8. The Other Guy

Stark Towers seemed a quieter, more restrictive place once Agent Romanova left. Loki was tempted to visit her one final time, perhaps to steal a kiss or see if he could tempt her secret smile again, but he resisted the impulse; he thought a period of forced absence might force her miss him and thus would make getting into her bed more likely.

Instead, he lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. There were several things he didn't understand.

First, why had he allowed her to leave at all? They were in the middle of their little game, and he had been surprised to find how very interesting a diversion it was. He could have concocted a thousand excuses, created several illusions, spread a myriad of lies to keep her at his side. So why had he not done that?

Second, the time period he had calculated for the affair with Agent Romanova had now extended beyond days. Beyond years. In fact, he wondered if her mortal lifetime would be enough to explore all the variations and refractions he saw within her sparkling personality. When was the last time he had been so intrigued by anyone, let alone a mortal?

Third, what about the relative of hers, the girl called Anzhela? This thought led to an entirely new set of questions. Dr. Banner dealt daily with what he termed "The Other Guy." Loki, in his turn, also dealt with "the other guy" – his own quixotic nature.

And his brother. He was the light version of Loki's dark soul.

And now, since Natasha had discovered the existence of her own relative – Anzhela - she had "the other" – a reflection of herself to confront. It would give her a slice of insight into his point of view. He recalled the screen capture of Anzhela with the archer. When it popped up, the Black Widow had handled herself with elegance, he mused, not betraying her emotions at seeing her doppelganger, a female with her own face.

And of course there was also her own dark half – Natasha's ledger, dripping with red. The part of her called Black Widow. It made her complicated, different, fascinating. Difficult to understand, simple to understand.

Both, at once.

With a sudden oath, he pushed himself up and off the bed in one fluid motion. What was he doing, mooning after a mortal female like some infatuated boy? By the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil! He would have her properly, tongue to tongue, skin to skin, in his bed by the week's end. Once he had tumbled her in his current or female form, he did not mind which as long as it happened and soon, he would be able to shake the grip she had on him and forget her.

The road forward shone like a beacon. There were at least several ways to make it happen, but he instantly selected the most likely one to secure the Widow's seduction.

He propped open his laptop, ignoring the thousands of Twitter DM's and the friend requests that had collected in the last few hours. She would be on the flying jet, heading to that realm of the city called London, a forsaken place known as "Ealing." Still, she would receive his message.

He typed, presenting his texts in the manner he knew she would find intriguing, timed them to arrive at certain intervals, and hit Send.

His good mood regained, he tilted his head back and laughed. Soon, Operation Black Widow would be under his control again. And when she was …

There was another possibility, of course, one he had played out in different variations several times over the centuries. It involved wooing a woman to his bed, and when he had the object of his pursuit trembling and aching for his touch, he calmly arose from the bed, got dressed and told her he changed his mind. He rejected one haughty countess and several goddesses; the looks on their faces, their pleas for explanation at the final rejection were priceless. It was like dancing on a knife's edge, at the brink of madness – Loki found it destructive and fascinating at the same time.

It was difficult to Natasha in the same position. She was so strong, so vital – if he kissed and fondled her until she was close to coming undone and left her just before her sweet explosion, she would probably hold him up at gunpoint. It might be interesting to find out.

Of course, it would be the end. She would never forgive anyone who brought her down thus. It would be the end of his bright, twisting tunnel, no further exploration of her personality, her beauty, bravery, and intelligence.

It would be fascinating to discover which he would do in the end, when it happened.

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

The shuddering release he had experienced as Jotunn with Natasha allowed him to sleep easily the night before, with only a few dreams of red curls and eyes meeting his in a blue flash. However, after another day the effect waned, and just thinking about the Russian woman and their encounter made his sex rampant and swollen as he climbed between the sheets. Briefly he considered overcoming the Stark Tower guards to head out to a local drinking taproom and acquire several partners for a few hours of bed play.

And that was number Four. Why did he reject the notion so quickly? Running his hands through his black hair, he tried again to order his frantic, swirling thoughts:

One – He allowed her to leave his side.

Two – The affair had become far more complex than he had ever imagined.

Three – Both he and Natasha had their dark sides and recognized it in each other.

And Four – and this was the most perplexing – for some unknown reason he didn't want to do something she wouldn't like, would consider ridiculous and demeaning, even if she would never discover it.

Why was that?

He swore again, picked up the glass of wine next to his bed, prepared to smash it against the wall.

No, she wouldn't like that.

He replaced the glass and crossed to the computer, thinking he might get some relief from the sex sites that seemed to swarm the realm known as Internets.

No, she wouldn't admire that either. Besides, Jarvis probably monitored all computer activity, and Loki's life could be truly hideous if the Stark fellow discovered a list of porn visits on his history.

He expelled a long, ragged sigh and decided instead to reexamine the entire Clerkenwell Syndicate case folder. He opened and studied the plans for the clockworks warehouse hideout in the village known as Ealing until he knew them inside and out, could pinpoint where hidden tunnels and secret rooms now existed, off the known perimeters.

There was something not quite right, though, he could feel it. He had the idea that the theory of the tunnels being used as part of SNAKE was correct, but when he tried to connect the above-ground site – an old warehouse used to store watch parts – with the WWII tunnels underground, it didn't make sense. Something prickled at the back of his neck, a small voice whispering Danger! The whisper rose in volume when he reexamined the screen shot taken just before the smoke appeared throughout SNAKE. A small, white rectangle of paper lay crumpled in one corner. Loki knew he recognized it, but from where?

Setting the blueprints and screenshots aside, he delved into the background of every single syndicate member. He researched each crime they had committed, made a list of their pitiful, human priorities. They were all simple people, driven by greed for money; he knew he could take them all down in an instant.

So how had they subdued Banner? That also did not make sense.

Setting aside those questions for the moment, he ensured the young girl, the one who needed the medical treatment, was taken care of in the hospital with every luxury, every form of resource available through the foul labyrinth known as the Health Insurance System. When he was told No and put on a waiting list twice, his impatience overwhelmed him.

A quick Internet search revealed a Nigerian human sex slave trafficking outfit ripe for the plucking. Loki shut it down with a few simple programs and calmly harvested the money held in the group's offshore accounts for his own use. With that he was able to bypass the Insurance idiots and buy the best assistance available for the sick girl; it was amazing what could be accomplished on Midgard with an ample amount of funds.

He prepared several safeguards, ready for when Natasha arrived to take down the Syndicate.

At last he stopped typing and put his head in his hands. Why had he done all of that, for a group of mortals who meant nothing to him, for an unknown girl about to die without his assistance?

Because. Because Natasha would admire it.

·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·

After a few hours of twisting, tortured sleep, Loki again abandoned the attempt and went to take a shower. He found it was somewhat soothing, if mundane, to stand under the cascade of water, sluicing the dreams from his skin.

Skin, she had told him, holding her palm close to his.

He bit back a howl of frustration and toweled off, dressed in Midgardian clothes, and left the rooms to search for food as a diversion. The silence he had noted after her departure increased in the hallways, lined with soft lights and intermittent elevators. He punched the button on one and rode it to the place called a "cafeteria," a resource to provide meals.

Moodily, he selected a few plates of sustenance and took them to a table. He had his laptop with him, and as he tried a few bites of a concoction called 'omelet' (not bad, he noted) he watched the cameras trained on the interiors in SNAKE.

There was no movement. Even the figures of the archer and Anzhela in the mirror had disappeared. For the fifth time, he tried to reconcile the floor plans to the views in the cameras and the tunnels underneath but could not.

He heard a door open, but it did not register until a large man sat opposite him with a broad grin. "Brother!" Thor cried in surprise. "You are eating – food!"

"It happens." Loki tried to ignore him and concentrate on the screen, but Thor persisted.

"What is this yellow stuff?"

"It is called 'omelet'. I have tasted worse."

"Ah, yes – Lady Jane ordered a plate of Omelet in a tavern called Diner. Delicious! Midgard food is tasty. I like it."

"Be off. I am engaged in …" Loki waved the screen.

Thor interrupted him, his face becoming mournful. "We argued, by the by. She refused a necklace I brought to her from Asgard, said it was too valuable. She added I was 'rushing things' and 'going too fast'. Said we needed to 'figure it all out' and make certain we were 'right for each other'." The God of Thunder punctuated his confession with a long, drawn-out breath. "These women from Midgard are fascinating, but they are difficult to comprehend at times."

Loki felt his jaw drop to hear his own thoughts voiced by his idiotic brother. "Yes! I chose to fornicate with Nat - with one of them, and she refused me in no uncertain terms. This after I mentioned that I was very skilled in bed."

Thor seemed too absorbed by his own reflections to listen. "It is very simple. I offer a large diadem to the maiden I have chosen, she accepts…"

"I would make certain to pleasure her thoroughly first…" Loki had his own considerations.

"…We plunder a few villages for wine and a sweet-voiced bard…"

"It is not as though I am a young stripling, intent only on my own release…"

"…Next thing you know – we are all dancing and drinking at my wedding..." Thor drummed his fingers on the table.

"In any case, I have no idea why she still captivates my thoughts…" Loki mused.

"After all, what else is there to consider, beyond gowns for the maiden?" Thor's eyes narrowed, and with Loki's fork he shoveled an avalanche-sized helping of omelet into his mouth.

"My omelet!" Loki came back to his senses. "I am too busy and have no time to waste on discussions of bards and diadems with you."

"Busy?" Thor swiftly rose and moved behind Loki's chair to peer at the screen. "What has been happening in my absence?"

Loki shifted as far away from his brother as he could. "Nothing to concern yourself with…"

"Loki, this looks like an adventure!" Thor's eyes sparkled. "I will tell the man called Fury to send me into the action at once."

"But this is completely unjust! I have to stay here eating omelet and picking away at this intelligence device, while you waltz into the action without so much as a by your leave."

Thor was already striding towards the door, but at that he stopped. "Would you prefer I stay here with you for company instead?"

Loki was about to make a biting, sarcastic retort when a new possibility opened in front of him, shimmering with novelty and entertainment. "No," he replied slowly. "No, I think you should do exactly as you mentioned. Go and speak to the man called Fury, but do come and say good-bye to me before you go."

A huge smile spread across Thor's face, and he threw open his long arms. "I am overjoyed I returned here!" he bellowed. "I was - you could almost say - sad! But no longer."

Loki effectively ducked the hug. As Thor left, a wicked grin pulled up both corners of his mouth.