Chapter 4

Sigyn watched the buildings pass her by as the car drove them further into the city. Not as tall as imposing as the grand palace in Asgard, but still impressive. Beside her, Harry was bouncing his leg and twirling the pendant she'd given him when she broke him out of Ravencroft between his fingers. Even in the car, he covered his eyes with large, dark sunglasses.

"You're sure you want to do this?" she asked. The outing had been his idea, but she wasn't going to make him go through this if he changed his mind. "We can go back if you're not comfortable."

"Uh, no because I've been getting cabin fever and if I don't get out and do something other than meditate on this thing," he pushed up his sleeve to reveal his tattoo. "I'm going to lose my mind…again." He paused. "Besides, we could both use the fresh air."

She instinctively reached over and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

"Not an actual fever. It's just an expression. Means I'm tired of being cooped up in the mansion all day. Seriously, we have got to get out more."

"You keep saying we. I don't think I have this illness you speak of."

He sighed and looked over at her, and she could almost feel the disbelieving look he was giving her from behind his glasses. "When was the last time you went outside? I mean, I kind of have an excuse with the whole technically being a criminal with a local superhero that doesn't realize that I'm free yet."

"Is that what this is? You're worried that this Spiderman will show up?"

He snorted. "Not unless there's a kitten that needs to be rescued from the top of the Saks building."

It was all bravado. Harry may have been feeling restless at the mansion, but he kept watching the buildings as they passed, no doubt waiting for Spiderman to swing down from one of them. "Harry." He looked over at her and she gave him a knowing look.

He tugged at the pendant again. "He can't like…sense through this, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean on the off chance he does show up on 5th Avenue, is there any way his whole spider sense thing will go off and he'll be able to tell it's me?"

"Harry, I promise that my Asgardian magic is stronger than whatever his abilities are."

The car stopped somewhere around 5th Avenue at Harry's request, and he hesitated before finally stepping out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Sigyn followed shortly behind him and Harry ordered that the car pick them up when he called. He kept a close eye on the buildings that rose up around them, scanning them for any trace of webbing.

"I swear watching out for him is just as bad as watching for paparazzi," he grumbled. "At least all they wanted a picture of me doing Jell-O shots off a model's stomach that they could sell for a few grand."

Sigyn had no idea what the paparazzi or Jell-O shots were, but it brought Menken's comment about Harry's lifestyle back to her. Ten years…and his lifestyle would have killed him. "Remember what I told you when we left Ravencroft. Humans are…unobservant. Act like nothing's wrong, and they won't notice you. Your Spiderman is no different."

Harry looked down at the pendant again and tucked it beneath his shirt. "I hope you're right."

"So little faith." He led her down the street, occasionally stopping and admiring the clothes and jewelry displayed in the windows. He made sure to point out the different brands, explaining why one was more expensive than the other. "What are we doing out here anyway? Getting rid of your cabin fever, as you put it, could have been done anywhere."

"Because what better way to finish off a long and productive couple of weeks than by spending a ridiculous amount of money."

"Are you sure that's wise? Shouldn't your funds go towards something more practical?"

Harry tilted his head back and groaned. "Where's the fun in that? I have more than enough money for the occasional shopping trip. Besides," he pulled her towards one of the stores. "We have new lives now. New lives call for new wardrobes."

The store was immaculate, with clothing folded into neat little piles and every piece of merchandise arranged in a particular manner so that it looked interesting and dynamic. Once he was in the store and off the street, Harry was more confident. When the salesperson approached them and offered assistance, he answered with a charming smile that they were just looking.

It had been many years since her last visit to Midgard, and she'd never paid much attention to what their currency was worth. Her first few days on Earth had been, chaotic, fearful, desperate, and the last thing on her mind had been money. She'd lied, stole, and when those failed, she used her magic to get what she needed. So when she turned over the price tag on a leather jacket and saw the series of numbers, she wasn't sure how to react.

"You should get that." Harry said, coming up to her. He looked at the price tag and shrugged. "Not bad."

"You are aware I could just…make new clothes." She whispered, waving her fingers through the air. "I've been doing that since I got here." What she hadn't magicked into existence she'd stolen from a thrift shop, or just tricked someone into giving to her.

Harry shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's…that's not the point. The point is to buy yourself something expensive just because we can. Or if that's not enough think of the energy you'll save if you don't have to create a wardrobe from scratch every day."

"Perhaps. Still seems extravagant, though." It was hypocritical of her to talk about finery and extravagance, and to reject it as she was. She may not have coveted them the way some did, but she did have quite a few elegant dresses that she loved wearing, that Loki loved seeing her in. But that felt like a lifetime ago. I should be trying to find out what happened to Loki or helping Harry… Harry, though, looked content trying on some jacket nearby; it was the happiest she'd seen him look since she freed him from Ravencroft. He'd been so happy to get out of the mansion and do something normal, that Sigyn's guilt and resistance faded. "Perhaps we should go to a few more stores," she suggested when he wandered back her way.

"Good idea," he said, grinning. "I'm not seeing anything here I like."

Harry was a little more confident as he led her down the street, alert, but less paranoid. He made sure to point out the various stores that they passed, sharing his opinion on each one—"absolute trash…pretty good but kind of overpriced for what you're getting…oh hell no I had an ex that loved that brand never again…"—before finally dragging her into a department store. "I need a new watch," he explained. "My last one was damaged, and I don't feel like spending the thousands of dollars to replace it."

"I thought the whole point was to spend as much money as possible," she teased.

"No I said the point was to treat yourself. And I will; I'll just be a bit more practical about it." He gave her a proud grin. "Besides, I'm going to need something that's easy to replace when I break this one in a month."

"A month? I think you're being a bit ambitious. There's still much we need to work on."

"Well, no progress was ever made without being ambitious."

The watches were in the jewelry section of the store, and as Harry browsed through them, Sigyn wandered just a bit farther to look at the rest of what the rest of the store had to offer. She lingered in the shoe department, admiring several pairs of stylish, yet comfortable looking boots. Shoes weren't any more difficult to create with magic than any other piece of clothing, but it'd be nice not to have to focus on them as well. And after looking at the price tag stuck to the bottom, she didn't think buying them would be a completely outrageous investment.

"Can I help you, miss?"

The girl was maybe a little older than Harry, with auburn hair pulled back into a low bun and managing to look both polite and bored. When Sigyn asked for a pair in what she guessed was her size, the girl looked her up and down before asking if she was certain about this pair.

She knew that tone; she'd heard it whispered in Asgard's halls about her when her marriage to Loki was first announced, or from her mother whenever she chose to spend her afternoons pouring over a magical text than spend a few extra hours in the training yard. It was disapproving, suspicious, and she realized that this girl didn't think she was wealthy enough to purchase them. Sigyn stood a little taller, a little straighter, her chin tipped up. I may be in exile, but she is still speaking to a princess of Asgard. "Yes, this pair," she answered in a cool, clipped voice.

As soon as she was gone, Sigyn's interest in the boots soured. For a moment, she entertained the notion of conjuring some kind of mischief as payback for the girl's attitude, but she lacked the energy or the will to follow through with it. It would be a foolish thing to do, too dangerous to risk it on their first major outing since freeing Harry. So instead she slipped away, ducking into another department, checking from behind a pillar to make sure the girl didn't decide to search the store for her. From here she could see the girl looking around, annoyed, but she didn't go any further that the shoe department before giving up.

After exploring the rest of the first floor, Sigyn made her way up to the second floor, wandering through the sections of expensive clothes. All the while, she could feel that she was being watched, and she regretted not making a pendant like the one she made for Harry for herself. She'd just assumed that since she was an unknown, it wouldn't matter, and she was kicking herself for forgetting about status and dress. The handbag section was far less crowded, with only the occasional salesperson patrolling the floor. She could feel them watching her, but they seemed content just to let her look around.

The sheer variety and number of bags was amazing. Purses in Asgard were often crafted by master leather smiths, but where they may vary in size or ornamentation, here they came in more styles, colors, sizes, and materials than she had seen in Asgard. One in particular caught her eye. It was, according to the tag, a large tote. The inside was quite spacious, with room for several books, her research, a small weapon, or anything else she wanted to carry with her. There were even several smaller small pockets and discreet compartments, which was such a silly thing for her to be excited over and yet she was. The leather was soft to the touch and a shade of rich, deep warm brown, yet it still felt sturdy and durable. It was an upgrade from her current bag. That one she'd stolen from a thrift store when she realized she needed something to carry what few belongings she'd accumulated since her exile, made of a thread-bare, dirty beige canvas with a small hole in the corner that threatened to rip further apart with each use.

"Nice choice," Harry said, coming up behind her. He had a small bag in one hand and his sunglasses were back on. "You should get that."

She turned the bag over in her hands once or twice more. It was exquisite, and was at the least something it was something practical. And she almost agreed with him, until she noticed the way Harry fidgeted and picked at his shirt sleeve. Even behind the sunglasses she could see him glance around, always aware of their surroundings. They'd been in one place too long; no doubt Harry worried someone would notice them.

"Another time, perhaps." He raised his eyebrows and she could already hear him chastising her for not understanding how shopping worked. "Don't look at me like that. I'd like to see what my options are. Contrary to what I'm sure you're thinking I do know what I'm doing."

"Does Asgard have anything like this?" he asked once they were back on the street.

"Just outside the palace was a large, open air market filled with goods from all the nine realms. The buildings may not be as tall, but the stands spread out for almost as many miles. And on Vanaheim, imagine all this," she gestured to the buildings and shops, "but every couple of weeks they pack up and move to another quadrant."

He gave a low whistle. "A moveable 5th Avenue? Nice. Tell me more about Vanaheim."

Harry closed the store's app on his phone and pocketed it, checking to make sure Sigyn hadn't crept up behind him. That bag had been perfect for her, and she deserved to have something nice.

They'd stopped in the Barnes and Noble because Sigyn couldn't pass up the giant bookstore, and he'd told her he needed to use the restroom while she was wandering around the store. It was one of those giant, two story ones with a large café area, and it didn't take him long to realize she wasn't on the second floor, where he was. Still, he couldn't remember the last time he was in a bookstore, and something had been nagging at his curiosity for the past few days. He snuck over to the 'mythology' section, which to his surprise, comprised only a shelf and a half before the westerns took over. With an actual Norse god flying around these days, he figured there'd be a little more literature on the subject.

The first book he grabbed was small and only offered a basic overview of the major stories and gods. Sigyn had only a single mention as Loki's wife. He frowned and skimmed through the pages towards the index; she must be mentioned more than once. The next one wasn't much better; just a single mention as his wife. His hand hovered over another one, something called the Poetic Edda whatever that meant, and was about to pull it out, but the sound of footsteps nearby kept him from doing so. It wasn't Sigyn, just someone who worked there, but the thought of her catching him reading about her left him with the same ill, guilty feeling in his stomach as the other night. Like he was prying into something he shouldn't. He took note of whatever these Eddas were, anyway, in case curiosity got the better of him again.

Deep in the bowels of Oscorp, Special Projects lay in a state of near ruin. Exposed wiring and pipes lined the room like veins and bones. Everything half-flickered to life once they turned the lights on. Construction had just begun, but Sigyn could see the new design taking shape amongst the destruction. A base of operations hidden beneath Oscorp.

"They've made good progress."

"Thank God," he said, looking over a box of computer parts still left to be installed. "Last week I thought they'd never be done."

"Patience. Better this is done correctly than quickly."

Still, Sigyn wondered if a little speed wouldn't hurt. They were safe at the mansion, but their plans were at a standstill without someplace to plan and carry out larger operations. This place was efficient, industrial, but cold. More importantly, it was a place of memories. Are you certain, she'd asked when he first posed the idea to her. This is where the Goblin was born. Seems fitting that we use it for one of our bases. Menken had hoped that Harry would die down in Special Projects, and Sigyn couldn't help but enjoy the irony that it had instead been a place of rebirth.

"It's a shame we can't get started on anything until they're done," he said as he pulled out his tablet. "I've got redesigns for both the suit and the glider."

"Think of it this way, now we've got more time to focus on your training until then." She could tell he was anxious to progress farther in his training; he'd already been asking which area they were going to work on next. He was a quick student, his eagerness matched by his sharp intelligence. His enthusiasm was heartening, and she already had ideas about what to start next, but she was still cautious. Harry was still young, and the young believe themselves immortal, especially those who had come close to death.

Above them was the distinct whir of machinery and gears turning; someone was using the elevator to come down to them. "Were we expecting company?" he asked.

"Perhaps the crew wanted to continue working. Or they left something down here." Even as she spoke, she knew none of it was right. It was late, too late for the construction crew to come back, and the janitors never came down here. From everything Harry told her, and her own digging into it, nobody ever came down to Special Projects. Most, she assumed, didn't know of its existence.

The elevator stopped with a heavy thud, and the doors hissed as they opened. All that was there was a single man, or at least his silhouette, wearing a long coat and a hat that obscured his face. For a moment she thought –hoped—him a business man, part of Oscorp's corporate wing who had gotten onto the wrong elevator after a long night at work.

"Shit," Harry hissed between his teeth.

"It's been a while, Mr. Osborn," the man said, stepping off the elevator. Harry didn't answer. "Your circumstances have certainly improved. The last time I saw you, you were wrapped in a strait jacket and locked in a tiny cell."

As the man stepped closer, Harry inched closer to her. "What can I say? My luck's improved."

"Clearly, and you chose not to share this improvement. Imagine how foolish I felt, showing up at Ravencroft and you're not there. In fact, they have no record of a Mr. Harold Osborn ever having been there." He came even closer, too close for Sigyn's liking, and she put herself even more so between him and Harry. Even this close, he managed to keep his face obscured in the shadows, but she felt his gaze go through her. He made some content humming noise that made her skin crawl and said, "If I was a gambling man, I'd guess that you're the reason for Harry's sudden change of fortune."

"Then it's a shame this is not a gambling table." He chuckled at that and she wanted to punch him for it. "Who are you?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"You're the one who's ignored common courtesy by showing up unannounced and uninvited."

"His name is Fiers," Harry answered. "He's the, uh, associate, I made while I was in Ravencroft."

"So you do remember our agreement."

"Yeah about that," Harry glanced at her before continuing. "I'm not working with you anymore."

"Excuse me?" The overly pleased, smug tone in his voice was gone.

"You sent a man in a metal rhino suit after Spiderman. A fucking robo furry, and he lost in five minutes. If that's the best you can come up with…"

"It was only a first run. Next time…"

"There's not going to be a next time." Harry stepped forward, fists balled at his sides. His jaw was clenched. "We're done."

"Need I remind you that you were the one who approved of Sytsevich. 'Start with him' was I believe what you told me. How eager you were to change this city."

"I wasn't exactly in a position to be making informed decisions."

"And you are now?" Fiers turned his attention back to her. "Or is she letting you think you're in control here?"

"Leave her out of this," Harry snarled, but Sigyn held up her hand to quiet him.

"It's alright, Harry. I'm more than capable of fighting my own battles."

"You never answered my question earlier. You now know who I am, but it seems I'm still at a disadvantage here."

Oh, she knew what she wanted to say. I am Sigyn of Asgard, daughter of Iwaldi and Freya, and wife of Loki. She could feel the magic crackling beneath her skin, itching to be let free. Nothing would have pleased her more than to create her armor, to show the full extent of who she was in an imposing display of power. But that was her pride, and it was a dangerous path to follow. There was no way to know who this man's other allies were, or who he might run to if she revealed too much too soon. Her safety, and Harry's, hinged on her anonymity for the time being. "I'm Harry's godmother."

"Didn't know he had one."

"Then that is a failing in your research. And from what I hear it is one of many." Harry snorted, and Fiers tried to take another step towards him. Sigyn sidestepped to keep herself between the two of them.

"The boy and I had an agreement," he snarled.

"And he is altering the agreement."

It was unsettling how she still couldn't make out the details of his face, even as they were standing almost toe to toe. She moved her hands behind her back, and one knife materialized in her hand. "And what do you gain from this?" Fiers asked

"Who said I gain anything?"

"Come on. Do you really expect me to believe that godmother story? Why else would you help an impressionable young billionaire escape from a maximum security prison unless it benefits you somehow? Harry, do you know anything about who this woman really is?"

"I know she is a better mentor than you. I know that when I was trapped in Ravencroft—suffering, by the way-you helped yourself to everything here and then failed. Whatever arrangement you and I had is done. I work with her now."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You see, I'm not the only one that will be disappointed by this turn of events. Some of the other candidates are looking forward to getting their new equipment."

"Not my problem," Harry snapped.

"Oh but it is. Some of them are particularly violent, and are not particularly good at dealing with disappointment."

Sigyn rolled her eyes. "This is all hypothetical. You speak of these other candidates; how are we to even know if they exist?"

"I could arrange a meeting, if that would ease your curiosity," he answered, sounding more like a threat than anything else.

"I doubt you have anything, or anyone, that could interest my curiosity. You have nothing without Harry and what's here at Oscorp."

He turned to Harry once more. "Business Etiquette 101: There will always be consequences to broken agreements. Surely even you and your new associate can understand this. I wonder how Spiderman would react if he were to learn that you escaped Ravencroft. Or maybe the Avengers should find out."

Sigyn gripped the knife tighter in her hand; with good timing she could land her knife in his neck and end this whole mess right now. She could see Harry's eyes go wide and his face a few shades paler.

"Tell you what," he said, his voice lighthearted again as he stepped back. "Since I can tell this caught you off guard and we've gotten off on the wrong foot, I'll give you 24 hours to reconsider this…predicament you find yourselves in." He started backing away, and Sigyn waited for her opening. "By the way, should anything happen to be, either now or tomorrow night, my associates will leak the identity of that Stacy girl's real killer to the press. And I'm sure you don't want that, considering what great lengths you went to clear your name." He had the courage to turn his back on them as he walked towards the elevator. "24 hours. Right here, and then we'll just have to see where things go from there." He turned and tipped his hat to the both of them. "Until tomorrow," he said just before stepping onto the elevator.

In a moment of furious indignation and frustration, Sigyn chucked her knife at the elevator doors just as they closed with none of her usual gracefulness. Harry dragged both hands through his hair, panicked, swearing, breathing heavily, just as Sigyn saw the faint green veins crawling up his neck again.

"Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. The fuck are we going to do?"

"We're not going to panic," she said, very much aware that panic was already settling in her chest, and Harry started laughing in that slightly deranged way that bordered on hysterical. "Listen," she said, gently forcing him to look at her. She needed to be calm for both of them. "We cannot panic; we're going to deal with this."

The only problem was that Sigyn didn't know how, and they only had 24 hours to figure out a solution.