Eighth Thor/Being Human Crossover: Chapter Fifty-Five
Notes: I hope everyone celebrating a holiday this season had a happy and peaceful one, and that all the rest of you are well. Apparently I can just about manage an update about once a month-- now that I've said it, I hope I can stuck to it! I don't watch Agents of SHIELD but there's a turn of phrase from the show that turns up here, just because it annoyed me when I heard of it. (I know! Imagine me, annoyed!)
Warnings: Keep in mind that all Lokis are biased observers. That's not to say they're necessarily always wrong, just… there is always the possibility their assumptions about people and situations are prejudiced, and readers are welcome to agree or disagree with them. (I know that readers already do so-- I just want to be clear that, yeah, I know readers are making their own judgements.)
Chapter Fifty-Five
Loki considered knocking on the door of the conference room before he entered, but decided against it. Instead he simply pushed it open and walked in ahead of Annie. His shoulders and neck felt tight and he carried his head high, very much aware of the spectacle he had made of himself the last time he had been in this room and wrestling with fight-or-flight impulses that, at the moment, all seemed to lean firmly toward the latter option.
"Hey, Loki," Nick Fury said casually. "Take a seat." The director gestured, and Loki glanced in the direction indicated, then gratefully walked around the conference table to sit beside his brother. Natasha got up and changed seats so that Annie could have the one next to Loki, and both Steve and Tony smiled a welcome at them.
"Welcome back," Tony said, and then returned his attention to the briefing.
"You're all recovered?" Fury asked.
"I am," Loki replied firmly.
"And the other one?" Fury went on.
"He is resting," Loki replied. He hesitated for a moment, exchanged a quick look with Annie, and went on, "He has… he has expressed an interest in assisting your-- our-- efforts against Doom."
"I'll take that under advisement," Fury said with a nod, his tone unreadable. Loki did not press him, nor did he look at the other Fury.
Across the table, Stark made an incredulous noise. "What?" Fury said sharply, the sound of a man who has entirely exhausted his store of patience. Stark raised his hands, half in self-defence and half in a sort of apology.
"Sorry. Really, I'm sorry, that just sort of slipped out. I… you guys keep saying he was controlled by someone else, and I guess you trust your information, it's just… if you'd seen him ranting about how freedom is a lie and it's simpler for us to just be ruled-- I mean, he made quite an impression. He definitely, definitely looked like a guy who wanted to run all of us little ants as his own private ant farm. You weren't there, but I was, and it's still hard for me to get past the whole Asgardian Mussolini routine, honestly. What?"
Loki became aware the last remark was aimed at him, and also that his mouth had dropped open.
"I beg your pardon," he said hastily, gathering his wits. The sense of wrongness persisted, and he leaned forward a little to address Stark. "If I understand you aright, and please do feel free to correct me since I have after all only heard the story in bits and pieces-- " Stark and Rogers both flinched a little, and Loki, vicious creature that he was, permitted himself to feel a little unworthy satisfaction at the sight, which at least smothered the rush of anxiety he felt whenever he tried to remember his time in the other reality-- "the other Loki arrived on Midgard intent upon conquest, on enslaving humanity and compelling all of you to live tightly circumscribed lives under his direction, without free will or the ability to make choices and decisions for yourselves?"
"Yes," said the second Nick Fury, the expression on his face confirming for certain that he was the Fury who had first-hand experience of what the other Loki had done.
"It is therefore understandable that you would have doubts. But-- Loki is a character in human mythology, yes?"
"Yes," Stark agreed, looking suspicious.
"Yes," Romanov chimed in. Her cool expression did not change, but Loki was extremely sensitive to mood, and he received the impression she was, in some subtle way, on his side. The awareness was somehow steadying, even with his own friends present in the room-- these other Avengers were not so different, not completely alien, after all.
"Well, what is known of this character?" Without waiting for an answer-- though he could of course have gained valuable teaching experience had he worked to guide the false (not false, different) Avengers around to his own conclusions-- Loki went on, "He is known as the god of mischief, yes? An agent of chaos and discord-- one who, by challenging the gods of the Norse people, helps in their mythology to bring about necessary change, even the destruction of the old world to make way for the new?" He looked directly at Romanov, and then at Banner, as he spoke-- something told him those were the two most likely to have read the relevant myths.
"Yes, that's about it," Banner agreed, and fortunately looked interested rather than annoyed.
"Well, then, what about all this suggests a being who would care to make the trains run on time?" Loki demanded, enjoying the flicker of surprise on Banner's face as he recited the classic description of the Fascist leader's accomplishments. Of course he knew of Mussolini, did he not live in Britain?
Before he could become annoyed-- again-- at these Avengers, he went on,
"Surely one of you must have thought, hmm, what strange priorities for the god of chaos. Having once gone mad myself I can assure you that I was more than capable of destruction and devastation, but it certainly would never have occurred to me to try and organize people's lives for them. That alone should have suggested there was something peculiar going on. It would have made far more sense for such a creature to assert that freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."
By this time, of course, the other Avengers really should not have looked so dumbfounded at evidence of Loki's acculturation to Midgard, but everyone except Rogers-- who certainly had no idea that it was a quotation-- did. Really, Loki thought in irritation, the bard who had written that song was called Kris Son of Kristoffer. If Loki was to know any of the singers of this realm, this would indeed be the one.
Barton's face annoyed him most of all, since of course it was Barton, along with Mitchell, who had introduced him to Kris Kristoffer's Son in the first place.
Stark, rallying slightly, pointed out, "But we didn't actually know the other Loki, now did we?"
"You did not," Loki agreed, turning a hard glance on the Thor who was not his brother. The other Thor looked away first. Loki returned his attention to Stark and went on, "You may perhaps find it understandable that he is willing to assist you in thwarting the schemes of Dr. Doom, given the way Doom sought to make use of him." This time he did not look at the other Thor as he said, "Considering how being under the control of others has apparently worked out for him so far, that is hardly something he would be apt to take lightly."
"Okay," Stark muttered, finally looking abashed. Deciding he had made the point about as clearly as he needed to, Loki let the matter drop. He folded his hands on the tabletop before him and looked at Director Fury with the expression of an interested pupil preparing to receive instruction.
Or with the expression of some infant miscreant hoping to deceive the teacher as to his mischievous intent, but there was no need to go into that right now.
And the moment he focused properly on the monitor at the front of the room, Loki found his attention entirely captured.
"Where did these images come from?" he asked. Demanded, really-- absently, Loki was aware of a metallic edge to his voice as it dropped to the bottom of its register.
"Agent Romanov photographed them, while you were distracting Doom and the vampire," Fury replied. He did not sound at all intimidated, but gestured toward the agent in charge of the computer, who obligingly cycled through the images for Loki's benefit, pausing for a longer time on those depicting British institutions. Loki was too old a hand at manipulation himself to be unaware what the agent was up to, but that was of little consequence-- he hardly needed to be manipulated into defending his own home.
Pushing back his chair, Loki rose and stalked toward the large monitor. His heart was pounding so hard he was nearly deafened by the sound of his own blood in his ears, but he did not think anyone spoke as he studied the plans of the Palace of Westminster. When he turned back, he was aware of Fury's air of expectation.
Loki was a creature born to confound and disappoint those around him, but this time he looked directly at Fury and announced, "I will go to London, and there assist Clint and my friends to defeat the vampires."
"What, all by yourself?" Stark blurted.
Loki smiled-- and he thought it probably was a most unpleasant smile-- but Fury was characteristically unmoved. And then, because he knew the other Avengers probably still instinctively assumed the worst of him, he deliberately gentled his smile and quoted,
"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." He turned back to Director Fury. "My particular strengths-- magic and sneakiness-- make me an ideal choice to oppose the vampires. I am confident we will be able to think of something-- and there may be powers in the city of London which can assist me. In the meantime, I assume your agency is also arranging to defend against further Doombot attacks in your own country?"
Fury nodded, and Bruce, who had been looking thoughtful this whole time, asked,
"Does anyone know how he got the Doombots into the US in the first place? Or how many other bases he might have scattered around?"
That, Loki acknowledged, was an extremely good question. When the Dire Wraiths attacked Midgard last summer they had rained down terror and destruction from above. The method had indeed struck fear into the innocent human populace, but had also meant the defenders could see the attacks coming and defend against them. This business of Doombots appearing from the mountains so near their target was cause for concern: if Doom had other strategically-located secret bases from which his mechanical servants might stage their attacks, it was possible that defenders would have very little time to get into position to fight them off.
Fury was addressing Banner's questions.
"The agents investigating the incident in New Mexico--" Loki steeled himself not to react guiltily, since of course this particular incident in New Mexico was not of his doing-- "reported they've been unable to locate whatever base the Doombots came from. They keep getting distracted."
"Distracted?" Banner echoed, startled. From the looks on the other faces around the table it was apparent he spoke for almost everyone.
"Yeah," Fury replied. "The Albuquerque office sent a team to search the mountains in the vicinity the bots first appeared. They maintained radio contact with a base team at Dr. Foster's research station, and it seems they kept getting confused, needing to be reminded of their assignment and redirected back toward the area they were supposed to be searching. That sound like magic to you, Loki?"
"Yes," Loki agreed. "A fairly elementary but extremely useful spell. I assume the effects were only felt in particular areas?"
Fury nodded. "Once they figured out what was happening, the team was able to plot the general perimeter of the affected area, by staying in radio contact with the base team so it was clear when they forgot what they were supposed to be doing."
"So the spell was supposed to confuse people?" Barton asked.
"It was most probably intended to make them go away," Loki replied. "Ordinary hikers, for instance, would simply choose a different route and probably never wonder why they had done so. It would be worth trying to find out whether any locals have reason to be in that part of the mountains, though I suspect Doom would have chosen his site very carefully. The only reason your team realized there was anything happening was because they were specifically looking for the Doombot base at the time, and there was someone at a safe distance to notice their behaviour. This sort of redirection spell is a fairly common method of protecting a secret location without revealing the fact there is indeed something being protected."
"That's a lot more subtle than rhinoceroses," Annie noted.
"Well, you must concede that rhinoceroses are far more entertaining," Loki argued, pretending not to notice the expressions on the faces of the Other-Avengers. "Also, of course, the rhinoceroses were intended as a show of power in the first place. I would not have credited Doom with much subtlety, but of course a spell of this nature is an ideal choice.
"And that, of course, means that, if he has been patient and judicious with his magic, he might easily have created many such bases, with waiting Doombots, almost anywhere."
"Great," Tony murmured.
"Can you identify magic like that?" Fury asked. Loki made a helpless palms-up gesture in reply.
"I believe I could, supposing I happened to be in the vicinity. But the intelligence gathered by Agent Romanov suggests several possible locations for such bases-- and it seems most likely there is one in each of those locations. I cannot be in so many places at once, and the practical matter of travel is also difficult."
Once again, Loki felt a stab of guilt that he had never learned to navigate through Yggdrasil by means of Midgardian map coordinates. London he thought he could manage, given his familiarity with England and the chance the realm itself might offer him assistance.
Possibly, of course, the witches would be able to help defend their home. Which reminded him--
"What about Dr. Strange?" he suggested. "Perhaps he could assist?"
"Yeah, I'm sure he could, if we could find him," Fury replied dryly. "Okay. You-- you two-- " he amended, with a glance at Annie-- "can go to London. I'll contact Barton and let him know to expect you. Everyone else will head for New York and Washington. We'll get you connected to our communications network before you go."
"Very well," Loki agreed.
~oOo~
The Old Ones had arrived.
Geoff couldn't deny the announcement gave him a shiver of combined fear, excitement, and a strange little thrill of anticipation: apart from Ivan, he'd never met an Old One, never been in a room with one, and he'd been a vampire for nearly eighty years. It was, he supposed, rather similar to the way he'd been British for close to a hundred years and had never been closer to royalty than being part of the crowds outside Westminster Abbey when George VI was crowned.
He'd tried to tell himself that such things didn't impress him, but of course he was lying: a weakling such as himself could hardly help being impressed by the sheer power wielded by the Old Ones. Which didn't mean he agreed with the uses to which that power was about to be put, or have any illusions about himself as anything except cannon fodder for the more powerful vampires.
That was, in fact, at the root of his support for Ivan: Ivan's lack of interest in conquest had nothing to do with concern for humans, and everything to do with not wanting to expose his community to danger. A quiet life and a long one, Ivan had said. That was all right with Geoff.
As he deleted a text conversation from his mobile, Geoff reflected that Ivan was right. Geoff knew humans. He'd been human, and eighty years as a so-called superior creature wasn't nearly long enough for him to forget what humans were capable of if they believed themselves threatened. Not even the Old Ones, in his opinion, would be enough to turn the tide permanently in the vampires' favour. There were simply too many humans, with too many weapons.
In the meantime, however… the Old Ones were here.
Not all of them, mind. They had better sense than to travel in a group that would put the lot of them in danger if something went wrong. Geoff reckoned that much caution on the Old Ones' part should make the rest of them think twice, but so far it hadn't.
The Old Ones were arriving-- two or three of them were in London already, Wyndham was on his way back to England, and the Bristol vampires were going en masse to meet them. Since he didn't have a car Geoff was traveling by train from Temple Meads to Paddington, and would make his way to the rendezvous by Underground. He wasn't bothered by this, even the necessity of paying for his own ticket, although he did find it just a tiny bit funny that Seth's so-called invincible army had to make its own arrangements for transportation. He was used to sneaking, that was how he'd survived eighty years as a vampire in the first place, but the past few hours had been stressful enough he was grateful not to have to spend another couple in the close quarters of a car with three or four true believers.
The thought was cut short when someone sat down in the seat beside him. He stuffed his mobile back into his pocket, looked up-- and there was Cara. Christ, she was creepy even for the undead.
After one quick flinch, he was back in control of himself-- he even managed to keep himself from reaching into his other pocket to feel for the protective amulet.
"Not traveling with Seth?" he asked, rather nastily, on the principle of getting his knocks in first.
Cara smiled, just as nastily, the expression unsettling on her round, foolish face. Geoff reminded himself that just because Cara wasn't smart didn't mean she wasn't cunning.
"I thought I might keep an eye on you," she replied. "You were never one of Herrick's chosen ones--"
Neither were you, Geoff restrained himself from saying.
"-- and I don't think you can be trusted."
And just like that, the scales tipped back in Geoff's favour. He smiled at her, pitying instead of defensive.
"Cara, if you've been a vampire this long and you haven't learned you can't trust anyone, you probably won't last very much longer no matter what I do." Deliberately, he turned his shoulder to her and looked out the window at the darkness passing by.
~oOo~
"What is it?" Daisy asked. Ivan silently handed over his mobile, and Daisy read the message from Geoff. When she looked up her eyes were anxious. "You're not going after them?"
Ivan sighed. "Of course I am."
"This leadership business-- " Daisy began, bitterly.
"Yes," Ivan cut her off sharply, which was so unusual for him that Daisy fell silent. Ivan gestured in frustration. "Obviously I'd rather not take any serious risks myself, but-- the whole point of my taking charge was to make sure nothing like this happened. Those fools are going to get the lot of us killed unless somebody does something-- and right now, somebody means me." He glanced over at the witches. "I don't suppose that concerns you overmuch? What happens to the vampires?"
"Not much," Catherine agreed. "But the humans who are going to be hurt in the fallout? They concern us."
Ivan smiled crookedly. "Not quite 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend,' but close enough?" he suggested.
"Something like that," Catherine agreed, and looked at Agnes. "Shall we go?"
~oOo~
Loki forced himself to finish his meal, despite the fact it now tasted to him like paste. Coulson and the women, even the chatterbox Darcy, had more or less fallen silent in response to his mood.
This could be your second chance.
Agent Coulson did not mean that an act of heroism now would negate his prior actions, even if Loki was capable of such a thing. But Coulson-- and Jane Foster, and Pepper Potts-- seemed to think that simply changing his ways would be a beginning. Loki had his doubts about that… but if they were to be trusted (and they were, certainly more than he) then the other Loki had also begun by changing his ways.
It was not that he wished for the life of the other Loki-- he had little desire to be tame-- but it could not be denied that the other Loki seemed at least to live in a manner of his own choosing, in a way that suited him. That much, he thought, would be welcome. That much, he would wish for.
Pushing his nearly-empty plate aside, Loki looked up and addressed Agent Coulson:
"You should join the others. They will want your assistance with this matter."
Coulson turned a level look upon him, one that Loki sustained only with an effort.
"And what will you do, if I go join the others?" the agent asked.
"I will accompany you," Loki replied, trying very hard to make it a statement, not a request.
Coulson smiled faintly. "Sure you want to do that?"
"Yes," Loki insisted, but one did not have to know his reputation to realize he was lying. Of course he did not want to do it, but he owed a debt to Annie and her friends, one that could be partially paid by action now.
Besides, he had a score to settle with Doom-- and a bellyful of being a helpless pawn in the hands of another. Most of those who had treated him thus were out of his reach (or were valued allies) but Doom was not, and Doom would pay for all of them.
Jane Foster was looking at him most earnestly, and if her large brown eyes were not as dark as Annie's, well, they were nearly as kind.
"Our Avengers will look out for you," she assured him. Loki was unfamiliar with the idiom, but he was able to work out its meaning. Smiling rather anxiously, she went on, "You don't need to be nervous of our Thor."
"So everyone continually tells me," Loki replied drily, but managed to smile at her. "I-- thank you. Your concern is appreciated." He turned back to Agent Coulson. "Shall we go?"
~oOo~
It seemed like the door had just closed behind Annie and Loki when Coulson came in, bringing Loki back again. And then, of course, Tony recognized his mistake: it was the other Loki, sticking close to Coulson but doing his best to maintain his cool, distant expression. Strangely, it made him look younger. It made him look like their Loki, at least a little bit.
Tony was perfectly aware that Loki-- their Loki-- was more than nine hundred years old and it was silly to relate to him as though he was the whole team's baby brother… but nobody ever said Tony, or any other human, made sense. And despite the possibility this Loki wouldn't exactly welcome overtures from him or any other Avenger, Tony found himself raising a hand in automatic welcome. Beside him, Steve did the same thing.
And maybe it was just his imagination, but Loki's expression-- or rather, his face behind his expression-- seemed to ease ever so slightly as he nodded back.
Coulson, in a gesture that wasn't nearly as casual as it looked, directed Loki toward an empty chair, one that coincidentally happened to be nearest the door, with a direct line of escape if necessary. Tony, who after Afghanistan had spent most of the next two years obsessively checking his own position in relation to exits, at least when he wasn't in the suit, mentally saluted Coulson.
And then, in the interests of everyone else's safety, he glanced around to see how the two Thors were taking this. The real Thor, predictably, looked concerned, while Othor looked-- well, he kind of looked like he needed more fibre in his diet, to be honest. Which didn't necessarily mean anything, since as far as Tony could tell that was his normal expression, or at least he hadn't seen much of an emotional range from the guy so far. New-Loki didn't look toward his brother, but it was easy to tell he was alert for aggression from that direction.
Tony had no idea how Othor felt about this state of affairs, but he personally thought it was sad as hell.
Coulson calmly appropriated a chair and placed it next to New-Loki, positioning himself as if to cover Loki's escape if he made for the door. Then he looked around.
"Where are Annie and Loki?" he asked.
Strictly speaking, that was a question for Fury, but Natasha leaned an elbow on the conference table and spoke up:
"They're with the communications department, getting wired up so they can stay in touch while they're helping out against the vampires in London." Unexpectedly, New-Loki suddenly looked alert, fidgeted as if he'd suddenly had a thought. Natasha turned toward him. "Anything you want to add, Loki?"
It was pretty clear he didn't actually want to speak up, but Loki did anyway. Tony was reminded of the way he'd behaved back at the house, when he had the vision of Doombots and immediately came to tell the Avengers about it: there was a weird sense of obligation here, apart from the understandable self-interest.
At the same time, though, he was reluctant about something. Maybe it was just speaking up in front of the Extravengers-- especially his brother. Whatever it was, New-Loki cut a glance at Coulson, and then Steve leaned forward.
"What is it?" he asked, with that little frown of concentration that luckily could never be mistaken for anything but concern. Back at the house, Tony had the feeling New-Loki was starting to respond to Natasha and Steve, and maybe the fact they'd helped rescue him had also made an impact. Whatever the reason, Loki squared his shoulders nervously and said,
"They have powers. The vampires. To, to affect the will of-- " He was suddenly having trouble getting his words out, and seemed to be making a point not to look at the Extravengers. It was understandable that he wouldn't want to talk about what had been done to him, but there seemed to be something else there as well.
Tony was just remembering that New-Loki had apparently done some mind-controlling of his own when Steve said calmly,
"Yes, Mitchell showed us. We know that vampires can influence the minds of humans."
"Do you mean they can affect you?" Natasha cut in. New-Loki nodded once. "Okay. Mitchell did say that might be possible, that a really powerful vampire might be able to affect the other Loki, in spite of his magic. We know that Edgar Wyndham, the vampire working with Doom, is one of those especially powerful vampires. It does make sense, all things considered, that he'd have an effect on you. The other Loki knows about the danger, so he'll be careful."
"All things considered," Banner repeated, looking interested. "You mean with his powers weakened?"
It was apparent from his face how much he enjoyed being talked about as if he wasn't there-- or reminded of his current weakness-- but Loki kept quiet while Natasha answered. Just based on Othor's behaviour so far, Tony thought Loki might be used to this kind of thing. Natasha's tone was matter-of-fact but there was a hint of apology in the look she gave him before she answered:
"And considering he'd already been… influenced… by someone else, earlier. Remember Mitchell telling us that it's progressively easier to control someone who's been under control before? I know the powers involved are different, but it probably helped Wyndham get a foothold. And neither of those factors apply to the other Loki."
Which made sense, and should have been the end of it. But of course it wasn't, because Othor-- who had, come to think of it, been ominously silent all this time-- suddenly spoke up:
"It should not have applied to this one, either."
Of all the things Tony could find to object to about that speech-- beginning with its timing-- what bothered him most, he realized, was the way Othor continued to talk around his brother as if he wasn't there. New-Loki didn't look surprised, but anger was visible, simmering behind his controlled expression.
Tony glanced at Fury, but before the director-- either version-- could say anything, Steve spoke up:
"I'm sure he'd prefer that, too." Tony was startled by the snap in his voice-- when Thor wasn't around Steve was generally the biggest, strongest guy in the room, and also the one who got randomly approached by star-struck little kids. As a result, he'd had a lot of practice controlling himself so as not to accidentally intimidate anyone. If anything, in Tony's opinion, Steve was sometimes a little bit too reasonable.
As a result he'd almost forgotten his dad's stories about Steve in the old days, when Howard (after a few drinks) would talk about Captain America and Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos during the war. Tony, always small for his age himself, especially loved when Howard told him (well, talked in his presence, although sometimes he could persuade his father to actually tell him a story) about Steve before the Super Soldier Serum, when he'd been an undersized, sickly, kid from Brooklyn who lost every fight against bullies but never stopped going after them because he thought it was the right thing to do.
Tony hadn't thought about those stories in a very long time. And he'd almost forgotten that Steve had ever been a scrappy little guy with a short fuse. At this moment, though, facing the only guy in the room (apart from the Hulk) who could probably take him in a fight, you could sort of see the reckless streak.
"I'm sure he'd prefer it," Steve repeated, "but it doesn't sound like he was given much choice."
And, oh shit, Othor pushed back his chair and stood.
"Because he was weak."
Yeah, spoken like a guy who had never been completely helpless with no hope of bargain or escape. Tony had once been tortured by people who wanted him to make them a weapon. He'd made the first suit prototype instead-- but if his captors had figured out what he was doing in time to stop him? If he hadn't had Yinsen's support? If the suit hadn't worked and he'd been recaptured and they'd started again?
Hell yes, Tony would have broken. The only people who believed the righteous never break under torture were people who had never been tortured-- not past endurance, with no chance of relief or rescue.
Fuck Othor and his fucking self-righteousness.
Steve, who had seen some things in those Hydra labs back during the war and who had probably dreamed about them during his seventy years in the ice, sneered. In spite of the fact his life was beginning to flash before his eyes, Tony was impressed.
"Everything is simple to you, isn't it?" Steve demanded.
"This is simple," Othor retorted, as the two Dr. Banners quietly got up and headed for the exit. New-Loki didn't even glance at them, because Othor was finally looking his way, leaning across the table toward him. Voice dripping with contempt, he growled, "You should have died before bringing such disgrace upon Asgard."
That was enough for Real-Thor, who shot to his feet and started forward.
And then stopped in his tracks as New-Loki also stood, also leaned forward across the table, braced on his hands, face contorted.
"Fool and son of a fool," he snarled, almost spitting in fury and frustration, "do you think I did not try that?"
And didn't that change the water on the beans.
~oOo~
You don't need to be nervous of our Thor.
So Jane Foster had said, and Loki had responded with a bitter little half-jest. In truth, he had not needed the reassurance: he knew the Thor of this reality meant him no harm.
The other Thor, however…
Loki did not expect physical violence, not in the presence of all these other Avengers, Thor was at least no longer the berserker who slaughtered hundreds over an insult. But scorn, dismissal? That much was assured, and probably deserved. That did not mean Loki wished to experience it.
He did not wish to experience it, but he thought it could be borne-- at least up to the moment Thor leaned across the table and uttered the final idiocy in a long career of idiotic utterances. You should have died first.
The rage that swept through him was all-encompassing, almost cleansing. Part of it was, of course, the awareness that Thor's words represented both reality (of course it would have been better if he had died rather than become a tool in the hands of those creatures) and Thor's own wishes (how much simpler it would have been, if Loki had never emerged from the void.) Part of it was a far older, familiar anger at the golden prince who stood in the sun and never troubled himself to wonder what happened in his shadow.
And part of his rage was born of the shivering memories he still tried to suppress. When I woke, he had said to Coulson and Natasha Romanov. When I recovered my senses.
As though he had merely been unconscious, had awakened of his own accord, instead of being dragged back--
Thor's face was everything in the universe as he suddenly lunged forward, braced on the table, and the truth finally spilled out.
"Do you think I did not try that?"
All he could see was Thor, who longed for glorious battles and, eventually, glorious death. He would never have imagined such a thing as this, the story that sprayed from Loki's lips like bile:
"The first death felt like a victory: I could not escape, but at least I died like a son of Asgard, without giving in. Imagine my feelings when my eyes opened and I found myself, not in the quiet reaches of Hel, but back in the same reeking chamber where my life had just ended.
"The second time-- "
Across the table Barton, his face pale, cut in:
"You must have been unconscious. You can't have been dead."
Loki turned on him with a snarl. "A thousand years I was this fool's stooge, dealing death with him across the Nine Realms. I know whereof I speak. The second time I died, I nearly escaped. Either they were not quite as quick, or they wanted me to know the despair of almost tasting freedom, before being dragged back to the shattered husk they were not quite finished with.
"The third time… that was when I knew death would not accept me and the last route of escape was closed. After that it was only a matter of time until I weakened enough to be manageable. Useful." He uttered a sharp bark of laughter as a thought struck him. "I had ever been useful, had a purpose, served and followed someone. This vampire was not the first to bend my will to his, nor were the creatures of the void who broke my body and mind and sent me to do their bidding. It was all I had ever known. Of course I gave in. What else would I have done?"
Abruptly, the rage left him, and with it the strength to remain on his feet. Loki dropped back into the chair behind him, with a gesture like pushing everything away.
"You," he addressed Thor, "would of course have endured an eternity of being tortured to death, and revived, and tortured to death once again. Weakling that I am, I lasted a bare few centuries and so earned your contempt. Very well, now I am unworthy to be your lackey I shall have to find my own way. And that way will not encompass lowering myself to do the bidding of anyone-- whether you, your father, or this Doom of Midgard." He cut a sharp glance at Coulson, daring the man to say a word about witches or George, but Coulson was silent. Loki went on, "And if there is anything I can do anything to thwart Doom's plans, then I assure you I will willingly do it."
No one spoke for the space of a long moment. Finally, Fury shrugged.
"Glad we've got that cleared up. Welcome aboard, Loki."
Warnings: Keep in mind that all Lokis are biased observers. That's not to say they're necessarily always wrong, just… there is always the possibility their assumptions about people and situations are prejudiced, and readers are welcome to agree or disagree with them. (I know that readers already do so-- I just want to be clear that, yeah, I know readers are making their own judgements.)
Chapter Fifty-Five
Loki considered knocking on the door of the conference room before he entered, but decided against it. Instead he simply pushed it open and walked in ahead of Annie. His shoulders and neck felt tight and he carried his head high, very much aware of the spectacle he had made of himself the last time he had been in this room and wrestling with fight-or-flight impulses that, at the moment, all seemed to lean firmly toward the latter option.
"Hey, Loki," Nick Fury said casually. "Take a seat." The director gestured, and Loki glanced in the direction indicated, then gratefully walked around the conference table to sit beside his brother. Natasha got up and changed seats so that Annie could have the one next to Loki, and both Steve and Tony smiled a welcome at them.
"Welcome back," Tony said, and then returned his attention to the briefing.
"You're all recovered?" Fury asked.
"I am," Loki replied firmly.
"And the other one?" Fury went on.
"He is resting," Loki replied. He hesitated for a moment, exchanged a quick look with Annie, and went on, "He has… he has expressed an interest in assisting your-- our-- efforts against Doom."
"I'll take that under advisement," Fury said with a nod, his tone unreadable. Loki did not press him, nor did he look at the other Fury.
Across the table, Stark made an incredulous noise. "What?" Fury said sharply, the sound of a man who has entirely exhausted his store of patience. Stark raised his hands, half in self-defence and half in a sort of apology.
"Sorry. Really, I'm sorry, that just sort of slipped out. I… you guys keep saying he was controlled by someone else, and I guess you trust your information, it's just… if you'd seen him ranting about how freedom is a lie and it's simpler for us to just be ruled-- I mean, he made quite an impression. He definitely, definitely looked like a guy who wanted to run all of us little ants as his own private ant farm. You weren't there, but I was, and it's still hard for me to get past the whole Asgardian Mussolini routine, honestly. What?"
Loki became aware the last remark was aimed at him, and also that his mouth had dropped open.
"I beg your pardon," he said hastily, gathering his wits. The sense of wrongness persisted, and he leaned forward a little to address Stark. "If I understand you aright, and please do feel free to correct me since I have after all only heard the story in bits and pieces-- " Stark and Rogers both flinched a little, and Loki, vicious creature that he was, permitted himself to feel a little unworthy satisfaction at the sight, which at least smothered the rush of anxiety he felt whenever he tried to remember his time in the other reality-- "the other Loki arrived on Midgard intent upon conquest, on enslaving humanity and compelling all of you to live tightly circumscribed lives under his direction, without free will or the ability to make choices and decisions for yourselves?"
"Yes," said the second Nick Fury, the expression on his face confirming for certain that he was the Fury who had first-hand experience of what the other Loki had done.
"It is therefore understandable that you would have doubts. But-- Loki is a character in human mythology, yes?"
"Yes," Stark agreed, looking suspicious.
"Yes," Romanov chimed in. Her cool expression did not change, but Loki was extremely sensitive to mood, and he received the impression she was, in some subtle way, on his side. The awareness was somehow steadying, even with his own friends present in the room-- these other Avengers were not so different, not completely alien, after all.
"Well, what is known of this character?" Without waiting for an answer-- though he could of course have gained valuable teaching experience had he worked to guide the false (not false, different) Avengers around to his own conclusions-- Loki went on, "He is known as the god of mischief, yes? An agent of chaos and discord-- one who, by challenging the gods of the Norse people, helps in their mythology to bring about necessary change, even the destruction of the old world to make way for the new?" He looked directly at Romanov, and then at Banner, as he spoke-- something told him those were the two most likely to have read the relevant myths.
"Yes, that's about it," Banner agreed, and fortunately looked interested rather than annoyed.
"Well, then, what about all this suggests a being who would care to make the trains run on time?" Loki demanded, enjoying the flicker of surprise on Banner's face as he recited the classic description of the Fascist leader's accomplishments. Of course he knew of Mussolini, did he not live in Britain?
Before he could become annoyed-- again-- at these Avengers, he went on,
"Surely one of you must have thought, hmm, what strange priorities for the god of chaos. Having once gone mad myself I can assure you that I was more than capable of destruction and devastation, but it certainly would never have occurred to me to try and organize people's lives for them. That alone should have suggested there was something peculiar going on. It would have made far more sense for such a creature to assert that freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."
By this time, of course, the other Avengers really should not have looked so dumbfounded at evidence of Loki's acculturation to Midgard, but everyone except Rogers-- who certainly had no idea that it was a quotation-- did. Really, Loki thought in irritation, the bard who had written that song was called Kris Son of Kristoffer. If Loki was to know any of the singers of this realm, this would indeed be the one.
Barton's face annoyed him most of all, since of course it was Barton, along with Mitchell, who had introduced him to Kris Kristoffer's Son in the first place.
Stark, rallying slightly, pointed out, "But we didn't actually know the other Loki, now did we?"
"You did not," Loki agreed, turning a hard glance on the Thor who was not his brother. The other Thor looked away first. Loki returned his attention to Stark and went on, "You may perhaps find it understandable that he is willing to assist you in thwarting the schemes of Dr. Doom, given the way Doom sought to make use of him." This time he did not look at the other Thor as he said, "Considering how being under the control of others has apparently worked out for him so far, that is hardly something he would be apt to take lightly."
"Okay," Stark muttered, finally looking abashed. Deciding he had made the point about as clearly as he needed to, Loki let the matter drop. He folded his hands on the tabletop before him and looked at Director Fury with the expression of an interested pupil preparing to receive instruction.
Or with the expression of some infant miscreant hoping to deceive the teacher as to his mischievous intent, but there was no need to go into that right now.
And the moment he focused properly on the monitor at the front of the room, Loki found his attention entirely captured.
"Where did these images come from?" he asked. Demanded, really-- absently, Loki was aware of a metallic edge to his voice as it dropped to the bottom of its register.
"Agent Romanov photographed them, while you were distracting Doom and the vampire," Fury replied. He did not sound at all intimidated, but gestured toward the agent in charge of the computer, who obligingly cycled through the images for Loki's benefit, pausing for a longer time on those depicting British institutions. Loki was too old a hand at manipulation himself to be unaware what the agent was up to, but that was of little consequence-- he hardly needed to be manipulated into defending his own home.
Pushing back his chair, Loki rose and stalked toward the large monitor. His heart was pounding so hard he was nearly deafened by the sound of his own blood in his ears, but he did not think anyone spoke as he studied the plans of the Palace of Westminster. When he turned back, he was aware of Fury's air of expectation.
Loki was a creature born to confound and disappoint those around him, but this time he looked directly at Fury and announced, "I will go to London, and there assist Clint and my friends to defeat the vampires."
"What, all by yourself?" Stark blurted.
Loki smiled-- and he thought it probably was a most unpleasant smile-- but Fury was characteristically unmoved. And then, because he knew the other Avengers probably still instinctively assumed the worst of him, he deliberately gentled his smile and quoted,
"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." He turned back to Director Fury. "My particular strengths-- magic and sneakiness-- make me an ideal choice to oppose the vampires. I am confident we will be able to think of something-- and there may be powers in the city of London which can assist me. In the meantime, I assume your agency is also arranging to defend against further Doombot attacks in your own country?"
Fury nodded, and Bruce, who had been looking thoughtful this whole time, asked,
"Does anyone know how he got the Doombots into the US in the first place? Or how many other bases he might have scattered around?"
That, Loki acknowledged, was an extremely good question. When the Dire Wraiths attacked Midgard last summer they had rained down terror and destruction from above. The method had indeed struck fear into the innocent human populace, but had also meant the defenders could see the attacks coming and defend against them. This business of Doombots appearing from the mountains so near their target was cause for concern: if Doom had other strategically-located secret bases from which his mechanical servants might stage their attacks, it was possible that defenders would have very little time to get into position to fight them off.
Fury was addressing Banner's questions.
"The agents investigating the incident in New Mexico--" Loki steeled himself not to react guiltily, since of course this particular incident in New Mexico was not of his doing-- "reported they've been unable to locate whatever base the Doombots came from. They keep getting distracted."
"Distracted?" Banner echoed, startled. From the looks on the other faces around the table it was apparent he spoke for almost everyone.
"Yeah," Fury replied. "The Albuquerque office sent a team to search the mountains in the vicinity the bots first appeared. They maintained radio contact with a base team at Dr. Foster's research station, and it seems they kept getting confused, needing to be reminded of their assignment and redirected back toward the area they were supposed to be searching. That sound like magic to you, Loki?"
"Yes," Loki agreed. "A fairly elementary but extremely useful spell. I assume the effects were only felt in particular areas?"
Fury nodded. "Once they figured out what was happening, the team was able to plot the general perimeter of the affected area, by staying in radio contact with the base team so it was clear when they forgot what they were supposed to be doing."
"So the spell was supposed to confuse people?" Barton asked.
"It was most probably intended to make them go away," Loki replied. "Ordinary hikers, for instance, would simply choose a different route and probably never wonder why they had done so. It would be worth trying to find out whether any locals have reason to be in that part of the mountains, though I suspect Doom would have chosen his site very carefully. The only reason your team realized there was anything happening was because they were specifically looking for the Doombot base at the time, and there was someone at a safe distance to notice their behaviour. This sort of redirection spell is a fairly common method of protecting a secret location without revealing the fact there is indeed something being protected."
"That's a lot more subtle than rhinoceroses," Annie noted.
"Well, you must concede that rhinoceroses are far more entertaining," Loki argued, pretending not to notice the expressions on the faces of the Other-Avengers. "Also, of course, the rhinoceroses were intended as a show of power in the first place. I would not have credited Doom with much subtlety, but of course a spell of this nature is an ideal choice.
"And that, of course, means that, if he has been patient and judicious with his magic, he might easily have created many such bases, with waiting Doombots, almost anywhere."
"Great," Tony murmured.
"Can you identify magic like that?" Fury asked. Loki made a helpless palms-up gesture in reply.
"I believe I could, supposing I happened to be in the vicinity. But the intelligence gathered by Agent Romanov suggests several possible locations for such bases-- and it seems most likely there is one in each of those locations. I cannot be in so many places at once, and the practical matter of travel is also difficult."
Once again, Loki felt a stab of guilt that he had never learned to navigate through Yggdrasil by means of Midgardian map coordinates. London he thought he could manage, given his familiarity with England and the chance the realm itself might offer him assistance.
Possibly, of course, the witches would be able to help defend their home. Which reminded him--
"What about Dr. Strange?" he suggested. "Perhaps he could assist?"
"Yeah, I'm sure he could, if we could find him," Fury replied dryly. "Okay. You-- you two-- " he amended, with a glance at Annie-- "can go to London. I'll contact Barton and let him know to expect you. Everyone else will head for New York and Washington. We'll get you connected to our communications network before you go."
"Very well," Loki agreed.
~oOo~
The Old Ones had arrived.
Geoff couldn't deny the announcement gave him a shiver of combined fear, excitement, and a strange little thrill of anticipation: apart from Ivan, he'd never met an Old One, never been in a room with one, and he'd been a vampire for nearly eighty years. It was, he supposed, rather similar to the way he'd been British for close to a hundred years and had never been closer to royalty than being part of the crowds outside Westminster Abbey when George VI was crowned.
He'd tried to tell himself that such things didn't impress him, but of course he was lying: a weakling such as himself could hardly help being impressed by the sheer power wielded by the Old Ones. Which didn't mean he agreed with the uses to which that power was about to be put, or have any illusions about himself as anything except cannon fodder for the more powerful vampires.
That was, in fact, at the root of his support for Ivan: Ivan's lack of interest in conquest had nothing to do with concern for humans, and everything to do with not wanting to expose his community to danger. A quiet life and a long one, Ivan had said. That was all right with Geoff.
As he deleted a text conversation from his mobile, Geoff reflected that Ivan was right. Geoff knew humans. He'd been human, and eighty years as a so-called superior creature wasn't nearly long enough for him to forget what humans were capable of if they believed themselves threatened. Not even the Old Ones, in his opinion, would be enough to turn the tide permanently in the vampires' favour. There were simply too many humans, with too many weapons.
In the meantime, however… the Old Ones were here.
Not all of them, mind. They had better sense than to travel in a group that would put the lot of them in danger if something went wrong. Geoff reckoned that much caution on the Old Ones' part should make the rest of them think twice, but so far it hadn't.
The Old Ones were arriving-- two or three of them were in London already, Wyndham was on his way back to England, and the Bristol vampires were going en masse to meet them. Since he didn't have a car Geoff was traveling by train from Temple Meads to Paddington, and would make his way to the rendezvous by Underground. He wasn't bothered by this, even the necessity of paying for his own ticket, although he did find it just a tiny bit funny that Seth's so-called invincible army had to make its own arrangements for transportation. He was used to sneaking, that was how he'd survived eighty years as a vampire in the first place, but the past few hours had been stressful enough he was grateful not to have to spend another couple in the close quarters of a car with three or four true believers.
The thought was cut short when someone sat down in the seat beside him. He stuffed his mobile back into his pocket, looked up-- and there was Cara. Christ, she was creepy even for the undead.
After one quick flinch, he was back in control of himself-- he even managed to keep himself from reaching into his other pocket to feel for the protective amulet.
"Not traveling with Seth?" he asked, rather nastily, on the principle of getting his knocks in first.
Cara smiled, just as nastily, the expression unsettling on her round, foolish face. Geoff reminded himself that just because Cara wasn't smart didn't mean she wasn't cunning.
"I thought I might keep an eye on you," she replied. "You were never one of Herrick's chosen ones--"
Neither were you, Geoff restrained himself from saying.
"-- and I don't think you can be trusted."
And just like that, the scales tipped back in Geoff's favour. He smiled at her, pitying instead of defensive.
"Cara, if you've been a vampire this long and you haven't learned you can't trust anyone, you probably won't last very much longer no matter what I do." Deliberately, he turned his shoulder to her and looked out the window at the darkness passing by.
~oOo~
"What is it?" Daisy asked. Ivan silently handed over his mobile, and Daisy read the message from Geoff. When she looked up her eyes were anxious. "You're not going after them?"
Ivan sighed. "Of course I am."
"This leadership business-- " Daisy began, bitterly.
"Yes," Ivan cut her off sharply, which was so unusual for him that Daisy fell silent. Ivan gestured in frustration. "Obviously I'd rather not take any serious risks myself, but-- the whole point of my taking charge was to make sure nothing like this happened. Those fools are going to get the lot of us killed unless somebody does something-- and right now, somebody means me." He glanced over at the witches. "I don't suppose that concerns you overmuch? What happens to the vampires?"
"Not much," Catherine agreed. "But the humans who are going to be hurt in the fallout? They concern us."
Ivan smiled crookedly. "Not quite 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend,' but close enough?" he suggested.
"Something like that," Catherine agreed, and looked at Agnes. "Shall we go?"
~oOo~
Loki forced himself to finish his meal, despite the fact it now tasted to him like paste. Coulson and the women, even the chatterbox Darcy, had more or less fallen silent in response to his mood.
This could be your second chance.
Agent Coulson did not mean that an act of heroism now would negate his prior actions, even if Loki was capable of such a thing. But Coulson-- and Jane Foster, and Pepper Potts-- seemed to think that simply changing his ways would be a beginning. Loki had his doubts about that… but if they were to be trusted (and they were, certainly more than he) then the other Loki had also begun by changing his ways.
It was not that he wished for the life of the other Loki-- he had little desire to be tame-- but it could not be denied that the other Loki seemed at least to live in a manner of his own choosing, in a way that suited him. That much, he thought, would be welcome. That much, he would wish for.
Pushing his nearly-empty plate aside, Loki looked up and addressed Agent Coulson:
"You should join the others. They will want your assistance with this matter."
Coulson turned a level look upon him, one that Loki sustained only with an effort.
"And what will you do, if I go join the others?" the agent asked.
"I will accompany you," Loki replied, trying very hard to make it a statement, not a request.
Coulson smiled faintly. "Sure you want to do that?"
"Yes," Loki insisted, but one did not have to know his reputation to realize he was lying. Of course he did not want to do it, but he owed a debt to Annie and her friends, one that could be partially paid by action now.
Besides, he had a score to settle with Doom-- and a bellyful of being a helpless pawn in the hands of another. Most of those who had treated him thus were out of his reach (or were valued allies) but Doom was not, and Doom would pay for all of them.
Jane Foster was looking at him most earnestly, and if her large brown eyes were not as dark as Annie's, well, they were nearly as kind.
"Our Avengers will look out for you," she assured him. Loki was unfamiliar with the idiom, but he was able to work out its meaning. Smiling rather anxiously, she went on, "You don't need to be nervous of our Thor."
"So everyone continually tells me," Loki replied drily, but managed to smile at her. "I-- thank you. Your concern is appreciated." He turned back to Agent Coulson. "Shall we go?"
~oOo~
It seemed like the door had just closed behind Annie and Loki when Coulson came in, bringing Loki back again. And then, of course, Tony recognized his mistake: it was the other Loki, sticking close to Coulson but doing his best to maintain his cool, distant expression. Strangely, it made him look younger. It made him look like their Loki, at least a little bit.
Tony was perfectly aware that Loki-- their Loki-- was more than nine hundred years old and it was silly to relate to him as though he was the whole team's baby brother… but nobody ever said Tony, or any other human, made sense. And despite the possibility this Loki wouldn't exactly welcome overtures from him or any other Avenger, Tony found himself raising a hand in automatic welcome. Beside him, Steve did the same thing.
And maybe it was just his imagination, but Loki's expression-- or rather, his face behind his expression-- seemed to ease ever so slightly as he nodded back.
Coulson, in a gesture that wasn't nearly as casual as it looked, directed Loki toward an empty chair, one that coincidentally happened to be nearest the door, with a direct line of escape if necessary. Tony, who after Afghanistan had spent most of the next two years obsessively checking his own position in relation to exits, at least when he wasn't in the suit, mentally saluted Coulson.
And then, in the interests of everyone else's safety, he glanced around to see how the two Thors were taking this. The real Thor, predictably, looked concerned, while Othor looked-- well, he kind of looked like he needed more fibre in his diet, to be honest. Which didn't necessarily mean anything, since as far as Tony could tell that was his normal expression, or at least he hadn't seen much of an emotional range from the guy so far. New-Loki didn't look toward his brother, but it was easy to tell he was alert for aggression from that direction.
Tony had no idea how Othor felt about this state of affairs, but he personally thought it was sad as hell.
Coulson calmly appropriated a chair and placed it next to New-Loki, positioning himself as if to cover Loki's escape if he made for the door. Then he looked around.
"Where are Annie and Loki?" he asked.
Strictly speaking, that was a question for Fury, but Natasha leaned an elbow on the conference table and spoke up:
"They're with the communications department, getting wired up so they can stay in touch while they're helping out against the vampires in London." Unexpectedly, New-Loki suddenly looked alert, fidgeted as if he'd suddenly had a thought. Natasha turned toward him. "Anything you want to add, Loki?"
It was pretty clear he didn't actually want to speak up, but Loki did anyway. Tony was reminded of the way he'd behaved back at the house, when he had the vision of Doombots and immediately came to tell the Avengers about it: there was a weird sense of obligation here, apart from the understandable self-interest.
At the same time, though, he was reluctant about something. Maybe it was just speaking up in front of the Extravengers-- especially his brother. Whatever it was, New-Loki cut a glance at Coulson, and then Steve leaned forward.
"What is it?" he asked, with that little frown of concentration that luckily could never be mistaken for anything but concern. Back at the house, Tony had the feeling New-Loki was starting to respond to Natasha and Steve, and maybe the fact they'd helped rescue him had also made an impact. Whatever the reason, Loki squared his shoulders nervously and said,
"They have powers. The vampires. To, to affect the will of-- " He was suddenly having trouble getting his words out, and seemed to be making a point not to look at the Extravengers. It was understandable that he wouldn't want to talk about what had been done to him, but there seemed to be something else there as well.
Tony was just remembering that New-Loki had apparently done some mind-controlling of his own when Steve said calmly,
"Yes, Mitchell showed us. We know that vampires can influence the minds of humans."
"Do you mean they can affect you?" Natasha cut in. New-Loki nodded once. "Okay. Mitchell did say that might be possible, that a really powerful vampire might be able to affect the other Loki, in spite of his magic. We know that Edgar Wyndham, the vampire working with Doom, is one of those especially powerful vampires. It does make sense, all things considered, that he'd have an effect on you. The other Loki knows about the danger, so he'll be careful."
"All things considered," Banner repeated, looking interested. "You mean with his powers weakened?"
It was apparent from his face how much he enjoyed being talked about as if he wasn't there-- or reminded of his current weakness-- but Loki kept quiet while Natasha answered. Just based on Othor's behaviour so far, Tony thought Loki might be used to this kind of thing. Natasha's tone was matter-of-fact but there was a hint of apology in the look she gave him before she answered:
"And considering he'd already been… influenced… by someone else, earlier. Remember Mitchell telling us that it's progressively easier to control someone who's been under control before? I know the powers involved are different, but it probably helped Wyndham get a foothold. And neither of those factors apply to the other Loki."
Which made sense, and should have been the end of it. But of course it wasn't, because Othor-- who had, come to think of it, been ominously silent all this time-- suddenly spoke up:
"It should not have applied to this one, either."
Of all the things Tony could find to object to about that speech-- beginning with its timing-- what bothered him most, he realized, was the way Othor continued to talk around his brother as if he wasn't there. New-Loki didn't look surprised, but anger was visible, simmering behind his controlled expression.
Tony glanced at Fury, but before the director-- either version-- could say anything, Steve spoke up:
"I'm sure he'd prefer that, too." Tony was startled by the snap in his voice-- when Thor wasn't around Steve was generally the biggest, strongest guy in the room, and also the one who got randomly approached by star-struck little kids. As a result, he'd had a lot of practice controlling himself so as not to accidentally intimidate anyone. If anything, in Tony's opinion, Steve was sometimes a little bit too reasonable.
As a result he'd almost forgotten his dad's stories about Steve in the old days, when Howard (after a few drinks) would talk about Captain America and Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos during the war. Tony, always small for his age himself, especially loved when Howard told him (well, talked in his presence, although sometimes he could persuade his father to actually tell him a story) about Steve before the Super Soldier Serum, when he'd been an undersized, sickly, kid from Brooklyn who lost every fight against bullies but never stopped going after them because he thought it was the right thing to do.
Tony hadn't thought about those stories in a very long time. And he'd almost forgotten that Steve had ever been a scrappy little guy with a short fuse. At this moment, though, facing the only guy in the room (apart from the Hulk) who could probably take him in a fight, you could sort of see the reckless streak.
"I'm sure he'd prefer it," Steve repeated, "but it doesn't sound like he was given much choice."
And, oh shit, Othor pushed back his chair and stood.
"Because he was weak."
Yeah, spoken like a guy who had never been completely helpless with no hope of bargain or escape. Tony had once been tortured by people who wanted him to make them a weapon. He'd made the first suit prototype instead-- but if his captors had figured out what he was doing in time to stop him? If he hadn't had Yinsen's support? If the suit hadn't worked and he'd been recaptured and they'd started again?
Hell yes, Tony would have broken. The only people who believed the righteous never break under torture were people who had never been tortured-- not past endurance, with no chance of relief or rescue.
Fuck Othor and his fucking self-righteousness.
Steve, who had seen some things in those Hydra labs back during the war and who had probably dreamed about them during his seventy years in the ice, sneered. In spite of the fact his life was beginning to flash before his eyes, Tony was impressed.
"Everything is simple to you, isn't it?" Steve demanded.
"This is simple," Othor retorted, as the two Dr. Banners quietly got up and headed for the exit. New-Loki didn't even glance at them, because Othor was finally looking his way, leaning across the table toward him. Voice dripping with contempt, he growled, "You should have died before bringing such disgrace upon Asgard."
That was enough for Real-Thor, who shot to his feet and started forward.
And then stopped in his tracks as New-Loki also stood, also leaned forward across the table, braced on his hands, face contorted.
"Fool and son of a fool," he snarled, almost spitting in fury and frustration, "do you think I did not try that?"
And didn't that change the water on the beans.
~oOo~
You don't need to be nervous of our Thor.
So Jane Foster had said, and Loki had responded with a bitter little half-jest. In truth, he had not needed the reassurance: he knew the Thor of this reality meant him no harm.
The other Thor, however…
Loki did not expect physical violence, not in the presence of all these other Avengers, Thor was at least no longer the berserker who slaughtered hundreds over an insult. But scorn, dismissal? That much was assured, and probably deserved. That did not mean Loki wished to experience it.
He did not wish to experience it, but he thought it could be borne-- at least up to the moment Thor leaned across the table and uttered the final idiocy in a long career of idiotic utterances. You should have died first.
The rage that swept through him was all-encompassing, almost cleansing. Part of it was, of course, the awareness that Thor's words represented both reality (of course it would have been better if he had died rather than become a tool in the hands of those creatures) and Thor's own wishes (how much simpler it would have been, if Loki had never emerged from the void.) Part of it was a far older, familiar anger at the golden prince who stood in the sun and never troubled himself to wonder what happened in his shadow.
And part of his rage was born of the shivering memories he still tried to suppress. When I woke, he had said to Coulson and Natasha Romanov. When I recovered my senses.
As though he had merely been unconscious, had awakened of his own accord, instead of being dragged back--
Thor's face was everything in the universe as he suddenly lunged forward, braced on the table, and the truth finally spilled out.
"Do you think I did not try that?"
All he could see was Thor, who longed for glorious battles and, eventually, glorious death. He would never have imagined such a thing as this, the story that sprayed from Loki's lips like bile:
"The first death felt like a victory: I could not escape, but at least I died like a son of Asgard, without giving in. Imagine my feelings when my eyes opened and I found myself, not in the quiet reaches of Hel, but back in the same reeking chamber where my life had just ended.
"The second time-- "
Across the table Barton, his face pale, cut in:
"You must have been unconscious. You can't have been dead."
Loki turned on him with a snarl. "A thousand years I was this fool's stooge, dealing death with him across the Nine Realms. I know whereof I speak. The second time I died, I nearly escaped. Either they were not quite as quick, or they wanted me to know the despair of almost tasting freedom, before being dragged back to the shattered husk they were not quite finished with.
"The third time… that was when I knew death would not accept me and the last route of escape was closed. After that it was only a matter of time until I weakened enough to be manageable. Useful." He uttered a sharp bark of laughter as a thought struck him. "I had ever been useful, had a purpose, served and followed someone. This vampire was not the first to bend my will to his, nor were the creatures of the void who broke my body and mind and sent me to do their bidding. It was all I had ever known. Of course I gave in. What else would I have done?"
Abruptly, the rage left him, and with it the strength to remain on his feet. Loki dropped back into the chair behind him, with a gesture like pushing everything away.
"You," he addressed Thor, "would of course have endured an eternity of being tortured to death, and revived, and tortured to death once again. Weakling that I am, I lasted a bare few centuries and so earned your contempt. Very well, now I am unworthy to be your lackey I shall have to find my own way. And that way will not encompass lowering myself to do the bidding of anyone-- whether you, your father, or this Doom of Midgard." He cut a sharp glance at Coulson, daring the man to say a word about witches or George, but Coulson was silent. Loki went on, "And if there is anything I can do anything to thwart Doom's plans, then I assure you I will willingly do it."
No one spoke for the space of a long moment. Finally, Fury shrugged.
"Glad we've got that cleared up. Welcome aboard, Loki."