A large part of Steve's mind is focused on the battle; angles and trajectory, strategies both small-scale and large, positions and movements of his teammates, civilians, and the enemy.
But a small part of his brain has been sectioned off so that he can quietly continue to freak out, just slightly, about the fact that aliens are invading Earth. And apparently, H.G. Wells was wrong, and they aren't dying from microscopic organisms that humans are immune to.
Just one more way the future has disappointed him.
The police seem to finally be doing their job, herding civilians away from the attacks - although that's kind of hard, when the enemy has flying bikes that can attack from anywhere, as well as laser weapons that that same small part of his brain is comparing to all the old sci-fi movies. That small part of his brain has to grudgingly admit that the real thing is much cooler than the bulky laser blasters from the movies. Is that a good thing, since it's not a disappointment, or a bad thing, because the reality is so much more deadly and accurate than the portrayal?
Something to think about later, when he has more time to process those kinds of thoughts; right now he's moving so fast, throwing his shield, jumping and jabbing, kicking and spinning towards and away from the enemy almost before he consciously registers what he needs to do.
Out of the corner of his eye, he notes an alien facing off with a body that's neither alien nor wearing one of his team's outfits; his shield is hurled with pinpoint accuracy to crack at the base of the alien's skull, which he's discovered is a weak point if you hit just the right spot. The alien goes down, and Steve gets his first look at the civilian, dressed professionally and looking like maybe she can handle herself.
Time seems to stop for a second. For just a second, everything blurs, all the shrieks and alarms and cries from battle turn strangely muffled, as Steve stares at the woman.
no subject
But a small part of his brain has been sectioned off so that he can quietly continue to freak out, just slightly, about the fact that aliens are invading Earth. And apparently, H.G. Wells was wrong, and they aren't dying from microscopic organisms that humans are immune to.
Just one more way the future has disappointed him.
The police seem to finally be doing their job, herding civilians away from the attacks - although that's kind of hard, when the enemy has flying bikes that can attack from anywhere, as well as laser weapons that that same small part of his brain is comparing to all the old sci-fi movies. That small part of his brain has to grudgingly admit that the real thing is much cooler than the bulky laser blasters from the movies. Is that a good thing, since it's not a disappointment, or a bad thing, because the reality is so much more deadly and accurate than the portrayal?
Something to think about later, when he has more time to process those kinds of thoughts; right now he's moving so fast, throwing his shield, jumping and jabbing, kicking and spinning towards and away from the enemy almost before he consciously registers what he needs to do.
Out of the corner of his eye, he notes an alien facing off with a body that's neither alien nor wearing one of his team's outfits; his shield is hurled with pinpoint accuracy to crack at the base of the alien's skull, which he's discovered is a weak point if you hit just the right spot. The alien goes down, and Steve gets his first look at the civilian, dressed professionally and looking like maybe she can handle herself.
Time seems to stop for a second. For just a second, everything blurs, all the shrieks and alarms and cries from battle turn strangely muffled, as Steve stares at the woman.
"...Marie?"