"Spoilsport!" she joshed, giggling at his expression. "But seriously, 'Loki' still won't do. Is just 'L' okay?"
Loki barely resisted the urge to groan. "Fine," he ground out. "Now may we please get moving?"
'Tempest' pushed herself back up to her feet, dusting the snow off of her now quite wet jeans. "Lead the way, Mr. L!" she cheerfully replied. Without warning, a snowball smashed into her face, causing her to sputter indignantly. "Hey!"
By the time she wiped the snow from her eyes, Loki had already begun leading the way back to the highway. "Of course, Tempest."
She rushed to catch up, a silly grin on her face as she replied, "Oh, no need to be so formal! 'Tem' will be just fine." The trickster didn't bother to dignify that with a response.
Incorruptible
By: Eva Grimm
Chapter Four: The Return
"I'm like evil, I get under your skin — just like a bomb that's ready to blow."
AC/DC, Shoot to Thrill
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Iron Man, Tony Stark, or any other Marvel intellectual property. Incorruptible is a fan-based work and not sold for profit.
***SPOILER ALERT: Spoilers for any Marvel movie and comic book — they're going to happen. You've been warned.
Thursday, December 29th, 2005 10:05a, EST | The Sidewalk Outside Tysons Corner, Washington, D.C.
Megan glanced nervously at the throngs of people everywhere in sight as she and Loki slipped out of the taxi, a brief gesture from the trickster ensuring the cabbie conveniently forgot to ask for their fare. Welcome back to the real world, Meg, she thought to herself as she wordlessly led her companion into Tysons Corner. The public actively ignored homeless people in general, and for the past few days, Loki had kept them invisible to non-magical eyes. Now, however, she was once again a visible part of the world, and it felt decidedly strange to her that she could once again feel the gazes of strangers upon her. Without consciously thinking about it, she glanced to her left as they passed through the threshold, her eyes seeking out her companion.
Even if he hadn't been at her side and matching her pace, it would have been impossible to miss the green and gold clad Jotun. Unlike her, he was not wearing a mask, but as he had explained on the plane ride to D.C., applying illusions to himself came as easily as breathing to him. Why go through the trouble of using a mask when he could merely enchant himself to appear like an average human to passerby and his normal self to her? Her gaze didn't go unnoticed, his lips curling into a light smirk. "All right, Temmy?" he asked, a spark of mischief flickering within his pale green eyes.
She rolled her own eyes at that, her nervousness dispelled as she swatted him lightly. "And who said you could call me that, you ass? I only gave you license to call me 'Tempest' and 'Tem,' as I recall." Without waiting for a reply, she snagged his hand and dragged him over to a nearby map, gleefully noting his obvious embarrassment at her touch. Tables: Turned.
"As I recall, you are the one who insisted on this pseudonym foolishness," the flustered Jotun muttered as he attempted to free himself from her iron grip, his cheeks now flaming red. "I am merely responding with foolishness in kind."
"And I am responding to your foolishness with yet more of the same," she easily quipped back. "See how well 'eye for an eye' works?" Once they reached the map, she took mercy on him and released her hold, focusing on the map as her eyes scanned for the store she needed.
The trickster managed to resist the urge to huff indignantly, settling for merely crossing his arms and looking anywhere but at her, a scowl on his face. A somewhat hoarse laugh caught his attention, drawing his eyes to an older gentleman sitting on a nearby bench who was glancing up from his morning paper, his eyes narrowing somewhat as he realized the chuckling man found him funny. "Come now, why so flustered, boy?" the wispily haired, elderly man said with a grin, unaware that he was not teasing a brown-haired young man at the mall with his strawberry-blonde date, but rather teasing Loki, the Norse trickster god about traveling with the famous — or infamous, depending on whom one asked — Megan Stark. "When I was your age, I would have done anything to go on a date with such a beautiful woman!" he finished, sending Megan a shamelessly playful wink.
Miraculously, the disguised trickster was for once not confused by Midgardian terminology. "We are not on a date!" the disguised trickster viciously snapped out. "Why would I ever bed her?!" Loki flinched as the hissing sound of breath being drawn in sharply through clenched teeth reached his ears. Resisting the urge to flinch, he slowly turned his gaze back to his companion and found that, yes, she was glaring at him with faintly glowing blue eyes. No words were said as she abruptly turned and stomped off, leaving the now flustered Jotun behind.
A low whistle drew his attention back to the elderly man as he simply remarked, "Well, kids these days certainly now how to woo the ladies," before returning to his morning paper as if he hadn't just witnessed a relationship — at least what he clearly believed to be one — implode right before his eyes.
The trickster muttered something unsavory under his breath before turning on his heel and chasing after the now gone genius. His eyes quickly scanned the crowd, but he saw no sign of her, which ought to have been easy, given that he could clearly see through his own illusions when he chose. He swallowed the urge to groan, instead reaching out with his senses. Immediately, he could feel the faintest traces of magic lingering in the air, the trail left by the active illusion on her mask. He did not follow it, however. He was Loki Laufeyson, the trickster god, and though he was not the most skilled in active confrontation, he was more than adept at planning, including contingency planning. "There," he muttered as he felt the strong tug of the illusion on her mask and began to stalk towards it. Ordinarily, a mana user wouldn't forge a direct trace between themself and an enchantment they had cast, as it created a consistent drain on one's mana that grew exponentially greater the further the connection was. If such a trace had existed between the Allfather and Mjölnir when he cast the hammer into Midgard, even the mighty Odin would have begun to rapidly feel the drain. The trickster knew, however, that a distance as short as two people within the same city, much less the same building, created a negligible drain at best.
A brief walk and ride on an escalator later (An experience that Megan would later regret missing, as the look on the trickster's face when he realized that humans had created moving stairways without mana was priceless.), Loki found himself entering a brightly lit store with a lone, brilliantly white apple in lieu of a sign with words. He saw the glint of her silver mask in an instant and quickly crossed the room to where she was trying to politely explain to an employee that no, she did not need him to explain how to use the laptop she was standing by, and that he should go attend to literally anyone but her.
"—nestly, I really don't need any help wi—" Her sky blue eyes suddenly locked onto the approaching Jotun, a dark look settling over her features as she bit out, "You!"
"Me," he simply replied as he reached the spot next to her. Without sparing a glance at the employee now nervously glancing alternately at his calm expression and her livid one, the trickster remarked, "I believe the lady has already explained that your help is unwanted, yes?"
"R-right," the employee replied nervously. "I'll just, uh, let you two try out the hardware."
As the man scampered off to the opposite side of the store, Megan abruptly turned her attention back to the laptop, her face strangely placid as she pulled up the terminal and began to rapidly type in lines of code that made no sense to Loki. They stood there in silence for a moment, neither saying anything as windows began to open and display information to the genius while she continued to type in seemingly endless rows of code. Eventually, the trickster said, "For what it's worth, I did not intend to say what I did."
"That's it?" she responded, her tone as cold as his skin and her focus on her task never faltering. "That's all you have to say?"
"What are you expecting me to say?"
That broke her concentration. "Really?" she asked, turning to give him an utterly flabbergasted look. "You really don't think you should apologize for telling a fucking stranger that you would never 'bed' me?!" she whispered furiously, not wanting to make another scene.
"I'm confused," he honestly answered. "Are you saying you want me to bed you?"
Megan simply stared at him. "Do you really expect me to believe you don't understand how offensive that was?" she asked, measuredly watching him with narrowed eyes.
The trickster blinked, his expression the very epitome of nonplussed. "I do expect that, yes, since I have said nothing that would offend non-Midgardian ears. This must be another facet of your realm's peculiar culture."
Heavens… I really think he's genuinely confused, Megan thought with wonder. "Okay, I'll, uh, explain it to you then… See, when someone says, 'I would never bed that person,' or something similar, it's often considered an insult because you're essentially saying, 'That person isn't good enough for me to have sex with them.' Does that make sense?"
"I understand that," Loki answered, "but you still have yet to explain why I would have sex with you."
She scowled at his poor choice of wording but did her best to contain her ire, suspecting there was still a misunderstanding. "Why don't you explain why you would not have sex with me?"
"I should think it obvious," he began, which naturally did nothing to make her happier with him. Thankfully, he continued, "If you and I had sex, we could not reproduce."
After a few moments of silence, she finally asked, utterly exasperated, "That's it? Non-Midgardians honestly only have sex in order to reproduce?"
"Yes?"
"Wow. I'm… honestly not sure what to say about that." She paused for a second, took a deep breath, then added, "Well, Midgardians do have sex for reasons other than reproduction. It can be an expression of love, enjoyment of someone else's beauty, simply having fun, and all kinds of other reasons. So look at it this way: When you said you wouldn't 'bed' me, you were essentially saying that having sex with me couldn't possibly be enjoyable." Ugh, this whole thing is only intensely mortifying. "Now do you see why that was offensive?"
He stared at her for a moment before chuckling. "Midgardians are so peculiar. Yes, I see why you find it offensive. I trust you understand that I meant no offense?"
"Yes, I see that," she said with a sigh, "but you need to remember that you're in my world — you're in Midgard. As long as you're here, do try to avoid making an ass out of yourself?"
He quirked an eyebrow. "Only if you explain the problem before you angrily stomp off the next time I stumble upon one of Midgard's idiosyncrasies."
She flushed. "Fair enough."
"So then," he said, gesturing at the laptop. "Care to explain what you are doing?"
"Sure," she said, internally breathing a sigh of relief as they returned to safer territory. "I'm establishing a secure connection with one of Stark Industries' secure servers in order to figure out what the hell Killian and my Doppelgänger have been up to."
"Delightful," Loki drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as she turned back to the laptop and began to once again type furiously. "Now then, care to explain what that means?"
She smiled. Now this is the type of Loki confusion I'm more comfortable with. "Basically, I'm trying to spy on the bad guys." Something about that didn't quite sound right to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it, so she just focused on the task at hand. Okay, let's take a little look at Jarvis' logs… Slowly but surely, her eyes widened as she quickly scanned through the swath of information. What the hell? Jarvis hasn't noticed anything amiss? That makes no sense unless… Unless he's been corrupted — shit. Fuuuuck… Well, time for Plan B: The hidden backup server.
With deft skill, she quickly opened up a connection to the server she purposefully kept isolated from the main Stark Industries servers.
[Jarvis,] she typed. [Open a discrete connection to the main server and check when the main server's OS was last updated.]
The AI's reply swiftly appeared on screen. [Hello, ma'am. The last update was applied on 07/14/2005 at 06:15p.]
Well, shit. Those two worked fast. She released a low, light growl. I don't understand! How on earth did they pull this off so smoothly? Even with a doppelgänger of me, someone would ha— Her eyes shot open wide with terror as an awful thought struck her. No… No! No no no! It couldn't have happened to them too!
The lights in the room began to flicker as she unconsciously called out to the nearby electricity, seeking comfort in the flow of the currents. "Tempest," Loki tightly whispered as he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Reign in your mana."
Keep it together, Megan! You don't know that… that they replaced them too! And even if it's true, you won't be able to fix this if you fuck up now! "I'm doing my best," she managed to say, her shaky voice causing the Jotun's eyebrows to rise. "Can you… can you buy me another minute?"
"Not really, seeing as I don't understand how any of these machines work," he drawled. "I can't create an illusion of something I don't understand. Or have you forgotten the third limitation again?"
"Then make us invisible or something!" she replied as she hastily began to type to Jarvis again. [Confirm which suits are still active and their current locations.]
[Marks I through IV are no longer in storage at Malibu,] the AI replied as Loki cast an illusion over where they stood, removing them from the eyes of the employees frantically trying to figure out what was happening to the store's electricity. [Security footage indicates that they were taken by a team of men on 07/20/2005, and they haven't been seen on a Stark Industries site since. They had security clearance to your residence, which was granted by you and approved by Mr. Hogan on 07/19/2005; no background checks are on file for any of them. The two Mark Vs are still at Stark Tower, but there are also a number of extras stored with them. There are ten Mark Vs at Stark Tower in total: The two you had me make after 'Ghost' stole your original, seven newly created suits, and the original suit stolen by 'Ghost.' All have been modified by you, according to security footage. All remaining suits are still in the sub-basement storage at Malibu.]
Approved by Happy without background checks? There's no way the real Happy would do that… Fuck! Faced with proof of her fears, Megan's control of her mana finally slipped, causing all of the electricity in the room to abruptly surge into her. The laptop she was using blacked out, its battery drained, and all of the lights in the store and most of those in the nearby stores and walkways died as well.
"Time to go," Loki muttered to himself as he grabbed Megan and bolted out of the store, dodging the guards as he carried her like he had mere days earlier when they raced across the rooftops of Washington, D.C.
Less than a minute later, he had gotten them out of the alley. Unfortunately, everything that ran on electricity was still failing, often violently, in her presence, so he had to keep moving, sticking to the alleys as much as possible. "I would great appreciate it if you stopped lashing out with your mana!" he muttered, clearly frustrated as he detoured up a stairwell onto a roof and began to race across the rooftops.
"They… they replaced…" she began to explain before trailing off, tears rolling down her cheeks as she struggled to tell him why she was freaking out. The trickster was silently relieved that he was already looking away from her. Eventually, she managed to blurt out, "They replaced Happy! They replaced him just like they replaced me with a fake!" She gripped her short, black hair tightly in her hands, balling it up as she sobbed out, "They took him, and they almost certainly took more of the people I love! I fucking knew it! I knew there was no way they could have fooled my family… They're probably all gone… Pepper, Rhodey, D-Danny, B-B-Bruce…" She trailed off again, descending once more into a fit of sobs.
The sound distracted Loki enough that he lost his footing while landing on a roof, causing the duo to come to a skidding, halt in the middle of it. Megan cried out in surprise, but before he could see what happened to her, his head slammed into the roof, the velocity of the fall knocking him out.
Frigga rapped her knuckles against the ajar door of Loki's room, calling out, "Loki, darling, whatever is wrong?"
"Nothing!" the dark-haired little boy cried out, squeaking because he had spoken mid-sob. He abruptly turned away from Frigga, attempting to discretely wipe at his eyes and stop sobbing but failing miserably.
"Come now," she lovingly said as she kneeled down and wrapped her arms tightly around him, embracing him as she rocked lightly, attempting to soothe her clearly distraught son. "You can't hide anything from me, little one. Tell me what's wrong, and I will do what I can to make it better."
"You won't!" the boy sobbed, a chill suddenly seizing the room as his mana reacted to his despair, trying to make his surroundings more comforting to the unknowing Jotun.
"And what makes you think that, darling?" she softly murmured, never ceasing her rocking.
The boy didn't reply for a long time, instead whimpering as he sought solace in his mother's embrace, in the rhythm of her movements. "It was Thor," he eventually whispered once he had calmed down, succumbing to the peace of his mother's presence. "He and his friends wouldn't play with me again, and when I told him I was going to tell you about it, he said, 'Go ahead, I'm the favorite son anyway!'" He twisted in her arms, his watery, bloodshot pale green eyes seeking out her warm, sky blue ones. "It's not true, is it?" he softly and fearfully asked, afraid of what she would say while simultaneously needing to know.
Frigga carefully moved her hands to her son's shoulders, gently squeezing them as she said, "I love you both equally, Loki, and I always will."
Slowly, he smiled and wrapped his arms around her as best as he could, knowing in his heart that she was sincere. "I love you too, Mother."
"L! Hey, are you okay?! What's wrong?"
The trickster's eyes snapped open as he became conscious of his surroundings once more, the memory fading away. When he realized that Megan, who had recovered from her earlier emotional moment while he was out, had her hands on his shoulders and was attempting to rouse him, he swiftly shot to his feet and put distance between them. "Nothing," he lied as he looked at anything but her. "Nothing at all."
The petite woman cocked her head at his reaction, confusion filling her eyes. "You're sure nothing's wrong? You don't need to hide anything from me. Maybe I can help?"
"You can't!" the trickster god bit out icily as he froze the water in his eyes and discretely banished it away, a trick he had long perfected over the years to maintain his image.
"Look, you know more about magic than me, but you don't know everything else I can do. How could you know I can't possibly help?"
He didn't reply to that. She was correct in one regard: He didn't know everything she could do. That being said, he seriously doubted anything could help, however, so he didn't want to concede the point, lest she push him even more to talk about something he did not want to talk about — much less with her. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he utterly failed to hear her approach him — an opportunity she used to abruptly wrap him up in a tight hug. "What are you doing?! Unhand me!" he angrily said, snarling as he attempting to escape her grasp.
"No!" she snapped back, unconsciously infusing her muscles with mana in order to hold her grip. "Look, even though I can get really, really emotional, I'm not an expert in handling other people's emotions. Still, I'm not blind: You clearly need a hug. You've saved me from my own personal hell and gotten me out of a ton of bad situations the past few days, so the least I can do is give you a goddamn hug. Now shut up and enjoy it!"
"'Shut up and enjoy it?'" Loki repeated in disbelief, still struggling against her mana strengthened grip. "Is that honestly supposed to be comforting?"
"Like I said: Not an expert," she dryly quipped back. "I'm just… just trying to do what my mom would've done, okay?"
After struggling for a few more moments in vain, Loki finally acknowledged to himself that he couldn't break the petite woman's grip and just sulked. It was very apparent that the hug was incredibly awkward for both of them, but nevertheless, the sat there for a few moments, just letting the strange moment pass by. Eventually, Megan relinquished her grip, and Loki immediately put distance between them and, as usual, began to look at anything but her.
"Sorry," she murmured looking down at the roof with an abashed expression. "That… probably just made it worse, didn't it?" When he said nothing, she groaned, taking his silence for an answer. "Fuck… I was just… I'm sorry."
"Megan," he suddenly said, forgetting entirely to use her new name as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. She looked up, her sky blue eyes still bloodshot from earlier and the telltale watery sheen of held back tears renewed. He could see the truth in them: She was upset and not just because of whatever she had read earlier in the store; she was upset that she couldn't comfort him. The realization that she genuinely cared about him caused the faintest of smiles to tug at his lips. "You tried," he murmured. "Thank you."
Slowly, a small smile of her own grew.
"That's the one," Megan said as she landed on the roof, having transported herself in lieu of being carried for once.
A split second after her, Loki landed and turned his pale green eyes to follow her pointing finger. The A.I.M. facility was still as nondescript as the day she had first walked into it and, judging by the 'For Sale' signs in the ground floor windows, it was not in use.
When she released a soft moan, the trickster returned his gaze to his companion, watching her carefully as she fought to keep her breathing under control. "This getting ridiculous, Tempest," he said. "Just tell me what to look for in there, and I will go find it, so you don't have to go in."
She sighed, clearly annoyed with her own reactions as much as he was. "I wish that were doable, but you don't know how to turn on a computer, much less hack it. I'll have to go in too." Her words brought to Loki's mind an image of her roughly cutting up a device like the one she had used at the Apple store. He wasn't sure why that would be necessary, so he correctly assumed that she was using the word in a manner he was unfamiliar with. Regardless, he silently conceded the point and resigned himself to the possibility of having to carry her away — again. As if she could read his thoughts, she suddenly quipped, "But who knows! Maybe I'll carry you to safety for once, perhaps? Wouldn't that be a twist?"
Unable to help himself, he softly snorted at that. "As if that would happen."
"Shall we make a wager then?" she asked with a grin, their banter helping her center herself. "If something happens in there, and I have to carry you to safety, then you stop giving me shit about the times you carried me."
He stared at her for a moment, flabbergasted by his mind's image of himself handing her fecal matter, but once again chalked it up as humans coming up with nonsensical uses of words. Aloud, he asked, "And if I once again have to save you, what do I win?"
"Hm…" she hummed as she thought. "Then you don't have to call me 'Tempest' anymore. Deal?"
The trickster smirked at that. "Deal. Now, how do you propose we enter?"
"Well," she began, "if A.I.M. did leave anything here, the building would undoubtedly protected by a security system, and there would almost certainly be someone here on guard duty. How do your illusions affect infrared?"
He pinched his nose and muttered, "What is infra—"
"Heat," she calmly interjected with a soft smile. "Humans have a way to see things through the heat they emit. So even if we were completely invisible, an alarm that detects changes in heat would notice we were there."
The Jotun stared at her, unable to hide the small degree of astonishment in his gaze. After a moment, he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'without mana?' before continuing in a normal voice, "I do not know for certain, but in theory, I should be able to account for it."
"Delightful," she remarked with a wry grin. "In that case, entering under cover of illusion is one option. The cost of that method, however, is some of your limited mana. On the other hand, I could potentially shut down any security system by draining the electricity of… Oh, let's say a couple of blocks — that's a measurement of distance in cities. The pro to that method is there's no cost to your reserves. Unfortunately, it's a lot riskier, the predominant risk being that such an entry doesn't account for the potential guard, who would then be on notice about something strange happening. So! I'd say the best way to enter the building would be under illusion, if you're able and willing to spare the mana."
Loki nodded his assent, her reasoning appearing to be sound. "I both can and will do so, if you feel that's the best approach."
Her grin grew larger as she answered, "It's settled. Time for a little breaking and entering."
"What is 'br—'"
"The point is: Let's do this."
This is going well, Megan thought to herself as the duo carefully traversed the hallways of the building. Maybe too well? Like all the external indications, the first floor of the building had the appearance of being abandoned. Once they had descended down the several flights of stairs in the sole stairwell, Megan heard a din she was very familiar with. A server room; perfect! She gestured for Loki to follow her and began to hastily follow the noise back to its source. Before long, she found a door clearly marked 'Server' that had an old fashioned lock rather than a card swipe. Like, this is going really well… She reached out and grabbed the doorknob firmly and twisted, and sure enough, the door was completely unlocked. So well that — You know what? I better shut up before I jinx it.
Given the utter lack of security thus far, Megan opted to not bother asking Loki to maintain an illusion over the door and instead cleanly pulled it open. Immediately, the higher temperature of the room washed over the duo in a wave, eliciting some grumbles of discomfort from the Jotun. Well acquainted with spending time in room similar to this one, she paid the heat no mind and instead swiftly stalked over to the nearest interface. Before her partner so much as took a cautious step into the uncomfortable climate, she had already begun working her magic — the technological variety.
Okay, A.I.M.… Time to tell me all your dirty little secrets.
Eric Savin sighed as he heard the phone on the nearby desk begin to ring. A.I.M. guard duty was like clockwork: Shifts were eight hours long, and every four hours, the security head in Miami would call in for a status check. By that point, the guard should have completed a number of rounds through their designated area, so when the call came, they could report what they had — or, as was more often the case, what they had not — seen. The calls and shifts were staggered so any given guard's first status check would occur two hours into their first shift, which consequently meant the second check during a shift was essentially a reminder that they still needed to put in another two hours before they could go home.
"I'm comin', I'm comin'…" he muttered as he abandoned the lounge's couch and crossed the room to where the device was incessantly ringing. At least this shift is flying by quicker than usual. I could've sworn they called me not that long ago…
Savin was always less than appreciative of the two hour reminder, since he viewed guard duty with utter disdain. When he first joined A.I.M., the think tank's goals had been oriented on testing the limits of Extremis' capabilities, and as a veteran, he had been one of the primary testers regarding combat capability. It was glorious, exhilarating work, but such a thing wasn't meant to last. Over time, the group had shifted focus to infiltration by insertion, work he was decidedly less talented in. Despite his sincerest efforts to learn targets' personalities and traits, his performance evaluations had been lackluster. And lackluster performance is how one got placed on guard duty.
The vet snatched up the wireless phone, but before he pressed the button to answer, he happened to catch sight of the time listed on the phone's base — 11:28a. He blinked. That's not right… I shouldn't be getting a call until 01:00p. What the hell's going on? Curious, he finally answered. "Savin here."
The clipped alto of his superior immediately asked, "Savin, what the hell are you doing in the server room?"
"Ma'am? I'm not doing anything. I'm in the lou—"
"Then get over there, you moron!" she snappishly interrupted. "Someone's using one of the interfaces!"
Despite his surprise, he hastily sprang into action, tossing the phone aside as he rushed out of the lounge in the direction of the server room. Finally! Some action!
Megan was by no means a greenhorn when it came to hacking — quite the opposite, in fact — but performing a hack directly on the target machine without the assistance of any of her own tech was a task with inherent, unavoidable risks. Keylogging software on a unit was one of these risks, and she was not surprised to find it present on the server interface. Naturally, she had exercised her consider skill to quickly neutralize it before she began plundering the depths of the server's memory banks, but she had no way of knowing whether or not that action had been noticed.
Gotta work fast… She knew she might not have long, so her search for information had to be priority based. Although she desperately wanted any information she could get regarding Aldrich and her doppelgänger, she knew there was a distinct chance this server wouldn't have that kind of data. A.I.M.'s base of operations, however, likely would. This building was clearly not that base, but as a satellite base, it would undoubtedly have some kind of connection back to the main one. The balance of probability dictated that she should figure out where the main base was first.
Thankfully, the interface was actually quite quick, readily pulling up information less than a second after she called for it. Words were flying everywhere on the screen, a veritable typhoon of text as she carefully zeroed in on her prey. Ironically, the keylogging software that had resulted in Savin's imminent approach provided her the answer. There! The software reports back to this place in Miami. Now to see where Killian an—
Savin slammed the heel of his boots into the ajar door, kicking it fully open as he rushed in. Megan and Loki simultaneously whipped around at the noise, and because he was already weary from being in the presence of so much heat, the Jotun's concentration slipped. The invisibility he had cloaked them with flickered, revealing their positions. That was all the vet needed: He instantaneously charged at Loki, who had stayed as close to the door as possible due to the heat. His body's speed and strength supercharged from the Extremis pumping through his veins, he reached the trickster in an instant and delivered a severe blow to the head with a superheated fist that sent him flying backwards into a nearby wall. Between the force and heat of the attack, his already heat-weakened stamina, and the impact against the wall, Loki was knocked out, falling unconscious.
Megan had leapt into action herself at the same moment as him, and while she had been too far away to defend her conspirator, she countered with her own attack, viciously punching the vet back the direction he'd come from. Her momentum added to the force of the blow and sent her target careening straight into and through the wall, leaving him in a heap of wrecked drywall. Yup. Knew it. I totally jinxed it. Way to go, Me. She cast a quick glance at Loki, confirming that he was indeed out of commission. Delightful.
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, she took advantage of her mystery opponent's situation. She snatched the trickster and threw him over her shoulder in a fireman- carry, the only manner she could effectively carry the larger Jotun, then dashed through the threshold of the server room, her mana surging through her veins. As she turned to race towards the stairwell, Savin burst out of the rubble from the hole in the wall and, catching sight of her, quickly followed in pursuit.
Although Megan had surprised herself with the ease and speed with which she was carrying Loki, a feat she assumed was related to infusing her body with mana, Savin wasn't carrying anyone and had a greater stride thanks to his much longer legs. She managed to dart into the stairwell and climb all the flights, but the vet eventually caught up to her and tackled her legs, causing the three of them to crash to the floor. The fall caused her to lose her grip, and her still unconscious passenger was sent flying further down the hall as her pursuer fell on top of her.
Slamming his large hands down on her small shoulders and planting his elbows on her wrists, Savin demanded, "Who the hell are you?"
She slammed her head forward and into his noise, eliciting a sickening crunch and a sharp yelp of pain. Resisting the urge to smugly grin in satisfaction, she began to struggle under his weight, but he held onto her despite the pain, his grip like iron and unyielding. The sound and smell of sizzling flesh suddenly filled the air, and she watched in morbid fascination as his obviously broken nose began to heal. The cartilage audibly reset itself as an ominous red glow suffused the skin of the nose, like a fire was trying to break free from underneath his skin.
As the process finished itself, Savin winced, feeling the heat build-up inside of him reach dangerous levels. Fuck, I need another dose ASAP! Gotta handle this quick. "Ready to give up yet?" he asked, sneering at the navy-eyed brunette beneath him, unaware of who he was truly facing down.
Megan gave him a wide, toothy smile that wouldn't have look misplaced on Loki, her silver mask magically adjusting to hold itself in place. "Oh, absolutely." Without warning, her leg blurred into motion, slamming violently into his groin. "Running is clearly pointless," she continued as he howled in pain and she hastily began to extract herself from beneath him once more. "So I'm giving up on it in favor of beating the shit out of you."
Once she finally got her right hand free, she maneuvered herself so the back of her hand was against her gut and released an electrical blast. The magical projectile easily sent him flying diagonally off her and into the ceiling. He didn't go through it, however, and instead fell back to the floor with a thud and several fresh lacerations. Wasting no time, she quickly pulled herself up onto her knee and, doing her best to envision a stunning variety of her attack, shot another blast at him. Thankfully, instead of sending her opponent flying down the hall, the electricity surged into him on impact, causing the vet to twitch violently for a moment.
She expected him to be knocked out, but when the attack sizzled out, he released a very audible groan. End it now! a part of her screamed. If it didn't knock him out, he can still get back up. Don't waste this chance to end the fight! Acknowledging the truth of that thought, she quickly closed the distance between them, pouncing onto him so that she was straddling his chest. Mana surged through her as she released a fearsome cry, causing her eyes and fists to glow with electric blue light, and she began to pummel his face. Blow after vicious blow, she struck Savin's head, her mana-enhanced strength causing the floor beneath his skull to ripple with cracks. Though his Extremis infused body was more durable than the floor, eventually his skull gave way, caving in and exposing his brain. Lost in the heat of her anger, she paid this detail no heed and instead continued her assault, causing brain matter to splatter everywhere as she easily crushed the soft organ.
She finally stopped when a piece of brain flew straight through her mask's eye socket and into her eye. With a yelp of surprise, she instinctively yanked the mask off her face and removed the organic projectile. She eyed it with disgust, blinking rapidly as her eye attempted to restore its equilibrium, and as she did so, it began to glow a bright red. All around her, pieces of Savin began to do the same.
"What the fuck?" she muttered as she watched the display. "Can he actually heal…" She trailed off as the piece of brain clenched between her thumb and index finger began to grow so hot that, despite her recently acquired resistance to temperature extremes body, it was beginning to burn her. She dropped it and scrambled to her feet, her mask still clenched in her other hand as she watched the floor underneath the vet's scattered remnants begin to melt as they became superheated.
Okay, one of two things is happening, she thought to herself as the air itself began to become too hot to bear. Either he's somehow managing to heal despite all of that damage, or I'm about to see what happens when the Extremis healing process breaks down. We need to get out of here! She turned away as she slapped her mask back into place causing the illusion of honey brown hair, navy eyes, and a pointed face to appear instead of her black hair, sky blue eyes, and heart shaped face. Dashing down the hall towards the still unconscious Loki, she snatched him up and once again threw him into a fireman-carry as she continued sprinting out of the building. The double doors at the end of the hall opened up into an alley behind the building, and there was thankfully a fire escape nearby. The dead weight of carrying a man nearly one and a half times her size obviously slowed her down, but the mana coursing through her made the process much quicker.
When she reached the top of the fire escape and took her first step onto the roof, it finally happened: A massive explosion violently tore through the A.I.M. building in a flash, releasing a shock wave that sent Megan careening head over heels across the rooftop she was about to traverse. Her grip on the trickster tightened, her knuckles white with exertion, and though her shoulder slammed into the roof, her momentum made her body flip and twist so her knees skidded across the rooftop until she came to a halt. She wasted no time, quickly and roughly pushing herself up to her feet, suspecting that an explosion that large must have… Yup, she thought to herself as the building beneath her began to move, causing the rooftop to tilt back towards the blackened ruins of the A.I.M. base. It knocked out the key supports of the nearby buildings. She wobbled as her footing continued to shift, but with a grunt of effort, she infused her legs with mana and jumped towards the next rooftop.
To her surprise, she actually overshot, her legs flailing in panic as she watched not one, not two, but three buildings go by beneath her. Regaining her equilibrium just before they crashed, her booted feet slammed onto the metallic roof, causing an awful banging noise as she collapsed onto her knee but otherwise managing to avoid losing control. Her breaths came hot and quick, and adrenaline still coursed through her as she glanced down to check on her cargo. Miraculously, the Jotun was still out like a light, having remained unconscious even through the explosion. Either way, she thought to herself, we need to get away from the scene of the crime. The Triskelion is here in D.C., so S.H.I.E.L.D. will be here in minutes.
She heard sirens in the distance as she pushed herself back up and onto her feet, readjusting her hold on Loki as she did so. As she began to race across the rooftops once more, already experimenting with controlling the amount of mana she pushed into her legs, she pondered what to do next. I know the address for A.I.M.'s main base, but I don't know for sure whether Killian or my doppelgänger will be there. She nibbled on her lip as she mulled the matter over, but the moment she heard the first hints of an approaching helicopter, she ceased her running and hastily plastered herself as close as she could to the side of a nearby roof access.
She glanced up as it passed overhead, and when she noticed the vehicle was in fact a VTOL, a delightfully dangerous thought occurred to her. Of course! S.H.I.E.L.D. has probably been keeping tabs on me since I quit, so they should know where the fake me is now! Her eyes sought out the tall building in the distance known as the Triskelion: S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base of operations — a veritable lion's den.
Before she could think any further on the matter, Loki groaned and began to gently twist in her arms. A split second later, however, he suddenly stiffened before violently flailing, his eyes snapping open as he succeeded in shoving himself out of her grasp. He grunted as he landed, his pale green eyes rapidly moving to assess the situation. The moment he noticed her presence, he asked, "What happened? Where are we? And why were you holding me?"
"Fight followed by an explosion, a roof a bit away from where we were, and someone had to carry your unconscious ass to safety." She couldn't help but wonder why he had such a problem with physical contact, but she pushed her thoughts aside for the moment, knowing this wasn't the time for musing. "How're you feeling?"
The trickster opened his mouth, ready to deliver a snide remark, but the memory of their interaction earlier that day suddenly came to mind.
"Sorry," she murmured looking down at the roof with an abashed expression. "That… probably just made it worse, didn't it?" When he said nothing, she groaned, taking his silence for an answer. "Fuck… I was just… I'm sorry."
"I'm fine," he muttered before looking away, surprising even himself with his actions. Bloody humans and their bloody sentiment… It must be contagious.
Megan blinked in surprise before unconsciously replying, "Good. I'm… glad." Neither of them said anything further for a moment, and after nearly a minute of awkwardness, she finally continued. "So that wasn't all for nothing."
He quirked an eyebrow at that. "And how, pray tell, was that not a wasted endeavor?"
A smile tugged at her lips. There's the Loki I know. Ever the sour puss. "We now know where A.I.M.'s main base is, and beyond that, I know how to figure out exactly where my double is."
"Oh?"
"Mhm. But the best window for putting my plan into action is now, while S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention is centered on who blew up a god damn building in the middle of the capital."
The trickster god sighed before commenting, "I do hope your plan doesn't get me punched in the face. Again."
"No guarantees," she quipped back unrepentantly, earning a dour glare in response. As the pair left the roof, Megan leading the way towards the Triskelion, she mischievously pointed out, "Oh and by the way, I totally won the bet." As she landed on the next roof, a sheet of ice abruptly appeared without warning under her foot as she landed, causing her to slip and crash.
"Do watch your step, Tempest," the Jotun remarked with the barest of grins. "It's dangerous to not watch where you put your foot. You just might put it in your mouth."
Megan, who had been busy untangling herself from the heap she had landed in, gaped at him. "Did you just make a joke? With a Midgardian idiom?!" she incredulously asked, so focused on his behavior that she completely missed her unintentional use of the term 'Midgardian.'
"I have been listening to you," he replied dismissively. "Collecting 'intel,' as you would say. We are partners, so it would behoove me to speak your language."
A smile tugged at her lips. 'Partners…' I'm really beginning to like that notion. I keep him safe from explosions, and he keeps me safe from my crippling phobias. Really not a bad deal. "C'mon. Let's keep moving."
Friday, November 1st, 2002 03:03p, EST | Miami, Florida
Maya Hansen took another sip from her black tea, savoring the flavor of the hot liquid as it passed over her tongue and caused its taste buds to scream with delight. In spite of the symphony of taste in her mouth, she released a long, weary sigh. There were few things in this world that she loved more than black tea, but even the power of that most wonderful of drinks could not lighten the burden resting upon her shoulders.
She glanced at the calendar tacked against the wall. A year and seven months, she bitterly noted. Five hundred seventy-nine days of failure. Gods, that's depressing. Her thoughts brought the events of April 1st, 2002, to the forefront of her mind once again.
Maya sobbed with relief, her emotions swirling within her like a runaway maelstrom as she watched her boss' body stabilize. "I did it…" she murmured, before promptly clapping a hand over her mouth, irrationally fearing that she might jinx the situation. Rather than say anything further, she did her best to collect herself and moved over to her desk. Snatching up a blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, and thermometer — all items she had been keeping on hand while testing antidotes on Aldrich — she quickly returned to the slowly recovering blonde still lying on his back on the floor.
"Maya?" he weakly asked, his voice hoarse from the pain he had just endured, as she set about checking his vitals.
"Hush for a sec," she replied as she inserted the thermometer into his mouth and under his tongue. While she waited on that, she wrapped the cuff around his bicep, slipped the stethoscope just under the edge of it, and carefully listened. She only had a rudimentary familiarity with the process for checking somebody's blood pressure, so it took her full concentration to perform the task. Pleased with his blood pressure, she withdrew the glass implement from under his tongue and smiled at its measurement. "You're good. Perfectly fine now, in fact," she pronounced, a wide smile breaking across her face as she did so.
Aldrich released a heavy sigh of relief, his dark blue eyes seeking out her own, honey brown orbs. "Thank you, Maya."
The scientist cringed at his words, the well of tears she had been holding back finally breaking free and carving watery tracks down her cheeks. "Why are you thanking me? My invention did this to you. You should hate me right now!"
"Don't be ridiculous," the blonde answered firmly, catching her off guard. "Yes, your invention is technically what was on the fritz, but I wouldn't be in this predicament if I hadn't chosen to put it into me. I nearly exploded because of my own brashness, and you are the person who saved me. So thank you, Maya."
Nearly every day since, she had been hard at work trying to find a way to cure Aldrich of his status as a living bomb. She had poured nigh countless hours into testing new formulae, her dedication so fanatical that Aldrich had to practically drag her away from her desk some days, persistently refusing to allow her to dedicate more than twelve hours per day to her search for the cure.
Well, 'cure' might not be the best way to refer to it, she admitted to herself. If it all possible, he wants me to find a way to keep the strength and healing qualities Extremis provides, but I just don't know that they can be separated from the… explosive side effect.
She rose to her feet, stretching her weary limbs before beginning to pace, periodically taking sips from her favorite drink. Her efforts over the past year and a half had not been entirely fruitless, though she personally viewed anything less than total success as a loss. A number of months back, she had succeeded in developing a new strain of Extremis that A.I.M. had taken to referring as 'Extremis v1.1,' and though it still carried with it the side effect of a burnout explosion, the new formulation took significantly longer to reach that point. Perhaps the strangest difference between it and the original Extremis was the new version internalized the state of the user's body. Put simply, if the user was missing a limb when they injected themselves with Extremis v1.1, then that particular limb would not regrow, but the rest of the body would be restored if altered.
And I still have no fucking clue why it does that, the exasperated Maya mused. When it comes down to it, nothing about how any strain of Extremis works makes any rational sense. The effects are consistent within each strain, but there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for those effects to occur. Giving up her pacing, the weary scientist plopped back into her chair and deposited her insulated mug on the desk. Propping her elbows on the desktop, she plopped her face down into her hands and fumed. It doesn't matter what Aldrich says, I'm the one at fault for this. I created Extremis, and it's flawed. I need to fix it, but I'm working with borrowed time; sooner or later, injecting fresh Extremis into Aldrich isn't going to prevent a burnout.
She picked her head up and slumped back in her chair, its back tilting so that even with her head against the headrest, she was facing the ceiling and, beyond it, the heavens. She closed her eyes, fighting against the urge to cry. I'm at my limit, and it's going to get him killed. Please, God — any god — if you exist, then please help me save him. I need a miracle.
Thursday, December 29th, 2005 12:02p, EST | A Public Bathroom on a Street Not Far from the Triskelion, Washington D.C.
Megan sighed in relief as she removed her silver mask and glanced into the wall-length mirror over the sinks. Hi, me. Good to see you're still you. Knowing Loki was outside and maintaining the illusion that the bathroom was temporarily out of order, she carefully set down the magical artifact he crafted just for her onto the counter and returned her attention to more mundane matters: Namely, she needed to pee.
Once her bare bottom had connected with the toilet seat and she had begun to answer nature's call, she began to reminisce about the return of her body a few days prior. As much help as he's been, I wish Loki would stop hiding shit from me. He's yet to explain what happened to the two people who attacked me or how he restored my body. Both mysteries were vexing her, but she had held her tongue, not wanting to push her luck and risk the camaraderie growing between them. Sooner or later I'll draw the line and just ask, but I suppose that in the grand scheme of things neither is that important to know right now. What does matter at the moment is getting the rest of my life back.
Her resolve renewed and her bladder relieved, she went about finishing up her bathroom break, leaving the donning of her mask for last.
Loki, meanwhile, was lost in thoughts of his own as he waited on a nearby bench for Megan to exit the doors he had covered with an illusion.
Why am I still here with her? This thought had been plaguing Loki since their impromptu journey to the land Megan had told him was called 'Tennessee.' This partnership was swiftly becoming more trouble than it was worth, yet he had continued to help her and accordingly left their deal in effect. Why?
It is cumbersome now, he rationalized, but you've never been one to focus on the short-game. Her help will be invaluable later, and by helping her as much as I am now, I am developing our tenuous partnership into something more.
Yes, keep telling yourself that, a different part of him jeered. We both know the real reason: You fancy her. You can see her standing at your side when you claim your rightful throne. That notion brought to the front of his mind an image of his ally clad in regal garb that was fit for a warrior queen. See? the traitorous part of his brain smugly added. If you just wanted to exploit her, you'd have imagined her as the type of queen fit only for court appearances, who had been molded into a tool to be exploited. But you didn't: You envisioned the real her. You want her— the real one — to like you!
He internally scoffed. What a ridiculous notion. Whyever would I be attracted to someone who's easily as rash, if not rasher, than my idiot 'brother?'
The moment he thought this, however, his own behavior earlier that year during his brief war with the Earth came to mind. "I want to know everything you can tell me about this team. I would… test… their mettle. I am weary of scuttling in shadow. I mean to rule this world, not burrow in it."
could admit that he too had made hasty, and often unwise decisions. But that still only eliminates reasons to not like her. It doesn't explain why I should like her.
Once again, a myriad of reasons readily came to mind: Her incredible brilliance, her rapidly developing power, her true concern for his well-being, and — if he was being honest with himself — her striking beauty. Okay, so there are reasons enough, he begrudgingly admitted to himself. But even if I accept the notion that I 'fancy' Megan, it wouldn't work. It never does. Women always spurn my advances once they discover my distaste for coitus. He grimaced, closing his eyes and exhaling softly through his nostrils as he did his best to fend off the bevy horrible memories, also known as every sexual experience he'd ever had.
He had yet to calm down by the time the now refreshed Megan found him. "Loki?"
The Jotun trickster, who had been entirely engrossed in fending off his unfortunate past, lashed out in surprise. With the barest of gestures, a piece of ice shot into her stomach, knocking the breath out of her with a sharp 'oof!' and sent her skidding back a foot. Aware of reality once again, he cringed as he watched her harshly suck in a fresh lungful of air and rub at the frozen patch on her cami.
She quickly checked to see if they had attracted any unwanted attention. Once she'd confirmed that no one seemed to have seen the spontaneous materialization of ice, she broke the silence of the tense moment, asking, "So. Mind explaining why you did that?"
His eyes slid closed and he took a second to consider his words before he replied, "I inadvertently let me thoughts drift to bad places. I was trying to recover and did not notice your approach. You therefore… startled me." He steeled himself then, knowing what he needed to say, and added, "I… apologize."
She lightly cocked her head and carefully observed the raven-haired trickster for a moment, a thoughtful look in her sky blue eyes. "Okay. Apology accepted."
Caught off guard by her quick acceptance, he inquired, "You do not seem upset."
The question of 'why' went unspoken but not unnoticed. "It's okay," she easily answered, her lips curling into a small smile as she brushed off the last of the icy patch, only leaving behind a wet spot on her cami "You provided a perfectly acceptable justification for why you acted the way you did, no real harm was done, and you apologized without me needing to ask you to do it."
His pale green eyes carefully watched her for any sign that she was exploiting him. Seeing none, he eventually gave her the slightest of nods — his own way of thanking her. When her lips curled up into a full smile, his heart seemed to beat just a tad faster than it had moments prior, and he studiously did his best to ignore it as he asked, "Shall we proceed?"
"Well, actually," she began, her curiosity overcoming her. She lightly chewed on her bottom lip, pondering whether she should actual voice her question. "If… if you don't mind, would you—"
"Tell you what the 'bad places' I mentioned earlier are?" he interrupted, realizing what she was going to ask. He wearily sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes and debated whether or not to tell her.
"Yeah… I mean, again, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just figured that, you know, it'd help us… get to know each other better."
Loki glanced away, resisted the urge to snort at that. 'Get to know each other better' indeed. Still… Thantos' visage crossed his mind, the Mad Titan's sickening grin promising him pain, should he ever be caught. I need to keep our partnership alive. And if there was ever anyone who might be understanding… His pale green eyes sought out her sky blue ones once again — the orbs bearing the same color as the only person who had ever truly cared for him. It would be her. "Answer me this: If I tell you this, if I tell you this truth about myself, would you ridicule me?"
Her jaw dropped slightly. Wow… I really didn't think he would consider telling me… Collecting herself, she immediately and levelly replied, "You never ridiculed me for being who I am, even when we were on opposite sides of the battlefield. I will extend you that same courtesy." As she said this, a piece of the knowledge Mjölnir had granted her came to mind: A formal oath that was very appropriate for this situation. She drew herself up to her full, albeit it still quite short, height, and she placed both of her hands on her sternum in the same place her arc reactor had been that July. Her left palm was flat against the skin left uncovered by her clothing, and her right palm was pressed against the back of her left hand in the same manner. She lifted her chin slightly, so she could more directly look into his startled pale green eyes as she pronounced, "I, Megan Alexia Stark, swear that I will never ridicule Loki Laufeyson for being himself."
This time, it was Loki's jaw that had dropped. She willingly submitted to a binding oath without my needing to ask for it… Foolish woman… But in truth, he knew that she had just endeared herself to him. Had she leapt so readily into a binding oath with anyone else when it wasn't a last resort, he would have been furious and thought her an idiot, especially since he had not promised to tell her anything, merely asking whether she would ridicule him. But for some reason he couldn't explain, he was… happy, he admitted to himself, that she had been willing to do so for him.
They stood there for a minute, neither saying a word and Megan never lowering her hands from her chest. Finally, the trickster broke the silence, surprising himself when he admitted aloud, "I do not enjoy making love to women."
Megan blinked, furrowing her brow in confusion. "To clarify: Are you implying you're gay?"
Loki, who had flushed and looked away the moment he finished spilling his secret, replied with an equally confused tone. "Gay? I am not familiar with that term."
"It means you enjoy making love to men instead of women."
"No!" he quickly denied, his normally pale cheeks beginning to flush.
"L, there's nothing wrong with being gay. It's okay if you're gay."
The trickster growled. "You have the entirely wrong idea. I agree that there is nothing wrong with a man enjoying the… company of his fellow man. I admit that, from my culture's perspective, it is strange for two men to have sex, though I'm not even sure how two men can even do that. And no," he hastily added as Megan began to grin, "I do not wish for an explanation. The logistics of coitus are irrelevant; what I am trying to convey is that Asgardians would not view such a bond unfavorably."
Steeling himself, Loki concluded, "The point I am making is that I am not gay, as I prefer the company of women… and only their company."
"Oh. Oh, I get it!" she said, comprehension dawning on her. "You're saying you're asexual!" At his confused look, she amended, "Err, to clarify: Asexual means you don't like having sex with people, but you still form relationships."
For the second time that conversation, his jaw dropped. "Midgardians have a term for it?"
"Of course we do. I mean, being asexual isn't extraordinarily common, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't have a word that clearly expresses that core concept. I mean, imagine how much smoother that reveal of yours would have gone had you known the term 'asexual?'"
Yes, that would have been simpler, he begrudgingly admitted to himself. Resolving to ponder the matter of Midgardian linguistics at a more opportune time, he returned his attention to more imminently important matters. "Then you do not think me strange for being… 'asexual?'"
"No. Why would I?" she asked questioningly. "Is it a stigma in Asgard or something?"
"As I have said before, Asgardian culture is preoccupied with procreation. Since I am attracted to women, it is considered very strange that I am not likewise interested in procreating with them. It is often the case that my aversion to intercourse is reason enough to end a relationship."
She winced. Meaning he's been unable to maintain a healthy relationship with just about anyone. I can imagine what that feels like… I seriously lucked out with Bruce. "Well even if I hadn't made my oath, I wouldn't care. You are who you are. I don't care if you're straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, into BDSM, or anything like that."
The trickster quirked an eyebrow at the rush of unfamiliar terminology. She just defined 'gay,' but the rest… Well, let's start with the last one. "What is BDSM?"
Megan's cheeks abruptly resembled the color of a tomato as the image of a leather clad Loki striking her naked back with a cat o' nine tails popped into her head. No. No no no, Meg! Why are you imagining this right now? With Loki, of all people?! "Nothing!" she said aloud in a tone that reaffirmed her utter mortification on the off chance her incredibly heated blush hadn't made it apparent already. "We're not going there!" She abruptly grabbed his hand and began dragging him down the street towards the Triskelion, which loomed over them from not too far away. "C'mon, we really need to get back to work!"
Befuddled by her behavior, he simply filed the question away for another time and matched her pace as he freed his hand from her grasp. Before long, however, she stopped in front of an electronics store with televisions in the window, her wide eyes focused on the emergency news report and the still image in the corner of the screen featuring none other than the Mandarin:
"—redit for the attack this afternoon in our nation's capital. Although the authorities have not released a confirmed death toll yet, our sources at the scene say the bomb did result in at least one death: Claire Woods, a local woman who was jogging by the building at the time of detonation. For those just now joining us, the terrorist known only as the Mandarin has made another attack — this time in the heart of Washington, D.C. We're still wait—"
"Tempest? Is there a problem?" Loki softly asked, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone in the small crowd that was growing around the store's window.
"He just took credit for that guy who blew up, L," she replied, matching his volume. "Why would he do that? That's not his M.O., unless…" She trailed off, her eyes growing wide. That guy I fought had clearly been injected with Extremis, and he exploded after I killed him… Is that what all of the Mandarin attacks have been? Cover ups for Extremis users blowing up? But that would mean the Mandarin is a front for A.I.M.… Or maybe they're a front for him? That seems unlikely, but then again, so was him declaring the explosion was one of his attacks. She shook her head as she said aloud, "That guy is a terrorist, and it seems he's somehow tied to A.I.M. We're finding more questions than we are answers, and I don't like that."
She turned on her heel and began striding toward the Triskelion once more. "Let's see if we can't change that…"
Thursday, December 29th, 2005 10:22p, GMT | Pennyworth Electronics, East End of London, Great Britain
"Do you need any help before I head out?" Andrew Pennyworth asked as he locked his office, eyeing the young man restocking the shelves.
"No, sir," Danny Weitzel replied, briefly flashing a smile over his shoulder at his elderly boss. "There's only a few more things in the back that need to be put out. I'll be done in five minutes or so."
"Of course, of course," he acknowledged before crossing the small store and opening the front door. A biting December gust whooshed into the store, musing Andrew's wispy gray hair before he plopped a worn fedora over it. "Don't forget to lock up when you're done," he said, holding his hat in place. "I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, he slipped out the door, letting it clang shut.
The young blonde resumed his work, an undecipherable look on his face. Although he considered himself lucky for managing to secure his present job, especially given his need for under-the-table payment, he nevertheless tempered that by remembering how incredibly unlucky it had been to be forced into this situation. It wasn't every day, after all, that one went to sleep in their bedroom in New York City and woke up in one of London's alleys. His mysterious transportation had been so seamless that he had honestly believed he was having a lucid dream for most of that first day. When night arrived, however, the cold reality of the situation had settled in.
Once he had arrived at that particular realization, he had immediately done everything in his power to contact the folks back home. He had tried contacting Megan, Bruce, Pepper, Rhodey, Jarvis, and even Clint, and only one person answered.
"Megan Stark speaking. Who is this? How did you get my private number?"
"Meg! It's Danny!" he said, his growing panic making him rush through his words. "I don't know what the hell happened, but I woke up this morning in London of all places. Are you okay? Where are you? Did something happen?"
There was a pause at the end of the line, followed by a soft sigh that he barely heard. "You're a smart kid, Danny. What do you think happened?"
He blinked at her cold tone. "W-w-what? I don't… Meg, please… I don't understand! If you know, then just tell me?"
"It was a mistake. It was a mistake ever bringing you here, and I've fixed it."
"M-Meg?" His breath was hitching, and a cold weight was settling down on him, like a slab of ice slowly crushing him. "W-what are you saying?"
"The streets here wouldn't do," she continued, her tone sounding strained. "You could cause legitimate problems for me here. Putting you in London… Nothing's changed, really. You're essentially in the same position you were the day I met you."
"No… No! You're lying! This is a joke! It's just a sick joke!" He sobbed, unable to hold back the terror that was rapidly beginning to consume him. "It's not funny, Meg! Please stop it!"
The last thing he heard before she hung up was, "Don't call me again."
Danny blinked, suddenly realizing that was standing in the middle of the store and had gotten lost in the memory. Wiping at the tears in his eyes, he bitterly said aloud to no one in particular, "I should've known better than to believe her." He resumed his walk towards the storeroom. "Who would want me to be their little brother?"
He reached the door, griped the doorknob, and tried to turn it. It was locked.
A loud clang behind him made him whirl around in panic. The metal gate that covered the front of the store at closing time had dropped, blocking all sight between the exterior and interior of the store.
"What the hell…" He made to move towards the door and figure out why that had happened, but he froze when someone he had hoped to never see again phased through the solid metal gate and the door, casually stepping into the shop's interior. "You!"
"Ah, I'm so pleased you remember me," the Ghost answered, his white, full-body armor gleaming in the store's incandescent lighting. "That is one less thing we must discuss tonight."
The blonde backed into the locked door, putting as much distance between them as possible for all the good it did. His boss' office and the storeroom were locked, and even if they weren't, the sole exit was the front door. He was trapped. "What do you want from me?"
"Use your ears, son," the distorted voice quipped. "I have already told you what I want from you: A conversation."
"Ah," Danny replied with blatant incredulity. "I… see. You, um, want to discuss something then?"
"Oh good. You were listening after all. Tell me, son, what you think of Megan Stark."
"I hate her," he replied without hesitation, wishing desperately he could convince himself to look away from the cold, mechanical eyes of the Ghost's helmet. Where is he going with this?
"Why do you hate her?"
"She abandoned me here," he said, keeping his answer short, wanting their conversation to be over as soon as possible.
"And if you were to learn that you had not been abandoned? That the 'Megan Stark' who returned to NYC on July 14th earlier this year was, in fact, an imposter?"
"Hey, sis," Danny called out over the top of his seemingly ever present laptop, his pale eyes seeking out her sky blue ones as she entered the dining area. "Interesting improvisation at the committee hearing. I can't argue with the results, but I don't recall 'force a meeting with the President' being a part of the plan you mentioned the other day."
"No way…" the teen murmured.
"Well that was odd," Bruce replied quietly before swinging his head to face forward once more, a baffled expression still in place. Seeing the teen's curiosity, he explained, "She said she was lost in thought, but her eyes didn't glaze over. I've never seen that happen before — or not happen, rather."
"That's simply not possible…"
"Well, I certainly can't deny that meeting with the President is more likely to occur, and thus buy you time, than your plan to resort to a court of appeals," the neon-green eyed brunette said with a frown, his shoulder currently covered in a mess of black and red hair. "But a couple of things threw me for a loop. First, you jumped right to 'buy time' plan after a perfunctory attempt to convince the committee that you holding onto he suit wasn't a problem. Second, Fury will be… well, furious when he hears about this, since you've told the world at large that you plan to continue using the suit, which you said you wouldn't do. And last, going through meeting the President will get you closer to the military than you ought to, given your relationship with me and that they're actively trying to get their hands on your suit."
"You have seen Bruce Banner transform into the Hulk, a portal to another dimension open over the skies of Manhattan, and me phasing through solid walls. So is it not possible that the 'Megan Stark' who abandoned you here was not the real one?"
"Proof," Danny abruptly said. "What proof do you have of this?"
"Excellent," the Ghost replied with a laugh, the voice modulator making it ominous. "Always question what you 'know,' son. That is the secret to success in life."
"Why do you keep calling me that? Calling me 'son?'"
"Your question, first: I know because I have a skill set that assists me in learning what people do not want me to know. More specifically, what 'Advanced Idea Mechanics' did not wish for me to know."
"So I have to take you at your word? That's not very convincing, given who you are."
"'Who I am,' is precisely why you should believe me." Before Danny could retort, a small slot on the Ghost's armored left thigh snapped open. Reaching into the cavity, the figure pulled out, of all things, a 3x5 photo. "Do you know the people in this photograph?" he finished, holding it out upside down for the blonde to take.
It took the teen several minutes to work up the courage to warily reach out and grab the proffered item. Once he had withdrawn his hand and cast one last suspicious look at the armored figure before him, he glanced down at the photo. On the back, feminine handwriting said, "Christmas 2000." He flipped it over. A smiling family of three casually dressed, raven-haired individuals greeted him. The person on left was easily the tallest of the three, and he was the only man. His smile bore a certain roguish quality, his dark brown eyes held a sharpness common in bright individuals, and his neatly trimmed and styled black hair, both on top of his head and on his face, was clearly beginning to gray. His left arm was wrapped around the backs of the two women, his hand resting on the hip of the one farthest from him, and his right hand was firmly placed on the right shoulder of the young woman in the middle. On the right was a woman with sky blue eyes that spoke of wisdom — of a wealth of experience gained through many years lived. But for those eyes, he would never have guessed her as older than her late thirties. She had clearly aged very well. Her long, shiny, straight black hair was pulled into a low, side ponytail that lightly draped forward over her left shoulder. Like the man in the photo, she had an arm around the back of the family and a hand on the left shoulder of the young woman in the middle.
The young woman in the middle was an unmistakable face for Danny, even though she was clearly several years younger than her present age. "Yes. I know them."
"Who are they?"
"The Stark family. From left to right, Howard, Megan, and Maria."
"Good. Now, you asked why I have been calling you 'son.' You asked why you should take me at my word, and I replied that who I am is why you should trust me," the Ghost said. "Let me show you why." A sudden, light whirring sound brought the teen's attention back to the Ghost, who was removing the full-face helmet of his white armor.
When it came off, Danny gasped, dropping the photo as his grip became slack. "That's impossible. You're dead." His — or rather, her — appearance had changed since the photo was taken: The long black hair was gone, replaced with a short, haphazard cut only someone who cuts their own hair would have. The once lustrous, pure black hair was now somewhat grimy and had streaks of white intermixed with the black strands.
"Megan was adopted, as you know. So really, I have no qualms with viewing you, the boy she calls her 'little brother,' as my son." Maria Stark smiled. "Welcome to the family, Daniel."