(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Given what's going on at the chosen battlesite, they really aren't inclined to hesitate, but Dr. Banner says Thor is on his way back, so they wait on the roof. It's cold, and windy, and Coulson watches Tony cross his arms over his chest, and lean forward just a little, glancing sideways at Captain Rogers, like he's double checking that the larger man doesn't notice.

Dr. Banner, though, notices, and walks over to Tony, as Rogers tries to work his phone and get a location on Thor. He raises a hand, waits for a cautious nod, and places it on Tony's shoulder, gently suggesting that maybe he'd like to sit down, inside the chopper. Coulson isn't sure whether he's reading probably all too familiar signs of complete exhaustion...or all too familiar signs of being freaked the fuck out.

Tony seats himself on the lip of the hold, in the sliding doorway, crossing his legs, and sitting with his arms still folded, like he's trying to impersonate a genie. Banner says something else, and Tony looks at him, looks at Rogers, shakes his head, and grips Banner's shirt, briefly, in emphasis, because Banner doesn't look like he thinks much of Tony's answer. Banner nods, finally, and touches Tony's shoulder again, before walking back over to Coulson, leaning in, "how badly is he injured?"

"His back's a mess, but as far as I can tell, he doesn't have any life-threatening. Not physical ones, anyway."

Banner nods. Coulson guesses that of anyone other than Natasha, Banner gets that physicality means basically nothing about the graveness of the hurts Tony suffered.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and a moment later, Thor lands beside them. Coulson is glad Tony is sitting down for that, because the landing is even less controlled than usual, and even Steve stumbles back a step. Thor is a mess, his arms, chestplate, and hammer coated in grey dirt and mold, and smeared with black, rotted flesh. That, more than anything, drives it home, what they're about to face.

Coulson says he isnt taking off until Tony agrees to lie down. His protests are impressively stubborn, but it must have been clear to him how bad a shape he was in. Never the less, arguments were made, fought, and glared, on Tony's part, until Thor gripped his hand, and looked earnestly at him, "a true warrior should not be shamed in weakness, but only in neglecting to correct it. You must rest."

And Tony does, curled on the floor of the chopper, his head on Thor's leg, for the twenty minutes it takes them to get there.

"He's... God..." says Rogers, kneeling on the floor, beside Tony and Thor.

Thor has the good grace to not mention his ongoing confusion over that statement, instead, just carefully threads his large fingers through Tony's hair, and looks at Rogers, "he is very small."

Rogers nods, and he looks like he wants to do something, touch or comfort Tony somehow, but he doesn't. Coulson starts the chopper, and they take off, heading into hell.

It isn't that the corpses are aggressive. They just seem to be under the impression that they aren't dead, and keep trying to leave the area they were buried in. Thus, when they land, they find themselves more corralling them, than fighting. It's almost worse. No, it's definitely worse. There's no adrenaline to mask the horror. There's nothing to even do, but try to contain them until they...go back to being dead. And they're in pain. They're screaming, those that still have throats.

The four junior agents who were on the scene before them, have the same stare, that Tony had when he burned himself in the shower. They're still working, but their actions are mechanical, and they're covered in stinking decomposition, and coughing from grave mold. Natasha and Clint don't have that look quite yet, but they're definitely on the way.

A new wave is emerging from another part of the cemetery, and the junior agents don't notice at first. The crush of stumbling bodies from behind catches them unaware, before Coulson can get to them, and they go down under the rush, their reactions slowed by shock and exhaustion. Rogers and Thor push the bodies off, and pull the agents to safety. Thor goes back to work, as do three of the agents. The fourth sits on the ground, and stares straight forward. Rogers crouches, grips their shoulder, pulls them to their feet, and gently leads them towards the chopper, getting them out of danger.

Tony, who at least had the good sense to know he's not strong enough right now to be anything but a liability in the press of bodies, pulls the agent into the hold with him, and for a long moment, he and Rogers stare at each other, before Rogers says something, and turns to go back into the crowd stinking of formaldehyde and rot.

Twenty-five minutes later, the reinforcements arrive. Coulson briefly sees Tony leading the shell-shocked agent towards the medical crew, which Banner has joined, before a new rush of screaming, sobbing corpses comes at him, trying to break past into freedom, like running somewhere away will make death hurt less. He feels the distinct urge to be sick.

It's right about then, when the crackle comes over the radio, that the creature has fully emerged.

The whole flight to where the monster emerged, everyone is as silent as Tony. It's only twelve minutes, but that time seems an eternity. Rogers appears to have given up on whatever had kept him from offering contact to Tony earlier, he's sitting against the wall, Tony sitting sideways beside him, shoulder against the wall, head resting against Steve's shoulder. Rogers has one of Tony's hands in both of his own, in his lap, clasped tight. Superficially, it looks no different from Tony sleeping on Thor. Except for the quite frankly panicked look on Rogers' face.

The other Avengers rush out to the designated area, standing beneath the monster in the sky. Coulson stays a moment, and walks around to the door of the hold. Tony is pulling on the Iron Man gauntlets he retrieved at Avengers Tower, wincing as they slide over the still raw frostbite marks on his arms.

"You should hang back."

Tony looks at him, and shakes his head. Coulson sighs, "you'll still be a liability, even with those."

Tony shakes his head again, and takes pen and paper out of his pocket, both looking kind of laughable in his armored hands, 'doesn't matter.'

"I think it does. It won't do them any good if you get killed."

'I won't get in a position where I would be killed. I promise that much. But Steve's scared all to hell, Thor's torn up that his brother did this, Natasha's shaken, Clint's worried about Natasha, and Bruce was looking awfully green when he was fighting the corpses-of course that might have been related to when he ran away and threw up where nobody could see him, behind the chopper. I think he forgot I was in it. They're none of them okay, and from how they reacted...Clint doesn't even like me that much, and he broke into a lab to check on me. Something happened when I was gone, I don't know what it is, but it was bad, way worse than just me going missing would be, and I'm going to be there, now, no matter what.'

"From the reports? What happened was they lost their friend. End. Full stop. That's what happened. That's what's wrong. Don't make them go through it all over again."

The creature is beautiful . It's pale, and almost translucent, with six elegant, long, multi-jointed bluish limbs, and deep coral-tinged membranes between them. It has a large, spatulate tail, deeply groved towards the tip, and drawn out to a lethal point. Its face is long, but almost catlike, and its ears, or antenae, maybe, wiggle as it looks around.

Having just turned to catch up after talking to Tony, he watches the Iron Man suit, controlled still by Agent Irwin swoop down. The creature lets out a small, high pitched squee, and flits after it, looping playfully in the air. It reminds Coulson of an otter, chasing after something drawn along the wall of its tank.

Coulson looks over at Tony, who has stubbornly followed, apparently unconvinced of the potential impact his death could possibly have had, or could have now. Tony looks...not scared. He looks over at Coulson, and shakes his head, scribbling on his pad, 'It was aggressive in the dungeon, but... I think it might have just been scared. I certainly wasn't having my friendliest days down there. Have Gattaca guy land the suit.'

Coulson gives the order over the radio, and signals the others to stand down. The creature dives after the suit, loops once, and then lands, as it does, nuzzling it, and then licking it, with a long,snaking, iridescent green tongue. It cocks its head, and licks it again. Its ears go down, a little.

Thor walks towards it, hammer gripped in his hand, but resting down at his side. The creature, seeing Thor approach, backs quickly away from the suit...but then drops its head to the ground, cocking it slightly, blinking eyes the size of car windows. Thor walks up to it, and stops a few dozen yards away. The creature slowly creeps two small steps forward, and extends one of its limbs, slightly, poking Thor in the chest. Thor grips its knobbed digit, lightly, and pats it, turning to look at the others. The creature licks him, then seems to lose interest, going back to trying to get the Iron Man suit to play again.

Well. That's inconvenient. The creature is clearly far from actively malicious. But wherever it flies, corpses rise up under its path. Rogers steps forward, "I know it's not scary. But we have to capture it. It's going to cause too many problems."

Coulson nods. He's right, but it isn't an easy call.

"If we brought it to Asgard...it would be a delightful curiosity, and we do not have dead kept there."

"Great. How do we get it to Asgard?" asked Clint, watching it nudge the suit repeatedly, scurrying back when it tips forward.

"That won't be necessary."

Coulson turns, immediately drawing his weapon, and training it on the green-clad god. Loki looks at him, curiously, "you're a resilient one."

"You won't be, when I finish with you."

Loki's lips curl in a strange perversion of a small smile, "indeed. Alas, this creature is coming with me. Asgard will just have to go on without-"

Tony really probably wasn't in any shape to take the backlash from a repulsor blast, but he lets one off anyway, knocking himself to the ground, but hitting Loki square in the chest, making him take two steps back. Loki dusts himself off, as Rogers hurries to Tony's side, where he's struggling onto his hands and knees.

Loki is beside them, instantly, and Rogers goes to punch him, but Loki blasts him away, before crouching beside Tony, "you really should keep a better eye on this one, Brother. His thoughts are more powerful than he knows, and he's very difficult to kill. If he were less enduring, we wouldn't have the situation we are now in."

"What do you mean, Brother?"

"I mean, the Frost Giants wouldn't be sending each of their recaptured creatures on the attack."

"They can't attack. That's why they needed Tony, they needed him to build a portal."

"They needed him to figure out how, they didn't actually need him to build one. They aren't entirely imbeciles, they can figure it out when they have the plans."

"Tony didn't tell them. He bit his own tongue to not tell them."

"He didn't need to say it," sneers Loki, nudging Tony, who appears to not actually be able to get up, with his boot, "he only needed to think it. I tried to prevent this, but he was too quick at a solution, and I too slow at infiltrating."

"Why would you help Earth?"

"Not just earth. They want all realms for themselves. They want everyone in the universe but themselves, dead."

"And you want to prevent that?" asks Natasha, right behind him, her pistol pressed against the back of his ridiculous helmet. Hill walks up, and places her pistol at his chest, as well.

He looks over his shoulder, mildly, "I have no interest in death. Only power. Everyone being dead merely means I have no-one to rule. Of course I wish to halt these plans. And I think I may know how."