Chapter Nine
Bucky was frozen in place, unable to think or react to the sight of his brother, in all but name, held at knife point by the person he had worked so hard to find. Loki (or Lokkju, as he preferred now) stood by and did nothing, watching Harry as he threatened Captain America.
"Harry!" Bucky's shout meant nothing apparently, as it didn't stop Harry's actions as he pulled his arm back to deliver the fatal blow. Bucky, in a sudden flash of panic, lunged across the space separating him from Harry and knocked his friend down. There! A hint of confusion crossed Harry's face as he found himself suddenly on the floor. Then the emotion was covered up by a blank façade. Harry rolled to his feet and charged again, his knife flashing as it swiped at Bucky, trying to maneuver his partner away from his prey.
"Harry, please!" Not one to beg, Bucky hoped that his plea would trigger something in his old friend. Nothing. The attacks kept coming and Bucky found himself tiring. Harry had always been younger and more agile than him, with a greater stamina and pain tolerance. He had seen Harry go months without food, being tortured for hours everyday and not give in. Harry had been trained to defeat him, and Harry – Weapon – had never failed. Bucky felt the knife pierce his side, making his own attacks softer and exhaustion hit harder. He knew that he would either end up dead or with Steve's body lying on the floor beside him.
Harry hit him in the face and followed that with a kick to the back of his knee, sending him to the ground. Risking a glance around the room, Bucky could see his friends watching the fight. All of them looked ready to leap in, especially Steve, but they all knew that they couldn't compete. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glint of the knife in the lights as it came down at him. He closed his eyes, accepting his own failure.
The knife embedded itself in his metal shoulder, cutting the circuits and rendering it useless.
"Recite the Primary Directive." Harry ordered. It had always been orders with Harry. He had taken orders and given orders, there had never been asking or giving options. Bucky had been ordered to recite the Prime Directive before and after every fight against his failsafe. The reciting had become a ritual almost. But this wasn't a continuation of a ritual. This was a chance to prove that he didn't need to be 'taken care of'. This was a choice.
"Recite the Primary Directive." Harry ordered again, his emotionless voice made shivers go down Bucky's spine. He had to choose. Silence would mean he was betraying Harry and – in his mind – HYDRA. He hesitated.
And a moment too long it appeared because Harry raised another knife – out of nowhere – and buried it in Bucky's heart.
There was a moment of utter silence. The Avengers stared in shock as Bucky was cut down, Steve dropped to his knees grief, even Lokkju's eyes widened in surprise. His hands beginning to form a spell.
The reality crashed back down to the occupants of the room. Steve let out a guttural cry of rage and charged at Harry. His shield nowhere in sight. Lokkju rushed to Bucky in hopes of stopping the bleeding. Harry remained oblivious. He reacted to the man coming at him in anger, but the Primary Directive replayed itself in his mind.
"Hail HYDRA. Death to our enemies. Hail HYDRA. Obedience is prosperity. Hail HYDRA! Cut off one head, two more shall take its place! HAIL HYDRA! America must fall."
The battle cry mixed with orders drove his actions as he dodged and lunged around the tall blonde man before him. He had taken out a snake, and now the nest-mates were coming for revenge. But this one was familiar in a strange way. Then he saw it. A vision of a man in a blue uniform, his weapon a shield. The Primary Target. Harry forced his attacks to blend into a different style. An unpredictable mess of martial arts and outright street brawling. He moved faster, hit harder and cut quicker. The Primary Target was weakening, there! He saw the falter. He took advantage and struck.
Steve could see he was losing. When Bucky had warned him not to fight Harry head to head, he had thought his brother was crazy. Sure Harry was probably good, but he had fought the Winter Soldier and survived.
"You only survived because HYDRA wanted you alive. The only reason Natasha is alive is because she wasn't our target. And yes, you fought me and lived. But I've fought Harry. And I always lose." Bucky had argued. Silently choosing to keep his skepticism to himself the conversation had ended.
Now, he was regretting his arrogance. He stumbled and Harry caught it. Steve knew that he was done for.
"Objective Override: Blank Slate Protocol." Bucky croaked out as he fought against the pull of unconsciousness. Harry fell like a sack of rocks. His eyes open, but empty and blank. Bucky had saved his life.
"What was that?" Stark demanded. Bucky, who had passed out on the floor, was unable to give answers. But the answers didn't come from the ex-soldier.
"A trigger phrase. Designed to incapacitate the one who has it implanted in their subconscious. Like when a hypnotist tells you that you will dance like a chicken when he says the word 'nugget' for example. Only these are designed as fail-safes. I had a few, from Before. Bucky had some too, probably still does." Natasha Romanova explained from where she was still standing, her gun pointed at Harry, like he would move and attack at any minute. And wasn't that a sobering reality.
Bruce had seen failsafe's, trigger words, and hypnosis before. But looking into the blank eyes of the young Harry Potter, he knew he was unprepared for what Bucky was going to tell him. Loki had fixed the super soldiers heart problem the best he could before exhaustion took over, and Bruce had been left to wait for him to come around.
While they waited, Bruce had Harry moved to a bed and restrained their prisoner in case he woke before anyone else could get to him. Tony and Loki had dropped into a quiet conversation off to one side; Tony was probably laying down the rules for the god. Bruce took his moment alone to examine the child on his medical bed. He was young that much was obvious, barely in his twenties. He had jagged scars from past beatings or old 'punishments', but his file suggested he should be nearing Tony or his age. But here he was, a walking impossibility like his partner. Bucky was still fast asleep. Recovering from his ordeal was a fair guess.
"Hey Bruce!" Tony called from his spot by the balcony, beside Loki.
"Yeah?"
"Lokkju has some amazing scientific theories. He could help solve our... ahem… problem." Tony was too serious about this. It was a fake seriousness, but that had never meant anything good for anyone.
"Oh?" Sometimes it was better to play along.
"You know… the problem. That thing we need to… do. Urgently. Well, slowly urgently, but its kind of urgent in a sense."
"What exactly do you want to do Tony?"
"The Ultron Program. I know I fucked up with it, but from what Loki's been saying-"
"No! We are not doing this. Not again. Lokkju is here for one reason only, and its not to be your Guinea Pig." Tony stood still for a moment, watching Bruce in shock and a bit of fear. After a second he nodded and moved away. Probably to fix himself a drink or sulk in the basement. For a moment Bruce felt a little afraid that the Other Guy might make an appearance, then a little guilty for snapping at Tony like that. Then he remembered that Tony had made Ultron in the first place because of he need for recognition. In that respect, Wanda was right. Tony never learned form his mistakes.
Bruce kept his eyes on Harry. He looked so young, so innocent, as he lay sleeping. He looked like he had never been affected by the cruelty of the world, despite his harsh and brutal past. He knew though, that the only reason Harry looked so unaffected was because he had once again been whipped clean of any memories or emotions. Bucky had taken it all. Despite the reasons behind Bucky's actions, Bruce hated the soldiers' choice. He should have tried something else, tried talking, tried a tranquilizer, something.
Bruce swept a piece of Harry's hair aside, looking at his young face. Staring into his green eyes.
Green eyes?
Harry was awake, staring at him in a blank way with very little emotion. He was awake.
"Hello Harry. My name is Bruce. Bruce Banner. I am your doctor." He introduced himself to the young man on the bed. Harry only stared at him with unwavering eyes.
"Hello Bruce Banner. Where is Lokkju?"
Lokkju listened to the mortals and waited. Eilífur lay in the Healing Rooms, unconscious from whatever the metal-armed human had done. The man with the odd beard kept talking in a loud and obnoxious manner and kept cracking jokes with the others man in the glasses.
He had brought Lokkju here to help him. To teach him the balance of the universe and how to control the energy in the earth. The humans were meant to be a safe haven between him and the Norns, to ensure that Eilífur would be taught what he needed to know and would vouch for him when the time came. He had screwed up, he readily admitted it, but he needed to ensure that the Norn Blessed would ascend to his place in the Universe. That was his only purpose.
"Loki." Lokkju turned to face his Once-Brother. Thor the Asgardian. "Loki what have you brought here?"
"If you knew you would rejoice, Prince of Asgard. This time was foretold. The time of the Ascended, the true Master."
"You think I would rejoice with learning of your true depravity. Using a child to unleash chaos? I will stop you Loki. I will stop you and there will be no mercy from father or me." Lokkju laughed softly. The Once-Brother believed that Odin could stop the Ascended once he had taken his place? Ridiculous. Eilífur was meant to stand above god and men.
"Thor. You are not alone in this universe, nor are the mortals. Others came before us, and others before them. Before even the Norns and their golden threads of time and fate. Do you not remember the songs Our Mother sang to us in the night? The songs She sang as we fought and lived and die and were reborn? Do you not remember?"
"Loki you talk in riddles. Speak clearly or stay your lying tongue."
"Of life unfair and hardship frought
Of golden crown two brother fought;
A darkness lies in Silence deep
But hero lies in endless sleep.
From three realms this hero's get
And of who's life the Norns have bet;
He who follows fates cruel game,
And though one person has five names.
This hero has been tried and taught,
Despaired and broken, this hero's heart.
But of his soul and spirit's strength,
His quest not over, but hath more length.
A boy of barely manhood gained,
A Soldier with mind deeply maimed,
A Healer with a desperate strife,
A Blacksmith who has gained new life,
A Princeling with a broken bond,
A Servant who has been done great wrongs,
A Witch and Brother with scarred minds,
A Fighter who has lived two lives.
These bands of brothers, these glowing souls,
Whose stories more than can be foretold,
Shall band together and defend
The world from which Blessed shall Ascend.
But should these brothers fail and fall,
Then darkness comes for one and all.
And of Norns Bless'd, Death comes for last,
And times of hope have long since past."
A silence descended over the room. Thor stood pale beside Lokkju and Tony had stopped his endless chatter. Natasha had stood from her place on the couch and stepped closer, drawn by the magic in the words. There was no doubt in anyone's mind what this was and what it meant.
"Lokkju?" Bruce peered out of the doorway to the medical rooms, "Harry is asking for you."
TBC
A/N: Hello lovelies. Sorry about the hiatus, but I promised another chapter would be up in September. So here you go. I hope you enjoyed and will review. Thank you for your patience and have a wonderful week.
Also, I have an Important poll on my profile about this fic and my other HP/Avengers 'Human Rights', so please vote.
