Hey everyone! I don't own any of the characters or places created by Marvel and such. I hope you enjoy this!

It was wet. And loud. But bright as well, such as small, snaking tendrils of blinding white light would occasionally enhance the figures surroundings. Large, intimidating blocks of metal and glass lined streets littered with debri and the rare newspaper headlined "New York Rebuilds After Alien Attack". None of this made sense to the small form stumbling along the sidewalk, though something in the back of his mind urged him to the glowing tower of metal ahead of him. A flicker of memory perhaps, or maybe simply a desperate, unintelligable hope that someone would help him. Anyone.

The building flickered out.

So tired...

"Seriously? The most powered building in New York can talk, cook, and even armour itsself against invaders, but it loses power during a little storm?"

Anthony Stark groped about in the formerly known Stark Tower for a flashlight, his dark brow furrowed in frustration and slight humiliation. It was true, the newly named Avengers building had been upgraded with weapons, a new defensive system, and countless other new toys Tony couldn't wait to play with (the thing that made it such an extra bonus was that SHEILD did it for free. Stark still didn't quite understand this, but hey; new toys are new toys). But in doing so, the reactor had to use much more power than in previous years. This tended to make it extremely fragile, much to the annoyance of the band of heroes.

"Have you no lamps? Or candles? They are much more reliable than your monsterous tower of iron, as they do not go out in a small storm."

Thor had long since grown to detest the tower in light of the irritating power failures. And as the 'god of thunder' (as the mortals had taken to calling him) was mainly attributed to practicing within the newly established training facilities with his hammer and lightning, he could do it no more while the building was so delicate. In a positive light the rooms were comfortable and the food delicious, which was typically enough to satisfy the flaxen haired Asgardian prince. But it was dark, the storm outside a constant reminder of his inability, and he was hungry. All of which made him a bit cranky.

Tony turned to Thor, scratching his temple.

"No, no I don't. Wanna know why? Because my tower has enough clean energy to power the United States for 7 years. A bit juicier than some candle."

Without a lack of irritableness, Thor retired to a long, green couch near the window. Though it wasn't entirely clear, Tony thought he heard him muttering something about 'mortals foolish trust in their unpredictable technology'.

About this time, Captain America, Natasha, and Bruce Banner entered the room. Each of them carried a flashlight. A welcome sight in the current pitch black of the meeting room, though upon entry all of them flashed Stark in the face, who in turn shielded his eyes with his red flannel clad arm.

"We found flashlights in the lab. Clint went to find the glowsticks in his pack."

The Black Widow. A rose among thorns one might say, being the only female in the group of superhero men. And while most might take advantage of this, Natasha tended to be colder, more distant, and more mysterious than most women in her situation. Her deep red hair was always just as perfect as her always professional attitude. All of these attributed to the certain alluring crush a certain 'Clint' had developed on the Russian spy, though she never quite led on to knowing this.

She was the first to enter the room, carrying a small, black penlight with the white insignia 'Stark Industries'. While speaking to him, Natasha shined said light into his eyes, mainly attributing to his temporary loss of eyesight.

"Great. Lovely. Now would you please put the light down."

All three obliged, granting Stark his sight back. He rubbed his eyes with his gloved hands and made his way over to Banner. Grabbing his flashlight, Tony popped out the batteries and began checking them (another new toy SHEILD had given him-supposedly everlasting batteries. But within days of being given them the batteries ended up being just as fragile as the reactor).

"How's it look, Doctor? Beaming up any time soon?"

Banner, otherwise known as the Hulk, shook his head despairingly. His already cloudy green-gray eyes were troubled, and his graying hair was frazzled.

"Sorry, Captain. Dead as a doorknob."

Stark smacked himself in the forehead with the empty flashlight shell. Of course tonight had to be stormy. The next morning was supposed to bring a TV crew and countless other press which were to be discussing the new and "improved" Avengers tower. Yeah, fat chance.

He sighed, turning to Steve who was a bit confused as to whether the last comment had been directed at him or not.

"Why don't you go try to find Katniss, Cap? We'll need all the light we've got if we're going to last the night without power."

Captain Americas expression transitioned from slight confusion to complete bewilderment. This made him look even more ridiculous in his far too tight 'Bazinga' T-shirt (unfortunately Target had run out of size "overly-muscular-superhero". Mainly because of Thor), which made Tony chuckle dispite the slight annoyance at his missed Hunger Games reference. He walked over to the soldier and clasped him on the shoulder.

"Hawkeye, Cap. Go get Hawkeye."

"Already here."

Clint walked into the room sporting a number of glowing rings around his typical leather garb. The number of different coloured lights illuminated his chiseled face in sortof an eerie way, almost horrer movie-esque. It was, though, a very amusing sight seeing the solemn hero decorated in 'childrens playthings' (though it was a very welcome sight).

"Clint, you're a lifesaver."

Tony grinned, walking over to the archer and grabbing a few of the glowsticks. He handed all except three to the rest of the Avengers and instructed them to hang the rings around the room (Thor was included in the group of wistful decorators, as he had abandoned the couch when Steve, Natasha, and Bruce entered). Soon, the room was dimly but sufficiently lit by the multicoloured bands, which allowed the now exhausted group to take a well deserved break on the green couch previously inhabited by Thor.

"Allright, Stark. It's 2 a.m. We've done our part. Now can we please go to bed?"

This remark earned Clint a number of surprised looks. He of all people would typically have relished in the late hour, as he usually spent a seemingly endless amount of time conditioning his arrows and exploring his new, upgraded bow(SHEILD also gave him a new bow). But just as the later hours of the morning brought a big day for Stark, Clint had an extremely important meeting with SHEILD. And in light of Nick Furys high expectations for his agents, exhaustion was not an option.

Much to the archers annoyance, Stark shook his head, looking around with an irritatingly bewildered expression on his face.

"No. Look at this place"-he motioned around the room here-"It's a mess, there's stuff everywhere. And while glowsticks may be the decor of choice this year, I don't want them in my interview."

"Tony, please. It's late, maybe if we get up early-"

"No way. Sorry, guys. And...lady."

Steve cast an apologetic glance to Clint. The archer gritted his teeth and moved to the window, gazing out intently at the ground below. Everyone else begrudgingly began picking up small odds and ends around the debriefing room. Because though they hated to admit it, it was extremely messy. Clothes lay haphazardly around on the floor and on the furniture (Pepper had not yet come back from a business meeting to do the laundry; One of the few things the tower couldn't do and needed actual people to complete). Lamps and numerous other electronics were plugged into a single, extremely large outlet. All this excusing the countless number of dishes stuffed in couches, cluttering tables, and carefully stacked on the floor.

"You gonna help, Legolas? The faster we do this the sooner we can go to bed. Your elf eyes would be extremely helpful."

But Clint didn't hear him. He was intent on something outside. His blue-gray eyes were wide open in an expression similar to surprise and his hand was on the full length window overlooking the city below. Natasha looked up and furrowed her delicate eyebrows, abandoning the lamp she was in the process of dusting. She walked over next to him and put a hand on his arm.

"Clint? What..."

But she stopped short as she followed his gaze. For there, lying on the filthy sidewalk was the form of a small, cloaked child. The sight took her aback for a moment, and she stood there stunned. But in further looking on the scene (with no lack of squinting on her part) the Black Widow thought she saw a bit of red alluded around the edge of the figure and on the shock of dark hair partly hidden by a course, brown cloak. This startled her from her trancelike state and she set her face in a determined, very professional manner. Natasha crisply turned and began to walk out of the room, motioning for Steve and Bruce to follow her. This left simply two very confused Avengers and Clint who hadn't moved from his spot at the window. Thor was the first to break the silence, setting down the mop he had just retrieved from the closet.

"What is amiss? Some trouble on the street?"

Hawkeye turned his head briefly with a cocked eyebrow, then resumed his gazing at the street.

"There's someone down there. Looks like there's some blood."

At this Thor and Tony joined their fellow at the window with intrigue. With his superior eyes (being from a realm where most senses are heightened, granting them their so called 'godlike' status) Thor was the first to voice the obvious.

"Why...'tis but a mere child! How could..."

Tony turned to Thor, he always one to change the subject from one of solemn contents to one of absolutely no pertainment to the previous subject whatsoever.

"How...in the world can you even say that? You're like...what...a thousand someodd feet off the ground? No human eye could see that."

This had the desired effect, as it ensued an argument on machinery/technology vs. the dependency of Asgardian culture and so on. The argument ended abruptly when Natasha, Steve, and Bruce entered the room carrying the small figure (Stark was relatively confident on his having won). The threesome immediately abandoned their post at the window and hurried to the couch where Bruce had set the child.

It was a truly pitiful sight that made Clint, with all his experience in battle, go lightheaded. Streaks of dried blood were all over its head, and patches of dark, hard substance caked parts of its cloak. Bruises marred the young features. It kept moaning softly, squeezing its eyes shut and feebly waving its hands as if trying to ward off an invisible invader.

Bruce cooed gentle, comforting words. This seemed to have effect soon, as the figure stopped and seemed to relax a bit. As soon as this took place, he began cleaning away the blood. He began by taking off the cloak, earning a barely audible yelp from the child. Banner turned pale at the numerous wounds on the back and impatiently waved the rest of them off with the excuse of 'I need to concentrate. Go away.'

And so the group was banished to the lab above the debriefing room (unfortunately all of the necessary tools in aiding the child were completely dependent on power, which was currently still out), where they sat on the numerous tables in monotonous anxiety.

"I wonder who it is...and how old. Couldn't 've been very old. Too tiny."

Steve was the first to speak. It was, in truth, very welcome from the three who had stayed at the window when the other half had gone down to investigate. Even the admitance of lack of knowledge about the figures origin or age was a relieving factor that they had not found out anything more than the threesome themselves found by the two minutes with the child.

Nevertheless no one could think of a reply, and they continued in an awkward, two hour silence until the man of iron suggested they go see how Bruce was coming along. Uninimously agreed (this seemed to bring out a previously unknown curiosity in Natasha, which Clint couldn't help but find a bit attractive), they made their way down the long, silver stairwell to the debriefing room. The sight they were met with was much more calming than two hours previous. Bruce had pretty much finished cleaning all the blood away, though some smaller lines were still present, though not as prominent. He had covered him (now that all the blood was cleaned away, the figures face was clearly recogniseable as a very young boy) with a blanket and was sleeping peacefully.

"How is he?"

Bruce turned to the Black Widow and granted her the slightest shadow of a smile, a rarity in and of itsself.

"Better, now that his wounds have been cleaned and such. Lost a lot of blood though, so we'll see later how he deals."

He turned to the small figure on the couch and chuckled softly, turning back to the group.

"It's kinda funny. I was thinking while I was taking care of him that he looks a bit like a younger Loki, don't you think? A bit creepy."

The group moved over to the couch. All was silence. Until a slightly pale Thor shattered it by a softly spoken, three word sentance.

"It is Loki."