• Published 19th Nov 2016
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This War of Ours - JDPrime22



Two sides of good clashing together, fighting for what they believe is right, breaking partnerships and ending friendships… human and pony alike.

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Chapter 11 - Mission Accomplished


Lagos, Nigeria

Two Days Later

1:43 p.m.



“Alright, what do you see?”

“Standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target.”

“There’s an ATM on the south corner, which means…?”

“Cameras.”

“Both cross streets are one-way.”

“So, compromised escape routes.”

“Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen. He isn’t afraid to make a mess on the way out. You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute.”

“It’s also bulletproof,” Natasha’s voice cut in through the radio chatter, “which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.”

“You guys know I can lift things with my mind, right?”

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a little paranoid?” Sam Wilson added, his voice a little fuzzy from the radio.

“Not to my—”

“Ponies used to call me paranoid all the time!” a shrill cry came from the radio chatter, nearly everyone responding by either rubbing their ears and cursing silently. It was all heard over the radio. “Wait… No, they still call me paranoid! Hee, hee, hee!”

“Remind me again why we gave Pinkie a comms?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“We all need to keep a check on each other, Dash,” the Captain responded. “Now, eyes on target, folks. This is the only lead we’re gonna have on Rumlow. I don’t want to lose him, or Twilight.”

“We got your back on this one, Captain. Just call us in when you need us,” Starlight replied.

“Will do, Star.”

Sam chuckled. “If Rumlow sees us coming, that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.”

“…”

“… Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

Sam Wilson stood from one of the taller buildings overlooking the city. He spotted the garbage truck the Captain had mentioned driving off and out of sight. Pressing down on his wrist panel, his backpack released its locks, shooting out the mini drone.

Sam controlled the drone from there, zooming by buildings and entering the street where the garbage truck drove through. The drone flew beneath the truck, ignored by the passing civilians.

“Give me X-ray,” Sam said, pressing on his comms. The drone proceeded to scan the underbelly of the truck, noticing heavy weight and an armed driver.

Sam’s jaw tightened. “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

“It’s a battering ram,” Natasha said.

“Girls, stay put. Avengers, go. Now,” the Captain ordered.

“What?” Wanda replied.

“He’s not hitting the police.”


Institute of Infectious Diseases, Front Gates

1:45 p.m.



The Nigerian security gate officer could see the garbage truck from all the way down the street. He paid it no heed, really. It had been a long hot day. Threats of the terrorist Brock Rumlow had come in and ordered his men to be on high alert all day. He had been since the break of dawn and hadn’t moved from his post since.

It had grown to the point where the threats of the terrorists breaking in had slowly began to dwindle. No word from the higher ups, no word from his commanding officers. Nothing, really. He was beginning to let himself actually start to relax for a moment.

If it hadn’t been for that garbage truck.

And the driver leaping out of his seat and tumbling in the street.

There it was.

Gritting his teeth, the officer dove out of the way of the oncoming garbage truck, his fellow officer doing the same. Almost instantly as they dove to safety, the truck hit the blockade with such force that the truck actually flipped and hit the concrete wall suspended across the blockade. Slabs of concrete scattered across the ground, the garbage truck coming to rest on its side.

It didn’t end there. The battering ram made way for the invading army to storm the gates.

Two large moving vehicles entered the Institute’s lot, skidding to a halt once the dust had settled. The doors slid open, allowing familiar soldiers cladded in dark armor to spill out and unload a few rounds on the escaping officers.

Just as well, a familiar mercenary with a slash of white across his chest armor stepped out of the truck. Rumlow eyed the environment, face hidden behind the orange visor and the gas mask, and made his way to the second truck within the Institute’s lot.

More soldiers poured out of the second truck, surrounding the perimeter and firing off a few shells of gas grenades into the Institute’s windows. Rumlow pushed passed them without a second thought a few soldiers following behind him.

“Sir, what do you want us to do?” a soldier called, turning his neck back to see Rumlow and a few others enter the Institute’s front doors.

Rumlow opened the door, a fresh wave of deadly gas spewing out from the grenade shells shot earlier. Without turning back, he answered. “Hold the line! If I don’t get what I want, we don’t hesitate to put a bullet in her brain!”

“Yes, sir!”

Rumlow and the men following him entered the Institute after those words, trails of gas leaking out from the open door. Just as ordered, the remaining men held the line and gripped their assault rifles, staring off into the lot and back to the street for some sort of threat. They had already requested no armed forces to meet them, so there wasn’t much to worry about.

Not much.

Except…

What sounded like a passing jet flew overhead. Spinning about, an unfortunate soldier aimed his rifle towards the skies, saw what appeared to be a pair of wings in the glare of the sun, then saw nothing but red, white, and blue come crashing into him.


Institute of Infectious Diseases, Laboratory

1:48 p.m.



Rumlow tightened his fist, his gauntlet primed and ready. Rearing his arm back, he punched the reinforced glass door and sent it flying to the other end of the room. Several technicians saw him coming, some fleeing, others calling for help.

He didn’t have time to deal with them. The terrified chatter over the comms meant only one thing: The Avengers had arrived. The Captain had arrived.

Pushing aside a screaming technician, Rumlow approached the target, the biological agent. He ripped open the glass covering and spotted the clear vial resting just inches away. Big, bold letters underneath the vial read “BIOHAZARD”. Perfect.

“Pack it up,” Rumlow growled. The soldiers behind him complied, snatching the vial and following their leader out of the laboratories. They made their way up the stairs and through the Institute, passed the bodies choking on…

“Sir, where’s the gas?” one of the soldiers asked.

Rumlow eyed the area, watching as remnants of his gas began to slither out through cracks or doors. The green fog was covered with an unnatural red haze. He narrowed his eyes, hurrying to the nearest balcony with his soldiers catching up with him.

Knocking the doors open, Rumlow reached up and pulled off the gas mask, taking in fresh breaths of air once he stepped outside. Once there, he looked up and noticed his gas swarm in a tornado of red. If the chatter over the comms didn’t confirm it earlier, then what he saw definitely did now.

“He’s here.”


Institute of Infectious Diseases, Parking Lot

1:51 p.m.



“Rumlow has the biological weapon,” Steve Rogers declared in his comms.

“I’m on it.”

Natasha Romanoff revved up her motorcycle after spotting the armored vehicles approaching quickly. They were parked, several men turning their attention to her. She didn’t care. She drove faster, her bike’s engine roaring even louder.

The first soldier aimed his rifle at her. Natasha pulled the brakes, the bike screeching in protest until she twisted the handles and leapt off the bike. It crashed into the mercenary’s legs, flipping him over. Romanoff rushed forward, never stopping, never pausing. Fighting. More mercenaries turned her way, the next one met with a Taser Disk shot right at his heart.

She jumped forwards, latching her arms around the merc’s shoulders and planting her feet into the chest of another. He hit the armored car’s bumper with a dull thud, Natasha finishing off the soldier in her arms by driving him straight into the concrete. He was out in seconds.

Now lost in a panicked frenzy, a mercenary pried open the car door to reach for his rifle. The door slammed straight into his face, destroying his gas mask and knocking him out clean. Natasha rushed right by him, going for the next soldier already holding a rifle. She grappled with him, smacking his head with the butt of his own rifle and driving her knee right into his gut. A satisfying crunch followed. He grunted in agony, tumbling forward as the Widow ignored his slumping body and moved on.

She used the rifle of the previous soldier and knocked away the approaching one’s own. She kicked him in the chest, twisting her gaze to the next trying to sneak to her side. Kicking his rifle away, Natasha’s finished him with a boot to the chest. She turned back and grabbed the last soldier’s arm, ripping him forward and slamming him into the concrete.

Seven men down. Maybe ten or more seconds. Not bad.

Natasha hopped onto the hood of the nearest car, aimed her arm forward and shot the last soldier with a Taser Disk. He dropped. Eight men.

Almost smiling, Natasha’s grin immediately shattered as an unnatural strength gripped the back of her head, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking her back. Romanoff yelped in pain, following her assailant onto the roof of the vehicle where she was able to spin around and get a good look at him.

Skull mask. White “X” covering his chest. Their target.

Gritting her teeth, Natasha delivered a solid punch straight into his chest, knocking Rumlow back a few inches. She followed up with an elbow to the arm that held her, another to his head. He let go, allowing Natasha to spin and deliver a kick to his abdomen. Rumlow faltered, growling as he swung at her. Natasha replied with an uppercut.

“You little bitch!” he cried, rearing forward and grabbing another handful of her hair. Natasha glared at him, then drove her wrist directly into his neck, currents of electricity flowing from her Taser right underneath his chin.

She expected him to falter, to fall down writhing in pain just as the other men had. She didn’t expect him to slowly glare at her, not a hint of pain in his eyes. Only madness.

“I don’t work like that no more,” he said. Rumlow tightened his grip and flung her straight down into the vehicle. Natasha tumbled and grunted in pain, eventually landing on the car’s floor where two men with rifles were waiting for her.

She stared at them for a moment, then shot her gaze directly upwards to see Rumlow standing above her. And in his hand was a grenade, pins pulled.

“Fire in the hole,” he muttered, dropping the grenade and closing the escape hatch.

A soft ticking followed as the grenade sat between Romanoff and the two men. One made the mistake of getting up and trying to go for it. Natasha kicked him in the face, the back of his head impacting the roof of the vehicle. He was out before he hit the floor. The second mercenary got up, Natasha already all over him. He pushed, she pushed harder, eventually pushing him in the direction of the grenade.

The man’s eyes widened one final time. “No!”

The blast incinerated the inside of the vehicle, launching Natasha and the charred body of the man she had used as a shield outside. She rolled over, coughing for air.

After hearing the explosion, Captain America pushed open the doors to the balcony, his gaze shifting downwards to see two armored vehicles. One of them was covered in smoke, the other held Rumlow.

And a really big gun.

He fired away. Not bullets, like the Captain expected, but a shell. He barely had time to bring up his shield, and when he did he was blown right back into the building once the shell hit him. A nagging ringing in his ears followed, but he didn’t have time to lie around. The car outside carrying Rumlow started and began to drive.

If he didn’t hurry he’d lose them. Panting, the Captain picked up his shield and began to run down the hall. Another blast came from his left, a second shell shot by Rumlow spewing fire across his head. Steve held up his shield to block the debris, continuing down the hall.

A third shell came, this one hitting behind Steve and blowing him right out of the window at the end of the hall. The Captain tumbled outwards, his shield hitting the ground before he did. He landed with a solid thump.

Rolling over, groaning as he did so, Steve looked up and watched Rumlow escape. He planted his fist into the ground, saying, “Sam… He’s in an AFV heading north. You got visual?”

“Yeah, I got him,” Sam replied. “Redwing’s got him, too. X-ray indicates that Rumlow’s not alone.”

“More mercenaries?” Steve asked, picking himself and his shield up.

“Steve… He’s got Twilight!”

Nodding, Steve pressed down hard on his comms. “Girls, you’re up!”


On the Run

1:55 p.m.



The AFV bumped and rattled as it smashed against the bumper of another vehicle, knocking it out of the street. It didn’t bother the men within the armored car, nor did it bother Rumlow. Brock placed the vial containing the biological agent safely in a container, sealing it.

“Take this to the airstrip,” Rumlow said, handing the container to the man resting on a bench.

Another soldier asked, “What about her?”

Rumlow turned to the man who asked that, then followed his gaze directly across from where he sat. There lied the drugged and passed out princess, bandages covering her mouth, eyes, and rope tied tightly around her forelegs. She bounced gently from the movement of the vehicle, but remained where she was.

Rumlow turned back. “We’ll keep her for now,” he replied. “She’s got enough horse tranquilizer to keep her out for a few more hours. Might be able to get some more—”

His sentence was cut short by an unnatural force pushed against the side of the vehicle. Rumlow fell back into one of his men, Twilight Sparkle tumbling onto the floor. The car regained momentum after that, the men regaining themselves.

“What the hell was that?!” one of them asked.

Brock took a quick peek out of the small window. Outside, the world flew by, nothing out of the ordinary. That is, until, the body of a pony rammed against the glass window, shattering it right into Rumlow’s face. The vehicle took another hard left, turning onto the opposite street.

That pony, properly known as Rainbow Dash, flew back to regain control of her flight, her hoof rising to rub her shoulder in pain.

“Alright, they’re off course!” Dash shouted into her comms, voice cracking from the pain. She spotted the AFV changing direction in her favor. “Starlight, Rarity, you’re up next!”

“Got it! Thanks for the help, Dash!” Starlight shouted, hoof lowering from her ear. Across the street, Starlight nodded to her fellow unicorn. Rarity replied back, her horn igniting brightly. Together, the two unicorns peeked out from cover to see the large AFV steer in their direction, civilians jumping out of the way, dropping whatever they held.

The two unicorns charged up their horns, and as the car passed they fired right at the wheels, destroying them. They hopped out from cover afterwards, watching as the vehicle went careering directly into the market place. Men and women stayed clear of the crashing vehicle, running away once it came to a safe halt. The back doors opened, a few men piling out and making a break for it in the crowd. Rumlow stumbled out last.

“The tires are shot! We’re stuck here!” the driver shouted as he hopped out of the vehicle.

Rumlow growled. “Change of plans! We just need the agent! Ditch the car and the princess!”

The man next to him asked, “Where are you going to meet us?”

“I’m not,” Rumlow replied. He primed his gauntlets and entered the crowd, abandoning the vehicle along with the rest of his team.

Through the chaos, two unicorns entered the fray, spotting the abandoned AFV parked over a destroyed fruit stand. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy flew down, landing next to Starlight and Rarity as they approached the vehicle cautiously.

Rainbow and Fluttershy hopped inside. “What do you see?” Rarity asked, she and Starlight scanning the crowd for any threats.

Fluttershy narrowed her gaze, and through the darkness from within the vehicle they found her. It was Twilight, lying on the floor and remaining motionless. Sighing, nearly breaking down into tears, Fluttershy approached Twilight and tended to her binds. “She’s here, everypony. She’s safe.”

“Thank Celestia,” Starlight sighed, pressing into her comms. “We found Twilight. She’s safe.”

“Good job, girls. Now, get her somewhere safe. We’re not finished just yet,” Sam replied. “I’ve got four, they’re splitting up.”

“I got the two on the left,” Natasha’s voice answered.

“They ditched their gear,” the Captain’s voice followed shortly. “It’s a shell game now. One of them has the payload.”

The sound of beeping came quickly in everyone’s comms, followed by Steve shouting and a deafening explosion.


The Market

1:59 p.m.



After chucking his shield into the air and away from the crowd, the sticky bomb erupted, knocking the shield off into the distance. Steve watched it fall, but couldn’t see where it landed. An unnatural force slammed into his backside, launching the Captain right through a stand and tumbling on the other side.

Cringing in pain, Steve pressed his palms into the dirt, slowly rising to his feet.

He paused, however, when he heard: “There you are, you son of a bitch.”

Twisting his gaze to the right, he could see Rumlow exiting the destroyed stand, civilians screaming and trying desperately to run from the confrontation. On his right arm, a mechanized gauntlet seemed to be loaded, his footsteps growing dangerously close to the prone Captain.

Quickly standing up, Steve readied himself for the fight. Rumlow shouted, “I’ve been waiting for this!” He followed up by punching the Captain with the same amount of force as the first hit, causing him to crash into a pile of tables.

Steve groaned in pain, trying to stand up. He looked forward and rolled out of the way of Rumlow’s boot come crashing into the dirt where his head was. Brock growled, then punched downwards. Steve rolled again, then shot his leg back and caught Rumlow in the back of the head. Rolling to his feet, Steve rushed Rumlow and rammed him, pushing him back several feet.

“Not bad!” Rumlow screamed, driving his elbow into the Captain’s back, knocking him to his knees. Brock reared back with his fist and drove it right into Steve’s chest, launching him several feet in the air before he came crashing down right into an abandoned fruit stand.

Rumlow cracked his neck, priming his gauntlets for another round. “But not good enough.”

“Sam, tell me you found the agent,” Steve groaned, pushing himself off of the flattened fruits.

“He doesn’t have it. I’m empty!”

“Okay, Romanoff,” Steve said, Rumlow’s hand reaching out and grabbing his neck. Steve coughed, “Don’t let them out of your sight!”

Rumlow tossed the Captain like he weighed nothing, right into the side of a small business.


“Out of the way!” Natasha shouted, hopping over parked motorcycles and strewn benches. The man with the agent was within her sight, pushing over civilians and taking a wrong turn right. Natasha saw the shortcut.

She leapt over a table filled with clothes, spotted the man in the black, and tackled him.

They both quickly rose to their feet, the man pulling out his pistol. The cries from the crowd grew even louder. Natasha pried at his hand, knocking the pistol away and delivering punch after punch into the man’s sternum. She heard another click, the cries increasing.

Grabbing a nearby basket, Natasha flung it behind her and hit the second man, stunning him long enough for her to swipe his legs right from under him. She returned to the first guy, wrapping her legs around his arm and flinging him and his approaching partner into the dirt. The first guy got back up. Natasha booted him in the chest.

She delivered a solid punch into the second one’s heart, allowing her to sneak around and take out his leg. Rolling to her feet, Natasha punched the second guy in the nose, dove over him, and snatched his pistol that was lying unguarded. She spun around and aimed at him, and quickly found herself facing the end of a barrel.

The second man, blood streaming from his nostrils, retrieved his partner's pistol and pointed it right for the Widow. The two held that stance, neither willing to pull the trigger but threatening to do so. Soon, Natasha finally pried her eyes away from the second man, just as she heard the first one say, “Drop it.”

She stared at him, her pistol still aimed for his partner.

She stared at the vial of the biological agent dangerously held between his fingers.

“Or I’ll drop this,” the man threatened. Natasha panted heavily, eyes shifting from the second guy to the vial. “Drop it!”

“He’ll do it!” his partner screamed.

However, to both of their surprise, she only smiled.

He never even noticed the pink pony hanging right behind him.

Pinkie Pie took a deep breath and blew. The party horn between her lips sounded off, the coil unraveling and tickling the man’s neck. He flinched, spinning around.

The second man flinched, too. He spun towards the horn, failing to notice the lasso fly over and snatch his wrists. He felt his arms being yanked downwards, and felt nothing once Natasha put a bullet between his eyes. She turned to the first guy, firing and hitting him in the neck. He dropped to the dirt, the vial falling with him.

Leaping forward, Natasha caught the vial. Barely.

As she stood up, the two ponies came out of hiding. Pinkie pulled out her party horn, hopping over to Natasha. “Wowie! That was a close one, huh, Naty!” she said, pausing in front of the weary Widow.

She nodded, pressing her comms. “Payload’s secure.” Lowering her hand, she smiled to Pinkie, then turned her attention right and said, “Good work, girls.”

Applejack raveled up her lasso, placing it behind her. She smiled to Natasha, saying, “Ain’t nothin’ to it. Now that we got that virus thing an’ Twilight secured, might as well head home.”

Nodding, Natasha pressed down on her comms. She said, “Steve, we got the agent and Twilight’s safe. What say you?”

Their only response was a disgruntled shout, followed by shattering wood and civilian cries.

Natasha lowered her hand, turning to the mares. “Guess not.”


With the Captain down, Rumlow raised his boot and planted it where his head should. Steve rolled out of the way once more, rising to full height. The two parried each other well, each delivering swift strikes, kicks, punches, and dodged each other’s own. Steve blocked Rumlow’s swing, driving his fist right into the side of his mask.

Stumbling back, Rumlow screamed, “Come on!” He reared forward, swung, watched Rogers duck, then drove his forehead directly into the Captain’s. Now it was his turn to stumble, allowing Rumlow to deliver the uppercut he had been waiting for.

The hit sent the Captain directly into the wall, shattering the boards holding several chip bags. Rumlow moved in for the kill, and would have followed through if it hadn’t been for a blow directly to the back of his head.

Had he not been wearing his helmet he would’ve been out cold. The hit sent him stumbling forward, blackness appearing at the front of his vision, quickly fading. Spinning around, Rumlow caught sight of what hit him flying ten feet above his head.

A smirking Pegasus with a rainbow mane. “You gotta be kidding me,” Rumlow growled.

A strong kick to his backside brought Rumlow back to the fight. He spun around, the Captain moving on him. The two swung, dodged, struck a few hits, and continued. Rumlow swung downwards and rammed the edge of his gauntlet on Steve’s back, pushing him to the left and knocking over a table. He moved in, heard the whooshing of air this time, and swung behind.

Gaaahahhaaa!” Rainbow Dash screamed, her body flying from the impact and crashing into a far-off magazine stand.

“Cocky little—” Rumlow had muttered, his attention quickly returning to Steve. The Captain swung for him, missed his head by inches. Rumlow replied by ramming his body into Rogers, pinning him into the side of the building they fought next to.

With Steve held down, he took the short moment to stare into the scarred muscles in the eye holes of the mask, the twin orbs of raw madness glaring at him. Steve heard him mutter, “This is for dropping a building on my face.”

Then turned his attention to the short blade retracting from one of the gauntlets. His eyes widened, his breathing short.

Rumlow quickly jammed the blade forward, but Steve was quicker, dodging the blade and letting it ram into the building, digging easily through the solid concrete. With Rumlow’s arm extended and defenseless, Steve bent his arm unnaturally, earning a painful yelp from the mercenary. He added a quick strike with his elbow, ripping the gauntlet right off Rumlow’s arm.

Steve dropped the gauntlet in the dirt. He turned his attention back to Rumlow, seeing another blade retract from his other gauntlet. He swung at Steve’s face, chest, and faltered. He was uncoordinated, acting on pure rage and not tactic. That was his downfall, Steve knew it. He grabbed Rumlow’s arm, delivered a volley of three quick strikes, one to his chest, arm, and face.

The mercenary stumbled back, defenseless and open. Steve ended the feud with a kick across his face, launching Rumlow back like he weighed nothing this time. Rumlow crashed into a table and lay there, breathing heavily, trying to rise and failing each time.

The Captain began his approach, slowly, cautiously. There wasn’t any telling what Rumlow had left. Directly ahead, Rumlow rose to his knees, reaching up and ripping his shattered mask off. Ahead, a group of worried civilians watched the confrontation, backing away as the Captain approached. In the corner of his eye, he could see Rainbow Dash groaning a bit as she exited the destroyed stand.

“You good, Dash?” Steve called.

Rainbow rubbed her head, nodding. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine. Jerk got a good hit on me, is all.”

“Well, stay back,” Steve warned. “There’s no telling what this ‘jerk’ has up his sleeve.”

With that order given, Rainbow nodded and stayed where she was, watching as Steve grabbed Rumlow by his armored chest. The man grunted in pain, staring up at the Captain. Steve’s expression remained as it was, his eyes studying the scars and burn marks across Rumlow’s face, deadly reminders of the fight from two years ago.

Brock looked up, chuckled, then looked away. “I think I look pretty good all things considered.”

“Why’d you want the agent?” Steve asked, gripping Rumlow’s armor and bringing him closer. “Who’s your buyer?”

Brock only smiled, his eyes bleeding. “You know, he knew you. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky,” he spat.

Rainbow’s ear twitched, her eyes widening. She quickly turned her gaze from Rumlow to Rogers, seeing him pause, seeing him falter. Seeing his expression break. That was a first.

He asked, “What did you say?”

“He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it. Till they put his brain back into a blender.” Rumlow chuckled at that, turning back to Steve. “He wanted you to know something. He said to me… ‘Please tell Rogers… When you gotta go… you gotta go.’”

Rainbow watched as Rumlow reached down to his belt, her eyes narrowing.

“And you’re coming with me.”

He pressed down on a short trigger. The Captain looked down, completely caught off-guard, completely open. Nowhere to run. He stepped back and watched as the explosion shot out, but stopped. So close to him. He could feel the heat of the blast radiating inches from him. But it stopped.

Steve spun around. Rainbow lowered her foreleg to witness Wanda directly ahead of her, her magic containing the blast from Rumlow’s suicide vest into a large pocket. Even then, remnants of the blast began to leak, spewing fire into multiple directions. Wanda grunted, then screamed.

“Hold it, Wanda!”

Both Steve and Rainbow turned to see Starlight gallop into view.

Starlight watched as Wanda’s magic began to falter, breaking under the pressure of the explosion. The unicorn could still see plenty of civilians still within the area, still too close. She shouted, “You have to get it out of the crowd!”

“Help me!” Wanda cried.

Instantly, Starlight’s horn ignited, wrapping around Wanda’s own and encasing the explosion in a soft turquoise. Almost as instantly, Starlight took a step back, grunting at the increasing amount of pressure. It wouldn’t be long before their hold on it would shatter. She looked up, saw a clearing in the sky. She had nearly drowned out the sound of Rumlow’s screams the moment she flung her head up, Wanda following with her hands.

Together, the two launched Rumlow into the air and cut off their magic, watching as the explosion was released into the open. Even then, they could never have known how big the blast was. Once it erupted, once their magic had vanished, the explosion managed to hit the side of a near building.

Completely devouring it.

Glass and concrete began to rain, Steve and Wanda shielding their heads, Rainbow and Starlight doing the same. The explosion was so powerful it left a ringing in their ears that lasted only a few seconds. They had wished it lasted longer.

The screams followed shortly.

Wanda gazed into the burning wreckage of the explosion. She gasped, her hand rising to cover her mouth in utter shock. Starlight’s expression nearly matched the Maximoff’s, the unicorn appearing even paler than her coat.

“Oh, no... What did I… What have I…” Starlight whispered to herself, her forelegs giving away, tears building in her eyes. She could see, through the rising smoke and deadly orange flames, the movement of bodies within the destruction, reaching out, crying.

Suffering. Because of her.

Because of her.

“Sam…” Steve barely said, pressing on his comms. “… we need Fire and Rescue... on the south side of the building.” He took off, rushing passed Rainbow Dash. She was almost as lost as Starlight, staring into the fires with a look of disbelief. “Come on, Dash. We gotta get up there,” Steve called.

Rainbow followed absentmindedly.

And left two souls surrounded by the screams of fleeing civilians.

Left them to watch the ash start to fall.

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