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Chapter 10
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It's a special kind of slow insanity, being in captivity. There's no abuse to be offended at, no outright torture to be enraged by. The meals are fine, and the cell is clean. It's the same meal every time, though, soup and bread. They've put Darcy and Betty in separate cells, though the former is still sharing her space with a half-catatonic Coulson. And the lights are always on in the hall, where there's no sound, expect once a day. When they do whatever it is they're doing to Logan.
"His blood," Coulson whispers one night, when Darcy is startled awake by Logan's screaming. She moves to sit by Phil, as she's taken to doing, taking his hand in hers. No one's been in to see to his ills, no one's told her what exactly has been done to him, that has his breathing ragged and labored. He's hazy on the details himself, but has told her that his brain was abnormally resistant to mind control. And so some other kind of work had been done on his physicality. He'd woken thus, drained, half-dead, and breathing hard. He does seem to be getting stronger though, the longer Darcy is there. It's just a painstakingly slow healing process, "They're taking his blood."
"What about it?" She whispers back. She tries not to talk too loudly, as conversing is why they've separated her and Betty when they're not in their makeshift lab. Coulson takes a moment, before answering just as quietly.
"When The Shifter had his reliquary, when I was first brought here, he kept going on about how a thousand years of blood sacrifices by the people on his world had given him the power to build it. Blood magic." Despite his poor health, Phil's face held that calm, patient expression still, as he spoke to her, almost like a teacher, or Natasha when she was training her, "Consider Logan, Darcy."
"...He can recover from a massive blood loss in a matter of hours," She swallows, "A thousand years of blood magic, in a matter of..." She squints, thinking, "...Weeks?"
"Maybe, maybe sooner," Coulson nods, "He's a mutant, who knows how his superior genetics might affect the process...I know you and Dr. Ross are plotting something, Agent Lewis," His voice drops to almost nothing, saving his strength. "Work fast."
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The best they've got, between James and the rest of the handful of assassins who recall their captivity, is 'somewhere in Sweden'. Captain America tries to remind himself that it's better than flying completely blind, in an entire world of hiding places. Still, Sweden is big, and everyone knows they've probably only got so much time.
"Do we know anymore about what he -is-, though?" Steve sighs, at the latest debriefing. Erik and Tony have done some amazing analysis on the crystal left behind...mainly confirming that they're not made up of anything from this world. But it gets them no closer to rescuing Darcy. Cap glances at Bruce, who looks more on edge than they've ever seen him, short of being the Other Guy. His foot is twitching, his jaw working, an impatience settled over his features. Steve's manifesting similar feelings, mostly in that he hasn't left his suit in days.
"I bear some possibilities," Thor's voice answers, as the big man enters the room, his face stony and calm. Fury sits back in his seat, eying the god closely.
"Welcome back, Thor. How's the family?"
"Burdened," Thor gives a small smirk, his eyes turning to Steve. There's a seriousness there that none of them have seen since before Jane came to the Tower, when god or not, he was still a man fighting his own brother. He sits by Natasha who, though her face remains stoic as well, drops a hand on his arm, "Loki has only admitted to having left certain doors to realms open when he came to Earth last. He thought it...in fine jest," Thor cringes, "This Shifter, if he is who my father thinks he is, goes by many names, in many realms. He is alike to Odin, warlike, old," He frowns deeply, "But without compassion. His soul was long lost to the blood rituals which gave him power over his people. He seeks only dominion."
"Blood rituals?" Tony lifts his chin, looking terribly dubious, "We talkin' some Satanic, Temple Of Doom...dark magic, sort of thing?"
"...I think I can say yes?" Thor actually smirks, glancing to Natasha, who nods once, "Yes. He demanded blood sacrifices of his people, and after generations of blood, built the relic Jane so neatly destroyed," He swallows, looking down. Tony and Bruce look to each other, both seeming to have a silent science pow-wow over how that might work. Steve just looks alarmed.
"He needs...blood to rebuild his power source..."
"And a portal to get home, don't forget that Cap," Hawkeye cuts in, rubbing his jaw, "If I had to guess, I'd bet he's draining Wolverine, and making the girls build him a gate home."
"Which means odds are very good that all three of our hostages are still alive," Fury surmises. "And will be for a while yet, until this wizard gets what he wants. We have time," He adds, sharply, glaring at them each in turn, "Use it. Find this bastard's base."
Steve Rogers doesn't need to be told twice. But...where to start?
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Darcy and Betty do their work, as ordered. They've been given a lab space near the skeletal generator, and buy themselves a lot of time those first few days, by applying the simple reflector panels to the outside, adjusting them to sit just so. They've already decided, between coded science-talk and a few notes, that Betty quickly burns up with her blow torch, that they will indeed make a functioning wormhole generator...sort of.
They don't have to pretend to drag their feet when it comes to the half-finished panels, that had also been stolen from their lab in Alberta. That was slow, tedious work to begin with, and now Darcy is relying entirely on her amazing, yet imperfect memory to complete them. Though this isn't her specific field, Betty is able to fill in some of the gaps as she etches runes and attaches wines. If it's imperfect, Darcy knows it'll still serve their purpose. But as close to perfect as possible would be ideal.
Lydia Gray is always looming nearby, which unsettles Darcy like nothing else. She's never liked people standing over her shoulder while she does -anything-, but she's proud of the fact that it makes her more irritable than nervous. Irate was empowering, nervous could give something away. And so she settled into yammering on at the brainwashed super-assassin, channeling all that annoyance.
"You know, you're one hot amazon of a lady," Darcy points out, as she's scribbling down what she can recall of notes 153 – 167. "You're totally wasted on a wispy guy in a cloak. Seriously, what's he, like a skeleton under there? Every cliché of the Grim Reaper?"
Gray just stood, serene in a frightening, unnatural way. The Shifter, meanwhile, was almost never there, at least not bodily. He was away working, his imposing minion told them, and Darcy winced, knowing what this means. He's off rebuilding his reliquary, with what blood he's gotten from Logan that day. She wonders what else, though. Between science actually sinking in, and living with Thor, Darcy's become someone who'll believe that just about anything's possible. But she knows it's more than just mysticism and voodoo.
"How much further do you think you've got to go?" Phil asks her softly, after a week in the complex. Darcy has been staring down at her lap, at the crumpled sketch of Steve she's smoothed out over her knee, drawing strength from the image of his face. The monotony and strung-out nerves have been getting to her, and Darcy can't let it. She indulges in her happy place with Steve, somewhere, and then blows out a heavy breath, shrugging.
"Another week? Two?" She whispers, "It's hard to gauge."
"Faster than he'll likely have enough blood from Wolverine, at any rate," Phil replies. "Make that your goal. The generator before the reliquary."
"Aye," Darcy smirks in the darkness, patting his shoulder, "We've agreed there are only two ways outta this, Son of Coul." She can almost hear him raise his eyebrow. "He dies. Or we all die killing him."
"Ah," She could hear his smile in his voice then, for sure, "Miss Lewis, you are officially thinking like a SHIELD Agent who'll last a long, long time."
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Natasha and Clint have left to do what they do best, which is spy. They've donned guises and entered the areas in Sweden that Bucky and a few other hired assassins remember being, before they were spirited into The Shifter's lair. They're gathering intel, actually talking to country folk, because that's the only step further SHIELD can really take at this point, short of literally tearing up every inch of ground in the country.
They do have watchers, though. Charles Xavier hasn't left Cerebro in some time, seeking Logan's signature brain waves for all he's worth. Heimdall may see all, but his gaze is especially fixed on Midgard, and searching for the face of Jane Foster's young companion. Whatever The Shifter's base is made of, it's blocking both, though Heimdall is getting flickers of Darcy every once in a while, usually when she is resting in some shining space, her hand on the blurred figure of a man. He cannot give a more accurate location than the area of Earth encompassing Sweden, though.
Steve, meanwhile, is an edgy wreck. He'd held himself together well enough when there was something to do, something to investigate. But they've combed the Alberta site clean by now, and picked Bucky's memories until he gave himself a migraine, and now there's nothing more Captain America can do but wait. It's a small comfort, having some time while Betty and Darcy are no doubt put to work. And knowing Darcy, Steve's sure she's stalling as much as she can.
But he needs to do something. He needs to ease his nerves. And so he channels his fiance's approach, and tries watching a movie again. And this time, he's got company.
"Never really did see the pacific, did we now?" James Barnes notes, as they watch The Thin Red Line. It's a good distraction for Steve, as much as he can be distracted. The pacific front was alien to him, and this particular filmmaker's approach is entrancing, poetic and horrible, all at once. It swiftly becomes less about the greater world, and more about the soldiers and the bonds they forge.
Both Steve and Bucky can relate.
"You probably still know more about it than I do," Steve smirks, rubbing his eyes. He's sitting in the theater in his uniform. He rarely takes it off lately, always waiting for the word. Bucky shakes his head, also in the bare-bones of his field clothes, boots up on the coffee table. Volstagg-the-dog has already adopted him, head in his cheeto-spattered lap.
"I didn't get much time to find out what was happening in the world, each time I was activated...least, I don't think so," James frowns, eyes squinting at the huge screen. "I do know the fight with Japan was...muddier, than with Germany."
"They were doing atrocious things too," Steve recalls, from his conversations with Darcy, and dry pages from his history books, so different than the lush, vivid world in the film, "The Japanese civilians were given the worst of the wartime lies, though. They were already a secluded nation, and their propaganda machine told 'em that Americans would rape, butcher, and eat their women and children. No exaggeration." Bucky let out a whistle.
"Someone's always sayin' something," He notes, simply, but with a weight behind it. Steve nods, and the two of them let themselves be engrossed in the film for a few long moments, thoughtfully. And then, "...Who'd have thought you'd be the one engaged first," Bucky smirks. Steve blinks, glancing over.
"...What, like you were -ever- gonna settle down?" He surprises his best friend by lofting a brow, and Bucky starts sniggering. Maybe it's the movie, but right then, it feels more like old times than ever.
"Who knows, eh? If none of this woulda happened, could have settled down after the war, had a couple of the...what do they call 'em? Baby bombers?"
"Baby boomers," Steve chuckles, shaking his head, "And yeah, probably. I could see you all done up like a 50s dad from one of Darcy's flicks."
"Drinkin' scotch with Howard Stark..." Bucky trails off, his eyes glazing over for a moment, perplexing Steve a bit. He shakes it off though, grinning again, nudging his friend, "Not all bad, though. I'm around to be your best man! Only took you seventy years to find a willing gal, eh?"
"Jerk," Steve grins, and then sighs, "...Just. Have to find her."
"We will, buddy. We will."
On cue, Thor, of all people, clears his throat over the coms, "We have a location." He thrums, and both men jump up, poor Volstagg rolling out of Bucky's lap, "A visitor has landed in Asgard."
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They finish the machine despite themselves. Darcy and Betty are watched closely, as they place the command panels carefully in their slots on the generator. They've been working together long enough to communicate with looks by now, which is handy, as The Shifter himself is overseeing their last operation, a dozen armed mercs lined up by the doors into the dome.
"Line up another 30 degrees?" Darcy asks outloud.
"Mmm, make it 31," Betty notes, stepping back. She tilts her head toward Darcy the smallest amount. Against her jeans, Darcy releases one finger. One try. They have one clean go at this.
Because despite all the precautions, neither of them believed for a second that The Shifter thought they wouldn't sabotage his generator. They know that he knows they'd try, Darcy thinks to herself, smirking inwardly. And while they might not be able to prepare for every outcome, they're fairly certain they've done what they can.
Sure enough, as soon as Betty declares that the machine is ready, set to the coordinates of The Shifter's homeworld, and starts to warm it up, Lydia Gray makes a motion to one of the mercs nearby. The man disappears, the wormhole begins to build, and Darcy crosses her fingers under the cuffs of her sweater that luck is with them. The man returns with a girl in tow, looking no more than 12. Betty and Darcy share a glance, swallowing hard, and looking properly shaken.
"We will, of course, test the machine first," Gray smiles, that cold, inhuman grin, "With Nina, here!" Nina had kitten-brown hair, was sweet-looking despite her fear, and was dressed in that modern, yet slightly off-trend manner that was the universal sign of being from the boondocks. She rattled off a question in Swedish toward Lydia, as she was shoved toward the machine, wide-eyed and scared. The vacant merc just shook her head at whatever the girl had said. And Darcy took her chance.
Letting out a cry, she lurched forward, wrapping the startled girl in a tight hug. Taking her hand, she pressed something into it, hissing a very low 'shh!' into the Swedish girl's ear. Nine was a pro at not reacting, for which Darcy was grateful, even if it turned out that she was just plain paralyzed with fear. Darcy was yanked back by Betty, and even managed to start crying a little, which wasn't too hard, as Nina was shoved through the wormhole, screaming.
It remained steady, though. Open and waiting. Leaning over one of the data screens, Lydia grinned at the results, which simply said the subject had made it through alive. "It works," She turned to The Shifter, her face brilliant, "It works."
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Heimdall turned in utmost confusion, as the Bifrost came to life. He'd seen no such activity coming his way, but then, many things had been hidden from his sight of late. And when it is a child of Midgard who tumbles through his newly repaired gate, the guardian knows exactly why this has happened.
Nina looks around her, bewildered and terrified, until she spots the armored man standing before her, tall and golden. Speechless, she lifts her hand, holding out the English note she cannot read to him, even as she gasps, recalling the one familiar word on the piece of paper. "Hei...Heimdall?!"
"Yes child," He replies, easily reading the note Darcy Lewis sent along with her, and actually smiling as he looks back at the girl. "Tell me exactly where you come from, little human."
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Darcy tries to remain jubilant, as if surprised and pleased that the machine has worked. Betty is doing the same, both of them trying to act out the balance of successful scientists and annoyed captives. Darcy's pretty sure they're doing a great job. Until The Shifter moves forward, and points to her. Lydia smiles wide, "He will take you with him, when he goes home."
Darcy blanches. The machine was rigged for one trip, and not to the Shifter's homeworld. If anyone enters that wormhole now, they'll be split into so many atoms. Thankfully, her terror seems perfectly suited to the situation, and she finds herself taking jerky, slow steps forward, Betty's wide eyes boring into her back.
Yet, Darcy knows that this must seem like no big deal to her. It was far too soon for help to come, even with Nina in Asgard, but she could still accomplish the ultimate goal. Destroying the Shifter. Protecting the Earth and everyone she loved there. Protecting Steve...she was the one doing the protecting in this moment, and it made her proud, all of a sudden. She wondered if Jane had felt this at all, right before she died.
"Your place frosty at all, bub? Cause I only got my sweater," She grins, shakily, as the cloaked, shifting figure regarded her silently. And then a cold tendril of smoke wrapped itself around her arm, drawing her forward, toward the blue, unstable rift in space and time. Darcy shut her eyes, thinking hard on Steve's face, his smile, his bright eyes.
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A roar tore through the room.
Darcy looked up as the Shifter jerked backwards, turning, as a whirlwind of fury and flashing adamantium claws cut through the line of mercenaries and made straight for the cloaked entity.
Darcy jumped away from the machine, rolling over to Betty, who'd just swiped a rifle off one of the fallen guards. Before they realize it, both of them are engaging the wall of muscle that is Lydia Gray, the whole room a mess of chaos that seems to last forever.
Darcy actually lands plenty of punches, and Betty gets in a good gun-to-the temple, but the woman still has plenty of power on them, like a wall of unleashed fury. Logan, meanwhile, is clawing at air, but at least he's keeping The Shifter occupied.
Right up until a hole tears through the top of the dome, a red, white and blue shield catching Lydia Gray in the stomach, and a bolt of holy lightening driving The Shifter into an unstable wormhole, where he's torn apart and scattered across the cosmos.
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