Chapter 7

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Steve glanced around behind him at the others.

"Ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Natasha said quietly. "Not how I thought my night would go."

"Guys," Clint said, drawing all of their attention forward again. The lead Giant had a forceful smile across his face, and two feet of ice protruding from his hand in a sharp sword. Behind him, all the giants had ice trickling down their arm and forming their own long, icy swords.

"Here we go!" Tony called out, his mask coming down to shield his face. Steve began to move forward, locking eyes with the leader.

"You've made a bad decision," he said quietly.

"The only ones who will die tonight are you," the Giant threatened. Steve took a firm hold on his shield, and threw it forward. The Giant wasn't quick enough, and the shield hit his sword and shattered the ice. Steve half smiled.

"Told you to worry," he said. The Giant roared in anger, and sprinted forward. Steve was quicker, though. He heard the battle ensue and his friends running to the fight at the same time that he ducked and slid under the Giant's grasp, scooping up his shield and rising again to his feet, ready. The Giant lunged forward again, and the sword collided with his shield, and shattered again.

"You might need a different tactic there," Steve said.

"Do not mock me!" the Giant shouted. However, he seemed to give up on the idea of his sword against Steve, and resorted to hand to hand combat. The Giant may have stood four feet taller than Steve, but they were evenly matched. Steve could run and duck, and easily block or evade swings and punches.

This worked wonderfully for about thirty seconds, at which point the other Giants realized their leader needed help, and Steve found himself fighting not one, but about seven of the Giants at once. He was still quicker than them, and used this to his advantage, in a way making them kill each other.

Steve had never moved faster, letting them try to take a hit at him and then getting out of the way just in time, so they would hit each other instead. It almost became a game for him; he grew smarter and more tactical about his fighting, while they stuck with the same technique every single time, and he quickly figured them out. Through all of this, he got plenty of his own hits in. In only a few minutes, he stood, gasping for air, surrounded by unconscious or dead Frost Giants, almost all taken down by their own daggers, which had been meant for him.

He took a moment to catch his breath, and looked around at everything else. He mentally took a note of everyone, making sure everyone was still up. Stark, up in the air. Check. I knew he'd be okay. Hulk. Check. He's hard to miss. Natasha... There. Okay. Her shocks must be great against them. Loki. Check. I can see his magic. At least he hasn't taken off on us yet. And Clint... Where is he? Steve panicked for a moment, and then spotted Clint a long way off, shooting faster than Steve could keep up with. Now closer to four in the morning in June, the early dawn light made it just possible to see everyone.

He barely had twenty seconds to make note of all this before he was knocked off his feet from behind. He groaned and jumped up, ready to go again.

***************

The Avengers knew that only so many Giants could come in those ships, but it seemed like their army was never ending. They fought for what felt like days, but in reality it was about an hour. Steve was so tired he could hardly stand, but he knew that if he, of all people, felt like that, then Natasha and Clint should be dead, and they weren't, so he could keep going. And, he did. They all did.

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