Chapter VII:
A Fellow Soldier and Misfit
"May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead."
As far as he was concerned, there were only two types of soldiers who needed that kind of phrase: the ones in the frontline facing the Reaper army, and the idiotic recruits who thought they were as good as the legendary Commander Jane D. Shepard.
But he needed no such prayers: not the crippled flyboy who piloted the most advanced ship in the Alliance Navy (and who happened to be also the best helmsman in the Alliance Fleet, or probably in the whole galaxy). He was way too good to get hit by a single shot. That was, until he got sandwiched between the Crucible and Harbinger. As he tried to remember the reason why he was living in darkness, inside a charred, crippled shell, a thought occurred to him that maybe—just maybe—he received a divine middle finger for thinking that he was exempted from needing some supernatural help.
A cold, metallic sound slithered from a thing on his left followed by a series of slow, soft footsteps. He had no way of knowing who or what caused it. Was it something that could save or kill him? Things had their own way of concealing their real intentions; and he just wished they all knew that beforehand before clinging to the Crucible as their final hope for winning that war. In the end, it was the one that actually tore him away from everything he had known, loved, and cherished then bringing him into a place Maker-knows-where. Before he heard the commander's voice, he wished he just died right there; but now, he wasn't so sure anymore.
"Good to see that you're still alive."
Joker tried his best to turn his head sideways. "You're that guy who calls the shots here, right?" he asked.
A nauseous screech of two metals reached his ears followed by a heavy thump and a clank of a boot. "Technically, yes," he grunted, "And it's my turn to ask questions."
Joker took all his remaining strength to gulp. "As long as torturous, bone-breaking forms of interrogation aren't included in your methods."
"We just do those things when our guest doesn't want to cooperate."
The pilot sighed. "Figures."
"So..." the man's deep voice trailed, "What do you know about this lady: Jane Shepard?"
An expected question, he thought. He had already heard what happened during the hours he was supposed to be sleeping; all thanks to the people around him that could not get their mouths shut. It seemed the notorious commander of the Normandy did cause quite a racket and ended up getting jailed in this place—and eventually escaped. Although he could not hear the damned shriek of the Reapers in this place, Shepard still told him that the people might be indoctrinated. He did not believe it at first, but her sudden disappearance disturbed him.
"It seems that you are quite precious to that woman," the deep voice continued, "If you can tell us anything about her, it will help us both a great deal."
Bullshit. He inwardly cursed. How many times he had heard that conditions? If you help us in this-and-that, it will become a win-win situation. Although the cloth wrapped all around his body prevented him to do anything but to mutter a few incoherent words, Joker wished he could actually raise his middle finger towards that man's direction. Instead, he chose the more diplomatic way. "Why do you think so?" he asked slowly.
Joker heard another step of a boot. "It seems that you're not aware of your surroundings," the visitor noted, "Believable, since Agent Romanoff found your unconscious body underneath a charred, female-looking, android. If we can just find those alien species that she had encountered in that wreck, maybe this mystery can be solved. And, who knows? We can actually help each other."
The helmsman could barely hold his chuckle. Familiar scenes started to dance inside his head. Was he talking to the reincarnated version of the Illusive Man? "I don't think I have the slightest idea of what you are talking about," he tried to shake his head.
"Hmm, so it seems that you don't know anything at all," the man said.
"Looks like I'm the one who's supposed to ask questions."
Before Joker could hear a reply, another sharp noise interrupted their conversation. "Director Fury, Mr. Stark wants to speak with you in his Tower."
Fury grunted. "Can't you see I'm talking to our guest here?"
"Uh, Mr. Stark said that it has something to do with his new pet project. He was hoping that you can see—"
"Fine, this better be good," Fury said, "I am quite sure we can continue this conversation some other time... Mr. Moreau."
"Wait, how did you know my name?" Joker tried to ask but only the cold silence of the room remained with him. "What a nice host you are," he mumbled as he tried to find another comfortable position. After all those information that he had heard, he was not sure if he just died or ended up in an old-fashioned mental asylum. To know where he actually landed on, he closed his eyes and tried to remember his last moments in the Normandy.
"Jeff, we have to pull back!" EDI's voice had echoed in his ears.
His fingers instinctively flew along the surface of his Omni-keyboard. "We can't do that now, sweetie," he attempted to mask his panicked condition with a carefree remark, "I told you guys before: Once we get into this, it's gonna be Suicide Mission part 2!"
Alarm lights had blared on either side of the bridge controls; each signifying every hull and wing that had just been seared by the big bad boss Reaper right on their tail. He had successfully evaded most of the attack; but he never expected that Harbinger could shoot that fast. In addition to the pain, a lot of those Oculi flew around him like an army of annoying bugs. Because of that, he had to detour a lot of times before they could come close to their destination.
He could hear Kaidan (the self-proclaimed XO in behalf of the commander) barking orders to repair the shields and fortify some of the damaged areas of the ship. The engineering crew had also reported that their drive core might overheat if they could not evade the Reaper attack. They were only a few miles in front of an almost-charged up Crucible. From what information he could gather, he had deduced that he just drove everyone into a shitstorm that nobody could ever escape.
Joker shook his head. No, everybody knew the risk beforehand. No way could he be responsible for all of this. Besides, thinking too hard about stuff was bad for him, anyway. To get himself away from thinking anything negative, he punched a button in the intercom. "Can anyone see an opening in the Crucible where we can land before we become a galactic Reaper-fried delicacy?"
"I can scan an opening near the junction between the Citadel and the Crucible," Traynor's voice reported through the intercom, "I'll send you the exact coordinates and tell Garrus and Kaidan to set up a retrieval squad."
Joker smiled. "Much appreciated, thank—"
"JEFF—LOOKOUT!"
Before he knew it, volumes of white light had slowly crept on the half-faded Omni-screens on the deck. He had tried to activate the bridge's emergency kinetic barriers but he lost all the feeling in his arms: as if all the bones in there suddenly turned to dust. His mouth gaped involuntarily, attempting to ask for help but he could not hear any sound coming out from it. The white light kept on edging closer and closer to him until his vision started to get blurry. He commanded his brain to shut his eyes but it was damn unresponsive, causing his eyeballs to ache in focusing on the bright light too much. What sick joke happened to him? The last figure that he saw before his eye sight turned dark was the silhouette of EDI's robotic body jumping in front of him.
"Ah, so you must be Lady Jane's most trusted man."
A cold chill in the air froze Joker's thought process. It was not the same man who visited him before. This time, the air surrounding him was forbidding and malevolent, as if the Devil himself had cared enough to do the honors of bringing him to Afterlife. Not a pretty picture, he noted to himself.
Joker tried to maintain his cool in the face of death. It would be scandalous for a guy like him to whimper in a time like this. Why, he faced near-death situations a lot of times before! If he peed in his pants now, Commander Shepard would laugh at him once they meet again.
"Were it not for that vile woman's inhuman stubbornness, I would have preferred to leave you rotting in this place," the man's cold tone waltzed nearer to his right ear, "But perhaps, you will have some use in my plans. Specifically: making a leash for that wild, crimson-armored mortal."
"Wh-what are you talking about? Wait, who are you anyway?" Joker asked.
As if a reply, a swift jab in the chest struck the helmsman. "Ah, you will know it soon enough," the man's tone became softer, "But for now, let it suffice you that you will join my army— whether you like it or not."
. . .
"That stupid bastard," Shepard muttered underneath her breath repeatedly as she tore her way through the seedy alleys of New York City. If she had not sliced Loki's mouthpiece and threatened to gouge his eyes out with her Omni-blade, she would never coax him to go back to the helicarrier to fetch Joker. That idiot never knew that if anyone would actually have the answers to this mystery, it would be her most loyal man: Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau. But that arrogant, god-like, bastard vanished without another word; and she swore that that Loki would get a very nice "haircut" from her as a reward for his pristine attitude.
Other than that, she remembered that her weapons were still missing. How could she get it back from that scavenger named Tony Stark?
CLANK!
"What the?" her eyes followed the sound and found a half-baked piece of metal lying on the muddy ground. She picked the curious artifact and brushed it off. The material and the patterns looked familiar to her. "Is this my shoulder guard?" she gasped. She quickly looked at her right shoulder. True enough, only the black mesh of her armor hugged her aching shoulder. Quickly, she inspected the other parts of her armor: the left plate covering her left calf was also dropped out without her noticing it; the tip of her chest plate chipped off and most of the plates in her armor were either charred or worn out.
"This must be my lucky day... And I doubt if there's an armor shop around here to replace this garbage," she muttered as she tried to inspect the damages in her armor through her Omni-tool. Suddenly, information popped out from her device:
You have one (1) unread codex entry (ies).
Biting her lip, she selected the notification and another screen appeared on her Omni-tool. A huge. gold-highlighted, blinking box caught her eye.
CONNECT TO STARK INDUSTRIES DATABASE.
Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Stark Industries? That's what Iron Man's been babbling about, right?" she asked out loud but she selected the option anyway. In an instant, the dialogue box disappeared and replaced by another box:
WARNING: THIS PROGRAM IS PROTECTED BY A HIGH-LEVEL, ANTI-HACKING DEVICE. ATTEMPTING TO CONNECT INTO THE PROGRAM MAY RISK DETECTION FROM THE ENEMY FORCES. PROCEED?
Shepard paused and rubbed the bottom of her chin. It was way too soon to get detected by the enemy. But her instincts were coaxing her to take the risk and proceed with the connection. "Well, here goes nothing," she said and pressed the confirmation button. While she waited for her device to connect, she retreated behind a huge garbage dumpster as not to get bothered by any passerby. When the device finally connected, she saw a number of data boxes scrolling upwards on the screen. At first, the whole screen was garbled with billions of data streams; but with the help of her Omni-tool, the data stream became more tolerable to read. With her previous technological knowledge, she pushed a number of buttons and saw the right data stream to choose among the flow of data.
"Funny that they call this a high-level, anti-hacking device," Shepard chuckled as she avoided the system's traps, "This is so old-school."
Within minutes, she was already inside Mark VII, namely: Iron Man's suit. The system overwhelmed Shepard of different sorts of information; but there was only thing that caught her attention:
SEND THIS SUIT TO YOUR LOCATION.
The commander frowned. "This thing must be joking," she said. Suddenly, a brilliant idea dawned inside her head: an idea that would make her take revenge on her stolen weapons. But before she could do anything, she saw a small map at the bottom right of her Omni-screen, as if it revealed the major points of the city. Her mind made a mental bookmark on the suit and dared to pry on the other things in the network. Her curiosity did not fail her as she saw lots of things regarding the place she was in: blueprints, weapons, armors, new technology plans, places to visit, vacation resorts, food directories that highlighted all the restaurants selling the best shawarma in New York City, clothing lines, and more. But among the entire list she saw, this was probably the best:
CREDIT DATA.
She selected that option and in an instant, she saw all the income sources and the net worth of Stark Industries: Billions of dollars.
Shepard felt her battle-worn stomach rumble. "This will come in handy," she said as she tried to transfer Stark's credit data to her Omni-tool, "Although it's a wonder that this place doesn't use the standard galactic currency and instead use this antique currency..."
But before she could transfer all the credits to her Omni-tool, she received an alert from her Omni-tool VI: WARNING: ANTI-HACKING DEVICE HAS BEEN TRACING YOUR LOCATION! DISCONNECTION IS HIGHLY ENCOURAGED.
The commander pouted. "Now that I can actually take revenge on that iron bastard, hell no!" she traced her way back to Mark VII's controls and scrambled its lines. Once she remotely removed all those controls by someone called "JARVIS," she directed the suit to her location. The method of sending the suit to her was quite amusing, as if she was just playing an old videogame of some sort. And in a few minutes, a hot red and gold colored armor was already standing in front of the dumpster.
Grinning, Shepard stepped in front of the half-repaired armor and inspected it. There were still some traces of the damage she had caused during their previous fight, but her scanners told her that the defense systems were fully operational. Making sure that the iron suit was free from all shady controls, Shepard tried to control it with her Omni-tool. "Ok, so how does this thing work, anyway?" she furrowed her eyebrows and tried to press on of the buttons. She heard a small sound and before she knew it, the suit's palms were already aiming at her face. "Okay, lucky for me it's not yet charged," she sighed and wiped the sweat off her forehead and tried another button; then another set of mini guns on the suit's shoulder were aiming at her. Gritting her teeth she tried another set of commands until the front side of the armor collapsed, revealing the interior of the suit.
Shepard whistled. "Now this is how it feels to get somebody else's weapons," she said while trying to figure out how to connect her Omni-tool's systems at the gauntlet. When she finally set it, she ripped off the worthless chunk in her armor, leaving only the inner mesh intact and jumped inside the suit. She connected the suit's controls with her Omni-tool and the armor closed like a shell. "Whoa, can't believe how dark and hot it is in here. At least my Omni-tool VI can do something about it," she recalled the time EDI had suggested that she should at least put her ever-famous "COMMANDER SHEPARD VI" in her Omni-tool to increase its usefulness. Smiling, the VI activated the suit's screens and ran a quick scan on it. Even though it was unarmed, the armor seemed to be intact except for one thing: there was a hole on the chest piece.
The commander frowned as she tried to stuff the pieces of her old armor to fill in the hole. "Damn, now I feel like Legion—rest in peace buddy—patching up his hole in the armor," When the repairs were complete. She tried to move her body but the suit was unresponsive. "I hope this thing has a weight-adjustment system," she said as she pried on her Omni-tool for answers. Luckily, she found the necessary controls and adjusted it; but when she started to walk, she still felt walking with her gravity boots.
Inch by inch, Shepard maneuvered the suit towards the main street. She might look awkward as hell but she didn't mind; as long as she could do something to get her weapons back. As she grabbed the edge of a red-bricked building and pulled herself out, she heard an unfamiliar sound.
"Tony, what are you doing in here?"
"Huh, who's—" she turned her head to her right and saw a blonde-haired man, much taller than herself, carrying a brown bag filled with possible food items. His blue eyes were looking down on her wretched position with curiosity. Shepard almost panicked when the suit's auto-identity scan saved her from any suspicion. The man's name was Steve Rogers, A.K.A. Captain America. She refrained herself from reading the man's details and tried to strike up a conversation. "Uh-hi, uh, Steve, didn't expect to see you around..." her voice trailed and instead tried to make her posture more decent.
The curiosity in his eyes suddenly turned into sadness. "Yeah, I didn't expect I'll be back in this area sooner," he sighed, "But after visiting my old wartime buddies and the World War II memorial, I don't think... that I have a place in here anymore."
Old? Wartime? World War II memorial? What was this guy talking about? Did he not know of the current situation in London? And why did it look like the whole city was in peace? Questions swam around Shepard's mind but she quickly brushed it off and decided to pry some information out of this big man.
"Well, you have us..." she began, "And there's no point living in the past, you know. We have bigger problems here in the present."
Steve's blue eyes lit up. "What problems?" he asked, "We had already taken care of Loki. Didn't Thor already imprison him in Asgard? Are there any other people trying to bother this city again?"
Shepard was taken aback by the sudden information she heard. She had never heard the reason why Loki was imprisoned there in the first place. "Loki's out," she said, "And I don't know—"
"This is a problem!" the man interrupted, "If he gets his scepter again, he might call again for the help of the Chitauri and start another invasion."
"Wait, what? An invasion?" Shepard repeated.
Steve raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk, Tony? Did you forget that Loki tried to invade this world using some alien race a few months ago?"
The commander had no idea what to respond. Was Loki somehow connected to the Reapers? How ironic could this be: she, a person trying to stop an alien invasion, was cooperating with a man who was instigating it! "I—I don't..."
"I'm sure Nick Fury already knows about this," Steve slowly nodded his head, "And Thor may be also after him too. So why aren't they—wait—what happened to your suit anyway? What happened to the arc reactor on your chest? And your voice sounds... a bit funny."
Oh shoot! Shepard silently cursed. Of all the people she could meet in her first trial, why somebody who knew that guy? She tried to recall all the alibis she knew but none of those fit perfectly in her current situation. Before she could actually decide on her reasoning, an information screen popped up on the hologram screen in front of her.
WARNING: A SPECIAL TYPE OF AI (J.A.R.V.I.S.) HAS BEEN ATTEMPTING TO RETAKE THE SYSTEM FOR THE LAST TWO MINUTES. IMMEDIATE DISCONNECTION IS HIGHLY ADVISED.
"Oh man!" Shepard groaned and turned to Steve, "We'll talk later Stevie. Gotta fly!"
"What? Wait!" the man called out. But in Shepard's ears, his voice seemed to be a soft whisper compared to the loud roaring of the boosters on the palms and soles of the suit. Wriggling to regain her balance, Shepard pointed her palms towards the ground and kept her legs straight and still. But the suit kept on soaring to the skies while spinning and swerving uncontrollably. While she was trying to figure out how to fly, numerous holographic messages popped out of nowhere.
DANGER! INCREASING ALTITUDE MAY DAMAGE THE SUIT'S CAPABILITIES.
FOREIGN A.I. IS TAKING OVER THE SYSTEM. DISCONNECT IMMEDIATELY!
BOOSTER CAPABILITIES IMPAIRED. RETURN TO STARK TOWER FOR REPAIRS.
REMINDER: TODAY IS THE "FREE SHAWARMA FOR EVERYONE!" EVENT. DO NOT FORGET THE COUPONS FOR FREE DRINK UPSIZE!
"Alright, alright! I get it!" Shepard screamed and accessed her Omni-tool. She tried to scramble again the lines to confuse the A.I. and remotely controlled the suit to get it back to the ground. Fortunately, she managed to get the suit on the ground before vomiting inside of it. Stepping out, she ripped off her Omni-tool on the suit's left gauntlet, removed the possible traces and sent the suit back to the hell where it came from. "Curse you, Tony Stark, for creating that damned suit," she muttered. She tried to take another step but suddenly, her vision started to blur and dance around her. Shaking her head off, she tried to take another step but she lost the feeling of her knees and before she knew it, she was already kissing the cold, dusty, cemented ground.
.
.
.
"Ma'am, are you alright?"
Huh? Shepard felt a soft feeling underneath her, as if she was lying on a bed of some sort. The smell of disinfectant filled her nose and the noise she was hearing a while ago was replaced by soft humming coupled with hushed conversations she knew nothing about. Where did she end up, anyway?
And where the hell did Loki go?
The commander's eyes lit upon remembering the self-proclaimed god. He just promised that he would go and fetch Joker. If he was that powerful, it would not take him an hour just to pick a bag of meat like Joker, although the exoskeleton implants would probably bother him. But, if she would estimate the time, they were arguing while the sun was still up; and by the time she woke up, the sun was nowhere to be found. What if he double-crossed her? What if he tried to kidnap one of his valued men instead? What if he offered Joker in the metallic tentacles of the Reapers?
"That bastard!" She jumped out of the bed only to be stopped by a pair of strong arms that brought her back to her place.
"Ma'am please calm down. This is a hospital; you're safe here."
Shepard's heart skipped a beat. "Hospital?" she repeated. She looked at the face of the person she was speaking to. Blonde hair, blue eyes, muscular build...why did he look so familiar?
He smiled. "Yeah, I found you lying on the ground, unconscious. I don't think the place where you've just fainted was a very nice part of New York City. Lucky that I happened to be there while I was trying to look for a friend of mine."
Steve Rogers! Shepard almost screamed but she managed to keep her poker face intact.
His look softened as he took a small tray with a huge bowl on the desk beside her bed and placed it on her lap. "The doctor said that extreme fatigue and undernourishment are probably the causes why you passed out. He also found out some injuries, but don't worry, he patched them up already; although he can't explain those scars and that strange pattern on your iris."
Shepard averted her gaze and tried to look at the food item on her lap. "It's just a result of a medical procedure gone wrong," she said quietly, not wanting to arouse suspicion, "Nothing more, nothing less."
The man beside him nodded, as if he was trying to sympathize with her. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said and handed her a spoon, "Why don't you try that out? It's a newly-cooked vegetable soup. The doctor said that it's not right to feed you with solid food right away since you just over-fasted."
She was about to say no but her growling stomach overruled her actions. Carefully, she dipped the spoon into the liquid and tried to scoop as much of the contents as possible. The soup was obviously steaming hot but she took it in anyway. The soft, creamy taste of the soup made her involuntarily smile. "Compared to military provisions that I've been taking for the past few months, this one's sent from heaven!" she quipped.
"Military provisions? You're from the army?"
Shepard almost dropped her spoon. "Uh..." she trailed.
"I-I hope you don't mind me looking at your dog tag; but that's the only identification that you have. I'm pretty sure that you're not Jeff Moreau, right? Don't worry; I just looked on the name. And I think the guy making these tags got your birthday wrong. It says: April 11, 2154," Steve gave a nervous laugh, "So, you're with the Allies, Ms. Jane Shepard?"
Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Alliance, you mean. Or maybe it's just the same thing."
The blonde haired man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is that how the British call the Allies? Because certainly, the Americans did not call it that way." he mused, "I'm not sure if that's the same thing but..."
"Well, my post's in London."
Steve's mouth gaped. "Really?"
She nodded and took another spoonful of the vegetable soup. "Yeah. The war hit that place really bad."
"I didn't know the Nazi conquered Great Britain!" he gasped, "I have to ask Fury about this..."
Shepard blinked. Nazi? What is a Nazi? Was that some sort of a Reaper? she wanted to ask; but she did not want to get caught in a pitiful state. Nor she wanted to get locked up without anything but her Omni-tool. She looked around her and found the two dog tags and her cleverly disguised Omni-tool lying on the desk. Sighing with relief, Shepard tried to finish the rest of the soup but Steve's concerned look was slowly taking away her appetite.
"You were in the war; but you still look young..." his voice trailed with a hint of a sad tone. He looked at her in the eye, as if trying to scrutinize her, hoping for an answer that was beyond hope.
The commander cracked a smile. "I appreciate the compliment but—"
"I guess you felt the same way."
"Huh?"
"You were in a middle of a war, and then something happens. The next time you wake up, you are in a different place. Well, not that sorts of different but..." Steve bit his lip, as if trying to find the right words, "It's a familiar place, but you can actually feel that it's not the same place you call home. You search around for answers as to where you are but nobody even knows your name. You can't find your friends or your family. You were sure that this was the place that you've sworn to protect; but it feels as if you landed in a different place, a different time."
The man sighed and put his gaze on nearby window. For some reason, Steve's words struck deep into Shepard's heart. She had no idea what he was exactly talking about but for some reason, she could relate to his words. A familiar yet different land, she thought. Was this the place she was staying now?
"Oh shoot!" Steve's reaction cut her thoughts, "I forgot to tell you my name—although I guess you already know about it. I'm Steve Rogers."
"A.K.A. Captain America... right?" Shepard whispered and offered a handshake.
Steve lightly laughed. "I guess it's not a secret among soldiers."
. . .
"Glad to see you here, Nick," Tony grinned while trying to open a bottle of scotch, "Wanna drink?"
The S.H.I.E.L.D. director merely stood still, with his hands placed on his back. "I'm a busy man, Tony. I'm not here for the social part of this meeting."
The genius pouted and took out a glass of his own underneath the bar counter. "That's kind of disappointing. To think that I'm in a talking mood today," he laughed as he pulled out some ice cubes from a bucket, dropped it in the glass and poured the strong dark liquid in it, "You're not gonna believe what I just did today."
"Cut the chase; what did you do?"
"Never thought that Jane girl can be a very gullible person," Tony smiled and drank some of the liquor in the glass, "Thanks to her, I've just acquired some useful data regarding her magical tech device. Although it's a shame that I have to pawn my suit and my database just to get what I wanted. Damn, I can't forgive her for stuffing my suit with vomit and scrap metal!"
"And that's?"
"The conclusion for my experiment is this: She's not from this time. And she's wielding some sick-looking weapons."
Fury's reaction stiffened. "Do you know what time can she be possibly from?"
"Best guess: it's from 2186," Tony nodded and placed the empty glass on his personal bar's counter, "JARVIS and I have been running some scans on her stuff. '2186' is the most pertinent number engraved at the barrel of each gun. Besides, the way it produces its firepower is astounding. I think it uses something called dark energy and magnetic force to shave-off and shoot out metal pieces from a block that inside the gun itself. I tried to do some ballistics study and one of her guns can actually shoot off two to three hundred of these tiny shrapnel per half minute—maybe less than a half, I'm not sure. If I'm going to compare the size of the bullet's I've retrieved from my suit and the approximate size of the metal block inside it, I can say that it can efficiently produce thousands of bullets that can rip off the armor of the US tanks, if it's fired continuously and rapidly. Other than that, it has an auto-assist targeting system that—"
Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. "Spare me from your thesis, Tony," he interrupted, "What I'm just asking is: Are you sure that she came from the future?"
Tony was taken aback by the question. "I think so. I don't suppose these things came from Stark Industries; although I would really want to put these things in my suit once I figured out how it works."
A slight smile appeared on the director's face. "Now everything fits into the bigger picture," he whispered and turned towards the exit, "Continue your studies, Mr. Stark. We'll need it soon."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
As he expected, the director vanished without answering his questions. Tony shook his head and scanned the data he found during his research. It was interesting, yes, for somebody like him; but he never thought that Fury would actually encourage him in his research instead coaxing him into his Avengers group again. The director's sudden change of reaction unnerved him. Something was not right; his gut instincts were already telling him that. After what happened in the Tesseract incident, Tony was sure that Fury was hiding something—something that could strengthen the rule and authority of S.H.I.E.L.D. in the country. And that Jane Shepard was probably the key to his goal. And he, was probably some pawn of his again.
"Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts needs you in the conference room in fifteen minutes," JARVIS announced, "She said it is about Stark Expo 2013."
Tony bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah, I completely forgot about that," he said and opened another door, "Tell her I'll be there soon. I just need to wrap something up."
As soon as the master of the Stark Towers left the room, a tall, menacing shadow appeared behind the shelves of liquor. Taking a couple of steps, his cold white fingers lightly slid through the smooth surface of the bar.
"Ah," Loki smiled as he looked around the place where he once fell, "the only thing that I attempt to retrieve is Lady Jane's arsenal. I never thought that I will get more out of this...despicable place."
A/N: AH, WOE IS ME FOR I AM A SLOW AND FICKLE WRITER! Yes, that's what happens when the writer completely deviates from her original draft! I just hope that it's for the better. All things will be revealed in due time, I swear. :)
Anyway, thank you for the guys who reviewed like wertheren, Regin, Hachikonohime, starwars05, Guest, kogouma, DarkOne, and Straight Edghe; and those who continue to read this fic. I hope you'll stay tuned!
