Firebird

The Battle of New York

Steve Rogers grunted and hung onto the support beam above him as the ship landed with a crash. He slammed the open button making the ramp lower into the wrecked ground, grabbed his shield, and charged out, Romanoff and Barton behind him.

Dust was already filling the air, rubble covering the ground, cars crashed, and sirens wailing. Steve glanced around, trying to gauge which direction the threat was coming from and quickly zeroed in—a wide intersection was apparently the best place for alien spaceships to fly at high speeds. He could see the Stark tower from here, explosions filling the air around it.

"We gotta get back up there!" He yelled back at Romanoff and Barton.

They sprinted through the chaos, around street corners, before drawing to a halt in front of a museum that blocked Stark tower from them. Slowly, Steve looked up and saw what seemed to be a hole in the sky, with aliens pouring through. Following its smaller counterparts, a huge, eel-like ship swam through the sky, straight towards them. It dipped low, knocking the head off the beautiful statue topping the museum.

"Stark," he called into him com, "You seeing this?"

"Seeing, still working on believing." Came Stark's voice. "Where's Banner? Has he shown up yet?"

"Banner?" Steve muttered, confused.

"Just keep me posted." Stark said shortly.

Steve dodged around a car and knelt down beside his two companions, who had taken cover behind a yellow cab.

Barton indicated a the street below the overpass they were on with his head. "We've got civilians trapped down here."

"Loki." Steve growled in response.

He squinted at the ship driven by the crazed god. It was blasting everything in its path, cars, shops, and most importantly, people. "They're fish in a barrel down there!"

A shot shattered the windshield of the cab next to his head, and he ducked as Romanoff stood and shot something out of his range of vision. Barton ducked across to an over turned cab, reaching for his arrows. Two aliens landed on a nearby car, effectively smashing it.

"We've got this." Romanoff told him fiercely. "It's good—go."

Steve looked across at Barton. "You think you can hold them off?"

"Captain," he said with humor, switching his arrows around, "it would be my genuine pleasure."

The man stood and shot over the top of the car, giving Steve a moment of cover. He could hear Romanoff shooting as well, as he sprinted for the edge of the overpass, hurtled the fencing, and landed in a roll on a stationary bus. A series of explosions followed him as he ran along the roof of the bus, finally catapulting himself off it as the whole thing exploded. Running full out down the ruined street, jumping over cars, dodging bullets and explosions, Steve couldn't help but think of a particular mission in the north of France when he'd missed the extraction and had to fight his way out of the small city. He forced those memories out of his mind and headed for what looked like a police barricade.

Landing on one of the police cars, he instructed the officers who looked to be high-ranking, "You need men in these buildings-" he pointed at three office buildings around them, "there are people inside who will be running straight into the line of fire. You take them to the basements, or the subway. You keep them off the streets!" He hesitated for a moment, mentally mapping the city. "And I need a perimeter as far back as 39th."

"Why the hell should I take orders from you?" demanded the chief.

Two shots went off, and an explosion sounded from the corner of the block. Steve spun around, standing up with his shield held at the ready. One of the Chitauri came flying at him, but he knocked it back easily, then turned to face another one to block a laser, before pushing it back and punching it away. He spun, knocking a head off, then tearing off and arm and kicking it into a building.