So I am completely enamored with the Avengers movie. For more than one reason, other than Loki and his epicness.
(On a totally unrelated side note-TOM HIDDLESTON- HOTHOTHOTHOTHOT)
I received this idea after reading a whole bunch of Fanfiction, and I really hope you enjoy.
Also, just a warning so as not to get your hopes too high, this is not a Slash story. Even though it is Hawkeye and Loki, it literally has everyone. Everyone. The entire Avengers squad has their own part in this. And Coulson. I hope you are not disappointed with what you find
:D Enjoy!
Summary: What if Loki's control was more absolute than a stupid punch to the face? What if he was a little smarter with his Scepter on the balcony scene with Stark? The End of the World naturally.
Warnings: Language. Spoilers for the movie (naturally). Death and destruction. Mindcontrol (should that even have a warning?). Also, I slightly bash people(But hey, it's gotta happen sometime, right?). Character death (Minor and Major).
Disclaimer: I wish I owned it, but I do not. I only own the idea... Gosh, could you imagine OWNING Tom Hiddleston?
You Were Made to be Ruled
Waking up in a room, strapped to a hospital gurney, was nothing new for Clint Barton. Nor for Hawkeye, his alter ego. In fact, it was a fairly standard procedure in his line of work.
Though, it was fairly new (even for him) to awaken with blue eyes, after being beaten in the head with Natasha's fists, and still have all the knowledge the cube had been amicable enough to part with. The Tesseract. That his Lord, Loki, had so graciously given him.
Awaken still knowing everything he needed. Still knowing that he was fighting for his freedom, to fight for Loki.
The bright light around him swam as he strained against the restraints weakly, shutting his eyes against the invading light. Like a child trying to squirm out of a parents arms. Completely and totally useless against the coarse fabric softening the metals harsh bite.
"Ughh." Clint groaned, feeling the splitting head ache that was nothing new, but almost ironic. Everything was happening to his head now a days, wasn't it? Even though he himself couldn't quite control it.
"Clint?" The hopeful voice of Natasha Romanov was not hard to miss but in Clint's condition, unwelcome. Really, really unwelcome. He almost growled, but felt (no, knew) that it would make his head hurt worse. The pounding was already horrible, so he kept it in.
All Clint really wanted was Loki. Loki and his order that would calm the inferno that was currently starting in his head. Make the ice that would cool the fire of his mind. That was led by one pesky thought:
Where am I?
And another thought even more pesky then the first:
Where is Loki?
His head rolled back and forth as he tried to settle his mind. Calm the waves that were churning in his head. Eradicating the thoughts that were not about Loki and his reign. His freedom. It was simpler after that. When thinking about the freedom Loki had given him. It was almost too simple.
Which made it all the more comforting.
Then Clint opened his eyes, just as he calmed himself into thinking only for Loki.
Natasha was standing over him, looking into his eyes searchingly with excitement that was then followed closely and immediately by the shutting down of all emotional output on her face. She leaned away like she was stung by what she saw. And Clint couldn't even find it in himself to wonder why (but deep down he knew).
All he knew was that he was angry.
It took little to no brain power to decide to get revenge for his current predicament.
Clint did not see his best friend. Who was wounded that he looked at her like an injured animal, and who was astounded that he was still being controlled by a monster, even after a 'cognitive calibration'.
No.
He saw the woman who had made his mission incomplete. Who had made him fail Loki. A shiver crawled up his spine as the fact hit home. He had failed. He had failed his Lord, Loki. Rage was too small a word to explain his wrath.
He glared at Romanov, no longer acknowledging her as Natasha. He saw a woman who was in his way. So before Romanov could extract herself, which she was leaning away to do, Clint head butted her.
Hard. With a growl.
The sickening crunch gave him a moment of joy, before he tried to follow the attack up. He couldn't of course. The straps on his arms were holding him down and he snarled. He tried to fling a leg at her neck, but was stopped short by the metal there. The biting pain of leather clinging to his skin hurt, but not as much as knowing that he had failed. Desperate to attack again, when the woman who had caused him no small amount of trouble, just sat on the ground groaning in confusion and distortion, holding her head, he snarled to himself and reached deep within himself.
His blue eyes flickered as he searched the connection he had with Loki. The connection only those that had been shown the freedom, could access. It was not completely one sided though. If Loki was looking, then Clint could access. There was a brief feeling of interest on the responding end, and he heard, clear as day:
"Agent Barton. What a… pleasant surprise." The voice across the other end purred, and Clint immediately relaxed into it. Loki's voice was like honey dripping over his mind. Completely shorting it as he breathed in the almost palpable scent of his voice.
"You are not on the return trip, I see..."
"I am currently… incapacitated. Master." Clint glared at Romanov as she stared at him.
"He's still got you." She whispered, some sort of epiphany happening inside her own consciousness. Clint's head was cocked awkwardly, but he only glared as strongly as he could. Not giving her a response. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was screaming, but he was past giving in to it.
"What are my orders for when I am of more use, sir?" Clint asked as he watched Agent Romanov rise from her position on the floor, holding her nose as it bled quite freely. Her eyes were hard, and had lost the softness it held at the beginning of their meeting. She pushed a button on the side of the door, muttering a choice phrase that sounded a lot like, "amnable oki" not hearing the response that Romanov gave as she left the room quickly.
Not that she could hear inside Clint's head, that is.
"Make them regret daring to cage a god."
Clint smirked as he waited, working the cuff for the best friction and biding his time.
This time he would not fail. That. He could promise.
-LOKI-LOKI-LOKI-
Agent Natasha Romanov was outside Agent Barton's room (or cell, depending on your mood), quietly leaning against a wall and damning Loki to every hell she knew. In every language she knew. In every way she knew how.
It was just like the damn bastard to give her hope of rekindling her friendship with her best friend, only to have it pulled away. Hot tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back, angry enough to forgo a good cry. It had been years since she had cried for herself. And she refused to start now.
The sound of footsteps on tile alerted her to the fact that the button on the wall she had pressed, meant to alert the correct people of a problem, worked properly. Though, the correct people rarely included the 'Capsicle' as Stark had dubbed Steve Rodgers.
"Agent Romanov, how is he?" Captain America asked anxiously, as he walked down the hall.
Or tried to ask. Natasha wasn't in the mood for answering nicely after being punched square in the face with Clint's rather large head. She could already feel her nose cartilage shifting with every breath.
She quickly set it, ignoring the sharpest pain imaginable, and settled against the wall as the dull throbbing started.
"He's still under his control," She meant for it to sound pissed and tough and not girlish. But it came out sounding like she wanted to sob and fall into the ground and blank. Captain America was not good at sensing this sort of thing, but was certainly the one to go to for comfort. "Still under his damn control."
"Is there anything we can do?" The Captain asked sadly, rather than comment on Natasha's sudden character collapse. Because, no matter how little he knew of woman, or of her, he knew that you never say anything about the obvious. Or if they were going to 'fondue' with another person.
Steve looked through the window to see Clint still straining at his entrapments; his blue eyes wide and frenzied, but with a certain calmness piercingness that unsettled him greatly.
When had the world changed from human on human warfare to this? A man out of his mind because he had lost his freedom, fighting the people he had worked tirelessly next to.
"Unless we can somehow find a better way to knock Loki out of his mind… no." Agent Romanov was not one to give up, but even she was hard pressed to fight magic. How did one fight a god who could enslave on a whim? Natasha slid down the wall and sat in the hall, hands against her forehead as she tried to work out this exhausting puzzle. It helped that her head pounded from both blood loss and anger. And the bridge of her nose hurt like a bitch.
"If it is any consolation. I'm sorry." Steve said, sitting down next to her. Not touching. Not giving any response other than companionship. A woman like Romanov would surely not find that comforting.
Natasha would never admit that she appreciated it.
"You know, I thought-" Natasha laughed into her fist hysterically, silently, "I thought that if we just got him back, we'd be able to fix him. Punch him in the face, allow him to see the error of his ways… The normal way we fix problems…"
She trailed off as she looked at Steve, her impassive face back. Ready.
"And it's a big joke. Like the universe is laughing at us."
There were no tears. Natasha was still torn up (shaken up, more like it) over Dr. Banner hulking out and attacking her, but she was an assassin. Trained to deal with these kinds of situations. She'd had plenty of partners go rouge.
Never had it been against their will though. Never had it been her best friend. Never had it been him.
Never had Clint Barton, the man who was the reason she was alive, betrayed her.
And that just shoved the knife of betrayal deeper.
And it hurt. It hurt a lot to know that Loki could simply destroy that on a whim. Knock down decades of trust and teambuilding with a scepter made of glowing blue energy. Alien energy. Knock down what made Clint so very human, and replace it with something as robotic and exotic as Stark's suit.
Stupid, all powerful energy.
"Is there anything you need-"
"No." Natasha cut Steve off before he could continue. "I need some time alone. That's all. I'll be fine in a few hours."
Steve almost objected but heard the small unaired, "Please" that made him nod. Just in time to turn his head at the sound of pitter-pattering footsteps.
A team of scientists mixed with a few medical professional people came around the corner and Natasha forced herself to rise. Ready to explain the situation before going to 'nest' in a high place, away from everyone. Until they needed her. She thought taking a page from Clint's book would work well at this moment. Especially since she was almost positive the first person to even try to take pity on her would be socked right where it hurt.
Captain America could only watch in silence, before getting up to return to the control room, hoping that Stark had stopped staring at the wall. Because if there was one thing stranger and more unnerving than Natasha having emotions, was a Stark not making fun of his uniform.
So what did you think? I have almost four other chapters written, so I hope you guys liked it!
Reviews are always loved and make me write faster when I think people actually read my stuff. :P
Writers Note [1/10/13] : I just finished going through this and sprucing up some of the typos. Nothing else has changed, but there may be a little more detail in some areas. Goodness, it was a little bit of a mess. I also wanted to thank everyone who has read this story previously, or who have just begun-
THANK YOU! You is wonderful ;D
