Bitter Sparks, 1/7. R. Loki/Natasha
Title: Bitter Sparks
Series: #7 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: Hard R (except for chapter three, which is Jessy's fault!)
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Amora/Skrall
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. Read the other stories before this one, because it does refer back to events in them. Violence and torture, somewhat worse than canon.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups
Summary: Loki had pissed off a great many entities throughout Yggdrasil. It was only a matter of time before one of them decided it was time to pay for his crimes.
One - Manipulation
When Natasha arrived to her debriefing with Sitwell, Director Fury was there as well. She kept her expression neutral, though she had to wonder if this would be some kind of witch hunt because of Loki's involvement. Dammit.
Natasha sat in her usual seat in front of them. "Agent Sitwell. Director Fury. I filed my report this morning," she said with her usual even tones. "What will I need to elaborate on?"
Sitwell sat back, a slight smile on his face. On Coulson's face, a similar smile made him seem harmless and approachable. On Sitwell's face, it gave him a vapid look. Natasha knew full well how smart he was, and that she couldn't relax her guard in the slightest. "Start with the ballroom in Andorra when Loki walked in with you."
Of course she had been followed on that op, watched to see who she made contact with. She had known that, because she had requested it. There wasn't always a good way to relay information regarding buyers and suppliers in that kind of situation, so having SHIELD plant a few agents in the service staff would allow them extra eyes to pick up and relay who she talked to. Knowing that, Natasha had omitted several important details about that night, mostly about what had happened prior to her arrival at the party. She had meant it when she told Loki that her deal was a personal one, and SHIELD wouldn't be involved.
"As I stated in my write up," Natasha began in a businesslike tone, "Loki approached me first, wanting something to distract him. I assume boredom or some kind of argument, but he never said and I didn't ask. I had a job to do, and he wasn't part of that."
"I appreciate the sentiment," Sitwell began.
Fury didn't appear willing to wait for Sitwell to get to the point. His stony gaze was already fixed on Natasha. "What did Loki want?"
"A diversion," Natasha lied. "He took Sarkissian's phone without her knowing it so I could look at it, then put it back. He watched me plant the beacons in her suite. And when I asked him to send the data back here, he did." She shrugged, keeping her straight face on. "From what I gather, he has few outlets left to pass the time."
"Can we use him?" Fury asked.
"No."
This seemed to throw Fury. "No? Why not?"
"We cannot guarantee his cooperation. He's too volatile, too self-centered and erratic. Think of him as even more egotistical and selfish than Tony Stark." That wasn't a fair assessment of Tony, and she knew it, but Fury wasn't fond of him.
The comparison did the job. Fury backed off with a look of disgust on his face, and Sitwell leaned forward to take over the debriefing. "So why has Loki set his sights on you, Agent Romanoff?" he asked in his carefully neutral tone of voice.
It made her miss Coulson fiercely. Even his neutral managed to convey some kind of personality, and Coulson knew when rules and regs didn't matter anymore. Natasha was capable of just about anything, and would do just about anything, so it was insulting to treat her like an entry level SHIELD Agent.
"Because he hasn't broken me, and he can't figure out why."
Sitwell blinked, and Natasha mentally added it to her tally of "Things I've surprised Jasper Sitwell with," which was far too easy to do. "Is that so?"
"Exactly so," Natasha replied. "The entire plot to derail my credibility with SHIELD and the Avengers failed. He has no backup plan. He has no allies. Half of the alien races he's come into contact with want to kill him. He's egotistical and burns every bridge he crosses." She looked from Sitwell to Fury. "It is not safe to even consider working with him in an official capacity. He is not an asset, but he can be mined for information."
"Mined how?"
She had thought about that when her deal had been struck. Of course, trying to explain it without mentioning said deal would be an interesting dance. "He needs it to be a game. He has to feel superior, that he's dominating us in some way. Labeling him an asset puts him on a lesser level, he'll never accept it. But if it's a battle of wits, where we look foolish next to him..."
"Then he becomes a show off. He's teaching humans a lesson," Sitwell guessed.
"Precisely," Natasha said with a nod. "He's a megalomaniac without a plan."
"Dangerous. So how do we contain him?"
"Keep him entertained," Natasha told him. "He was intrigued by the magical sleight of hand, but bored with the search of the suite. There are some things we do that just will not appeal. So it's maneuvering him very carefully."
"You're the only one that has ever given me an assessment like that," Fury said, turning back to face Natasha with a grim expression.
"Thor still has hopes that Loki will be brought back into the family. Frigga will forgive him just about anything even as she condemns his actions. They're hardly unbiased opinions."
"You aren't unbiased either, are you?" Sitwell asked.
"I don't presume to be, but I don't have any illusions about him anymore, either." She shrugged negligently, though inside she was fuming. So much for her opinion being valued here. Fury had called her their Loki expert; after what had happened six months ago, was he rethinking that? If so, then she had no credibility on this front after all.
"No, she's right," Fury told Sitwell. Natasha could internally ease up a bit. "You've gotten close enough to him on several occasions to see how he works. You know what matters to him, how to play him. It also means he can play you, but you did understand the risk involved." He sat down across from her, lips compressed tightly together in displeasure. "I can't ask you to put yourself out there without backup, but we have no other way to contain him."
"I understand," Natasha said with a nod.
"Unofficial operation," Fury told her, then looked at Sitwell. "It doesn't leave this room. The Avengers probably have a bead on some of his actions, we can't help that. But we can probably use that to monitor his movements. Loki is dangerous, and if we can't control the threat, we have to at least minimize it."
Natasha nodded, and Sitwell had to take a breath before nodding as well. She almost felt sorry for him, but he didn't reach Level Nine clearance without making a few unpleasant decisions along the way. "I'll contain him as best as I can."
"Good. Dismissed."
She left without a backward glance and headed for Avengers Tower. She wanted to get in some range time to clear her head, but for the moment wanted to be off of SHEILD grounds. The surveillance felt cloying now, and she wasn't sure who she could trust. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and she didn't think it was Loki's influence. Hel had eliminated his spells, so it was not some kind of subtle trickery meant to isolate her. No, this was her own suspicious nature and need to be in control.
Clint was at the range with pistols of his own. "Competition?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Why not?" she replied with a smile, sliding into the next lane. Their usual camaraderie was a balm and welcome antidote to the earlier tension. "Did you have to file a report?"
"Luckily, no. I hate that shit," he answered with a grin. Once her headgear was on, they lined up their paper targets and started to fire. It was an easy back and forth, and usually there was no clear winner with their competition.
When the targets were returned for the eighth time, Clint removed his headgear. Natasha caught the movement and did the same. "Are you okay?"
"As well as can be expected."
He frowned at her, not liking that answer. "Tash..."
"No, really. I mean it. I'm all right. I'm just a little worse for wear from getting out of Andorra, but the rest helps with the healing."
"I'm not talking about that."
Natasha sighed. Of course he wasn't. "Clint, I'll be okay."
"Are you sure this deal is worth it?"
"Do you even want to know the mechanics of our deal?" she asked with an arched brow.
"Oh, hell no. But I want to know if you are okay with it."
He cared about her, and she cared about him in return. It was probably as close to love as either of them were capable of, and served as her comparison for all other relationships in her life.
Putting down her weapon, she took his hand in hers and for good measure laced their fingers together. She smiled at the feel of his calluses; they were all wrong for guns, and those weren't his weapons of choice. He likely was in the range only to feel closer to her. "I've still got you, as you've pointed out. So I'm okay."
Clint nodded, lips curling into a smile. "Good. Don't know how far I'd get in taking him down if he ever hurt you again, but you know I'll try."
"Of course you will."
"He hasn't tried warping your mind, has he? You were afraid of that..."
She shook her head. "No. He's using different tactics now, but those fall under those details you really don't want to hear about."
Clint actually laughed at that, shaking his head. "Only you could make managing a psychopathic megalomaniac with godly powers sound easy."
Natasha smiled back. "By now, I think it actually is getting easier."
"At least you use those powers for good," he snarked.
Rolling her eyes, Natasha disentangled their hands and picked up her Glock, pointing it at him playfully, her finger over the trigger guard. "Don't make me shoot you, Barton."
He laughed again. "Hey, want to take the FNK back? I hate this thing."
"I told you, change the grips. Or wear the shooting gloves I got you. It's not going to be as comfortable as the bow grip."
Snorting, Clint shook his head. "I tried the other grips. They suck just as much. It's the design of the thing, and I don't have the patience you do to try to order custom ones."
"Then take the Glock and I'll take the FNK."
"Oh, hell no. I hate the angle on the grip."
"Big baby," Natasha teased, grinning at him.
"What? I like my bow."
"That was custom made to fit your hand," Natasha pointed out.
"Tony may have made a few upgrades, too."
"Of course he did," she said, shaking her head. "And I'm sure if he asked, he would make some kind of modification to my guns or exploding bullets of some kind."
"Just ask. You know he loves tinkering in his shop."
Still smiling at him, Natasha shook her head again and took the FNK from him. "I like these as they are. Maybe the flash discs could use an upgrade, though."
"That's the spirit," Clint replied. "Feel better?"
She didn't bother to ask how he knew she had felt rattled prior to coming to the range. Some things they simply had a feel for by now. She simply nodded, her genuine smile in place. "Yeah, I am. Thanks."
"Anytime, Tash, you know that."
"Yeah, I do." She started putting away the weapons, smile still fixed on her face. She did know that he would always have her back and trust in her. It was still good to hear it every once in a while, and he knew that.
***
Amora had been born in Asgard, and had been gifted in magical arts. She had a natural talent to it, which brought her to attention of the greatest teachers on Asgard. Karnilla was the most sought after, and took on so few students. She had trained Frigga, Freya and a lot of the other greats in Asgard. Karnilla had ultimately deemed Amora too undisciplined to go further with her studies. Furious, Amora left Asgard in search of other teachers and different esoteric disciplines to prove that she was a worthy adversary if not a worthy student.
She acquired several masters by seduction after leaving Asgard. It was a ploy that usually worked, as she had an ample bosom, generous hips, and flowing blonde hair that she held back with a green helm. She also usually dressed in deep, forest green to highlight her coloring and figure. She had no problem showcasing her assets and flashing her thighs above her boots to distract adversaries. Sometimes she wore long green gloves, sometimes she wore bracers that left her palms and fingers free; some spells did need finer gestures in order to be cast correctly, and she didn't like the feel of the gloves for those.
Most of her known spells generally included concussive blasts of force, fire or heat; enslavement of will; teleportation; illusions; paralysis; and manipulation of elements. Generally she tapped the power of artifacts or the influence of Asgard itself, but she was able to manipulate the magic fields inherent in most worlds. Some artifacts were obtained through back channels, supposedly through Loki himself. She managed to meet him once upon a time, when he was still a Prince of Asgard, beloved younger brother to Thor. He had been rather dismissive of her physical charms and even less impressed by her skills. "Karnilla was right to cast you out," he had scoffed. "You lack control and fortitude to pull off the truly difficult spells."
Furious, she worked even harder to try to seduce him, but he never once seemed to get entangled in her schemes. Thor was easier to manipulate, but all he cared for was feasting and fighting, neither of which interested her in the slightest. Trying to get him interested in her was easy, but keeping him with her was a chore she didn't want to endure.
Loki's callous manner had gotten Amora to thinking as she walked along the branches of Yggdrasil. It was dangerous, and she skirted the edge of reality far too often for her teachers' liking. Physically, she had as much strength as the average Asgardian. She was able to do standard Asgardian feats of strength, but generally did not. Her focus was on the esoteric arts, and she didn't like shifting it to anything else. Walking Yggdrasil in the manner she did could be very dangerous, especially without a home realm or an anchor to keep her rooted in a single reality. Loki's casual cruelty was a good anchor for her anger. She could prove to him that she had the mental fortitude and control to wield difficult magicks. He wasn't the only caster on Asgard, and she was still determined to be the best.
Amora stopped walking abruptly and shook out her hair. Her blonde tresses had gotten matted and she was utterly filthy. How much time had passed as she walked? How far afield of reality had she actually come?
Flicking some of the filth off of her tattered skirt, Amora watched as it shifted form during its descent back onto Yggdrasil. Monsters and various horrid forms seemed to take shape, shadows shifting all around her. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
How long had it been since she had last spoken?
She had a sense of green as she looked down at herself, and was soon stumbling along a steep incline she hadn't noticed. Tumbling and rolling, she fetched up on a grassy field next to a massive tree that seemed to touch the sky. Yggdrasil? Amora touched the tree, and she could see the World Tree as well as the tree before her. She could feel the stretch of existence and magic all around her, and laughter bubbled up inside of her. Many of her old teachers couldn't do that, had feared abilities like that.
"I'm too clever," she said, then startled at the sound of her own voice. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. Her hair was still a tangled, snarled mess, her helm anchored in place amongst all the knots. The green dress she wore was caked in mud, grass and things she would rather not name, the skirt of it tattered and torn. Her green stockings were ripped, shredding to nearly nothing in some places, and the heels of her boots had worn themselves down to nothing. How far had she walked? How much time had passed?
But knowledge swirled within her blood, and any price was worth paying in order to obtain it. She laughed again, dancing around the tree, fingers moving in patterns that sent the insects nearby skittering for cover in fright. She was magic, she was Creation, she was part of the World Tree and apart from it, all the old teachers be damned to Helheim and back.
"You are a strange thing," came a voice behind her.
Amora stopped her frenzied dance and fell into a crouch out of fright. Her eyes were as green as her clothing, as green as the grass all around her. Her blonde hair and pale, pale skin didn't let her blend in with the field, however.
The voice's owner was a man of some sort, heavily muscled with skin as gray as stone. He had a wide slash of a mouth and black eyes, a stubby nose that had been broken and reset more times than it really should have, and he towered above her when he stood up from his sprawled position next to a tree beside hers. "You tumbled out of the sky," he said, pointing, "and then there you are, dancing." His beady black eyes narrowed slightly and she thought she saw the broken, blunted ends of teeth beyond his cracked lips. He watched her carefully, as if trying to decide if she was prey, and that could not stand.
Amora started to smile as she stood from her crouch, a wild, crazed thing that could strike fear into lesser creatures. "You could call it dancing, I suppose."
"What monstrosity are you?"
But she wasn't the monstrosity. She was magic. She was able to do so many things, and she was so much more than the teachers had said she would be. It was not lack of fortitude that got her this far. Lack of discipline would not have allowed her to return from Yggdrasil unscathed but for ragged clothing.
Are you really unscathed? a tiny whispering voice asked. Possibly the remnants of her old conscience. It was a faulty, diseased thing. Best exterminated.
She grinned even wider, sure that she would appear demented and manic, more like a beast than a woman, more like a ghoul than a sorceress. "No monstrosity. I am Asgardian, and I have walked the ways of Yggdrasil for some time. What are you?"
"I am Skrall the Executioner," he told her. His voice was low and gravelly, much like his appearance. Scars covered nearly all of his exposed skin, and he moved as if they were badges of honor rather than horrors to avoid. Without magic, she could not heal damage done to her body quickly, and she was terribly vain. She could admit that to herself. Vanity wasn't a crime, and it had led her down this path so far. So many of her teachers had been drawn in and manipulated by the promise of flesh and desires fulfilled, the end result of youthening spells, enhancements and old fashioned mental control. Her beauty would get her even farther.
Amora smiled at him coquettishly. Yes, he was hooked in by her snare. She could tell by the slight widening of his beady black eyes, the way the corner of his mouth curled with intrigue. Oh yes, she might have fallen into the right place after all.
"I am Amora the Enchantress. You will take care of me now."
Skrall grinned, a frightening thing that likely caused nightmares in his enemies. "My pleasure."
***
Possibly because of the potential Loki entertainment value, Natasha was asked to look into the connection between Hydra, AIM and spell casters. She wanted to roll her eyes at Sitwell, whose expression remained as bland as ever. "Is there something specific I should use as a search parameter? Something other than my own escape from Andorra as a reason to believe magic is involved in their association?"
"There is some rumor picked up by the CIA that seems to indicate the actual Ten Rings group is not as defunct as they wanted us to believe."
Natasha looked at him evenly. "There was the actor hired by Killian as his cover story," she began slowly. "Most of the leaders of that group are on the list of known operatives killed."
"Not all of them," Sitwell told her. He handed her a slim file folder that turned out to have a highly sanitized version of all SHIELD information regarding the Ten Rings. "This might help get your advisor on board."
She suppressed the urge to pull a face at him and smiled in a professional way. Once she was dismissed, she headed to her office. It was still untouched from the last time she had been down there, piles of old file folders still in its seeming haphazard organization. After only a few minutes sitting there, she could feel the tell-tale itch between her shoulder blades that indicated she was being watched. Considering there hadn't been the sound of footsteps or echoes down the hall, it was pretty obvious who was there. "Are you going to actually say something, or were you planning to just stand there?"
Loki stepped to the side of her desk, dressed in a black business suit and navy blue tie. "You knew I was there," he commented, though she could tell he was surprised.
Natasha smirked a little and nodded toward his tie. "No green?"
He returned her smirk. "It wouldn't do to be obvious."
"Of course not."
Taking the topmost folder from her pile, Loki quickly looked through it, then tossed it back onto her desk with a grimace. "Hardly worth paying attention to," he sneered.
"What are you doing here?" Natasha asked Loki, looking back down at her collected files. Of course the sanitized one was boring. That was why she was gathering more information for it.
"Your job can be rather…" He pursed his lips as if looking for the right words to say. "This is not what I would wish to do."
"You're a trickster and manipulator."
"As are you."
Natasha looked up, her expression an impassive mask. "Yes, I can be. I didn't pretend otherwise, did I?" she asked.
Loki tilted his head to look at her. "Initially, you did."
"You assumed I was weak."
"Weren't you?" He moved to the opposite side of her desk, leaning over it with an almost menacing look on his face. "I might have been the monster in the cage, but you were the one discomfited by my remarks."
"Was I really?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Natasha reached for another folder, this one stained and dogeared. The only reason why she was even in this office was to find the truly old files, the ones that hadn't been completely digitized. Usually, those were the ones with the most interesting information that computers simply couldn't pick up. Handwriting changes, the subtle or not-so-subtle depression of the pen into paper... Those could never be replicated properly, and it generally told her a little more about the writer than the surface content of the report. The more agitated the agent was, the more truthful she could assume the report to be.
"You were. And when I held you captive at your safe house… You eliminated it because of me."
Natasha looked up, fingering the old folder. It was thick, but not everything might be currently useful. She would have much rather concentrated in private, but Loki apparently was trying to prove a point to himself. Tilting her head to the side, she contemplated him. "Are you still upset that I'm not discredited here?"
There was a startled look in his eyes before his mask descended, and she guessed that she hit her mark. He was still trying to figure her out, wondering why she wasn't broken and defeated. It might be because he was discovering how deeply he was tying himself to her, how much he relied on their deal. Mortality was rather a bitch that way next to someone that was so nearly immortal. Loki might have been trying to figure out a way to sever some of those ties and not be so reliant on her. The way he was speaking about Hel, Natasha doubted that he would be able to come up with some kind of deal to release her after her death.
"You would have to matter," he all but snarled.
"Ah." Natasha looked down at the file in her hands and flipped it open. "Might as well sit down," she said, indicating one of the chairs across from her desk. She leaned back in her own and looked up. "I still have work to do, and standing like that for a long time will give you a crick in your back. I assume you're still subject to such things, even as an Asgardian."
Loki was clearly taken aback, and his expression darkened. "You do not command me."
"It wasn't a command," she replied without looking up. "It was a suggestion. You can loom all you like if it really makes you happy."
Sullen, he grabbed a chair and sat down. He was a creature of comfort and habit, and they both knew that about him.
"What is this trash?"
"What passes as mortal magic."
He snorted and picked up the sanitized file again. It still bored him, and he moved the chair closer to her side of the desk to look at the thicker file she was perusing. "So what is that?"
"Something SHIELD generally would rather you didn't have," Natasha said, paging through it. "But I'm looking for anything important that might be in the older files. Archival data is often more useful than the higher ups seem to think."
That was just the right hook to intrigue him. Loki took the larger file from her and paged through it, frowning at the tightly written script and skipping straight to the figures, diagrams and pictures. "It is Midgardian in origin, at least."
Natasha didn't say anything as he continued paging through the file. "This could potentially devastate your world, I think," he said, opening up the thick folder to a diagram in the back. The photo was of two gauntlets, ten rings worked into them, and an amulet that was crafted in a similar style. "The script looks very similar to ones I have seen before."
"What do they do?"
"Funnel power, of course. What is magic but willpower made manifest?"
"I thought I would find you down here, Romanoff," came a voice behind them. Natasha turned around with a half smile on her lips, but Loki looked downright hostile.
"May," Natasha replied with her usual emotionless tone. "I'm surprised you're back in the Maze. Didn't like driving the bus?"
"Oh, I like it just fine. Phil asked me to bring you in on this one once Jasper told him what you were assigned to. Our current targets match." The woman standing in the doorway was in a black uniform similar in style to Natasha's, with some personal variation of it. She was of Asian descent, had shoulder length loose black hair and a no nonsense expression on her face. There was a battle ready grace about her, and her brown eyes seemed to take everything in.
Loki looked at her with surprise mingling in with his hostility. "There are two of you," he accused, looking back at Natasha.
Smirking at him, Natasha stood. "Correction. Go far enough in the organization and there are a lot more people like us."
"Disturbing thought," Loki muttered, rising as well.
"It was meant to be."
Natasha picked up both the sanitized file and the thicker archival file she had been looking through. "I think this one would rather tag along."
"Asset?"
"Not exactly."
May actually smiled. "Trust me, the bus is full of those. He'll fit right in."
***
Loki managed not to gape at the "bus" that May brought them to. He had thought it would be one of those silly ground transportation vehicles he had seen all over Midgard, but this was actually a rather large flying machine. There were cars in the hangar bay, and May led them up a spiral stair to the conference room. "The rest are already inside," she told them.
He recognized Phil Coulson immediately, and at least didn't blanch at the sight. He had killed him, the man bleeding out after blasting him with some kind of weapon. Loki could remember the sting of the blast as well as his words. You'll never defeat them... You lack conviction. Perhaps it was true, but it still hurt to hear.
Coulson didn't let on that he recognized Loki in the suit, though he must have. He made the introductions automatically. There was May, the pilot and a high ranking agent in her own right, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons were the two scientific minds that helped take apart the things they saw in the field, Grant Ward was a Level Seven agent that worked out in the field and there was Skye, who seemed to be the computer expert. "And of course, this is Agent Romanoff and Loki," Coulson said in his usual bland tones, pointing at them in turn. The scientists and computer expert gaped. "We'll be working together to track down the Ten Rings and Hydra connection."
"But… You tried to blow up New York!" Skye cried, pointing at him.
"An invasion is hardly an explosion," Loki replied haughtily, looking at her with scorn.
Clearing his throat, Coulson stared at Skye until she composed herself. "As I said. Ten Rings." He looked over at Ward, who started poking at the touchscreen table. Views of the known artifacts associated with them appeared on the wall screen, as well as a listing of known members of the faction. Most were confirmed dead, some were missing. One of the missing members of the Ten Rings was believed to have been absorbed into one of Hydra's cells, but this was based on untrustworthy information. "The only one that was definitively able to view the gauntlet or the amulet in question is Doctor Strange, who is currently missing."
"Missing," Natasha commented, looking at Coulson with an eyebrow lifted.
"Some kind of magical energy burst about a year ago. Hasn't been seen since. Given that it's magical in nature, however, his comrades are reluctant to actually presume he's dead until they find a body."
"Generally a commendable course of action with practitioners of any sort," Loki agreed. "What does this mage of yours look like?"
A few taps on the table, and a photo of Dr. Stephen Strange was added to the wall. He was slender and tall, with gray eyes and black hair containing a shock of white at the temples. "Originally born in Philadelphia, he trained in medicine at New York University, completed his residency in New York Hospital until an unfortunate accident and could no longer practice as a neurosurgeon," Coulson said, pointing to the photo. "From what we can tell, that's what led him to study the mystical arts under the Ancient One, no photo or biographical data available. He's set up a community of sorts in Greenwich Village and has occasionally done consulting work for various government agencies, mutants, and other known practitioners."
"He is unfamiliar to me," Loki declared after a moment. "His travels likely did not include the branches of Yggdrasil or the other realms."
"Visiting other realms isn't exactly a common thing to do," Fitz said, bristling slightly. "We know that Dr. Foster has been working on the Einstein-Rosen bridge, but all of the other publications regarding her work are theoretical in nature. It hasn't been done on a consistent basis on our end. The technology simply isn't there."
"Because it's a question of magic," Loki returned, scorn clear in his voice. "To be able to transmute the substance and shape of a thing, transport it nearly instantaneously... These are higher order spells, and no novitiate could cast it."
"Transmutation means to change matter's fundamental structure," Simmons burst in, catching his attention. "And if you're interconverting matter to energy and then back again, it would require a massive amount of energy and is more likely to create an explosion than travel between worlds or across the globe."
"Unless we're talking about quantum mechanics," Fitz said before Loki could interrupt, warming to the topic. "It's part of the fundamental theory behind the bridge, and likely why it is so unstable. You can't predict an object's precise location without disturbing it-"
"Enough with the sciencing," Ward interjected, nearly heaving a sigh. "If it's a question of energy or whatever, doesn't that mean that you can track it?"
All eyes swiveled toward Loki, whose lip curled in distaste. "I've told Natasha many times. Magic is willpower made manifest. There are signatures that can be felt in the seidr> if you look for them."
"Yes," Simmons said earnestly, "but what does it look like? Is it energy? A signal of some sort?"
Loki frowned, appearing unsure how to translate any of this into terms that mortals could understand. Natasha took in his serious stance and care in answering the question, and realized that she had possibly not given Sitwell enough credit. He had been paying attention after all; this was the perfect case to occupy Loki and make him feel superior to humans. It could contain him for a time; the Ten Rings and Hydra were both very slippery organizations, and Loki would likely want to see it through to the end. In the meantime, that would leave SHIELD with more agents on the ground to work other cases, and Loki would neatly eliminate major world threats for them. Clever.
"How do you describe music to one that is tone deaf?" he asked finally. "Those gifted can hear the signature design of a composer. Such with the seidr, and those truly skillful can even tell who had trained the practitioner."
"And you're such a one," Ward asked, skepticism clear in his voice.
Loki's grin was a sharp baring of teeth. "One of the few still living."
"Then I guess we're stuck with you."
His eyes narrowed, and he started raising a hand toward Ward. Natasha put a hand on his arm to gently divert his attention. "Would you be able to trace Dr. Strange if you had some of his personal effects? If he had lived in the Village, it's not that difficult to get to."
He gave her a look that contained a fair measure of pity. "If he's as good as he thinks he is, you will never be able to find it."
"Known allies might be able to help track him down," May said.
Loki nodded at her slowly. "Assuming they would be willing to help you."
"Why wouldn't they want to find their friend?" Skye asked, frowning. "He's been missing for a year, and they were freaking out back then, sure he wasn't dead. For all we know, they've been looking for him this whole time."
"Why would they trust you?" Loki asked her. "Why any of you? Seidr is a secretive art, one jealously hoarded and revealed to precious few. None of you would be worthy of those secrets. You cannot comprehend its majesty."
"They wouldn't trust you," Ward remarked. "Strange has worked with SHIELD before."
Eyes narrowing slightly, Loki gave them all a curt nod. He abruptly opened a portal to one of his hideaways on Yggdrasil and stepped backward through it. "Then find him yourself."
Natasha waited a beat after the portal closed before openly glaring at Ward. "Next time, use less asshole maneuvering. You'll be less likely to start the next apocalypse that way."
May was also glaring at Ward, and turned toward Natasha. "I'll take you to the Village. I'm sure you'll find someone who does know Strange that can point you in the right direction."
As she and May left the conference room, Natasha could hear Skye make a soft choking sound and say incredulously "Holy shit, guys, how amazing was that? Ward got snarked at and I met an Avenger today!"
She missed Coulson's reply, and turned toward May. "Sure you don't miss the Maze?"
May gave her a small smile. "Sometimes. But they amuse me."
Natasha returned the smile. "It's hard to keep agents like us occupied sometimes."
"With all of those organizations out there, it's getting easier and easier every day."
Nodding, Natasha gave May a slightly wider smile. "That café we like downtown is still open. Have enough time for a pit stop?"
"I'm the bus driver," she answered with an answering smile. "Of course there is."
***
***
To Chapter Two - Strings Attached
Series: #7 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: Hard R (except for chapter three, which is Jessy's fault!)
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Amora/Skrall
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. Read the other stories before this one, because it does refer back to events in them. Violence and torture, somewhat worse than canon.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups
Summary: Loki had pissed off a great many entities throughout Yggdrasil. It was only a matter of time before one of them decided it was time to pay for his crimes.
One - Manipulation
When Natasha arrived to her debriefing with Sitwell, Director Fury was there as well. She kept her expression neutral, though she had to wonder if this would be some kind of witch hunt because of Loki's involvement. Dammit.
Natasha sat in her usual seat in front of them. "Agent Sitwell. Director Fury. I filed my report this morning," she said with her usual even tones. "What will I need to elaborate on?"
Sitwell sat back, a slight smile on his face. On Coulson's face, a similar smile made him seem harmless and approachable. On Sitwell's face, it gave him a vapid look. Natasha knew full well how smart he was, and that she couldn't relax her guard in the slightest. "Start with the ballroom in Andorra when Loki walked in with you."
Of course she had been followed on that op, watched to see who she made contact with. She had known that, because she had requested it. There wasn't always a good way to relay information regarding buyers and suppliers in that kind of situation, so having SHIELD plant a few agents in the service staff would allow them extra eyes to pick up and relay who she talked to. Knowing that, Natasha had omitted several important details about that night, mostly about what had happened prior to her arrival at the party. She had meant it when she told Loki that her deal was a personal one, and SHIELD wouldn't be involved.
"As I stated in my write up," Natasha began in a businesslike tone, "Loki approached me first, wanting something to distract him. I assume boredom or some kind of argument, but he never said and I didn't ask. I had a job to do, and he wasn't part of that."
"I appreciate the sentiment," Sitwell began.
Fury didn't appear willing to wait for Sitwell to get to the point. His stony gaze was already fixed on Natasha. "What did Loki want?"
"A diversion," Natasha lied. "He took Sarkissian's phone without her knowing it so I could look at it, then put it back. He watched me plant the beacons in her suite. And when I asked him to send the data back here, he did." She shrugged, keeping her straight face on. "From what I gather, he has few outlets left to pass the time."
"Can we use him?" Fury asked.
"No."
This seemed to throw Fury. "No? Why not?"
"We cannot guarantee his cooperation. He's too volatile, too self-centered and erratic. Think of him as even more egotistical and selfish than Tony Stark." That wasn't a fair assessment of Tony, and she knew it, but Fury wasn't fond of him.
The comparison did the job. Fury backed off with a look of disgust on his face, and Sitwell leaned forward to take over the debriefing. "So why has Loki set his sights on you, Agent Romanoff?" he asked in his carefully neutral tone of voice.
It made her miss Coulson fiercely. Even his neutral managed to convey some kind of personality, and Coulson knew when rules and regs didn't matter anymore. Natasha was capable of just about anything, and would do just about anything, so it was insulting to treat her like an entry level SHIELD Agent.
"Because he hasn't broken me, and he can't figure out why."
Sitwell blinked, and Natasha mentally added it to her tally of "Things I've surprised Jasper Sitwell with," which was far too easy to do. "Is that so?"
"Exactly so," Natasha replied. "The entire plot to derail my credibility with SHIELD and the Avengers failed. He has no backup plan. He has no allies. Half of the alien races he's come into contact with want to kill him. He's egotistical and burns every bridge he crosses." She looked from Sitwell to Fury. "It is not safe to even consider working with him in an official capacity. He is not an asset, but he can be mined for information."
"Mined how?"
She had thought about that when her deal had been struck. Of course, trying to explain it without mentioning said deal would be an interesting dance. "He needs it to be a game. He has to feel superior, that he's dominating us in some way. Labeling him an asset puts him on a lesser level, he'll never accept it. But if it's a battle of wits, where we look foolish next to him..."
"Then he becomes a show off. He's teaching humans a lesson," Sitwell guessed.
"Precisely," Natasha said with a nod. "He's a megalomaniac without a plan."
"Dangerous. So how do we contain him?"
"Keep him entertained," Natasha told him. "He was intrigued by the magical sleight of hand, but bored with the search of the suite. There are some things we do that just will not appeal. So it's maneuvering him very carefully."
"You're the only one that has ever given me an assessment like that," Fury said, turning back to face Natasha with a grim expression.
"Thor still has hopes that Loki will be brought back into the family. Frigga will forgive him just about anything even as she condemns his actions. They're hardly unbiased opinions."
"You aren't unbiased either, are you?" Sitwell asked.
"I don't presume to be, but I don't have any illusions about him anymore, either." She shrugged negligently, though inside she was fuming. So much for her opinion being valued here. Fury had called her their Loki expert; after what had happened six months ago, was he rethinking that? If so, then she had no credibility on this front after all.
"No, she's right," Fury told Sitwell. Natasha could internally ease up a bit. "You've gotten close enough to him on several occasions to see how he works. You know what matters to him, how to play him. It also means he can play you, but you did understand the risk involved." He sat down across from her, lips compressed tightly together in displeasure. "I can't ask you to put yourself out there without backup, but we have no other way to contain him."
"I understand," Natasha said with a nod.
"Unofficial operation," Fury told her, then looked at Sitwell. "It doesn't leave this room. The Avengers probably have a bead on some of his actions, we can't help that. But we can probably use that to monitor his movements. Loki is dangerous, and if we can't control the threat, we have to at least minimize it."
Natasha nodded, and Sitwell had to take a breath before nodding as well. She almost felt sorry for him, but he didn't reach Level Nine clearance without making a few unpleasant decisions along the way. "I'll contain him as best as I can."
"Good. Dismissed."
She left without a backward glance and headed for Avengers Tower. She wanted to get in some range time to clear her head, but for the moment wanted to be off of SHEILD grounds. The surveillance felt cloying now, and she wasn't sure who she could trust. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and she didn't think it was Loki's influence. Hel had eliminated his spells, so it was not some kind of subtle trickery meant to isolate her. No, this was her own suspicious nature and need to be in control.
Clint was at the range with pistols of his own. "Competition?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Why not?" she replied with a smile, sliding into the next lane. Their usual camaraderie was a balm and welcome antidote to the earlier tension. "Did you have to file a report?"
"Luckily, no. I hate that shit," he answered with a grin. Once her headgear was on, they lined up their paper targets and started to fire. It was an easy back and forth, and usually there was no clear winner with their competition.
When the targets were returned for the eighth time, Clint removed his headgear. Natasha caught the movement and did the same. "Are you okay?"
"As well as can be expected."
He frowned at her, not liking that answer. "Tash..."
"No, really. I mean it. I'm all right. I'm just a little worse for wear from getting out of Andorra, but the rest helps with the healing."
"I'm not talking about that."
Natasha sighed. Of course he wasn't. "Clint, I'll be okay."
"Are you sure this deal is worth it?"
"Do you even want to know the mechanics of our deal?" she asked with an arched brow.
"Oh, hell no. But I want to know if you are okay with it."
He cared about her, and she cared about him in return. It was probably as close to love as either of them were capable of, and served as her comparison for all other relationships in her life.
Putting down her weapon, she took his hand in hers and for good measure laced their fingers together. She smiled at the feel of his calluses; they were all wrong for guns, and those weren't his weapons of choice. He likely was in the range only to feel closer to her. "I've still got you, as you've pointed out. So I'm okay."
Clint nodded, lips curling into a smile. "Good. Don't know how far I'd get in taking him down if he ever hurt you again, but you know I'll try."
"Of course you will."
"He hasn't tried warping your mind, has he? You were afraid of that..."
She shook her head. "No. He's using different tactics now, but those fall under those details you really don't want to hear about."
Clint actually laughed at that, shaking his head. "Only you could make managing a psychopathic megalomaniac with godly powers sound easy."
Natasha smiled back. "By now, I think it actually is getting easier."
"At least you use those powers for good," he snarked.
Rolling her eyes, Natasha disentangled their hands and picked up her Glock, pointing it at him playfully, her finger over the trigger guard. "Don't make me shoot you, Barton."
He laughed again. "Hey, want to take the FNK back? I hate this thing."
"I told you, change the grips. Or wear the shooting gloves I got you. It's not going to be as comfortable as the bow grip."
Snorting, Clint shook his head. "I tried the other grips. They suck just as much. It's the design of the thing, and I don't have the patience you do to try to order custom ones."
"Then take the Glock and I'll take the FNK."
"Oh, hell no. I hate the angle on the grip."
"Big baby," Natasha teased, grinning at him.
"What? I like my bow."
"That was custom made to fit your hand," Natasha pointed out.
"Tony may have made a few upgrades, too."
"Of course he did," she said, shaking her head. "And I'm sure if he asked, he would make some kind of modification to my guns or exploding bullets of some kind."
"Just ask. You know he loves tinkering in his shop."
Still smiling at him, Natasha shook her head again and took the FNK from him. "I like these as they are. Maybe the flash discs could use an upgrade, though."
"That's the spirit," Clint replied. "Feel better?"
She didn't bother to ask how he knew she had felt rattled prior to coming to the range. Some things they simply had a feel for by now. She simply nodded, her genuine smile in place. "Yeah, I am. Thanks."
"Anytime, Tash, you know that."
"Yeah, I do." She started putting away the weapons, smile still fixed on her face. She did know that he would always have her back and trust in her. It was still good to hear it every once in a while, and he knew that.
***
Amora had been born in Asgard, and had been gifted in magical arts. She had a natural talent to it, which brought her to attention of the greatest teachers on Asgard. Karnilla was the most sought after, and took on so few students. She had trained Frigga, Freya and a lot of the other greats in Asgard. Karnilla had ultimately deemed Amora too undisciplined to go further with her studies. Furious, Amora left Asgard in search of other teachers and different esoteric disciplines to prove that she was a worthy adversary if not a worthy student.
She acquired several masters by seduction after leaving Asgard. It was a ploy that usually worked, as she had an ample bosom, generous hips, and flowing blonde hair that she held back with a green helm. She also usually dressed in deep, forest green to highlight her coloring and figure. She had no problem showcasing her assets and flashing her thighs above her boots to distract adversaries. Sometimes she wore long green gloves, sometimes she wore bracers that left her palms and fingers free; some spells did need finer gestures in order to be cast correctly, and she didn't like the feel of the gloves for those.
Most of her known spells generally included concussive blasts of force, fire or heat; enslavement of will; teleportation; illusions; paralysis; and manipulation of elements. Generally she tapped the power of artifacts or the influence of Asgard itself, but she was able to manipulate the magic fields inherent in most worlds. Some artifacts were obtained through back channels, supposedly through Loki himself. She managed to meet him once upon a time, when he was still a Prince of Asgard, beloved younger brother to Thor. He had been rather dismissive of her physical charms and even less impressed by her skills. "Karnilla was right to cast you out," he had scoffed. "You lack control and fortitude to pull off the truly difficult spells."
Furious, she worked even harder to try to seduce him, but he never once seemed to get entangled in her schemes. Thor was easier to manipulate, but all he cared for was feasting and fighting, neither of which interested her in the slightest. Trying to get him interested in her was easy, but keeping him with her was a chore she didn't want to endure.
Loki's callous manner had gotten Amora to thinking as she walked along the branches of Yggdrasil. It was dangerous, and she skirted the edge of reality far too often for her teachers' liking. Physically, she had as much strength as the average Asgardian. She was able to do standard Asgardian feats of strength, but generally did not. Her focus was on the esoteric arts, and she didn't like shifting it to anything else. Walking Yggdrasil in the manner she did could be very dangerous, especially without a home realm or an anchor to keep her rooted in a single reality. Loki's casual cruelty was a good anchor for her anger. She could prove to him that she had the mental fortitude and control to wield difficult magicks. He wasn't the only caster on Asgard, and she was still determined to be the best.
Amora stopped walking abruptly and shook out her hair. Her blonde tresses had gotten matted and she was utterly filthy. How much time had passed as she walked? How far afield of reality had she actually come?
Flicking some of the filth off of her tattered skirt, Amora watched as it shifted form during its descent back onto Yggdrasil. Monsters and various horrid forms seemed to take shape, shadows shifting all around her. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
How long had it been since she had last spoken?
She had a sense of green as she looked down at herself, and was soon stumbling along a steep incline she hadn't noticed. Tumbling and rolling, she fetched up on a grassy field next to a massive tree that seemed to touch the sky. Yggdrasil? Amora touched the tree, and she could see the World Tree as well as the tree before her. She could feel the stretch of existence and magic all around her, and laughter bubbled up inside of her. Many of her old teachers couldn't do that, had feared abilities like that.
"I'm too clever," she said, then startled at the sound of her own voice. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. Her hair was still a tangled, snarled mess, her helm anchored in place amongst all the knots. The green dress she wore was caked in mud, grass and things she would rather not name, the skirt of it tattered and torn. Her green stockings were ripped, shredding to nearly nothing in some places, and the heels of her boots had worn themselves down to nothing. How far had she walked? How much time had passed?
But knowledge swirled within her blood, and any price was worth paying in order to obtain it. She laughed again, dancing around the tree, fingers moving in patterns that sent the insects nearby skittering for cover in fright. She was magic, she was Creation, she was part of the World Tree and apart from it, all the old teachers be damned to Helheim and back.
"You are a strange thing," came a voice behind her.
Amora stopped her frenzied dance and fell into a crouch out of fright. Her eyes were as green as her clothing, as green as the grass all around her. Her blonde hair and pale, pale skin didn't let her blend in with the field, however.
The voice's owner was a man of some sort, heavily muscled with skin as gray as stone. He had a wide slash of a mouth and black eyes, a stubby nose that had been broken and reset more times than it really should have, and he towered above her when he stood up from his sprawled position next to a tree beside hers. "You tumbled out of the sky," he said, pointing, "and then there you are, dancing." His beady black eyes narrowed slightly and she thought she saw the broken, blunted ends of teeth beyond his cracked lips. He watched her carefully, as if trying to decide if she was prey, and that could not stand.
Amora started to smile as she stood from her crouch, a wild, crazed thing that could strike fear into lesser creatures. "You could call it dancing, I suppose."
"What monstrosity are you?"
But she wasn't the monstrosity. She was magic. She was able to do so many things, and she was so much more than the teachers had said she would be. It was not lack of fortitude that got her this far. Lack of discipline would not have allowed her to return from Yggdrasil unscathed but for ragged clothing.
Are you really unscathed? a tiny whispering voice asked. Possibly the remnants of her old conscience. It was a faulty, diseased thing. Best exterminated.
She grinned even wider, sure that she would appear demented and manic, more like a beast than a woman, more like a ghoul than a sorceress. "No monstrosity. I am Asgardian, and I have walked the ways of Yggdrasil for some time. What are you?"
"I am Skrall the Executioner," he told her. His voice was low and gravelly, much like his appearance. Scars covered nearly all of his exposed skin, and he moved as if they were badges of honor rather than horrors to avoid. Without magic, she could not heal damage done to her body quickly, and she was terribly vain. She could admit that to herself. Vanity wasn't a crime, and it had led her down this path so far. So many of her teachers had been drawn in and manipulated by the promise of flesh and desires fulfilled, the end result of youthening spells, enhancements and old fashioned mental control. Her beauty would get her even farther.
Amora smiled at him coquettishly. Yes, he was hooked in by her snare. She could tell by the slight widening of his beady black eyes, the way the corner of his mouth curled with intrigue. Oh yes, she might have fallen into the right place after all.
"I am Amora the Enchantress. You will take care of me now."
Skrall grinned, a frightening thing that likely caused nightmares in his enemies. "My pleasure."
***
Possibly because of the potential Loki entertainment value, Natasha was asked to look into the connection between Hydra, AIM and spell casters. She wanted to roll her eyes at Sitwell, whose expression remained as bland as ever. "Is there something specific I should use as a search parameter? Something other than my own escape from Andorra as a reason to believe magic is involved in their association?"
"There is some rumor picked up by the CIA that seems to indicate the actual Ten Rings group is not as defunct as they wanted us to believe."
Natasha looked at him evenly. "There was the actor hired by Killian as his cover story," she began slowly. "Most of the leaders of that group are on the list of known operatives killed."
"Not all of them," Sitwell told her. He handed her a slim file folder that turned out to have a highly sanitized version of all SHIELD information regarding the Ten Rings. "This might help get your advisor on board."
She suppressed the urge to pull a face at him and smiled in a professional way. Once she was dismissed, she headed to her office. It was still untouched from the last time she had been down there, piles of old file folders still in its seeming haphazard organization. After only a few minutes sitting there, she could feel the tell-tale itch between her shoulder blades that indicated she was being watched. Considering there hadn't been the sound of footsteps or echoes down the hall, it was pretty obvious who was there. "Are you going to actually say something, or were you planning to just stand there?"
Loki stepped to the side of her desk, dressed in a black business suit and navy blue tie. "You knew I was there," he commented, though she could tell he was surprised.
Natasha smirked a little and nodded toward his tie. "No green?"
He returned her smirk. "It wouldn't do to be obvious."
"Of course not."
Taking the topmost folder from her pile, Loki quickly looked through it, then tossed it back onto her desk with a grimace. "Hardly worth paying attention to," he sneered.
"What are you doing here?" Natasha asked Loki, looking back down at her collected files. Of course the sanitized one was boring. That was why she was gathering more information for it.
"Your job can be rather…" He pursed his lips as if looking for the right words to say. "This is not what I would wish to do."
"You're a trickster and manipulator."
"As are you."
Natasha looked up, her expression an impassive mask. "Yes, I can be. I didn't pretend otherwise, did I?" she asked.
Loki tilted his head to look at her. "Initially, you did."
"You assumed I was weak."
"Weren't you?" He moved to the opposite side of her desk, leaning over it with an almost menacing look on his face. "I might have been the monster in the cage, but you were the one discomfited by my remarks."
"Was I really?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Natasha reached for another folder, this one stained and dogeared. The only reason why she was even in this office was to find the truly old files, the ones that hadn't been completely digitized. Usually, those were the ones with the most interesting information that computers simply couldn't pick up. Handwriting changes, the subtle or not-so-subtle depression of the pen into paper... Those could never be replicated properly, and it generally told her a little more about the writer than the surface content of the report. The more agitated the agent was, the more truthful she could assume the report to be.
"You were. And when I held you captive at your safe house… You eliminated it because of me."
Natasha looked up, fingering the old folder. It was thick, but not everything might be currently useful. She would have much rather concentrated in private, but Loki apparently was trying to prove a point to himself. Tilting her head to the side, she contemplated him. "Are you still upset that I'm not discredited here?"
There was a startled look in his eyes before his mask descended, and she guessed that she hit her mark. He was still trying to figure her out, wondering why she wasn't broken and defeated. It might be because he was discovering how deeply he was tying himself to her, how much he relied on their deal. Mortality was rather a bitch that way next to someone that was so nearly immortal. Loki might have been trying to figure out a way to sever some of those ties and not be so reliant on her. The way he was speaking about Hel, Natasha doubted that he would be able to come up with some kind of deal to release her after her death.
"You would have to matter," he all but snarled.
"Ah." Natasha looked down at the file in her hands and flipped it open. "Might as well sit down," she said, indicating one of the chairs across from her desk. She leaned back in her own and looked up. "I still have work to do, and standing like that for a long time will give you a crick in your back. I assume you're still subject to such things, even as an Asgardian."
Loki was clearly taken aback, and his expression darkened. "You do not command me."
"It wasn't a command," she replied without looking up. "It was a suggestion. You can loom all you like if it really makes you happy."
Sullen, he grabbed a chair and sat down. He was a creature of comfort and habit, and they both knew that about him.
"What is this trash?"
"What passes as mortal magic."
He snorted and picked up the sanitized file again. It still bored him, and he moved the chair closer to her side of the desk to look at the thicker file she was perusing. "So what is that?"
"Something SHIELD generally would rather you didn't have," Natasha said, paging through it. "But I'm looking for anything important that might be in the older files. Archival data is often more useful than the higher ups seem to think."
That was just the right hook to intrigue him. Loki took the larger file from her and paged through it, frowning at the tightly written script and skipping straight to the figures, diagrams and pictures. "It is Midgardian in origin, at least."
Natasha didn't say anything as he continued paging through the file. "This could potentially devastate your world, I think," he said, opening up the thick folder to a diagram in the back. The photo was of two gauntlets, ten rings worked into them, and an amulet that was crafted in a similar style. "The script looks very similar to ones I have seen before."
"What do they do?"
"Funnel power, of course. What is magic but willpower made manifest?"
"I thought I would find you down here, Romanoff," came a voice behind them. Natasha turned around with a half smile on her lips, but Loki looked downright hostile.
"May," Natasha replied with her usual emotionless tone. "I'm surprised you're back in the Maze. Didn't like driving the bus?"
"Oh, I like it just fine. Phil asked me to bring you in on this one once Jasper told him what you were assigned to. Our current targets match." The woman standing in the doorway was in a black uniform similar in style to Natasha's, with some personal variation of it. She was of Asian descent, had shoulder length loose black hair and a no nonsense expression on her face. There was a battle ready grace about her, and her brown eyes seemed to take everything in.
Loki looked at her with surprise mingling in with his hostility. "There are two of you," he accused, looking back at Natasha.
Smirking at him, Natasha stood. "Correction. Go far enough in the organization and there are a lot more people like us."
"Disturbing thought," Loki muttered, rising as well.
"It was meant to be."
Natasha picked up both the sanitized file and the thicker archival file she had been looking through. "I think this one would rather tag along."
"Asset?"
"Not exactly."
May actually smiled. "Trust me, the bus is full of those. He'll fit right in."
***
Loki managed not to gape at the "bus" that May brought them to. He had thought it would be one of those silly ground transportation vehicles he had seen all over Midgard, but this was actually a rather large flying machine. There were cars in the hangar bay, and May led them up a spiral stair to the conference room. "The rest are already inside," she told them.
He recognized Phil Coulson immediately, and at least didn't blanch at the sight. He had killed him, the man bleeding out after blasting him with some kind of weapon. Loki could remember the sting of the blast as well as his words. You'll never defeat them... You lack conviction. Perhaps it was true, but it still hurt to hear.
Coulson didn't let on that he recognized Loki in the suit, though he must have. He made the introductions automatically. There was May, the pilot and a high ranking agent in her own right, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons were the two scientific minds that helped take apart the things they saw in the field, Grant Ward was a Level Seven agent that worked out in the field and there was Skye, who seemed to be the computer expert. "And of course, this is Agent Romanoff and Loki," Coulson said in his usual bland tones, pointing at them in turn. The scientists and computer expert gaped. "We'll be working together to track down the Ten Rings and Hydra connection."
"But… You tried to blow up New York!" Skye cried, pointing at him.
"An invasion is hardly an explosion," Loki replied haughtily, looking at her with scorn.
Clearing his throat, Coulson stared at Skye until she composed herself. "As I said. Ten Rings." He looked over at Ward, who started poking at the touchscreen table. Views of the known artifacts associated with them appeared on the wall screen, as well as a listing of known members of the faction. Most were confirmed dead, some were missing. One of the missing members of the Ten Rings was believed to have been absorbed into one of Hydra's cells, but this was based on untrustworthy information. "The only one that was definitively able to view the gauntlet or the amulet in question is Doctor Strange, who is currently missing."
"Missing," Natasha commented, looking at Coulson with an eyebrow lifted.
"Some kind of magical energy burst about a year ago. Hasn't been seen since. Given that it's magical in nature, however, his comrades are reluctant to actually presume he's dead until they find a body."
"Generally a commendable course of action with practitioners of any sort," Loki agreed. "What does this mage of yours look like?"
A few taps on the table, and a photo of Dr. Stephen Strange was added to the wall. He was slender and tall, with gray eyes and black hair containing a shock of white at the temples. "Originally born in Philadelphia, he trained in medicine at New York University, completed his residency in New York Hospital until an unfortunate accident and could no longer practice as a neurosurgeon," Coulson said, pointing to the photo. "From what we can tell, that's what led him to study the mystical arts under the Ancient One, no photo or biographical data available. He's set up a community of sorts in Greenwich Village and has occasionally done consulting work for various government agencies, mutants, and other known practitioners."
"He is unfamiliar to me," Loki declared after a moment. "His travels likely did not include the branches of Yggdrasil or the other realms."
"Visiting other realms isn't exactly a common thing to do," Fitz said, bristling slightly. "We know that Dr. Foster has been working on the Einstein-Rosen bridge, but all of the other publications regarding her work are theoretical in nature. It hasn't been done on a consistent basis on our end. The technology simply isn't there."
"Because it's a question of magic," Loki returned, scorn clear in his voice. "To be able to transmute the substance and shape of a thing, transport it nearly instantaneously... These are higher order spells, and no novitiate could cast it."
"Transmutation means to change matter's fundamental structure," Simmons burst in, catching his attention. "And if you're interconverting matter to energy and then back again, it would require a massive amount of energy and is more likely to create an explosion than travel between worlds or across the globe."
"Unless we're talking about quantum mechanics," Fitz said before Loki could interrupt, warming to the topic. "It's part of the fundamental theory behind the bridge, and likely why it is so unstable. You can't predict an object's precise location without disturbing it-"
"Enough with the sciencing," Ward interjected, nearly heaving a sigh. "If it's a question of energy or whatever, doesn't that mean that you can track it?"
All eyes swiveled toward Loki, whose lip curled in distaste. "I've told Natasha many times. Magic is willpower made manifest. There are signatures that can be felt in the seidr> if you look for them."
"Yes," Simmons said earnestly, "but what does it look like? Is it energy? A signal of some sort?"
Loki frowned, appearing unsure how to translate any of this into terms that mortals could understand. Natasha took in his serious stance and care in answering the question, and realized that she had possibly not given Sitwell enough credit. He had been paying attention after all; this was the perfect case to occupy Loki and make him feel superior to humans. It could contain him for a time; the Ten Rings and Hydra were both very slippery organizations, and Loki would likely want to see it through to the end. In the meantime, that would leave SHIELD with more agents on the ground to work other cases, and Loki would neatly eliminate major world threats for them. Clever.
"How do you describe music to one that is tone deaf?" he asked finally. "Those gifted can hear the signature design of a composer. Such with the seidr, and those truly skillful can even tell who had trained the practitioner."
"And you're such a one," Ward asked, skepticism clear in his voice.
Loki's grin was a sharp baring of teeth. "One of the few still living."
"Then I guess we're stuck with you."
His eyes narrowed, and he started raising a hand toward Ward. Natasha put a hand on his arm to gently divert his attention. "Would you be able to trace Dr. Strange if you had some of his personal effects? If he had lived in the Village, it's not that difficult to get to."
He gave her a look that contained a fair measure of pity. "If he's as good as he thinks he is, you will never be able to find it."
"Known allies might be able to help track him down," May said.
Loki nodded at her slowly. "Assuming they would be willing to help you."
"Why wouldn't they want to find their friend?" Skye asked, frowning. "He's been missing for a year, and they were freaking out back then, sure he wasn't dead. For all we know, they've been looking for him this whole time."
"Why would they trust you?" Loki asked her. "Why any of you? Seidr is a secretive art, one jealously hoarded and revealed to precious few. None of you would be worthy of those secrets. You cannot comprehend its majesty."
"They wouldn't trust you," Ward remarked. "Strange has worked with SHIELD before."
Eyes narrowing slightly, Loki gave them all a curt nod. He abruptly opened a portal to one of his hideaways on Yggdrasil and stepped backward through it. "Then find him yourself."
Natasha waited a beat after the portal closed before openly glaring at Ward. "Next time, use less asshole maneuvering. You'll be less likely to start the next apocalypse that way."
May was also glaring at Ward, and turned toward Natasha. "I'll take you to the Village. I'm sure you'll find someone who does know Strange that can point you in the right direction."
As she and May left the conference room, Natasha could hear Skye make a soft choking sound and say incredulously "Holy shit, guys, how amazing was that? Ward got snarked at and I met an Avenger today!"
She missed Coulson's reply, and turned toward May. "Sure you don't miss the Maze?"
May gave her a small smile. "Sometimes. But they amuse me."
Natasha returned the smile. "It's hard to keep agents like us occupied sometimes."
"With all of those organizations out there, it's getting easier and easier every day."
Nodding, Natasha gave May a slightly wider smile. "That café we like downtown is still open. Have enough time for a pit stop?"
"I'm the bus driver," she answered with an answering smile. "Of course there is."
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To Chapter Two - Strings Attached