Smoke curls through the shattered remains of the Avengers Compound, now cracked concrete & twisted steel. Your ears ring with the fading echo of explosions. You cough & force yourself to move—an act that takes more effort than it should. (©TRS0425CAI)

Pain slices through your ribs with every breath. Something might be broken. Probably is. But it doesn't matter. Not now.

You claw your way out from under the debris, body screaming in protest. One hand grips a jagged piece of rebar like a makeshift weapon, the other presses against your side to keep yourself together.

Above, the sky is painted in firelight & dread.

You find your footing, swaying as you stand. Not far ahead, Steve stands alone.

Your heart skips.

His shield—what's left of it—hangs uselessly from one arm, its once-pristine vibranium edge cleaved off in brutal, jagged lines. Blood runs in thin rivulets from the gash along his thigh. Another cut splits through his bicep. His stance is uneven, chest heaving, jaw clenched.

But his back is straight. His grip on Mjolnir is firm. His eyes... his eyes are steel.

Across the field, Thanos waits, sword in hand, army at his back. Thousands of creatures—Chitauri, Outriders, warships blotting the sky. They outnumber him a thousand to one.

And Steve doesn't even flinch.

You can barely breathe as you stumble forward, dragging your rebar weapon, each step a promise etched in agony. You're not letting him face this alone. Not after everything.

"Steve!" your voice is hoarse, broken, but loud enough to reach him. His head turns slightly, just enough to see you through his peripheral vision.

His lips part like he’s about to argue—because of course he is, it’s Steve—but he doesn’t. You limp to his side, bloodied, bruised, barely standing, & you meet his gaze. You’re with him. To the end of the line.

And just as he tightens the strap of his shattered shield one last time, a crackle of static hums through the air. A voice breaks through the silence, faint & distant—“Cap? Can you hear me?"