Help, I'm steppin' into the Twilight Zone.
Who: Dr. Bruce Banner & Loki Laufeyson
Where: Stark Tower
When: A few nights after the meeting....
What: In which Loki gives Freddie Kruger a run for his money....
( ...when the bullet hits the bone )
Where: Stark Tower
When: A few nights after the meeting....
What: In which Loki gives Freddie Kruger a run for his money....
( ...when the bullet hits the bone )
He had awoken earlier, ill-rested and bleary eyed, his sheets a rumpled mess around him.
"What time is it, JARVIS?" he muttered.
"Two a.m., Dr. Banner," the disembodied voice replied.
Bruce groaned, knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to get back to sleep now. He dragged himself out of bed, not bothering to change out of his green pajama pants (yet another green gift from Tony) and white t-shirt, grabbed a science journal from random off the nearby shelf. He shuffled off out of his room and towards the kitchen, regretting that it was not closer.
As he yawned and leafed through his magazine, he half-thought about the past team meeting. He worried that the meeting, being one of his first times spent with the team since moving in, had not gone as well as it should have. Now Clint was gone, without anybody knowing whether he would return, and the team dynamic had grown noticeably strained. Bruce couldn't help but wonder how much of that was his fault. His reactions could have been better, he admitted to himself, and he now worried that he had made the wrong first impression. Despite his penchant for solitude and predictability, he did really want to fit in to the team... Now however, as the gloom over the team seemed to continue, he started to wonder if this really would work out.
Knowing that Loki was hiding out somewhere in the tower, even if he was supposedly being babysat by his brother, was not good news either. Sure, he had not seen him yet, but even knowing he was nearby left him uneasy.
No point thinking about that yet, Bruce...baby steps...just focus on coffee... he thought. Bruce yawned once more and turned the page of the magazine as he rounded the corner and felt his bare feet meet the cold surface of the kitchen floor.
Then he heard it. He knew that voice too well.
He couldn't help but give a startled jump and nearly drop his magazine. His heart thudded against his chest and he nearly dropped the magazine. He couldn't believe it. Loki really was in the tower, just sitting in the kitchen like nothing had happened. His first instinct was to turn around and walk back out, but the coffeepot on the far counter was full... The trick with these types was to not show any fear; maybe if Bruce played calm, he figured, got his coffee and got out, it would all work itself out without attracting Loki's attention for long.
"Morning," Bruce said curtly. He set his face to it's practiced neutral expression and carefully walked over to the pot, being careful not let the man out of his line of sight.
Reply
"You are up early, Doctor. Or have yet to retire to bed. Tell me, trouble sleeping?" Loki examined the dark circles beneath the Dr. Banner's eyes. The doctor's whole face seemed to have taken on a more ashen quality. One that matched his disheveled hair a little too well.
Loki held out the opened box of Poptarts. "Would you like one? They are grape in flavor."
Reply
The truth was, his sleep had not been the best lately. Most likely due to his condition, he was often prone to nightmares. They ranged from the surreal to the horrific, from likely blurry flashbacks courtesy of the Other Guy to long and detailed events that played on his many insecurities.
From what little he could remember from the last night, he...or something else... was falling, falling down, faster and faster, watching the ground speeding towards him, but not feeling fear...Worse, only feeling rage.
Years ago, before he had harnessed some degree of control, nightmares were sometimes the cause of an event. Those were the worst, days spent trying desperately not to sleep, knowing that he may wake up in another place entirely, surrounded by chaos and destruction. This was something he had not, and would never, admit to anyone, least of all to this criminal grinning at him, watching him with unnerving eyes.
"Don't see how my sleep is any of your business of yours," he paused to take a quick sip from his mug, trying desperately to keep his hand under control this time as he headed back towards the doorway.
Reply
Loki paused to remove one of the pastries, he broke it in half and reached down to offer a piece to the cat at his feet. Straightening up, he continued, "My brother has been absent from his chambers for several nights now, and strangely I worry for the oaf. I assume he will return in time, however."
Biting the end of the other half of the Poptart, Loki made a great show of chewing the pastry. "See, Doctor, they are not poisoned. Would you not care to have one?" He offered the box again.
Reply
Still, his goal was still to show calm in the face of the enemy. It was now or never to prove it, and besides, he was hungry. He distractedly grabbed some slices of bread and shoved them into a nearby toaster.
As he pushed the handle down and watched the wires inside begin to glow, his mind returned again to last night's ordeal. He just couldn't shake the dream, not as easily as some of the others. He stared at the toaster, exhausted and lost in thought for a second, as his tired eyes made his vision grow cloudy around the edges. "Snap out of it," he reminded himself, and briefly turned away, hoping Loki would not see him rubbing his eyes.
"So," he muttered while downing the dregs of his first cup. "What, the great Loki can't sleep without his brother there to keep the nightmares away?"
Reply
Loki didn't wait for an answer as he went back to leaning against the table. Lord Whiskers jumped up beside him.
"Thor was the one who suffered from nightmares," Loki continued. "Even as children, he sought me out during the night and hid in my bed until dawn. He threatened to pummel my head with Mjölnir if I ever spoke of it to anyone. He never did tell me what he saw in his night terrors. I still wonder to this day."
Scratching behind Lord Whiskers ears, Loki added, "Might I ask I you have had any nightmares lurking in your mind, Dr. Banner?"
Reply
He listened to Loki's story as he hurredly topped off his coffee cup with a slightly steadier hand. He somehow couldn't picture the mighty Thor as a child, let alone one that suffered from nightmares. This was probably some elaborate lie, and Bruce was not about to take it seriously. Still, as he set the pot back down and walked towards the door, he tried to picture those two as children.
The last question startled Bruce. He looked up quickly, maybe too quickly, in Loki's direction. His mind flashed for a second to the feeling of falling, of helplessness and rage, before he shook his mind back to the present. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair and turned back in the direction of the door. "My life is a nightmare. You know that full well. What do you think?"
Without waiting for a response, Bruce walked out the door and back towards his rooms.
Reply
“Nightmares,” Loki whispered. “Well at least the conversation was not fruitless, eh, my friend?”
The day passed without event and evening came once more.
Loki had returned to Thor’s rooms and, with his brother for the moment absent, went rifling through the dresser drawers, closets, and bookshelves for his old notebooks. The last time Loki had seen the notebooks had been when Thor had confiscated them during their little game of hide and seek through the city. Loki had unfortunately not seen where his brother hid them, but knowing his brother the spot would be obvious.
Standing in the middle of the room, Loki turned in a slow circle, trying to figure out where to search next. His eyes landed on the bed. He moved towards it and kneeling felt under the mattress. Sure enough right beneath the head of the bed, Loki found the notebooks. He chuckled in triumph as he pulled them out one by one. Thor had done nothing to them. They remained perfectly intact.
Now equipped with the books, Loki moved to one of the large walk-in closets. Thor did not own many Midgardian clothes so the back of the closet lay bare. Loki made himself comfortable spreading out the loose pages of his notebook in a pattern that quickly revealed a strange diagram, a circle with five different runes sketched in the center.
A wave of his hand and five candles appeared to rest upon each rune. Another wave and they lit the closet with a strange green glow. Loki pulled over another notebook, he flipped to the middle where a set of incantations were listed.
A soft scratching at the door announced the return of Lord Whiskers. The golden cat strolled leisurely over to the strange candle arrangement and sat down across from Loki.
“Hello, again, have you something for me?” Loki crooned, reaching out a hand, palm up.
Lord Whiskers moved forward and dropped the small pointed object he had clamped in his mouth. When Loki pulled his hand away, he held a broken arrowhead. Its point, sharp and deadly, shimmered in the candlelight.
“Splendid. You’ve been to the roof, I see.”
Loki placed the arrowhead in the center of the candles. Sitting back he closed his eyes and began to chant. For a moment, the arrowhead turned green, but as quickly as the color appeared it subsided and returned to black.
“That should do it,” Loki grinned at the cat who had remained perfectly still throughout the whole ceremony.
“Now, let us see what nightmares the dear doctor has tonight.”
Reply
He heard faint shouting and wondered idly whether the other avengers were arguing over a sports broadcast. What season was it now... Football? Baseball? No, that couldn't be the cause. The shouting was too...chaotic. Was something wrong?
The lights above him began to flicker, casting long, very long shadows in the darkness as the shouts grew louder. His pace quickened as he fought back a sense of suffocating dread. Some of the lights flickered off entirely and he quickly looked around, panicking, with no idea of where to go.
He found himself running; the shouting was deafening now, and he held his hands over his ears. No relief.
He was running faster now, faster, too fast. "Slow down," he tried to think, but his thoughts only came through faint and unclear, completely powerless.
The end of the hallway sped closer in his panicked sprint, ignoring his feeble thoughts of "No, no, nonono," Bruce, was it Bruce, hurdled through the wall in an explosion of plaster and cement.
The bright sunshine of the rooftop left him stunned and nearly blind. The voices were silent now. Pieces of wall and fallen metal beams lay everywhere. Through his ragged angry breaths and fuzzy vision, he spied the largest chunk, nearly an entire wall, on the ground and layered with steel beams. Through his faded consciousness, he knew something was very wrong.
There it was. Something was sticking out from underneath, twisted at a grotesque angle. A once strong arm lay there, slackened bloody fingers now only limply circling the handle of a broken bow.
"Barton!" he gasped, breathless, sitting bolt upright. Bruce's heart pounded, and he looked around. The roof was not there, no screams, no wall. Just a green-walled room faintly illuminated by an alarm clock which read...1 a.m.
Reply
As the clock in the bedroom struck midnight, faint scratching rattled the closet door once more. In crept the golden cat this time carrying a small hairbrush by its handle. For a moment, Loki looked at the cat confused. He had been hoping for something a bit more personal. But upon seeing the thin red strands dangling from the brush the cat had offered, Loki realized why Lord Whiskers had chosen it.
“Clever. Very clever, my friend,” Loki murmured, scratching the cat under the chin. “She would not be one to have personal belongings…at least ones that could be easily slipped from her chambers. No, these hairs will do nicely.”
Collecting the red hairs, Loki placed them in the center of his circle. Like before the candles flickered green light across the small room, casting the walls in a sickly glow. Loki chanted the spell once more. The red hairs turned green just as the arrowhead had done the night before. When the spell ended, the hairs returned to their original color.
Picking up each hair carefully, Loki tangled them back into the brush and handed it to the cat.
“Be sure to return it to the exact same spot, my friend. She will notice otherwise. She does not miss a single detail, that woman.”
Loki rubbed at his forehead unconsciously. The burn mark upon his forehead still shone fresh and ugly over his pale skin.
The cat gave Loki a small nod before grasping the brush in its teeth and exiting the closet.
Loki smiled to himself. “And we wait….”
Reply
The day had passed quietly enough, and though he had reported the previous night’s encounter to a suddenly annoyed Tony, he had not seen any sign of Loki since. That was just fine with him; he was too tired after that horrible nightmare to have any energy to deal with that man again. It seemed every time he closed his eyes, he could see that bloodied arm…
Normally he had to pass by Agent Barton’s recently vacated room on his way through to get to the dining room, but he chose an elaborate detour instead, not bearing to look at any reminder of that night.
He was no longer on his back, but crouching down…how did that happen… on some sort of hard surface. Where had his bed gone, he wondered, but as soon as he did, his world exploded as an explosion of mind-numbing pain washed over him. His body shook, his mind grew disjointed and frantic, and an enormous pressure seemed to pull him apart.
“You’re going to be okay,” a female voice echoed through the fog. He opened his eyes again, looking frantically around. What was Agent Romanoff doing here?
“I will get you out of this, I swear,” the voice grew slightly clearer in volume, but the words themselves seemed strange and foreign. This seemed familiar somehow, Bruce knew, as he struggled to breathe.
“I swear on my life,” the voice continued, but all he could see was memories of a cold expression, a loaded gun. Out of nowhere, words echoed around him, “Don’t try to act as if you have moral high ground, Banner,” over and over, circling him, leaving him dizzy. Suddenly his pain and fear gave way to a horrible rage.
“Your life?!” he heard a voice echo. Did that come from him? Was that him?
Suddenly, his vision and mind were enveloped in a green fog. He was running, he knew that much, chasing down a black clad figure. A flash of scarlet caught in dim light, footsteps echoed, louder and louder. A shot rang out as suddenly the figure was underneath him, the red flash blindingly close.
The figure was dragged and then Bruce felt his arms rising above his head. “Dr. Banner…Bruce!” the words echoed in the air. In the same instant, his mind snapped back into control, only for a moment, just long enough to think “No, no,” before the fists slammed down.
Again and again, he felt the fists slam down and heard an echoing roar. Through the fog, he could now see…two flashes of scarlet.
His vision looked up from the still figure. He felt a small burning pain. Had the shot found its mark? As he knelt there, there was another drop of burning pain. And another… Each one painful, each one burning. Sizzling drops against his skin, his world erupting in pain, and a strange echo…Was that…laughter?
He opened his eyes, after a second of confusion, realizing he was in his room, in his bed. The room was as it should be, but he certainly was not, he thought as he lay there, curled up in the corner of his bed, clutching at his heart. He thought he could see a green mist at the edge of his vision, but he blinked it away.
He knew it was another nightmare, and things were all right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling this time that something was very, very wrong.
Reply
As evening fell, Loki prepared his stage once more. Candles lit, circle draw, and his incantations ready, he welcomed his cat back warmly when the creature clawed upon the door yet again.
This time Lord Whiskers brought him a packet of charcoal pencils, worn down to the nubs.
Loki stared at the offering, hesitating. Somewhere out in the bedchambers near the books he’d gathered to read, a drawing of Lord Whiskers lay encased in a glass frame. Loki knew these were the same pencils that the Captain had used to draw it.
Seeming to understand the hesitation, the cat set the pencils down without bidding. He placed them directly in the center of the green candles and stepped back.
Loki blinked. He sneered at himself. Hesitation was weakness. He owed the Captain nothing. His kindness - his drawing had been a bribe, given only to keep Loki in line.
To keep me out of trouble.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Sitting back, Loki closed his eyes. Holding up his hands, he recited the now all too familiar nightmare incantation. The pencils clattered against one another as they shook with magic, turned green, and then faded back to black.
When Loki had finished the spell, he leaned forward, panting and clutching at his chest. He felt winded as if he’d sprinted a great distance. Sweat trickled down his temple and his vision blurred at the edges.
The spell grew stronger with each recitation, but only at the expense of its conjurer.
Reply
He couldn’t shake the dreams, constantly finding himself there, near a bloody arm or a motionless figure, and even feeling those same feelings of fear and worse, rage.
The fatigue did not make any of this easier. He found himself more often at the kitchen coffeepot, sneaking more caffeine. One cup in the morning: that was his usual strict rule, as caffeine being a metabolic stimulant could possibly raise his adrenaline above any desired level. After these nights, though, those extra cups in his shaky hands were the only things keeping him from falling asleep on his Bunsen burner.
This was odd. Sure, dreams and nightmares were unfortunately not uncommon to him, but Bruce had rarely had nightmares of that intensity and frequency, even in stressful situations. Why, then, were they back when he was settling into a place of relative comfort, security, and peace of mind?
Bruce considered this as he lay in bed that night. His body ached for sleep, but his mind was hesitant to go. He sighed and slowly closed his eyes.
Reply
He knew this place. He was back in Berkeley. He was home.
In the back of his mind, there was nagging doubt. What was he doing here? Hadn’t he been somewhere else? Somehow, none of that mattered, and it all faded away when he heard a voice across the field call out, “Bruce!”
Bruce smiled. Framed in sunlight and falling leaves, a woman in a tweed skirt and black sweater was running towards him, brown hair flowing in the breeze behind her. He wove through the crowd and began to rush towards her.
“Betty!” he called. It was really her... How long had it been… He ran, tears of joy in his eyes, feeling a peacefulness he could hardly remember rise to the surface.
But something felt off. He was running, but she was still so far away. He tried to go faster, but the faster he ran, the slower he went, until he hardly moved at all.
There was suddenly the unmistakable sound of gunfire. He turned back to Betty, but her run was no longer a happy greeting but a frantic sprint. A crack filled the air as a tree began to fall. Bruce remained helpless and still and could only watch as Betty, trying desperately to reach him, was pinned underneath the enormous trunk.
He screamed and, inexplicably released from whatever force had held him, stumbled through the chaos.
The woman was shaking violently, but as Bruce knelt beside her and cradled her head gently, she smiled. Her voice came out in barely a whisper, “Bruce…You came…back…” She coughed, her body convulsing before her eyes went vacant.
The trees around them were burning now, crackling in time with the gunfire, glowing in the smoky air. Bruce hardly noticed, holding the lifeless form in his arms, as another familiar form sped into view next to him.
“Dr. Banner, there you are!”
Bruce continued to stare at her face, into her eyes. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, pay attention to anything else.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder. “Dr. Banner. We need you now.”
“But Captain…she…”
The man peered around the tree with military precision, crouching and focused. “We don’t have time for this, Bruce. The paramedics’ll get her. We have to go, now.”
“But,” his voice was barely a whisper.
The arm grabbed his, pulling him away. “We’ve got to go, Dr. Banner, that’s an order.”
Bruce saw the crumpled form beneath the tree once again growing farther away, and with every footstep, it felt as if his heart was being ripped from his chest. “I can’t…I can’t.” his voice grew a little stronger with each repetition.
“Banner,” the voice said gently but firmly, his blue eyes behind the mask firmly locked onto his own. “Suit up. We’re going.”
“No,” Bruce growled. Why should he follow this man’s orders? A green tinge started to cloud his vision. Who was this guy, anyway? He was so small, insignificant… Who was he to call the shots?
The man’s arm once more tried to pull Bruce, towards where exactly, Bruce neither knew nor cared. He wasn't going anywhere. When the masked face turned back, his eyes widened just in time to see a fist flying towards him. A shield was raised, but the force still knocked the man back to the ground.
"No orders!" Bruce could hear a booming voice and felt himself rise and walk heedlessly through the gunfire towards the man trying desperately to steady himself against a tree trunk. An enormous hand, his hand, grasped the shield, and with very little difficulty, wrenched it from the man's grasp.
"Banner, please," the man said. "Are...are you there?"
Banner could only hear the voice faintly now as the fog filled his senses. All he could hear before all sound faded was the other voice, "The doctor...Not here!"
The crackling fire, the autumn breeze, the gunshots all faded to silence. The green fog grew dense and dark, and the last thing he saw were the enormous hands slamming the shield, again and again, crushing the uniformed figure against the trunk of the giant oak.
Reply
"Gamma detection alert level 3," a disembodied voice warned. "Activating surface reinforcement protocol 1."
Bruce glanced around quickly. The furniture in his room was starting to retract around him. Oh no... He wasn't... Was he?
He looked down at his hands. They were shaking wildly, and a small discoloration was spreading down his fingertips. "No no no no," he muttered, and took several calming breaths.
After a few moments, he called out, "JARVIS?"
"Dr. Banner, what is your status?" The AI's voice lacked its usual witty tone.
"Stable," he replied, voice trembling. "I'm stable. Please reverse the protocol."
A mechanical hum, he assumed a measuring device, filled the air for a moment before the reply came. "Certainly, Dr. Banner." The panels opened again and the furnishings quickly returned to place.
"Do you require anything else, Doctor?"
"No thank you, JARVIS." he sighed, climbing back into bed.
Reply
Not once did he consider abandoning his plans. Loki was determined to see the Hulk destroy the tower and to cause as much chaos amongst the Avengers as possible.
With his mind set, he waited once again for his cat’s return.
Just like the previous night, Lord Whiskers made his way stealthily into the closet. He brought this time a small slip of paper. Loki took it from the cat and examined it.
It was an insignificant little note with a sticky edge on its backside. In a hastily scrawled script were the words:
Tony,
Don’t forget your flight leaves at 8AM sharp. Additionally, I have picked up your dry cleaning. However, I’d like to suggest for future cleanings not sending your Black Sabbath t-shirts. I do not care what you say, they are not that fragile.
Have a good day.
-Pepper
Loki raised an eyebrow at the note. He flipped it over checking the back. Nothing. He turned the note back over and reread it.
“I am aware that the Man of Iron cares for this woman, but really, this is what you picked?” Loki glanced at the cat.
Lord Whiskers gave a sharp hiss, and Loki held up his hands.
“Alright, alright, if you are positive this is significant to him.”
Lord Whiskers licked his paw in a satisfied manner. Looking up, the cat meowed with a new found enthusiasm. Loki smirked.
“Really? The doctor did that. What a scene he must have created. I am sure the Man of Iron must not have liked it. We may well see the Hulk tonight, my friend.”
Loki placed the note in the circle of candles. He recited the chant. The minute the spell ended, Loki slumped forward. The room spun once again, and Loki found he could no longer hold up his head. The exhaustion took hold, and he fell sideways upon the floor.
The last thing he remembered was watching the candles burn out magically one by one, and Lord Whiskers curling up against his chest, meowing in concern.
Reply
Leave a comment