Oh, so fanfic. No own. Much sadness.
-Doge
LISTEN UP!
I have five chapters of this written up so far. I already feel like an absolute bitch but I'm going to only post new chapters once the previous one has a minimum of ten reviews! I am really sorry people, and I know I don't post new content that often and I really should finish my other stories first but I'm rather proud of this one.
So that's the deal. 10 reviews, one new chapter. I'll continue writing to try and keep the transitions smooth and hopefully finish this story. I doubt there'll be more then ten chapters, and if this is well enough received maybe I'll do a sequel.
He had spent a week in New York, searching. Seven days spent slinking in alleyways and cringing away from the light. His pride was shattered and the sight of his hollow face reflected in broken glass and muddy puddles offended him. He had no clothes other than those clinging to his still oozing back and lacked the power to summon more; his arms still stung where the anti-magic wards had been branded and no amount of scratching or scorching faded them. He was an image of madness and desperation and only one thing drove him.
He had to find the green warrior.
It was the end of his first week free that he found the newspaper that had blown from the gleaming city into the corrupt alley. The title congratulated the Avengers, now six months old, and had a small article on each member. There were no pictures, no details about the battle of New York.
The archer and assassin weren't mentioned, but the shield and the armoured one were in the city. The green warrior was very far east, or less far west, on an island called 'Korea'.
It took another week to find a ship headed in that direction, and even so he had to swim from the archipelago called Japan to reach his target.
But Loki was stubborn, and he would find the one called Doctor Banner.
Bruce gnawed his way through a stale kwabaegi, watching the people bustle by his cement bench. He had been in Seoul a month now, and was hoping for another month of traveling the country side before some disaster brought him back to the States. His single battered bag was packed and ready back at the dingy motel he called camp and the good doctor was picking up his last lunch in the city before returning to the poorer sections of the country.
Someone tall and gaunt stumbled through the crowd, who parted to avoid him in a place that crowds would normally scythe through anyone not carrying a gun. That alone made Bruce's 'inner beast' rumble a warning that turned into a long snarl as the man sat gingerly beside him. Banner discreetly examined him over the hard pastry.
He had long curled black hair that hadn't seen clean water in ages and thin black stubble crawled over his face. There were deep angry scars over one cheek, like something pissed and spiky had clung to his face and had to be torn off. Weeks old but still in danger of infection or even reopening. Despite deep lines of sadness and exhaustion under glazed green eyes he looked young, barely out of his teens. His clothes were in even worse shape than their owner and may have at some time been a cheap brown tunic and trousers but were now soiled by sea water and ripped.
It was with a distant flicker of surprise that Bruce noticed the deadened man beside him was Loki himself.
"Dr. Banner, I presume?" The escaped lunatic said politely. His voice was the liveliest thing about him.
Somehow, that was a bigger shock than being cornered in Korea by a mad god. "Henry Stanley?" Bruce snorted. "Where did you hear that?"
"A book I read, years ago." He crossed his hands in his lap, rimrod straight, but with a slight quiver in his shoulder that betrayed an injury underneath the salt-encrusted, stiff shirt. "I've been looking for you. I had hoped you would be in New York."
"You found me." The doctor replied warily. "I am the first then?"
"First what?" Loki looked honestly curious.
"First victim. The first person you kill for your revenge?" Bruce was a little less certain that a bloody battle was about to sink another island into the sea. Loki seemed unstable and injured, but not hostile.
"No, no," The trickster protested mildly. "I'm here for your help, actually. You see, I have a rather large gap in my memory. A few years ago, I fell from the Bifrost, that is," He explained with an uncharacteristic perceptive of a mortal's understanding, "the interplanetary device that powers our travel to other realms. I recall.. it's seems a dream... going very far very fast through the dark. When I awoke my bones were broken and a massive green warrior was standing over me, yourself, yes?"
"Er," Banner stared at the young god's open face. This was not how things went. The godling should be either elbow deep in Hulk or a bloody smear on a distant mountain- not that Bruce was complaining! "Yeah? I mean, that was me. Do you mean to say you don't remember what you did?"
"And there is the meaning to my quest." Loki leaned in. He smelt faintly of the sea and firewood. Bruce watched his thin lips tighten into a snarl. "What. Did. I. Do?"
"Yo-You attacked Earth," Banner barely breathed. "With an army. Of aliens."
"Tell me who they are."
"Chitauri." The answer came out at as a high, breathless whine. Somehow, the sane (If he could be called that) Loki was scarier.
Loki's eyes narrowed in contemplation. Bruce nervously hoped the god of lies would back up soon because the Other Guy was beginning to see him as a threat. Finally, Loki seemed to make a decision and returned to his side of the bench with an air of determination. He didn't let his back touch the bench.
"I will require your services." He said grandly.
"What?! N-" Those burning green eyes shimmered like poisonous snakes. Feeling a touch ashamed, Bruce amended his protest to a quiet mumble. "Look, I can't help you. If you're telling the truth, why don't you get Thor-"
"No." The shimmer shifted to a full blaze. "Asgard would rather brand lie as truth, and welcome a falsehood into their homes before they believe anything I say as honesty. You will help me, Dr. Banner. I need a man who is clever, a healer who is discreet and a warrior who is strong. Besides, I was under the impression you enjoyed helping innocents?"
"Fine, fine. I am an Avenger," Banner admitted reluctantly, setting aside his kwabaegi. "and you were, maybe, wrongfully imprisoned. If you are telling the truth then you should know better than to attack me, right?"
"That is not something I would quickly forget." The trickster rose stiffly. "If you would be so kind as to escort me to your home?"
Bruce barely remembered the trip back to the motel, explaining in poor Korean that he would be staying a little while longer, and lending the godling his spare bed mat. It was all very surreal, and the doctor felt like his brains would spill out if he turned his head to sharply. It wasn't until he came back from the grocer with food and extra medical supplies that the world righted itself brutally at the sight of Loki's now bare back.
The trickster had evidently removed the tunic in his absence, and had troubled several bone deep welts into weeping at the effort instead of waiting for aid. The marks were thin and sharp, as though cut with a blade, but with strange burns on the damaged parts of the cut severe enough to prevent healing. Despite being crusted with dirt and grime, they seemed uninfected, a benefit of godhood. Whip wounds, Banner realised. He knew he looked green because Loki nervously licked his lips and shifted from his place on the floor. The mats had been moved to the corner of the room, to avoid them getting bloodied. The shirt was crumpled in the corner, ruined beyond help.
"Dr. Banner?"
Bruce cleared his throat, pulling out the needle and thread. "Sorry. Is that... all?" He winced but it was too late to stop the insensitive remark. All?! He berated himself. Why not tell him he deserved worse while you're at it! "I didn't mean-"
"It's quite alright, doctor. There are some superficial wounds but they will heal on their own. I would not ask for aid if I could afford the injury or heal it myself but I cannot reach my own back."
"Why not 'magick' it?" Bruce carefully shot a triple dose of morphine into the god's emancipated arm. Even being unbelievable underweight, the doctor didn't worry about overdosing Loki. The triple dose hardly stilled his trembling shoulder and Banner gently urged Loki into laying down on his stomach. He didn't want the tremble to risk lodging a needle inside a wound instead of beside it.
"My magic is blocked, at the moment." Loki stated flatly. Bruce wondered at the trickster's apparent honestly before feeling a flicker of shame. Hadn't the godling himself stated that no-one ever believed his honesty? If Loki somehow trusted the two-faced man of all people, Bruce should not judge.
They both fell silent as Bruce quickly cleaned and sewed the nastiest few before switching to gauze, which was really just a semi-clean sheet that hadn't yet been bled on. The needle had nearly broken after the tenth stitch and the force required to get it through Loki's skin obviously caused him great pain, though he didn't show it. If the god had his magic, the needle probably couldn't have penetrated his eye. By the time Bruce was finished, dinner was long gone and Loki had fallen into an exhausted state of unconsciousness. Looking at the young face screwed up in pain and tiredness prevented Bruce from calling the fitful rest sleep.
Deciding that rest was more important then food, Banner pulled the bed mat out of the corner before draping a thin sheet over Loki and a scratchy blanket over himself and dropped his glasses beside him. Despite the sort of wariness that would require a three month coma to recover from, Bruce couldn't sleep. He caught himself listening to the faint breathing of someone who he had believed to be the essence of evil, someone who might not have committed all those crimes by himself. Someone who may have been whipped to within an inch of his life by his father-
There was a faint bell sound emerging from the disemboweled remains of his previously neatly packed bag. Bruce pulled out his phone (Stark-tec, under Tony's firm demand and less firm pleading) and turned off the ringer before it could wake up Loki. Tony had texted him. It was bleary, both due to the surrounding darkness and Banner's lack of eyewear, but said something along the lines of;
Thor s herr
Rudlf escapd
Can u come?
Bruce looked at the screen until it was a burning rectangle of light. It turned off. He turned it back on and stared some more. Loki stirred on the other side of the room with a sleepy murmur. His eyes had started to water by the time he decided on a reply.
In Korea, may be another month.
Keep me updated.
Tony immediately replied with a thumbs up and a recommendation of a local geisha house that Bruce didn't bother reading. As he shut off his phone and rolled over, he could hear a very, very quiet voice whisper. "Thank you." But then, it had been a stressful day, and Loki was certain to deny anything he said. Just as Banner could vehemently argue that he certainly hadn't replied "You're welcome." Seeing as Loki didn't say anything in the first place.
Hveðrungr is Old Norse for Monster.
Also, slow burn Bruce/Loki. Rarely see it but I'm terribly fond of this pairing. I mentioned it down here because if you like it, maybe you won't care that I'm pairing these two. That being said this will remain T. Kissing, hand-holding, stuff like that.
Well, Peace Off, those who stuck around to read this.
Those about to press next chap/anything else READ THIS ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
