Anomaly

Seven • Lights

The streets were thick with deep grey smoke, their fires stealing oxygen from the air and making it hard to breathe. A symphony of sirens blared around the city, mingling with the sounds of screams and crashing vehicles.

She stood atop a heap of rubble, her limbs burning, eyes glowing with a terrifying glare. Beneath her lay the bodies of people she knew. Sam, Rhodey, Wanda, Bruce. She looked further down the street. More bodies; Carol, Thor, T'Challa, Peter Parker. They were scorched and bloodied, covered in ash and rubble, their suits damaged and malfunctioning.

It's all yours, a voice whispered in her ear.

Her mouth curled into a slight smile.

This all belongs to you.

A shuffling stole her attention. She glanced ahead to see Stephen standing in the middle of the street amongst the ruins, his red cloak swaying behind him. He shook his head, tears in his eyes, as he looked around at the devastation. He was saying something but she couldn't hear him. She squinted to try and read his lips.

"What have you done?"

She didn't respond.

He took a step forward. "What have you done?"

She woke in a sweat. Her pillow drenched, her tank top sticking to her body. She sat up and covered her face with her hands, inhaling deeply through her nose and blowing out a shaking breath. She looked out the window at the night sky before brushing her hair out of her face and climbing out of bed.

The sanctum was eerily quiet as she walked through its hallways. She padded barefoot along the glossy wooden floors with no destination in mind; she would wander for as long as it took to forget her dream.

She came to a mirror hanging on a wall, walking up close and tugging at the skin under her eyes - the deep, purple bags that came with exhaustion. Her arms looked different. She cocked her head and examined them more closely, noticing how the skin sat more taught over her biceps, rippled slightly when she tensed. She stepped back and lifted her top, turning to the side and furrowing her brow at the sight of her stomach muscles - she hadn't been able to see them yesterday.

"What the..." she muttered to herself. But a sound interrupted her thoughts.

Her head snapped in the direction of the sound. It was a clattering noise, as if someone had knocked something off a pedestal or was trying to clumsily find their way in the dark. She ignited her hands and began to follow it, walking slowly, listening carefully.

She came to the archway of a room, peering around it and preparing to attack, when she saw him stumbling towards a chair.

"Stephen?" she whispered, letting her light fade as she made her way towards him.

He looked up at her. He was breathless, his eyebrow cut and bloodied.

"What happened?"

"There was a problem in Oslo."

"Oslo?"

"I'm a protector of Earth, not just New York." He sat back in the chair.

She sat down next to him. "Why didn't you take me with you? I could've helped."

"You're not a weapon. I refuse to use you as one."

She watched as he looked down at his hands. They were trembling violently.

He noticed her looking. "It happens sometimes when I exhaust myself," he said. "It'll calm down soon."

She hesitated for a moment before taking his hands in her's. He sat quietly, watching as her power wrapped around them. Her eyes began to glow and suddenly, he felt the tremor relaxing, settling until it was almost still. She let go of him and smiled softly, hoping he didn't mind her help.