Seven months, twenty nine days before incident:
Location: Earth, U.S.A, Midtown: Manhattan, stark tower, floor zero
Subjects involved: Renard, Anthony Stark, Fredrick Lowe, Loki
Sleep eluded Loki that night.
(Part of him was fuming at the blemish of a woman in the corner, and the rest was still wondering what an Ash Taro was.)
He finally had- after months of nothing- a chance to gain the upper hand.
Renard may have spurned him, but she would be back. No matter how much she claimed to detest him, he knew the look he'd seen on her face. Beneath the seething anger was determination. Whatever it was she sought, she would stop at nothing to get it- even helping him.
And he, in turn, was just desperate enough to stomach her.
The situation was still hardly ideal. Unfortunately, Loki's options were exhausted. He had tried every other conceivable escape route, but every step he took seemed to have been predicted. It was a hit to his pride that he had been held captive this long, but fortune had turned against him. Now, though, his luck was changing.
Less and less manpower was being devoted to keeping him in check. Whether his captors attention was divided or they merely grew complacent, security had become lax. The machines that kept him captive were trusted to do most of the work, and machines were vulnerable in ways people weren't, so that was fine by him.
His best hope now was an ally on the outside... which led him back to Renard.
He rubbed his temples, trying to think through his migraine.
If she had opened one door, she could open another, but he had no way to make her.
To escape, he needed Renard.
To control Renard, he needed leverage, and that wasn't something he had.
If he had known what it was she wanted, or how to find out, he would have had something to work with. But all he had was the knowledge she wasn't what she appeared, which wasn't enough. He had already tried threatening her, and it had been an embarrassing failure. There was no one to reveal her secrets to- no one who'd listen, at any rate.
What did he have?
A name.
Ash Taro.
What was it?
A place?
A thing?
A person?
Whichever it was, it was important to her.
He could try to lie, but he didn't have enough information to make it convincing. The woman was desperate, but she wasn't a flaming moron. She wouldn't free him without being sure he knew what he was talking about. Judging by her blatant contempt, she might not free him even then.
Ash Taro, he thought again, eyes tightly shut.
He didn't know what that was, but he was going to find out.
