Eye of the Storm (ScarletVision fanfic)

Chapter Fifteen

"So they picked up their armor and they went to do battle...."

(Vis POV)

It has been three days. There is no change.

Every night I stand outside her door, awake, like a soldier guarding royalty. I watch, not even daring to blink, but I do not need to.

The footsteps of guards' boots thump steadily on the carpet. Certain lights, that would not be on otherwise, are now left burning through the dark. Half of the tower is awake. And still no army comes.

There is near silence in and around the tower. For a moment, I dare to close my eyes. I lean against her doorframe and listen to her steady breathing, in, out. I listen to the ticking of the clock in her room because she prefers the traditional clock to a digital one.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick.

Voices.

Footsteps, outside, uneven, not the guards. 

Click- click. Guns cocked.

My eyes snap open and I fly to the window. In the dark I can just see people gathering around the buildings, whispering. A rifle barrel glints in the faint light.

As the sun just starts to rise, each of them salutes straight up and cries, "Hail Thanos!"

I phase through the window and light the golden stone set in my forehead. 

They will not get in.

*

In his room, the Captain looks up, alert eyes meeting nothing but dark. He hears yells, a gunshot. He swings his shield onto his shoulders and touches his earpiece. "They're here." Then he runs.

Sam is woken by the words. He leaps up, having indeed slept with wings on, and snatches up his goggles as he throws the blanket aside. His Redwing soars after him.

Stark throws back the rest of his drink and turns from the window to step into his suit. It unfolds around him and within seconds he has become iron. His robotic eyes light with a vengeance.

Rhodes, still half-paralyzed, suits up, too, and prays that his legs won't need to support his weight. A machine gun unfolds from his shoulder and he flies.

Lang pulls on his helmet and shrinks until he disappears from view.

King T'challa pulls his mask over his head and his claws unsheath. The Black Panther leaps, vibranium claws ripping carpet.

Clint runs the other way, up, to the roof. He somersaults to the edge and draws a black- fletched arrow, aiming to cripple.

Natasha drops from nowhere, landing in front of Steve and taking off with a parkour move over four agents. Her widow batons crackle with blue electricity.

Hunter and Morse draw pistols on the balcony.

Everyone, ready.

Are they ready enough?

The worshippers of Thanos fire wildly, round after round, but if they really do have the power of Thanos himself, we cannot all survive this battle.

A/N the battle begins

love you guys but you're going to hate me