Stuck in Avengers!

Am I Dead Yet?

Cyril POV:

As soon as I landed, my ears were filled with the sound of fists hitting solid material. I hadn't opened my eyes, but I could tell by the strained grunts that a man was beating some sort of gym material. That stopped quickly, though. A startled yelp cut through the air and I curled in on myself. 

"Am I dead?" I groaned thickly, and tried to open my eyes. A blurry, discolored figure stood by a punching bag around five feet away.

"Er, no ma'am." The man replied, and I realized that it was Steve. 

"Fuck, I tried so hard this time," I chuckled darkly while he walked over. 
"You shouldn't joke about suicide. It isn't always funny," he warned while helping me sit up. 

"It is if you have a dry sense of humor," I croaked, cracking a weak smile. Blinking furiously, I started to clear the rainbow mess from my sight. "Oh god, I lost the Tesseract!" I wailed anxiously. 
"You lost the WHAT!?" Nick Fury shouted out from the entrance of the room. 

"I'm so fucked. Stevie, do me a favor and use that super strength of yours to kill me now." I said hopelessly to Steve, and he looked at me quizzically. 

"Director Fury, who is this?" he asked, and Fury glared. 

"That thing is Cyril Morey. I entrusted her with the Tesseract, and now she seems to have misplaced it. How exactly did this happen, Morey? You better have a damn good excuse for what you've done," Fury barked. Still woozy, I leaned against Steve for support, and silently fangirled enough for myself and my best friend K (whose real name shall not be used bitch ya know who you are). 

"Fury, I just had a god inside my head and I am in no mood for your shit right now. You're lucky that I'm even sane to begin with," I argued, and Nick snorted. 

"Sane. Right. Anyways, do you have any idea what Loki plans to do with the Tesseract?" Nick asked, and I thought. 

"Well, lets think about this. I believe a good deal of this can be solved with a simple deduction. So the three people that Loki had brainwashed are Clint Barton, Eric Selvig, and a different S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Clint is a master assassin, and can be of great help to Loki. For instance, he can break into places, give Loki valuable information, take out important advisors, infiltrate ranks, the whole nine. Doctor Eric Selvig is another matter. This man is a scientist. From what I can gather, he is rather good with building machinery and electronics in general. Loki is probably going to use him to work on the Tesseract in order to build some sort of doomsday device. And finally, that other S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Let's be honest, he might not be of much help. Sure, he knows some things about this program, but he won't have full access. Loki will run out of uses for that man and most likely dispose of him. Are my answers to your liking, Director Fury?" I foretold, staring at the man in satisfaction. 

"I suppose that makes sense. We'll get the Tesseract back. Moving onto a different matter. Mister Rogers, I came here so that I might have a word with you. How are you as of late?" Fury asserted, and Steve frowned at him. 

"Well, I just woke up from a rather long nap, and people are telling me that we won the war. Now it seems that another has just begun," Steve answered, and I winced. 
"You would be right to assume that, Rogers. Years ago, when Howard Stark was still looking for you, he managed to fish the Tesseract out of the deep blue which you decided to crash into without giving away your coordinates," Fury explained, shooting a glare at the 90-something-year-old. "After that, S.H.I.E.L.D kept the Tesseract, and began to brainstorm better uses for it. It was safe until just last night, when a supposed god named Loki came through a portal that had been caused by the Tesseract itself. So, what I am here to ask is if you would consider taking on this mission to take the Tesseract back. If we fail, there's no telling what sort of disaster could befall Earth. Would you be kind enough to take on the challenge?" Fury asked after disclosing the information. Steve scooped me up and stood, not bothering to take down the punching bag.