They reviewed Loki's reading and movie list, other requests and visitors. For some reason, the god refused to be addressed as „Mr Odinson", and the AI had complied.
His reading list mostly comprised law texts, including the Geneva Conventions, Human Rights and US constitution. He had requested books on computer tech and programming, which were of course off limits.
The film list started with „Reindeer Games" and proceeded through „Point Break" to the Pirates of the Caribbean sequels, but stopped after not much more. Apparently the god had given up on movies after watching ten minutes of „Return of the Killer Tomatoes".
He'd also declared Tony's taste in music an insult to the hearing. Jarvis had downloaded a few new songs after Loki's specifications in topics and instruments. Currently, „Twa Corbies" by Schelmish was playing.
The activities list, Jarvis declared not security relevant but confidential. Without overriding code, the AI would only go so far as to tell they had had long talks about various topics of general interest.
Visitors, there had been none.
A few days later, curiosity got the better of Tony, and he overrode the privacy code. Jarvis had indeed discussed all kinds of topics with their prisoner: quantum physics, softdrinks, species on other planets, poetry metres, rap battles, the gold standard vs inflation, smurfs, mens' suits, ice hockey, topmodels, sports cars, and absolute power in absolute monarchies.
There were a few relevant files. So, apparently Loki had been imprisoned in the past, or so he claimed. Once, as a child, for touching the hammer that was to be Thor's, and it had hummed and wriggled on its pedestal. Odin had been outraged and commissioned some dwarves who had sewn kiddo-Loki's mouth shut so he couldn't tell, the thread growing together with his flesh, only to vanish during his time in the void. (And when was that? What void, anyway?)
Oh, and then he confessed murdering his little brother, Balder, as a teen. Now that was believeable for the mass-murdering bastard. Loki claimed they had been told a spell protected the toddler. „Neither the birds of the sky, nor the plants of the earth, ..." yadda yadda.
Of course all the children had hurled all kinds of things at the boy. Yeah sure, magic wonderland. Until they'd found out to their horror that mistletoe did not grow in the ground and that made a difference.
Snake … cave … dripping acid … Tony remembered the smell of accumulator acid in a cave, of unwashed bodies and rat droppings. He downed another shot and refused to believe. God of lies, totally.
Jarvis sulked. He (It? They? Dang pronouns.) ordered only olive&anchiovies pizza, decaffeinated coffee, alcohol-free beer, and Thor's least favourite sort of pop-tarts. Standard background music tune in the Iron Man suit was now Rimsky-Korsakov's „Flight of the Bumble-Bee", and once, Tony caught Dummy re-filling a whisky bottle with ginger ale.
He forbade Jarvis to talk with Loki.
Some time later – Thor had meanwhile left with Jane for Stark's Malibu mansion and some quality time – Steve and Pepper pestered him not to be childish and revoke that order that amounted to solitary confinement. They even went down to the basement to visit Loki and inform him of the goings-on.
They found him chatting happily with Jarvis, the AI answering in projected writing. Tony took a deep draft from his bottle and choked when it proved to be root beer.
The months went by, and the world wasn't safer. Tony had just returned early from withdrawal treatment in Switzerland when Doom attacked. Of course, everyone was after the arc reactor technology these days.
The lights went out, all systems shut down, and mini-robots spewed from the air vents. Jarvis could barely announce the energy signature was of Latverian gypsy magic, then fizzled out of existance. Statics.
Stark facepalmed. That crate in the basement labelled „philodendron fertilizer", delivered from Latveria, he really should have checked it earlier, but he hadn't been well then. Now, without Jarvis, he couldn't even get into his suit.
And there stood Victor von Doom, complete in blackened armour with a billowing green cape. The inventor gulped, but refused to cave. Feigning nonchalance, he sauntered around the counter, filled a glass without looking, and took a swig. (Pepper's organic cranberry juice. Yuck.)
„You look familiar. Have I threatened you before?"
„Doom makes a point of avoiding familiarity with lesser inventors."
In the background, Dummy was chasing one of the small doombots with a screwdriver. Tony inched towards the door while Doom was distracted. If he could get down to the workshop and don the gloves of the Mark 8 at least … Maybe he could even get the systems up and running by connecting them to the emergency backup arc reactor powering Loki's cell even now.
Speaking of the devil – in a puff of green smoke, said alien appeared, instantly populating the room with clones of himself, distracting the doombots.
Later, Tony would say the sight was ridiculous: a room full of Lokis with long, curly hair, dressed in orange prison jumpsuits. Not so at that moment. He was terrified. How had the chaos god escaped? Were the villains allied? Loki looked irate, practically fuming with rage, but oddly – at Doom?
„You! What have you done to Jarvis, mortal?"
„Doom knows no Jarvis. Who is that?"
„My friend. He is synthetic, like a lamp genie, a craft of Stark's there."
„Doom's doombots load all blueprints and computer programs down now. If you are interested, you may join Doom's army."
Loki lost it. Yelling, he released a shockwave of magic energy through the building. Doombots crumbled everywhere. Where Doom had stood, now sat a small green frog. Dummy poked it tentatively. It struggled to get on its feet, and croaked.
„You, mortal!" The mad god towered over Tony, gripping him by his shirt front. Green eyes bored into brown ones by eerie magic light. „You. Will. Repair. Him. Do you hear me?"
Tony nodded mutely.
„Good." The trickster shoved him off and vanished.
Dummy whirred by, carrying a jar, and chirped.
A day and night of frantic repair works, and the lights were up and Jarvis functioning again. By now, the cavalry had arrived also, late as always. Tony would gift Clint and Steve a horseshoe each for Halloween, for arriving hours after the fight.
„One-two-three. Jarvis? Okay. Okay guys, war council. One supervillain – currently frog – captured, the other on the loose. Let's plan how to bring him in again. Jarvis? Scan for Loki, try to find some energy trail or whatever is there."
„Mr Skywalker is currently in his cell in the basement of Stark Tower, Sir."
„What? Uh, no Jarvis. Debug run! Scan again when properly working."
„I am properly debugged, Sir. Do trust your own work! Mr Skywalker teleported back to his cell two minutes ago when I informed him I was present again."
„Two minutes ago?"
„Yes, Sir, 16:43 and 12 seconds local time to be precise."
„Wait, teleported? Magic blockers still off, then?"
„Your magic blocking apparatuses are working to capacity, as they have been throughout as far as my data indicate."
Steve interrupted. „Do you know what he did in the meantime, Jarvis?"
„I shall ask, Sir."
A little while later, the AI reported: „During the time my sensors were off, Mr Skywalker, by his own admission, acquired books on computer science in nearby shops – bill is on you, Sir, by the way. He also attended a Rimsky-Korsakov concert by the New York Philharmonics, disguised in a glamour of your person, including the thinly striped suit Miss Potts declared supremely ridiculous, the tie with the large ketchup stain, and those pink butterfly sunglasses Miss Supermouth-Samantha left here last August."
Disapproving look from Rogers, Barton bent over the armrest with laughter – nothing unexpected there. Probably too late to buy the photos from the paparrazzi. Who cared? He might even wear that combo for his next charity event, just to make a point. Tony Stark, eccentric billionnaire philantropist, could wear what he damn well pleased.
„Furthermore, Mr Skywalker brought some enchanted crystals from Nidavellir which he says may be helpful in safeguarding me from future attacks. He also brought several vibranium ingots as a gift to you, for your assistance, Sir. You will find them in the workshop. When I contacted him minutes ago, he was in the process of redecorating the Statue of Liberty with a glamour of Mr Odinson in a flower-print dress. I believe he aborted that endeavour to return here swiftly."
Ten minutes later, Clint was off to write a report, Tony in his workshop to start working with substantial amounts of vibranium for the first time in his life, and Steve made his way down to Loki's cell.
He found the Asgardian animatedly describing Nidavellir and its inhabitants to Jarvis. The green-eyed man turned upon hearing his steps. (Green? Since when were his eyes green? Hadn't they been blue?)
„Captain Rogers. Please take a seat."
With a handwave, a chair materialised out of thin air outside the cell. So much for Stark's anti-magic tech.
Steve sat. The chair was solid, no illusion. „Just one question, Loki: Why are you here?"
Their prisoner blinked, then smiled serenely, pointing up towards the cameras and speakers. „Where else would I want to be?"
„I'm honouered." stated Stark's AI.
Steve left them after a few friendly words. He'd have to think about this, but for the time being, there seemed to be no threat. One thing he was fairly sure of: He never wanted to see Asgard.