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"Unexplained explosion in Siberia, right on the border with Russia, as physically close to where you claim the Red Room was we can find on a map," Maria Hill informed as she slid pictures across the giant touchscreen for Captain America, Black Widow, Falcon, Vision, and Scarlet Witch to see. "But close enough to hurt a town. There's also a giant wall trapping all the citizens of said town with all the poisonous gases, fires and earthquakes that said explosion caused. Airborne units can't even get in because of smoke from the blazes. We're the only people in the world that can."

"It's a trap." Black Widow remained cool in her analysis, but Steve could see her fingertips trembling. "Unexplained explosion, trapped innocent, inability for anyone else to attempt rescue. They want us."

"It doesn't matter." The Captain stood. "We're going."

She shook her head once, silently protesting, before pushing herself from the easy chair and marching down the hall towards her rooms. "Wheels up in twenty."

'Apocalyptic' was the first word that entered Sam's mind as he jumped from the helicarrier to fly towards the town square. Even from this height he could hear the screams of pain, the shouts of fear, the crackling of consuming fire, the falling of rocks, the miniature explosion of various cars and propane tanks. The unexplainable wall jutted high into the sky and he almost collided with it due to the haze of smoke. Thankful for his oxygen mask, he dived into the city at a dangerous tilt, determined to get there as fast as possible.

Black Widow and Captain America joined him via parachute as Vision and Scarlet Witch flew around the city looking for cracks in the walls to either help pedestrians out or get additional aid in. They scattered effectively, gathering everyone in the square to be loaded onto the helicarrier, stopping looters, trying to put out fires, pulling bodies from piles of stone, carrying the young and the old, providing oxygen and food and water, bandaging wounds, and so on. Another miniature explosion rocked as they went about, and each Avenger carelessly threw themselves over someone else as bricks rained and another fire could be heard roaring to life.

"Is everyone evacuated?" the Captain shouted over the intercom, depositing one last elderly man onto a bench to wait for the helicarrier that suspended itself above them hopefully.

"One more family old man." Black Widow responded breathlessly. "Their house is half caved in but Vision detected life from above. Start loading, I'll be there soon."

"Fire has consumed another third of the previous houses we emptied. I can't go back for survivors, my wings will melt and I'd be trapped in the streets."

"I tore apart those houses already." Scarlet Witch informed him. "There was a goat."

There was silence as the available ones returned and began helping people up the deployed helicarrier ladders. Vision and Falcon flew the oldest and the youngest, while Scarlet Witch controlled fearful ones by putting calming images in their heads and Captain America created order on the ground. When half the people were loaded he turned, searching for the familiar red curls that so often helped him in keeping others calm.

"Nat?" Silence. "Vision, can you see Nat?"

"She's still in the house sir."

"Can one of you go get her?"

"Yes sir." Falcon dived towards the bombed district, landing amongst debris on the street and calling inside the house's skeleton. "Nat, we gotta go!"

"I can't leave her!" Her voice sounded wild, near deranged, but didn't project over his intercom. She must've taken it out. "They'll get her Sam, that's what all of this is for!"

"Can I come in?"

Her voice shifted to a whimper, "yes."

He crawled inside the hollow space and sucked in a breath at the sight of normality and havoc. On one side of the kitchen, china stood in even rows in a beautifully crafted cupboard with frosted glass. Meanwhile he stood in the wreckage of the other side, an entire wall gone with insulation and splinters underfoot, the oven charred and overturned. Taking out his intercom, he called quietly, "Nat?"

"Upstairs."

Upstairs seemed risky, as the stairs sagged not with age but impending collapse as he climbed them, but his wings could carry both him and others out of any situation safely, so he ascended anyways. Passing one room he froze, unable to look away but filled with shame at such an inability. Two adults lay on the floor with twisted faces and half-melted flesh while odd splotches of yellow and green stained almost every porous surface of the room. A gas canister, no bigger than one typically used for soda, sat cracked open on the master bed.

His voice shook as he called, "Nat-"

"I know. Just keep walking."

He obeyed, ever a diligent soldier, until he was at the end of the hall, having passed two empty bedrooms (one caved in from an explosion) and a laundry room and three bathrooms (two destroyed but with the assumed function based on their size). A light flickered and he stepped into it, mentally steeling himself for more death and destruction, but found something quite to the contrary. It was a small family room, probably used for privacy from the one downstairs that situated itself on the road with windows for all passerby, and Natasha had used wooden debris and her own brilliance to construct a fire in the fireplace. She sat cross-legged on the floor, something wrapped in a blanket in her lap, barely rocking but daring to move enough to glance back at her teammate.

Her eyes were wet, but he didn't mention it. Her voice dripped similarly enough that questioning her anguish would be stupid. "I can't leave her."

"Then carry her. I bet an explosion or another fire is headed this way right now. Cap's got half the people loaded. She'll fit easily."

"She won't leave her parents or her home."

"Well neither of you can die here. I'll get her parents, you get her out of the house."

At the sound of voices the child stirred and looked over the lip of her blanket. Her eyes widened when she saw the suited, winged man and her voice, coming from a parched throat and tangled with sleep, softly questioned him in a language he couldn't identify.

"She wants to know if you're going to help." He nodded, keeping eye contact with the girl, who spoke again while Natasha translated. "She wants to know if you'll help her parents." He nodded again. "Can she go with them wherever they go?" A third nod. "Do they have to leave the house?" A fourth nod. "Can we take her mother's china?" A fifth nod. "Can she bring her doll?" A sixth nod. "Will her friends be where we're going?" A seventh nod. "Will there be food and water?" An eighth nod. Another question left the child's lips, but this time Natasha froze, eyes wide. Instantly the girl was looking between them, confused and scared and unable to understand the sudden pause. Finally, the redhead cleared her throat and whispered, "She wants to know if the ballerinas will be there." With honesty he shook his head no, unaware of any specific ballerinas travelling with them, albeit confused. Ballerinas were everywhere. If she wanted to be a ballerina, she could be one in America too. Nat's strange pause wasn't clarified either, but there was no time as a nearby bomb caused the window to shatter.

Without thought both adults dived over the little girl, who whimpered and shoved herself further into the woman holding her. They waited for the explosion to rock through the building before moving, Sam first going down the hall and holding his breath as he stacked the two deformed adults in his arms and flew them out of a hole in the room. Quickly checking behind him as he flew to the helicarrier, he saw Black Widow carrying the blanketed child into the streets towards the near-empty square.

"We got em all Cap."

There was an audible exhale. "Good to hear soldier."

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