Chapter 8: Greed is Good Chapter

Summary:

Aftermath for Loki, and perhaps a few answers.

Notes:

So I have had lots of free time lately... These next two chapters are the fruits of those resulting labours.


Iteration 00, April 29th, 2013, Asgard Palace, Throne Room

Loki knelt before the All-Father, one of many, no one of note, and rejoiced at the tired droop of Odin's shoulders. The ancient monarch lifted himself from his throne, banged his staff into the floor, and declared them all heroes.

No mention that he had abandoned vengeance, left Frigga's spirit unfulfilled and wanting as she took her place at the table of her ancestors. He certainly didn't note that the presence of the troops on that dead moon had been mere happenstance. It was hardly shocking that the old bastard hoarded glory and the appearance of wisdom, but even to Loki, it felt cheap. He had taken a blade through the chest, after all.

His neck was exposed to his king, for now. But they would feast soon, and if he read the signs right, Odin would wilt like an orchid in the desert shortly thereafter. The cacophony of the celebration would be in his favour, with no effort at all on his behalf. He had faltered , briefly, but he had started to believe again that he was meant for the rule of Asgard. Why else had all the little pieces of the current events fallen so neatly, so perfectly in his favour?

He rose with the rest of the soldiers, as one great unit, and saluted. Loki couldn't begrudge the old man one final gesture of respect.

Odin sat heavily down on the cushion Frigga had embroidered once upon a time. He swept his hand outward, toward the exit, and just like that, the company was dismissed.

The throne would be his with hardly any effort.


Iteration 1, June 25th, 2013, 3:00am, Central Park, New York

Over the past year, Loki had captured a number of poor, unfortunate souls; victims of wretched circumstance, and turned them to his cause. There were ministers. There was royalty. Judges, lawmakers, peacekeepers, politicians and men with titles he didn't even really understand, like 'Sanitation Overseer' and 'Power and Light Supervisor', but between them they managed to clean the streets and keep lights on. With the tireless efforts of the Chitauri the city rose from the ashes again.

Through channels he learned about through his new diplomatic friends, he had assisted a country across the sea, a place called Great Britain, with an invasion force he'd thought were extinct. More lies from Odin, he shouldn't have been surprised. Nonetheless, between him and a battalion of his Chitauri, he had won the day, and new allies.

Coupled with the fact that his behaviour was apparently benevolent, there were now governments that had started dealing with him in the open.

Loki had publicly rejected the unspeakable brutality the mortals had shown towards his not-yet fair city, and had broadcast his mass healings. This bound the population further to his side. What a boon the savagery of the leaders of this planet had turned out to be. He couldn't have created a scenario that put him in such a favorable light of he plotted for years.

He showed the mortals that life under his rule was not that different from the norm, that, in fact, it could be better. It was going to get ever more difficult to keep the status quo, but his new vassals didn't need to know that. He'd come up with supplies and future suppliers if it was the last thing he did.

There were libraries of information to consume and digest. It was obvious that he had something to understand about the native culture. His minions were excellent in that regard, including a group of what he gathered had been social misfits. They called themselves the Troll Brigade, and spread misinformation and chaos throughout the human information network.

It was on their recommendation that he even allowed the "internet"'s continued existence, and even he had to admit what an excellent tool it was turning out to be. He had more knowledge, more secrets at his fingertips than he knew what to do with. He had wanted to rule this world all at once, in one huge gulp, but he rather fancied taking his sweet time with it, nibbling until each little, willing enclave came to him now.

Many of his disciples had already been engaged in sowing chaos, and it was satisfying to turn them to a singular cause. His cause.

Thor's little bit of fun, a mortal scholar of the stars, had proven surprisingly useful, once he'd turned her back to him. Much like Thanos' influence waned after the tumble he took during the bombing, so too did her initial blind faith suffer after her experiences and retrieval.

There was a spell, a forbidden one, magic he'd only known in theory, that brought her back to heel. Memories were soft amophorous things, solely the product of electrical impulses in the brain. Surprising what someone could believe with the right influence.

It was delicate work, especially on those recollections that had had time to find purchase and settle in the mind, but she was a good little test subject, and she still displayed high cognitive function, even after all of her alterations.

The only inconvenience was that she was somehow in love with him.


Iteration 3, May 15th, 2013, 7:00am, Greenwich, England

Humans hurried and scurried everywhere, back forth, hither and thither, and sometimes just watching them made him exhausted. For all their rushed activities, there was something deeply tedious and essentially pointless about it all. No progress was ever actually made.

As a result, he understood, absolutely the urge that mortals had to do whatever necessary to bliss out during their rest periods. He'd become briefly intrigued by the loud taverns that the young mortals frequented, the 'club scene' as he'd heard it referred to.

The music was loud enough to almost feel disorienting, and the smell of sweat and lust and chemical intoxicants was heady. He hadn't yet taken a physical form, but while watching bodies writhing in unison, bathed in brightly coloured light, he'd nearly been tempted.

Loki hadn't observed the Mortal going to any places of that nature, but then, she hadn't seemed like herself. She didn't play music anymore, wasn't always seen with her little noise pills in her ears or draped around her neck. Battle-weariness struck everyone differently, and perhaps she was still suffering from its effects.

There was definitely something off about her. He was aware of it every single time she sat next to him on this bench. He'd encouraged the growth here, much as Frigga had once shown him, so trees had lush foliage, flowers bloomed in riotous profusion and buzzing insects flitted in almost hapless confusion at the unexpected bounty.

She didn't notice any of it.

He should have been tracking the Scepter, but it was difficult to get an idea of where it was when it seemed to bob in and out of reality. He rationalized his absence from its pursuit because it made no sense that he should travel all over creation on the off chance he might be there at the right moment to get to it. No, he'd wait till it was at its final destination before liberating it.

He'd found, completely by accident, that the absence of his physical body muted Thanos' influence until it was almost negated. If he'd gone to Asgard, he might've survived indefinitely as a shade, but it turned out things were different in this realm. Loki estimated he had a few more days before he faded. He looked at the Mortal, and wondered why he cared enough to stay in her vicinity.

Certain that she was worthless, meant nothing, he got up from the bench and floated to the shadows that lingered near the gates guarding this odd little splotch of nature. He concentrated briefly, but much harder than he should have, and was himself again.

Loki had almost forgotten how inconvenient a physical form was. Clothes were much more problematic than he remembered, itchy and pinching all sorts of places on his body.


Iteration 2, April 28th, 2013, 8:03pm, Asgard Palace, Royal Dining Room

He had eaten at a table far from the royal dais, close to the huge doors at the back of the hall. It was a novel experience looking up at the head table, and not least because only Odin and a few advisors were sitting there. The empty spaces at the left and right of Odin seemed to press in on the ruler, rendering him smaller than Loki ever remembered.

When he was still a boy, Odin had seemed a massive creature, huge enough to block out the sun and stars; a comforting, constant wall of strength that would keep them all safe. Seeing him diminished to a shadow of his former self was rather enjoyable, even if he still felt a well of rage when he looked at Frigga's empty seat.

No one else knew how much of a hand he had in that, and if he had his way, no one ever would. He really should have known that Odin would have been in the throne room and not his private apartments. Best not to get lost in that train of thought, he had a plan that needed his attention.

Odin ate little, attending to his goblet in a steady, focused way. Loki had never seen the one-eyed drink with purpose before. The moment he stood, the room stopped and did the same. Odin seemed to hesitate, and the silence stretched between the creaking of leather and flatulence.

"You may sit and continue, with my blessings. I find I have other matters that require urgent attention. Please enjoy the rest of the festivities."

A ripple went through the crowd after they'd sat and Odin was gone. Her name or title was on everyone's lips, murmured respectfully, mournfully. He hadn't realized, and maybe he should have, how much her loss was felt by everyone. His intention had been to replace the old monarch, confident in his ability to do so, but perhaps eventually he could drop the disguise, but would they welcome him as Loki? He'd been a son of Asgard, a hero in his own right for longer than he'd not.

With a muttered excuse, he stood from the table and exited through the door his back had practically been up against. No one cared to notice, much less follow. Darkness had fallen, and the palace was lit with torches that threw a warm, rich, golden light, and many lovely undulating shadows. The transition to join them was much easier now, and done in hardly any time at all.

Had the Palace not still been on lock-down after the breach, it would have been nothing to sail on the breezes and currents of air through the hallways until he reached the royal wing, but there were an unknown number of booby traps between there and here, and Heimdal hadn't been at the feast. No distractions from that quarter.

Loki drifted off into the gardens. They were huge, labyrinthine and almost no one knew exactly where each path went or what was behind every blind. He had spent entire seasons exploring the grounds around the Palace, and the memories weighed heavily against his non-form. The laughter in his mind, ringing with lightness and joy, it wasn't real. Frigga had loved the gardens, and loved finding her boys there.

The smell of night-blooming jasmine was almost overwhelming, and he hurried, as he had never felt a need to do while outside in the gardens, to the courtyard surrounding Odin and Frigga's most private sanctuary. Loki heard his voice dimly at first, but was unable to locate where it was coming from. He floated between branches laden with fruit and heavy with flowers until he finally saw Odin on a bench in the middle of his mother's hedge maze. The roses were in flower, practically drooping with the weight of their petals.

"...my, love. I was only doing what I thought would change it. I thought he could forgive Thor if they had to work together, and I was certain Thor would let that mortal be if forced to give up Valhalla if he saw her again. I was trying to be merciful by letting our sons go back to Midgard during the last winter solstice.

The choice to put him back in a cell again seemed the only way for him to atone, but I never guessed that it would lead to the loss of both of you. I would give anything to change it. Frigga, you never needed to sacrifice an eye for wisdom, you were born with it. I should have listened better.

I should have listened."

It was an exceptionally private moment, and Loki felt guilty for intruding. He didn't feel guilty for what he was planning on doing, though. He was struggling, however, to decide whether to allow the old man to beg his dead wife for forgiveness one last time, and listen in on any secrets he might spill, or to deny him that final solace. In the end, he decided that the knowledge that could be potentially gathered a better bargain than a petty bit of vengeance he'd gain nothing from.

Loki hung suspended in heady fragrance, waiting, patiently. The strength he would need to overpower Odin was a vast well inside, carefully hoarded since his arrival in Asgard. He was ready for the moment he would seize his destiny.

Odin looked up at the moon, his eye shining, "You were the best part of my long life. I think about all the time that I unwittingly wasted away from you, from our family. I wish I would have heeded you when you said that forever cannot last without truth. I'm just beginning to understand that, and that I threw away our son, wife. He made those choices in rage. At me, and you, unfairly. I'm sorry."

There was nothing else Loki desired to hear, because it might have jeopardized the warm rush of pity he felt for the All-Father. He allowed himself to materialize fully, directly behind the weeping old man. His hands fell on the one-eyed's previously massive shoulders.

"I may not forgive you, but I will honour your memory. Sleep well, Odin."

The jolt of magic closed his adoptive father's eye, and slackened the look of confused wonder that had come into his face into peaceful sleep. Almost tenderly Loki carried the aging monarch in his arms, a much lighter weight than he thought possible, and stepped silently inside the chamber the sarcophagus was in. Gently, carefully he laid Odin to his final, eternal sleep.

Loki layered a series of illusions and wards throughout the king and queens private quarters, but nowhere as thick as in the sarcophagus chamber. Even a thorough search would reveal nothing out of the ordinary, and he considered it some of his finest work. Donning Odin's form was easy by comparison.


Iteration 3, May 30th, 2013, 7:55 am, Greenwich, England

She was predictable, something that made it vastly easier on him, and also hadn't been a word he'd have ever used to describe her before. He wasn't sure if he was concerned about this apparent change in her disposition or not.

In his physical form Thanos tugged at his mind, and the only time it seemed to completely stop was when she was near. It was mystifying and Loki wished his other diversions worked half as well with so little effort.

He'd spent all night in his penthouse at the Corinthia, hunched over tablets and laptops, trying and failing to access HYDRA's inventory database. It was frustrating; with the Scepter he could have just found someone to do it for him, but now, it was as if his magic and abilities were shrinking and shedding. It worried him that he should be left powerless, but for now, that appeared to be a ways off.

In the meantime, he'd learned so much more than he'd ever wanted about the creation, components and languages of human technology, however primitive he believed it was. The task of gaining the eventual location of the spear should have been simple to someone as advanced as he. When the sun rose, he'd left the hotel, and walked to the park.

Loki generally stuck to the areas around her, not actually in her sight, but he felt tired right then. Why shouldn't he be able to sit next to her? He was swathed in the form of a bland Englishman, with a proper Burberry trench coat and a black umbrella to use when the clouds broke. The newspaper was hardly interesting to him, but it was a useful prop.

She seemed annoyed at his presence, ready to leave, and something inside compelled him to stop her. Loki's hand reached out and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. He felt his disguise slip as she stuck her other hand in her bag and turned to face him, a fiercely determined look on her face.

Her expression changed immediately and she tentatively stretched out her free hand to his face. She looked awed and uncertain, and poked her index finger under his cheekbone.

Annoyed, he lowered his brows and tried to complain at the treatment, but she walloped him across the face. Surprised, he dropped her hand and tried to back away, but she threw herself at him and held him tight. He was still a man, no matter his race, so of course he enjoyed the feel of her body pressed against his. She was not unattractive with all the layers she insisted on wearing, but under all that was the luscious curves. She whispered in his ear, and her breath there almost made him tremble, but her words brought him back to reality.

This was going nothing like he had expected. Though he should have anticipated the feelings of loyalty she had towards Thor, who had, after all, proven himself through sacrifice and deed. All Loki had done was succeed in his plan to fail at helping Thanos take over everything. An action which couldn't never mean a thing to Darcy Lewis, because she must never even realize a being such as Thanos existed.

The transformation between her relief at his presence and her rage was almost instantaneous. The way she held herself and the tone of her voice changed noticeably, not to mention the way her eyes squinted furiously at him from behind her spectacles, gave him all sorts of clues that she was quite angry at him. She used all manner of profanity to voice her displeasure.

He hadn't considered that she still carried a weapon, but he supposed he should have. She suddenly held the device that produced the electric shock and looked willing, even eager, to use it. He had no desire to be shocked by that thing, and he didn't want to render her unconscious, either.

With the finesse of a thousand years of experience, he pulled her close and laid his lips across hers. He was fairly good at this, and he reveled in her reaction to him; the way she softened and gripped his hair tight. It was everything he remembered, down to the flavor of coffee in her mouth. He could have lost himself, but he wrapped a hand around her neck, and concentrated on a spell he knew in theory.

Loki really hoped he hadn't damaged her.


Iteration 3, June 25th, 2013, 1:42am, Cape May, New Jersey

It had been his intention to stay away, to make do with the distractions and services that his conjured wealth supplied, while he plotted to liberate the Scepter, but something Thor had mentioned, something that he had mostly ignored and quickly forgotten was scratching at the back of his mind along with Thanos. It was distracting him and slowing from the progression of his plans.

He had to figure out how to dislodge Thanos permanently, and he couldn't seem to do that in his current state. The last thing he wanted to do was find the Doctor and have him beat him into a bloody pulp, but if Thanos' influence wasn't curbed, his carefully plotted failure might be for nothing. Loki was beginning to despair of other options, but he'd been weakened every day by the incessant pull. Something had to be done, and soon, or Thanos might take care of matters himself, rendering Loki highly and easily expendable.

It had taken more out of him than it should have to travel here from London. The urge for fuel, for sustenance was an ache in his stomach, of the like he hadn't felt in centuries. He tried to fix his thoughts elsewhere, but...

Watching her from a nearby sand dune, he wondered why, for the thousandth time, he found her presence such a calmative. She was crass and always humming, fidgeting, doing something, even in her subdued state. When Loki saw her get up and make her way back, he was struck by how out of sorts she seemed, nearly frightened.

In a few moments he'd entered the back of her conveyance, his mind again on food, improbably. When she joined him, she was breathing heavily and out of sorts. He gave her a bit to compose herself.

"Can we stop for something to eat?"

He hadn't anticipated that she would be quite so terrified to see him, however. He probably should have, considering she didn't realize he was still alive. The Mortal fell out of the vehicle, and dashed off into the poorly lit parking lot. It was beginning to feel like this was going to be a very long night.

Loki had just enough energy to hold her in place until he could make skin to skin contact. He definitely should have touched her first. This whole scenario illustrated perfectly why he needed to get his mind back in order. She was on her knees in front of him, and she was quite lovely there. He swept her hair from her back and shoulders to expose the vulnerable, delicate curve of her neck. He almost forgot to let her have her memories back, but when he did, she squirmed and hissed at him to stop touching her.

She was angry again, and he'd always liked her anger. She was so free with it, hesitating not at all to call him whatever foul names she could think of, even when all she could come up with was ridiculous - but he wouldn't allow her to strike him again. He caught her wrist easily, holding it loosely in his grip while she struggled to get free.

"If I let you go, are you going to try to hit me again?"

Fuming, she made a simple sound in the affirmative. It was impossible that she could actually harm him with the means at her disposal. He remarked that further attempts could only lead her being hurt, instead. With a warning look, he let her wrist go.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" she asked, anguish clearly in her voice. That was really the question, wasn't it? What was it about this one, this almost ordinary mortal that drew him?

He was trying to think of a glib response while she bent to retrieve her phone. She stood, and suddenly he had a forehead full of 50,000 volts. By the time he'd yanked the barbs and wires from his face, and shaken off the aftereffects of her weapon, she was already in her vehicle. He ran for the road, absolutely certain that she would never actually run him down.

Perhaps he'd misjudged her, he had an instant to think, before his attempt to leap over the conveyance failed miserably.


Iteration 00, June 26th, 2023, An hour before Sunrise, NNY Headquarters, Laboratory 1

Loki knew he was right, but that didn't mean much to these people. They all had things they wanted to change, but only a few of them weren't carrying the sickness. Even those who had survived it, would carry it and possibly become spontaneously, unwittingly contagious again without regular doses of the booster the Banner had come up with. It was a sneaky, almost sentient bug that could hibernate for months, years in organs or bones, waiting for the perfect opportunity to finally obliterate an already ravaged population. It had killed off entire planets.

They couldn't risk infection. That was the bottom line, and he understood, perhaps better than most, why that was. What he didn't understand was why she had to go first. It should have been him, or even the Captain. They were the almost indestructible ones.

"She's soft and weak," he said, raising his voice above the din of the argument.

The sudden silence was uncomfortable, chairs creaking and the soft rustle of their papery garments as the mortals surrounding him shifted.

She shook off the grip of the woman Thor had loved, whispered, "Let me go, Jane. I got this, don't worry," and stood to stare at him from her place further down and opposite him at the table.

"If by that you mean I'm human, then yeah, guilty as charged, puny god. I am the lowest ranking human, uninfected and with the training and clearance for this mission-,"

"What Lewis is trying to say-," Banner said at the same time as Foster interrupted, "Darcy's perfectly qualified, and she's the-,"

"Oh my god, guys. I got this. Fuck sakes," she rolled her eyes at them, before turning back to face him. "The reason you weren't even considered for the job, is your unique physiology. Yeah, Mr Special, you can't go because we don't know what will happen to the subject, to me. Not for sure. Puente Antiguo was chosen because it was small, out of the way, and people were nuts about UFO's and shit out there, so they'll assume any funky lights are aliens or whatever, and it just so happens I am very familiar with the area. I can't believe this has to be explained to someone with your big, ol' brain. I figured it out the second my name came up.

I'm perfect for this job. I'm alone, no family, so if it goes wonky-,"

A murmur of dissent went around the table, and Foster grabbed her hand.

"No, guys, it's Ok. The thingy is gonna work, and I'll be back in time for supper, having proven that you can, in fact, change history. Save me a slab of Smeat."

She almost managed a smile, but not quite, as she slid her hand from her Foster's. The Mortal gave a little wave, as if she hadn't just given voice to any number of scenarios that the Team had been ignoring since her name first came up weeks ago. Seconds after she left the room, arguments erupted, and he took the opportunity to trail behind her and exit the room.

Loki knew where she was going, her favourite spot in the underground chambers they inhabited. The Lowline. It had once been some sort of storage space for the vehicles humans had once used to travel under the city, but it had been abandoned for almost a century. Sometime after his initial visit a decade ago, it had been reclaimed and turned into an subterranean park, where mirrors where cleverly used to bring day light down to these depths.

He had to admit that it was fortunate that the work had been completed before civilization had fallen. Having this small green space lit by the sun was an luxury many other colonies simply didn't have.

She sat under a tree, one of fifteen, and stared off into the distance. She didn't acknowledge him when he sat next to her.

"It wasn't personal," he said, when the quiet became oppressive.

"You call me weak and it's not personal?"

"You say you're alone and that's not personal?"

"Dude-,"

"Don't call me that," he said, for the millionth time. He was tired and his stomach churned at the thought that she wouldn't come back.

"Loki. You broke up with me. Months ago. I am alone. Single. Without a partner - not that you wanted that from me."

"It wasn't fair to make you wait for weeks or months without hearing from me, while I look for survivors, for..."

"Your brother, Thor, whatever, stop with that shit, man, that hesitation. It's been, like, over thirteen years already. Get over it, you're adopted, boo-fucking-hoo. And for the record, I never once complained about you being gone; I know what you do is important.

God, you're infuriating. Go away. I'm trying to find my center before I have to go," she flapped her hand at him in a shoo-ing gesture.

He shook his head, tempted to take the hint and get out of there, but, "I don't want you to leave when things are like this between us. We were friends, once."

She snorted, and looked at him like he was out of his mind. He actually sort of was, "I'm sorry for the way things ended."

"Sure you are. That's why you questioned my abilities in front of the people I work with," she nodded her head, and patted his shoulder in an exaggerated expression of understanding.

"One has nothing to do with the other."

"That's so lame, I can't even believe you went there, because of course it does. You didn't respect me enough to believe that I would wait for you, and you don't respect me enough to keep your trap shut in front of our, my co-workers. Look, I won't do this right now. You wanna be friends, fine, we'll see how that goes when I'm back."

She stood, dusted herself off, and saluted. "See ya."

She was walking away. She was walking away, and she might never come back.

"Darcy. I miss you," he said.

Her footsteps faltered, but she kept moving. Loki resigned himself to breathing hasty wards, incantations slipping carelessly from his lips, hoping that some measure of protection could be gained. She stopped.

"I'm going to regret this, but alright. This," she said, waving her arms to encompass the park, "isn't the right place for this," and she pointed between the two of them. "Meet me at my place in fifteen. Try to be discreet."

He waited a few minutes, before he went the circuitous way to her quarters, wondering what he was doing, what he was getting himself into. Again. When he knocked on her door, he almost wanted to get out of there before she opened it, but in a few seconds, that wasn't a choice anymore. She opened the door, looked him up and down, and moved to the side.

"Get in here. Are you trying to make everyone suspicious?"

He stepped inside, wary. Her room hadn't changed. There were still books piled on the floor next to the narrow bunk bolted to the wall and floor. She still had scrubs overflowing the hamper. Three of the four lightbulbs had been unscrewed, so it was dim compared to the hallways. The huge poster she'd salvaged of the Great Wall that she said gave her an illusion of space where there was none. He turned to face her, feeling huge and out of place.

She had her back pressed against the door, looking at him as he looked around.

"Nothing's changed. Still messy," she shrugged, "but I cleaned off the bed. Uhm, if you want to sit."

She looked at her feet, sounded a little nervous. Like she'd changed her mind; like she, too, regretted his presence. He didn't take a seat, there was no need, since there was only one thing he wanted to ask.

"Will you accept my protections?" Loki asked, as he reached out, thoughtlessly, and tilted her chin so she looked up at him.

"Can't you just be normal, just for once? Just sit on the bed and-," exasperated, she rolled her eyes. Darcy leaned forward, wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her height. "I invited you back to, to fuck you, genius. I mean, I'm probably gonna die-,"

He couldn't bear to hear her say that so matter of factly, "Don't say that."

Her lips brushed his, and her breath felt hot, "Why?"

"Because you'll be back before dinner."

She gave a strangled laugh, leaning back slightly, and he swept his hand over her face and down the back of her head. The power he left behind glowed briefly gold, before it sank into her skin.

"You really suck, Loki. But thanks." She hugged him close, and if he stayed any longer, he'd forget entirely about this whole noble thing he had been trying, so he lifted her up, and spun them around. When he opened the door, he had honestly never doubted himself quite so much as then. But he had as much to do with the machine as any of the others, and he had to have faith. She would be back. He looked at her.

"Travel safely, Darcy Lewis. I'll await your return."

"Bye, Loki. I. Uhm. I'll be back."


Notes:

Wall Street isn't my favorite movie, but Michael Douglas' performance was electrifying.

As always, you readers have my appreciation for the support.

I'd love to hear any thoughts.