she glanced around at the trio.

"Come on," Steve commanded, leading the charge down the ramp, glancing back to make sure his teammates followed. Agent Romanoff trotted after him with a cool expression on her face, while Agent Barton looked forward with eager anticipation.

In contrast to her non-expressions on the Quinjet, Frost's eyes were now wide as she took in the panicked crowds and the flying aliens. At least in that regard, her reaction was a bit more human.

Steve rounded the corner and saw Stark Tower proclaimed itself only as STA, having lost the massive R and the K which normally marked its oddly vintage-style exterior.

"We got to get back up there," he yelled, running down the avenue, swerving around the upturned and smoking vehicles towards the elegant façade of the Grand Central Terminal, the antique clock and surrounding limestone Roman gods and heroes a stark contrast to the yawning swirling hole directly above.

All four of them slowed to a stop, their heads craning upwards as they heard an ominous rumble vibrating through their bones, the source of the thunderous noise emanating from the skyward portal.

Steve watched in disbelief as a creature the length and width of a skyscraper swam through the portal, metallic spines covering its tarnished gold shell as it glided through the air. Iron teeth parted as it roared its arrival, its sea-creature fin plowing through the statue of Hermes atop the iconic station.

To make the situation hairier, there were chittering, screaming aliens jumping from hidden pockets in its underbelly, clawing their way across the brickwork of the old buildings as they roared in what could only be interpreted as delight.

"Stark, are you seeing this?" Steve asked, his mind trying to process what was happening to his city.

"Seeing. Still working on believing," voiced the inventor's tart response from the miniscule earbud. "Where's Banner, has he shown up yet?"