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Chapter Fifteen

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Venetia's fingers danced across her leg as she sat in the back of the quinjet with Steve, Natasha at the controls. The raven haired woman couldn't help but feel nervous as they flew towards Germany to stop Loki. For years she had kept herself hidden away, turning her back on the life she had had back in the forties. This would be her first time fighting since World War Two, just as it would be for Steve. 

"Are you alright?" Steve didn't fail to notice his friend's unease as they neared their destination. His brows were furrowed underneath his mask, though concern was clear in his eyes. "Venetia?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. She took a deep breath before pushing herself up to her feet and moved to stand behind Natasha's seat. Peering out through the front windows of the jet she was able to see the crowd that had been gathered out on the street below, all cowering under Loki's threatening gaze. "Open up the hatch, Nat. I'm getting out here."

"No, let me get you down on that roof," Natasha shook her head.

"We don't have time for that." Venetia argued as she moved towards the back of the jet, Steve following her lead. Natasha hesitated for a moment before she opened the hatch, allowing the roaring wind to fill their ears as she slowed the jet enough for them to jump without getting hurt. 

Together the pair of friends jumped from the quinjet, managing to land on a desolate street behind a building. Neither of them spoke a word as they approached the corner, both sticking close to the side of the building as they spied on Loki.

"Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity." Loki grinned widely as he walked through the crowd of men and women cowering around him. Venetia could feel her body heating up as she glared daggers at the Asgaridan man. "You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

"Not to men like you." An old man rose to his feet, refusing to kneel to the God in front of him. Steve and Venetia shared a look before parting ways, the latter moving to get behind Loki. 

"There are no men like me," Loki shook his head. Just the tone of Loki's voice was enough to make Venetia think back to seventy years prior, how she and Steve had faced Schmidt. How he had believed that he was above all others too. 

"There are always men like you." The man scoffed.

"Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example." Loki raised his scepter as it glowed a vibrant blue. It was just as the beam of light left his scepter that Steve and Venetia jumped into action. While Steve jumped before the old man, using his shield to deflect the blast, Venetia took the chance to kick Loki's legs out from underneath him, sending him falling to the ground. 

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