Welcome back avid readers!
It is a few weeks after leaving the thick forests of Vanahiem that the dwarves find him in Nidavellir. It was his own folly, he admits, as his face is pressed into the dirt by a dwarven boot. The Vanir had hunted him rather well back in the forest. He supposes, when he thinks about it, that he did cause offense. Trespassing onto their land, burning their wood for warmth (or pretending to) and hunting their animals.
He was rather hungry, not having eaten since he left Asgard.
Loki thinks to himself how such a small being can force him down so, but then again… he was surrounded.
His face contorts in pain as each dwarf pulls at his arms, bending them behind him, ensuring his hands remain stiff and unmovable. Clever, he reasons. He can hear them talking, muttering their disgust at finding the Liesmith for an intruder.
Loki decides then, Nidavellir wasn't the best of realms to jump to. He had never intended to stay this long, but after so many months of jumping he just needed to rest. This realm was a harsh land, barren on the surface with the truest treasures hidden deep below. He had done his best to survive on the surface but the dust storms that had plagued the land were too intense and all he needed was the solace of their tunnels… just for a night.
He should have been more aware of surroundings.
Should not have let himself drift into slumber… but he was so tired…
So tired.
The dwarves continue their confused mutterings, questioning his motives. From whatever vision left unhindered by dirt and boot Loki watches an older dwarf demand his head ranting how he was an ally of the Dark elves. How he helped kill the Queen of Asgard, the one who gifted their kind with forgery equipment during times of hardship.
Ah, Loki realises as he moves his gaze to the dirt before him… the rumours have spread once more.
He must leave again.
He catches the Dwarves off guard in their moment of rambling and pulls one down to the ground with him. The man lands with a grunt, and Loki keeps his mind empty as he uses his free hand to blast the older dwarf away from him with what little energy he has. He rolls towards the other dwarf holding his arm, it releases the tension in his muscles and once more emerald energy blasts the dwarf away. The man lands on the rock walls of the mines and collapses, motionless.
As he stands to his feet he feels a sturdy hand wrap around his ankle, grounding him from jumping. Loki raises his hand to the dwarf's face ready to strike but movement catches in his side vision. He is too slow to dodge the entire swing of an axe, and intense heat spreads across his thigh as muscles are sliced apart. Loki staggers back, mind still empty. With one hand placed firmly on his wound he kicks the dwarf free.
Before the axe swings again he jumps across space and lands on his side with a thud against wet grass. It is such a contrast to the dirt covered realm that for while Loki remains where he is. He can feel blood seep into his gloves as he clutches his wound, but even now the heat has lessened and skin has slowly begun to stitch itself back together.
He drifts once more and when he awakens he stares at the early morning sun. After a long while he returns to himself, his eyes slowly taking their time to absorb the scenery surrounding him.
He pushes himself to stand and once more begins to roam.
It isn't until later that he stumbles upon a small Midgardian town.
Loki follows behind Natasha as she confidently enters the hotel and makes her way to the counter. Looking around with interest he takes in every detail of the grand foyer, its golden chandeliers, carpeted stairwells and servants carrying the patron's luggage. While the grander is not as remarkable as the noble inns of Asgard, Loki appreciates the distinct feeling of class and raises his head higher. A small token he rewards himself with, to put on a marvellous show for the mortals. Knowing that eyes are cast elsewhere he discreetly conjures a case of assortments and continues to follow the mortal.
"Welcome." A woman greets them at the counter in fluent Hungarian. "Checking in?" She asks.
Natasha replies easily, the language flowing from her tongue and Loki smirks as she gestures to her friend. A pang of regret hits Loki while he listens with ease at Natasha's show of manipulating the service woman… he almost wishes he could partake. Loki feigns ignorance, alerting her to the power of the All tongue would have saved some time, but Loki thinks… how enjoyable it is to catch the widow off guard.
Natasha hands over two passports and stays silent as the service woman processes her room. Loki takes a curious sidelong glance at the widow after he sees his apparent 'ID'. The corner of Natasha's lips perk as she raises an eyebrow challengingly.
"Your room is on the third floor; please don't hesitate to contact one of our staff during your stay. Will there be anything else?" The woman asks as she hands Natasha her keys.
"Yes, my business partner John Hawthorne is staying in this hotel as well, I was wondering if you could tell me his room number?" Natasha asks nicely, smiling with gentleness.
Lies, Loki thinks to himself with great amusement. He thinks, even one as old as he, that he must give credit where it is due. The mortal truly possesses skill.
The service woman frowns slightly.
"I'm afraid we cannot give out such information. There are phones within the rooms you are welcome to use."
Loki notices the sudden frustration surrounding Natasha, even as she hides it well behind a knowing nod. He watches her carefully as he summons a piece of parchment within his case
"Thank you anyway."
"Perhaps," Loki begins, lifting his case onto the service counter and unfastening the locks with ease, "You can give him this message instead?" He asks as he pulls out a letter. Natasha quickly turns her gaze to him as confusion drips from her and he smiles at the woman.
Loki turns casually and rests his side upon the counter, one hand holding the letter to the service woman as he smiles directly at Natasha. He sees her eyes rest upon the name written upon the enclosed message.
John Hawthorne.
Sneaky bastard, she thinks.
"Of course, Sir." The woman replies, taking the letter.
Thanking the woman Loki places a hand on Natasha's lower back, and steers her away from the counter. Natasha continues forward up the grand stairwell towards their room. Once the god's hand is dropped from her back she smiles, knowing she was played.
"You never told me you spoke Hungar-"She turns halfway up the stairs to find an empty space. She frowns for a moment before continuing to her room, she knows not to wait around. Natasha turns the lock of her room and enters, her eyes quickly scanning the room, ticking off her checklist. She throws her bag near the bed as he leans sideways to turn on the main lights. The sound of her bag hitting her bed never resonates within the room and in lighting speed she flicks on the lights, drawing her weapon at the ready.
Loki sits near the window, his legs crossed as he gazes out, her bag positioned neatly by the foot still firmly set on the ground.
"Barton's room is on the seventh floor, room twelve." He says casually as he gazes at the streets below.
"So that's what that little stunt was." Natasha says flatly. "You watched her place the letter in his room slot."
"An easy ploy." Loki brushes off as he stands, obviously bored.
Loki sighs as Natasha reaches into her bag of assortments and pulls a few devices out. She leaves the room without another word and he can see the slightly fastened pace in her steps. He follows behind silently, easily able to keep with her pace.
As they reach the door she slows and scans the outer lock with scrutiny.
"No forced entry." She mutters, taking one of her devices out and placing it against the lock. A small thump is heard and Natasha stands, pushing the door open with ease. They enter in silence. Natasha flicks the lights but the room remains dark.
Loki frowns; a familiar scent fills his senses.
The same interference is felt but He remains silent on the matter. He knows the mortal would have no understanding of the workings around it but, he wonders, it makes for an interesting mystery.
Loki clicks his fingers and the lights flicker on. Natasha shifts, her feet stepping carefully over the broken objects littered amongst the floor. The curtains shift as the cold night air blows in against the wind. Loki looks over nonchalantly as Natasha begins to sift through the many items in the room with a keen eye.
"I thought your Hawk was a flightless bird." Loki states.
Natasha looks at him and he shrugs.
"A locked door and an open window…" Loki tilts his head as he crosses his arms, "Do you assume he merely walked from the seventh story?" He mocks.
Natasha bends down and inspects the window sill. There are no grapple marks indented into the wood and as she leans in closer, she cannot see lingering fingerprints against the window glass.
"Whatever it was, it came through the window."
"Your deductive skills are quite astonishing." Loki says blandly as he leans against the wall. His head follows her as she silently makes her way into the small bathroom. After a few moments of eyeing the room, he pushes himself off the wall and stands just inside the doorway.
"What are you doing?" He asks curiously.
Natasha kneels next to the cupboard as she works on the pipes that sink into the ground. Her body momentarily shudders as she pulls out the while cylindrical shapes. Placing an empty piece beside her she slips her hand into the open cavity and looks at Loki.
"You don't leave hidden messages back in Asgard?" She asks her eyes narrowing as she attempts to push her hand further into the opening.
"To whom would I leave messages for?" Loki asks as if it were the strangest thing she had said.
It is then that Natasha thinks, as her hand slips deeper into the piping, who would Loki message? Of all the contact time she has experienced with him, not once has Loki mentioned any allies, other than Thor. Even when he spoke of a few other Asgardians, it was Thor to provide the information that they were his friends, his allies and comrades.
Who were Loki's comrades? She wonders briefly before the thought disappears as the tip of her fingers brush upon the texture of paper. Natasha smiles and pulls out a single sheet of paper.
Good one Clint. She thinks to herself. It was often their way of communicating secret messages between missions. The message would be easily accessible and easily able to be destroyed by a simple turn of the faucet. It was the perfect place, somewhere one would not think to look when time was pressed. Unfolding the crumpled piece of paper she inspects his message.
Compromised.
The message is almost illegible, its writing strewn across the paper as though the writer was in a mad dash to communicate the words.
Natasha abruptly stands.
"We have to go." She says sharply heading to the door. Loki remains silent and turns, heading out of the small room ahead of her.
It happens in a flash that it takes Natasha's mind so catch up as Loki pushes her back. An explosion of gunfire blasts into the god and she sees Loki spin backwards with a startled grunt as golden pellets smash into his left shoulder, sending him into the hallway near the exit. Natasha barely has enough time to drop to the floor as bullets rain through the wall connecting to the bedroom. Plaster and jib rock crumble over her as the assailants continue their assault on the other side. There is only the sound of gunfire as Natasha covers her head. Black holes rip into the wall, creating intricate puzzles as the assault continues.
They aren't reloading, she thinks quickly.
She crawls to the edge of the doorway and quickly rests her head against the panel. With a sharp turn she peers around the wood before having to retreat as bullets hit where her head had been. She only had a quick moment of vision, but Natasha saw the metal clad figure donned in green.
Machine, she surmises as she turns her head down the other side of the hallway. Loki is trying to stand with much difficulty, the bullets hitting his flesh and falling to the floor, crushed. He grits his teeth as each shell cause him to stagger, their force causing him to move backwards.
She watches, unable to move from the assault as flames burst into life around his hands.
Natasha almost wants to smirk as Loki's face contorts into anger. Clearly pissed off, she surmises, doesn't take much.
Then again, she thinks… anyone would be annoyed at being fired upon. She is so used to it, the action rarely bothers her anymore… but to a god, gunfire would seem unusual against to what she assumes would be compared to what she has seen of Asgardian tactics. More close, more personal forms of combat.
Loki steps forward conjuring a small force field to protect himself from the painful stings of metal against his flesh. Natasha watches as small flecks of emerald fire divert the bullets, their shells now crumpling inches beyond his skin before they can hit him.
As the god reaches the doorway he turns his head, the rims of his eyes twisting with small doses of light.
"Go."
She nods, and waits for Loki to advance before slipping out under the protection of his shield. Natasha runs down the hallway, dodging screaming patrons as they attempt to flee the floor and hotel. Natasha turns as an explosion rips through the room, its fire blowing out into the hallway and igniting most of the area around her. She staggers momentarily into the wall but recovers quickly helping a fallen woman to her feet.
Together with panicked citizens, she exits the hotel, her breath visible in the cold night. Natasha watches for moment, seeing quick eruptions of emerald light from the entire seventh floor. The sounds of sirens break her stare from the chaos of the hotel and without a second glance she disappears into the night.
An alert will let you calmly explain to those dwarves the situation at hand and and such, the review will let you give the poor guy a break.
-Brought to you by the Broadcasting Service of Mimbillia-