It hurts. Not like getting hit with debris or taking bullets on kevlar, but the kind of pain he associates with real danger, the sort that he'd be clearing the streets and calling for backup to deal with.

Except he's not so much calling for backup as catching himself so he doesn't slam face-first into concrete. Numbness spreads from the strike and cold air on his back - meaning either his spine is broken or Loki ripped straight through his shirt, and Steve is going to assume the latter until he's proved wrong. He rolls away from the staff-wielding maybe-real Loki and tries to get his feet under him, tracking the new one and the first one out of the corners of his eyes.

He's probably in trouble.

Steve thumbs a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth, wraps one hand around a parking meter and rips it from the sidewalk. He hefts it like a bat and swings hard at the head of the one that attacked him, addressing the other. "Why me? I would've thought you'd go after Dr. Banner or Thor."