As if to punctuate the Skull’s words with violence, a sound like an explosion happens overhead -- CRASH! -- when two Iron Man suits -- the popular red-and-gold one and the Silver Centurion -- collide, sending sparks and metal flying in all directions. Spider-Man, among any others, dives out of the way when the Centurion hits the floor, taking out the section over which Hyperion was hovering just moments ago. The original gray armor putters through the air then turns upside down and drops, tumbling into the abyss below, followed by the Silver Centurion. The mangled red-and-gold armor hits the floor but the structure underneath it holds.

The Squadron still hold their heads, though their cries of anguish have stopped. Hyperion slowly takes his hands away and begins to look around but still kneels in vulnerability.

From the far side of the smoke two bodies are thrown into the meager clearing that has been made in the battle, not far from where the Skull stands. It is two men limp from defeat, though their bodies show no particular damage, save for their faces: one, wearing a technical suit but not armor plating, has a new bruise on the side of his face, from force enough to knock him out; the other one, wearing a red body-suit and a helmet, has no similar bruise but the bottom half of his face is covered in fresh blood, spouting from his nose. Both of them drop to the floor on their bashed faces, then slump to a stop.





From their point of origin through the smoke comes one more figure, though this body in full control of its faculties, standing upright with confidence, and not even breaking a sweat in this heat and among the violence. Her voice comes before she enters from the obscurity: “That should make it easier.” It could only be: Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. “Hopefully that didn’t ruin anyone’s plans to take them all out one at a time.” She rubs one wrist lightly with the other hand then steps to a stop, hip jutting slightly, and looks at the Skull with no expression.

The Skull looks back.

Mac spits a bit of blood from his mouth, "We were going more for we are nearly dead but acting all the way dead..." He looks down at himself, "Though to be honest this is more like mostly dead even Venom isn't moving that fast this time."

Across what was once the staging area of Stark’s wide office but is now a slag of pieces barely hanging on to what was once the entirety of this level the through wisps of smoke, the Skull in Captain America’s body and the Widow stare each other down. “Ah, the magnificent Black Widow,” the Skull says, the slime in his voice finally overtaking the familiarity in what was once Cap’s, now with a fully sinister tone that tends toward dark and gravelly. “Perhaps, at least, there is a worthy opponent today.” But the chrorle that follows betrays that he would ever consider such a thought. “If there was ever an opportunity for you to recover the Captain’s mind and body, you are far too late. Kapitän Scheiße! For my old foe to reform his mind with his body -- alas, his very soul -- it would require my permission and cooperation, neither of which you shall ever acquire. The only way you could ever -- “

WHOOSH!

The sudden appearance makes no sound but the displacement of air and smoke away from it creates a brief, rushing sound, as well as moving the obscuration. The Skull and Widow face down across from each other on one side of the room, with the assembled heroes, the Squadron, and various Iron Man armors that have hit the floor scattered about, but fewer near the far side, where the enormous machine with the body strapped to it rests, with Crossbones looking on. Though being farther away affords a much greater amount of smoke, hiding the machine entirely if not for its size, and now obscures a form that has appeared suddenly, silently, and without warning. Only an indistinguishable silhouette of the figure is apparent, as the rest is completely enveloped within the smoke.

The Skull draws his attention away from his previous task, and, as the closest figure to the machine and this new individual, can react to their identity. When he recognizes the figure, the smallest shudder betrays his haughty composure. “You!” he exclaims, somewhere between a shocked wail and a distressed cry. "You shall not take this victory from me!" The Skull suddenly seems to realize who he now is and squares his shoulders, crouches into a battle position, then jumps into the smoke toward the mysterious figure. The fog swirls for a moment as furious activity happens within it, along with the sounds of scuffling feet and slaps and cracks that could be the result of a close physical confrontation, then FWOOSH! and the fog parts to send the Red Skull flying back close to where he started, hitting the floor with a perceptible creaking below him. Back in the mists, Crossbones is sent to the other side in the same manner, but where he falls is out of sight.

The figure stirs in the mist, still obscured, and moves toward the large machine near the back of the space before anyone can make their own approach on him -- or her -- or it. The machine is tall enough that some of its top peaks out above the cloud, enough that the person strapped to it can be seen, then as they are removed from it, with shackles snapping then the body shifting off the device and into the mists and obscurity. The Skull moves not from the floor but turns back to face the direction of his attacker and reaches out, more helpless than the former owner of his body had ever been. “Scheiße!” is all he gets out before the dark presence of the figure, now with their size enhanced by carrying the body from the machine, quietly but quickly fades, leaving the cloud clear, then, as if to prove the point, parting to reveal no figures at all where they once stood. The machine now stands empty where it once held the body essential to the hope of returning the legendary Captain America to his rightful existence. The only movement other than the languidly swirling mist is Crossbones slowly getting to his feet and heading toward the Red Skull, who has frozen, helpless on his knees. The Skull-in-the-Captain’s-body shuffles one leg around to plant a foot on the floor and the creaking beneath him becomes louder, until it is a distinct, pitched SQUAWK.

Then the entire floor gives way. Everyone not already airborne drops into the yawning, bottomless abyss that was once Tony Stark's monumental homage to power. Flying capabilities are useless to those who are unconscious, which is more than a few, and there are no convenient hand-holds to reach out to. Before anyone can summon a thought for rescue, everyone is falling down down down into the bleak, hot vastness that was once the interior of the Avengers Tower, now destroyed and scooped into a defeated, empty shell.

Choose one NPC to save. Feel free to contribute to the narrative how you save them.

Mac tries to grab onto something as the ground beneath them falls away, "Venom! Now would be a good time to wake up!" Mac's shoulder pings off a bit of debris sending him tumbling in the air before Venom covers him again, "I hate this DREAM!" "It isn't a dream you paramecium-brained glob! Stick Stark to something he isn't in a suit like us!"


Venom still flailing slightly growls, "We will come back to that insult meat!" And Venom starts flinging webs out as best he can to try and stick Stark to one of the walls or at the minimum wrap him to soften his impact. "DId they dig down to your marbles core? This fall is comically long!"

Yellowjacket zips out of the machine just in time, and sees the floor (and everything on it) begin to drop away. He'd be useless at insect size, he realized, but maybe he could save someone at Giant-Man size. As he grew, he grabbed the nearest non-flier, barely even registering who it might be, and just kept growing until he felt his feet hit another floor. He pushed off, knowing full well that floor was also about to collapse, and leaped out the side of the building.

Landing safely, Hank opened his hands. He had She-Hulk.

He rolled his eyes. If there was one member of the team who could survive a building collapsing on her without assistance, it was She-Hulk.

If he'd been feeling useless before, he certainly did now.

Danny slowly comes to, propping himself up on an elbow as the room finally stops spinning. With a groan of pain, he massages his face where Hyperion's counter-attack had bloodied it. If the Iron Fist is conscious and able to move, that probably means his neck isn't broken. Well, at least there's that, he thinks.

He can barely squint through his swollen eye to see what's going on or where he is. It feels as though he could have been out cold for either five minutes or five months. With another groan, he realizes the Red Skull is somewhere in the middle of another speech, prattling on about gods only knew what. That means it's probably the former.

The foggy-looking colored shapes nearby might be his teammates, still fighting the good fight in his sudden absence. Danny knows they will need a miracle to pull off a win here, and his own re-entry into the fray isn't nearly enough. But right now, it's all he can contribute. With a mighty effort, he grunts, strains, and slowly rises to his feet.

Aaaand the floor's collapsing, he notices to his annoyance.

The black-and-red shape sliding toward certain doom doesn't consciously register in his brain as the Black Widow. It feels like a lifetime since he gazed into those eyes, or enjoyed the sound of that voice, but the memory they spark is enough to compel him to act. Instinct propels him toward Natasha, wrapping her in his arms as the floor gives way. If nothing else, maybe his body can help cushion her fall.

Down, down, into the darkness they plummet.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:11, Fri 14 Apr 2023.

The floor disintegrates away in sections, leaving some of the heroes effectively airborne before what's below them falls away, giving them a moment to reach out and attempt a rescue for anyone they can grab.

Iron Man is conveniently near Venom, though the symbiote’s webbing only sticks Stark on a wall panel that cracks away and falls nonetheless.

Yellowjacket grows by instinct, so quickly that he’s suddenly dizzy, and almost misses Janet, the winsome Wasp buzzing up to him, at a size small enough that her sprouted wings can carry her, though she levitates erratically. Tragically, the wings are severely damaged, only one working, with the other flapping so hard that it breaks when she gets near enough to her Pym for him to rescue her as well, but then loses her altitude and falls like all the others. She reaches out to grab her once-beloved Hank and just misses it. As she falls into the hot, hazy darkness below, her terrified eyes cry like her words: “Haaaaaank…”, she calls until she is lost in the dark and her fate below.

Black Widow’s spider-line finds purchase on a piece formerly jutting out of the ceiling above until her weight pulls it down, leaving her falling as well, until Iron Fist catches her in his arms and finds the last piece of flooring to hold onto -- but how long will it hold with the two of them hanging from it?

That's it.  It finally happened.  His day has come, and only because he broke his one role.
That's what you get for trying to play a hero.  A nice obituary.  Only in his case, he wasn't sure anyone would bother writing anything in his memory - even if there would be someone left alive after his demise to remember him.

The floor gave beneath his feet, and Bishop was sucked into the abyss, to his certain doom.
There was nothing he could do to save himself.  Nothing he could hold on to.  Cursing the Skull with his last breaths, he desperately found the strength for one last act of defiance - an energy beam directed at Tony Stark's crippled armor.

He hated the man.  Blamed him for everything that was bound to happen. The two of them clashed ever since he came back to the past.  But right now, he hated the Skull even more.  If he could power up Stark's armor, and if Stark regains consciousness before he, too, is buried under several tons of concrete and steel - then Bishop might get his revenge after all.

While other events were transpiring, Karla was mustering concentration in the way only someone who was both a trained psychologist and possessed the essence of an elite Kree warrior could manage.   It was enough for her to overcome the malfunction of her intangibility power, barely in time.

Clint!  Seeing him plummet, she reacted rather than thought. And for someone who so rarely formed attachments at all, it was a brief, bare moment of truth testifying to the fact that she was changing.

She dove, swooped and caught him; still weakened as she was, her strength was yet enough for this task.   And once she had him, flew up, out and toward safety as swiftly as she could.

And though it was hardly at the fore of her mind, there was nonetheless a resolve taking form.

She detested it when someone else pulled the strings as thoroughly as the Skull had here.   And his smug, self-satisfied demeanor throughout the encounter, right up until the end.   A reckoning promised to be more wholly satisfying than any she'd taken part in before...

Bishop fights desperately for his consciousness and is able to get off one good shot, until the energy beam goes wide when a sudden hot, stinking gust blows up from below. Bishop’s rapid descent into the abyss below slows then stops, held aloft by a persistent rush of wind across from Storm, who, by the strained look on her face, has life enough left in her only to conjure the concentrated weather to save one other person, who has been chosen as Bishop. The mutant’s strike leaves a crater in the wall less than a foot from where Venom stuck Stark in his shattered armor, but is presently coming unstuck as Venom’s effort was not one borne of concentration. Stark leans forward as the webbing dissolves, pitching toward the void below. Stark’s life has been saved, but perhaps only for a moment.

Ms. Marvel was near Stark -- dodging Bishop’s blast only by luck -- but she chose Hawkeye instead, who becomes a limp burden in her grip. She has enough left in her tank to levitate in space with the weight of both of them, but it won’t be long that she can keep it up. The webbed Stark isn’t far -- while she can’t recall ever battling him face-to-face more personally than in a team of her compatriots fighting a batch of his people, perhaps she could admire what he’s built -- literally, the building around them which is monumental enough to now be a catastrophe when it falls, but also frequently leading or aiding teams that have defended the planet if not this universe -- and how he could be instrumental to whatever unearthly event in the super-powered community is happening that the Red Skull alluded to. Even if she couldn’t be Stark's savior, it could be good that someone was, and that he’s here on her side.

Just when Storm’s gusts falter, Ms. Marvel feels she has nothing left, and Stark tips forward enough to rip out of the webbing and fall, they all land on a green, glowing platform -- a giant, translucent hand, holding the rescued heroes and their rescuers in its wide, open palm. Pym, at giant size, is able to find some room, thinking he landed on a surface below, but in reality here on this floating, solid hand.  This group of saved heroes includes the Squadron Supreme, caught by an over-burdened Hyperion, fortunate that his teammates were within his near vicinity. Off to the side of the construct, floating independently in the air, is a shuddering Doctor Spectrum, holding the wrist of his hand that holds a glowing object, with a glowing line connecting him to the hand that has become a lifeboat for these heroes. With a last one to gather, Hyperion peels Stark from the webbing that surely saved the armored hero's life. Some of the heroes have been saved, while the rest, and their foes -- all living, human beings -- fall to the depths of what was once the mighty Avengers Tower!

The giant, green, glowing hand floats through the collapsing Avengers Tower and into the hazy air outside. The makeshift barge levitates slowly, with some instability coming from its controller, the battered Doctor Spectrum. The hand shudders and dips at points, in accordance to Spectrum's body quivering due to the effort and harm he's taken, no worse than any airplane's turbulence, but the concern would be the distance from the street below, equal to the former Tower's height, 93 lofty stories. It would nearly reach the clouds if any had been spared on this blisteringly hot day. When transparent patches shimmer through the hand, the street far, far below can almost be seen.

In the palm of the floating hand, Storm lies prone and spent. Surrounding her are Venom, the giant Yellowjacket, Iron Fist, Bishop, She-Hulk with a face looking suspicious even through her massive bruises, Black Widow rubbing her knuckles, Ms. Marvel with a comatose Hawkeye, and the rest of the Squadron Supreme. Hyperion lets the wounded, webbed Iron Man go, so Stark can stagger away slightly. Then Hyperion looks up and around and steadies his head with his hand. "Wh -- where are we?" he asks, the first time his voice has been heard since this scenario has begun.

Mac starts laughing a wet hacking laugh, "Oh we wish we could forget Stuff as easy!" He shoves himself bodily away as his legs snap and pop as they straighten back to normal, "You and your friends just played stomp everyone around us like ants. I think you are at the 'Oh no I was wrong let us all hug and have ice cream stage'."

He gets himself propped up to at least sit up, "Though I'd prefer you let me stop by a butcher shop to replenish all the organs I can feel Venom just tearing through to get me mobile."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:58, Fri 30 June 2023.

"New York," Yellowjacket replies to Hyperion. "You just got finished trashing Avengers Tower."

Hyperion looks back at the demolished Avengers Tower, with no recognition on his face then the horror of the destruction wrought. "We -- " he mutters. He turns back to Pym. "I don't even remember where we were last. Not here. Not there." Much of the active energy he around him ready for a fight dissipates, to be replaced by a sudden, nervous jitteriness. "If we can't ask for your forgiveness for whatever we did there, could you at least understand that we -- we didn't know we were doing it?"

The green, glowing hand holding the heroes slowly floats for a few blocks over the city then alights on the roof of a building, which is tall but not so high as to miss the throng of people on the street below amassing around the emergency vehicles making their way to the Tower. Once the hand is close enough to the surface of the building for the heroes to hop or be carried off, Doctor Spectrum falls to his feet, with Power Princess catching him just before he tumbles. Nighthawk eyes the gathering suspiciously then inches slowly toward the side of a wall that provides the only shadow in the area.

Mac chuckles as he leans his head back as Venom reforms around him, "Oh we forgive you. We have been there many times. Rage, sorrow, some version of mind control we've been there." Venom retracts slowly, "Forgiveness doesn't stop the real issue of blame...and the sheeple are about to flood in demanding villains and we are not going back into some tube for Shield to cut up."

Hank grumbled slightly, but he grudgingly forgave the Squadron for their actions. It wasn't their fault. He'd been mind-controlled once or twice over the years. And he'd had a major psychotic break during which he invented the Yellowjacket persona in the first place. And who could forget the undiagnosed bipolar disorder? Yes, he'd been a bit of a loose cannon at times. He'd have to forgive the Squadron.

The question was, would he ever forgive himself? For any of that stuff, or simply today? He couldn't close his eyes without seeing Jan plummeting into darkness, calling his name. Was she dead?

"Among other things," Danny mutters, gingerly rubbing the large purple bruise on his face. The heightened emotions of the fight hadn't fully subsided yet, and he had been regarding the Squadron with suspicion and lingering hostility. But as the Fist looks inward, he begins to realize his ill temper is misplaced. The young Dragon's fire isn't for Hyperion and his crew-- he is angry at himself. For taking the Skull's bait and charging into a war zone before he knew what was really going on.

Shang-Chi... Wolfsbane... Captain America... Who else around here might not be who they seem to be? The team had already been hit with far too many surprises since they got back to New York-- mostly, the unpleasant kind. The Black Widow's sudden re-appearance, however, is a more... positive... development. As soon as he reasonably could, Danny would speak with her in private and see what she knew. If anyone could shed some light on what was going on, it would be Natasha.

For now, Iron Fist considers Hyperion's words before replying. "What do you remember? Anything about the Skull's plans, or how he was controlling you? He mentioned something about a war coming."

He casts a glance at the heavily injured Avengers in their midst. "I'd like us all to help each other. Us--" he gestured to his allies-- "to make sure you don't all break bad again. And you--" he nods at the Squadron-- "to help us go find Captain America, and... whoever that was. But if we're going to reach that point, then first, I need to make sure the friends we did manage to save aren't dead."

As he kneels to examine Iron Man, Hawkeye, and the other wounded, Danny prepares to apply healing Chi to their injuries. He would leave it to his allies, meanwhile, to keep mending the divide between the different teams of heroes. Venom had already accepted the Squadron's mea culpa, and Danny could tell Hank might be ready to do the same. Where did that leave the rest of the team?
This message was last edited by the player at 07:39, Sat 15 July 2023.

While Hawkeye and Storm lie motionless, Iron Man helps himself up while looking around.

Just as Hyperion relaxes into hearing the peaceful, calm words of Iron Fist, a now-familiar voice booms from the back of the gathering of heroes stepping off the giant, glowing hand. "No!" shouts She-Hulk as she steps to the masked super man. "You do not get a free pass for an apology! You wrecked Avengers Tower! It's gone because of something you did, whether you knew it or not!" She stabs a mighty finger in his face. He does not move but he does seem to gain some inner esteem from the accusations and stands straighter. "You'll excuse us if we don't just accept the words of a guy we barely know -- and used to be a criminal -- when, since the last Avengers meeting, we were tricked into killing a hundred Hydra soldiers, destroyed most of Mid-Town and nearly started an international incident with Latveria, helped blow up the X-Men's mansion and let one of our own disappear into the sky, and maybe disrupted the space-time continuum with a little venture into the future -- all under the thumb of someone we trusted to march into Hell beside, only to find out he's been one of the worst villains of all time! And now you're here acting like you don't know what's going, but you're connected to that and we're going to figure out how before anyone's going to let you fly out of here alive!" As She-Hulk shouts at the slightly-less-than-majestic figure before her, spittle flying from mouth, someone standing at the correct angle a few feet away could notice that, instead of shrinking from the exhaustion of everything that everyone has been through, she seems to be growing larger in size. "And you better pull off an Oscar-worthy performance because, if you'll excuse us for an eternity, we're just about fresh out of trust -- and any reserves we had!"

She-Hulk Mental attack on Hyperion:
Team d10
Impulsive    d8
Godlike Strength/Collateral Damage    2d12
Psych Expert   d8 --

"Jen," the Black Widow says, suddenly but bravely appearing beside the jade giantess. "We have larger issues to worry about."

Mac chuckles, "The shapeshifter probably turned into a flying squirrel to land safely and then into a snake to slip away knowing her devil luck. Venom you are cursed in love bud. I'm not letting you pick our plucky potential love interests!"

The symbiote reforms, "We are not cursed! Eddie..." A fist smashes into his own face, "Stop bringing up your X!"

They steadily get to their feet, "We'll back up the jade hottie here. Us Villain types tend to waffle about blame. "

Iron Fist kneels and tends to the wounded, listening solemnly as She-Hulk vents her rage at Hyperion. He doubts he can physically stop those two titans coming to blows again even if he cared to get between them. It isn't that Jen is wrong, or even that Danny blames her for feeling a certain way over all that has happened. Only that she is simply too close to the tragedy-- too personally affected by everything going on, by virtue of her past with the Avengers-- to cope with it all. Danny can tell that whatever comes next will require him and the other "try-outs" to step up in a way that She-Hulk and her Avengers family can't be asked to. He speaks to her firmly but compassionately:

"Natasha's right, Jen. What's done is done. No matter who started it-- or lost control of their actions-- we're all on the same side now. The Squadron could have left us to die in that collapsing Tower if they'd wanted to. But here we are."

Everyone here had in some way fallen prey to the proverbial snakes lurking in the grass: the Skull, the shapeshifter, and the Squadron. But who moreso than the august Avengers themselves-- Tony, Clint, and all the rest-- to tragically miss every sign of "Captain America's" impending betrayal before it hit them head-on? Danny didn't even want to consider how he would respond if his bonds with Misty, or Luke, or Colleen were used to hurt him in the same way. It was unthinkable, and his heart ached for what Jen and her friends had endured.

"I know I can't stop you. So go on and hit him if it would make you feel better. I sure as hell wanted to, just a minute ago. But you ought to know it won't bring us any closer to making sense of all this. Or getting back at who's responsible for it."

Danny is too focused on his thoughts-- and on healing the unconscious Storm, who lays before him-- to turn and face Jen as he speaks. But he can tell from She-Hulk's ragged breathing that maybe she is still listening. As he casts a look around at his teammates, his grave expression offers a window into his thoughts. Perhaps he doubts whether Jen and company aren't all too attached to what Captain America and the "Avengers" name traditionally stands for, to see that the entire game has now changed-- and that it is time for a new rulebook entirely.

In the wake of things, and reorienting after all of it, Karla found herself of more than one mind.

In her affiliation with the Avengers, she had tried, to some degree, to reexamine her ways of operating and make a few adjustments in the name of membership.  While it would've been going too far to say she was proud to be with the Avengers, it had meant something, all the same, and served as a catalyst that a part of her knew she needed.

And on the other hand...it had been impossible not think of how the team could stand some change, and how she might be the one to encourage it.   She listened to the others, particularly their dialog with Hyperion, and found herself reminded of those thoughts.

She frowned slightly when Iron Fist examined Hawkeye, but quelled that mistrust, certain by this point that the martial arts master meant nothing but good.

But of course, every doctor of psychiatry was also an MD, by requirement and training.   So once Iron First moved away, Karla did her own check up of Clint's vitals, just to make sure.  Assuming there was no crisis, or anything more she could do, she moved on, looking after others and assisting their would-be leader in that work.

At one point, nearing Hyperion, she remarked, "You guys got your heads f--ked, by a real master.   I agree that after telling us all you can, you should assist us, with no grudges or hard feelings.  At least with some of us," she smiled briefly, before her expression grew wholly serious. "Because we're going to need everyone and everything we've got to come up with a winning hand against this enemy."  She also added, to everyone in general:

"Oh, yes.  On the matter of that shapeshifter, let's just say, that she and I are acquainted. And dying that way isn't something she'd do." 
This message was last edited by the player at 17:33, Mon 24 July 2023.

Hawkeye shifts slightly, stirring incrementally from unconsciousness.

She-Hulk seethes, her muscles clinching and unclinching and trembling in rage, her nostrils flaring, her mighty fists balling tightly. But not advancing on the questionable hero in front of her. She stays still, as does Hyperion, both locked in each other’s stony, intense stare. The only sound coming from them is She-Hulk’s huffing and puffing. But neither moves against the other.

Black Widow backs off from She-Hulk. "Maybe not the best path of action when the psycho is agreeing with you, huh?" She keeps an eye on Venom them Hyperion and the Squadron then relaxes slightly when she looks back at Iron Fist, Ms. Marvel, and the rest of the team. “We can get back to knocking the crap out of each other once we at least know who the enemy is. But first things first, is everyone okay? Physically? Or mentally?”

Chants from a crowd rise up from the street below. Through the noise one word is fairly clear: “Aven-gers -- Aven-gers -- Aven-gers.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:38, Tue 25 July 2023.

"Physically, I'm fine," Yellowjacket replied. "Mentally... not so much."

Was Jan dead? He didn't know. He wouldn't grieve for her until he had proof, because Avengers had their ways of surviving the unsurvivable... but his sense of guilt was still running overtime.

Tense moments pass between She-Hulk and Hyperion, but the more there are, the more the two combatants cool and eventually back off of each other. She-Hulk puts down her mighty fists and Hyperion relaxes his tense pose. They keep each other in a locked stare but both soften enough that a first guess while looking at them wouldn't assume they're about to bash each other.

Eventually She-Hulk blinks. "At least we have our fans down there," she says after sighing.

The sound rises up from the crowd below: “Aven-GERS -- Aven-GERS -- Aven-GERS,” with some added commotion.

Black Widow turns from Pym then takes a step closer to the edge of the rooftop then looks over and down. "I... don't think they're cheering us on," she says.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:11, Tue 08 Aug 2023.

Hank looked out over the street. It sure sounded like cheering.