(((Well the Leukemia scare is over for now and I'm being treated for the real cause of the unpleasantness I've been suffering. Thanks for the support guys, it meant the world to me and this fiction means a lot to get to escape from all the madness and weakness. What bothers me more than anything is the one illness that can't be addressed by my doctors or myself . . . a relative that was once a friend who has chosen hatred and ill-will simply because we have different abilities and lives. Love your families, talk to them, be they related to you or otherwise, but especially those that share your blood. You will always need each other and sadly, in this case, Karma will be just as unkind. We're about to finish with 'The Avengers' events in a few chapters and move on to what happens next and who is really holding Loki captive and why Darcy still carries that taser . . .)))
Chapter 11: Legends Arrive
Loki snarled and grasped Darcy by the shoulder. She hadn't noticed it until now, too distracted by the sundry tasks and terrors, but it was quite swollen where Dr. Selvig had given her the injection and had been growing warm, red, and tender for hours now. She had been unable to have been given completely sanitary treatment for anything in the tunnels beneath the city and the filth that filtered through the only sources of air and water had managed to find Darcy without difficulty much as the trickster himself had no difficulty singling her out in the crowd like this. The version of him that was now so infuriated dragged her out from behind the statue. She cried out in pain as she realized that she was now very probably suffering from a minor infection. He ignored her cries and situated them to where they could clearly see his real figure, or what she assumed was his real form, addressing another man that had defied him. This man was much older and had a thick German accent.
"You are too easily deceived, Darcy," the illusion hissed, shaking her once for emphasis. She bit back another cry, sure that her displays of pain and emotion were satisfying to him. "Freedom is life's great lie and empowerment of human kind an even greater and far more cruel lie than lure of liberty."
"You're going to lose this," Darcy repeated. The image glared down at her as she stared back up at him. The man in the crowd that had stood and declared that he would not bow to a man like Loki had now been met with the reply from the trickster that there were no 'men' like him. To which the old man replied that there would always be men like him. A tear rolled down Darcy's cheek and her heart twisted in a terrible ache at the realization that this man had probably not only known from reading and hearing about instances of oppression in his tumultuous nation, he had seen such men rise and commit greater atrocities than Loki had done thus far. He had seen holocaust and humans turned into demons. Loki sneered at her tear and sensed the reason behind it, scoffing. "Men like you always lose."
"There are no 'men' like me, you fool," he growled. He grasped her by the chin with the other hand, the scepter disappearing from this image, forcing her to fix her gaze on the old man as the real Loki raised his scepter towards the old man. Another tear rolled down Darcy's cheek and something shifted in Loki as he felt the warmth touch his hand. She suddenly noticed that the odd superficial bluish glow to his eyes seemed to fade for a moment and his eyes became a deeper green. The moment faded and the bluish haze returned with ferocity as a malicious grin crossed the trickster's features and he lifted the staff, aiming the gem at the old man. "Look to your elder, people," he announced. He lowered his gaze, meeting the old man's directly with an unspoken sentence for his disobedience. The man's eyes widened in horror. "Let him be an example."
Darcy let out a scream as a blast of energy fired from the end of the spear and hurtled towards the old man, ready to obliterate him into nothing more than the memory of his attempted defiance. Darcy suddenly saw a flash of blue and white, the burst of energy catching against something with red, and then the blast returning on its path and hitting Loki harshly in the chest. The girl's eyes grew wide in complete amazement at the sight that met her. The flash of colours that had landed in front of the old man stood and her vision made out the clear form of a stalwart soldier, a defender of the world, but first a servant of the United States Armed Forces. "Wow," Darcy whispered in amazement. The soldier, broad-shouldered and proud in his red, white, and blue uniform with trademark star-bearing shield, stood sternly and advanced towards Loki as the trickster centered himself and stood up angrily. "Captain America!"
"You know, the last time I was in Germany, and I saw a man standing above others," Captain Steven Rogers announced firmly, stopping a few feet away from this strange new enemy. He remembered the Red Skull and Hydra and how hard the deranged doctor and soldier had worked to create an empire of elite evil. The crowd's minds went back to Hitler and his soldiers, but Rogers had known a greater evil, a more despicable creature that had stood above others and seen himself above them as well. "We ended up disagreeing."
"The soldier," Loki mused with disdain. "From the great war."
"Trust me, it wasn't that great," Rogers replied, gripping his shield tightly.
"Mine will be," Loki replied with a snarl and took a step forward. Rogers lifted the shield and the two continued to silently appraise one another.
Darcy glanced to the side, realizing that no one was holding onto her shoulder any longer. To her relief, her image of Loki had seemed to disappear along with all the others. She could make out a crazed smile on Loki's face even from this distance as she tried to quietly point the way to a safe road away from the scene to several people. The people followed instantly and by the time the trickster had realized he had lost track of Darcy, half the crowd was headed down the other side of Kroening Straza and nearer to safety than the rest. Loki growled and created another image, catching Darcy once more by the shoulder as his true form turned back to Rogers.
"I have nothing to fear from a man out of his own time," he said.
Rogers stared back, unyielding. "I'm not the one who's out of time," he retorted.
Darcy heard a loud whirring overhead, reminiscent of the jets from S.H.I.E.L.D. Her heart leapt a little. Thank goodness, help was well on its way more than just one superhero. The jet came down into the lower part of the sky a little behind the captain and aimed a large cannon-like weapon at the trickster. Loki frowned and gripped Darcy more tightly. Darcy furrowed her brow and straightened her glasses a little, ignoring another shot of pain. How was this image, this false version, doing anything tactile? How could he truly grasp her if he was a fake? Perhaps he could make many physical copies of himself, but that would make each one a percentage of the original only and therefore weaker, she rationalized. There was only one way to tell if her theory was true and this was just as vulnerable a figure as the real Loki with only a percentage of his senses.
She turned and quickly slammed her fist into his abdomen in the one most vulnerable area. She had to be careful to not aim too low and rupture a kidney, but there was no armor, and no leather-mail to protect him in this one place on his side. His eyes flashed with pain and he let out a cry as he instinctively dropped the scepter and bent forward. Despite better judgment, Darcy stayed put and watched the other version, noting that he did the very same thing. She smiled and put a hand on either of his shoulders before bringing her patella as harshly as she could beneath his inguinal region . . . the one place where every soldier desired armor but rarely had the forethought to protect. Loki's breath left him and he gagged a little at the pain radiating from his groin right into his brain as he fell forward onto his knees, gasping and clutching himself tightly. The other version was distracted fighting Captain America and dodging the jet's weaponry, but that made the one in front of Darcy all the more weakened. She bent forward a little and grinned triumphantly.
"See? There are more effective ways of communication," she chided. He glanced up at her, still panting heavily with tears of agony streaming from his green eyes. She took a step backwards, ready to escape after a few more moments of gloating. "I didn't even have to tell you to kneel and here you are all submissive and everything."
"You will know pain thrice this terrible by the time I finish teaching you manners," Loki threatened as he began to stand. Darcy frowned and darted in the other direction. She halted as she noted that he had appeared behind her and was now standing directly in front of her as well. He grasped her by the throat and leaned closer to her face. "This mark is not nearly enough for your heroes, for your friends in higher places," he observed. He took her head in both hands and squeezed painfully at either side of her head at the temples. She grunted as he released her, unaware that now her eyes bore a soft blue glow just like Barton and Selvig's. He smiled and chuckled. "Oh the things they'll do to you."
"Will they be any worse than when I . . ." Darcy began. Suddenly, the version of Loki that had been facing her disappeared and the loud, pulsing sound of AC/DC began to blare over every available loudspeaker. Darcy looked around in confusion as 'Shoot To Thrill' filled the atmosphere. She heard another strange sound and then heard a hard object collide with the ground. She turned back to where the real Loki had been battling with the captain and gasped at seeing the red and yellow armor of Tony Stark's Iron Man. She grinned brightly and clasped her hands together. She had held Stark in high regard after he had gone from creating weapons en masse to producing clean energy and other humanitarian efforts, the epitome of human change and real enlightenment. She watched as he raised both arms towards Loki who sat holding his side from the injuries inflicted by both the captain and the girl.
"Make your move, Reindeer Games," the armored hero challenged. Loki sighed and raised both hands as his helmet and armor suddenly faded in a golden glow. Darcy frowned and watched as the captain and the armored hero joined one another, standing in front of him with strained victory. The armored hero lowered his own weapons and replied, "Good move."
Loki suddenly grinned and glanced over his shoulder. "Come along, Darcy," he said loudly from a distance. She froze as the eyes of both heroes suddenly fell on her and they looked as though they were appraising another enemy and not a civilian in danger. "We're not finished yet, you and I."
Darcy tried to speak, to say something to defend herself as the captain approached her looking stern and determined. She stepped backwards and raised both hands. Rogers quickly slipped his shield behind him and held out his hand. The two couldn't see the glare that Stark was giving them, clearly not feeling the same instinctive compassion or trust for the girl after having seen the photographic images of those that had been enslaved by the trickster. The Captain seemed to think that there was something different about her, something else. He suddenly stopped moving and continued to hold his hand out towards her, trying to remember from the dossier what the names of Loki's captives had been. He had remembered reading and being particularly disturbed by the captivity of a young girl who had been assumed dead after being terribly wounded, the one who had tried to flee with the Tesseract and get it to safety in the first place. Darcy stared back at him in similar confusion as a slight smile crossed his lips.
"Darcy Lewis?" he asked cautiously. Her heart skipped yet another beat. Her name sounded wonderful in his handsome voice, but it was more importantly being spoken by someone with the potential to undo whatever had been done to her, stop this crazed immortal from his determined chaos, and save Dr. Selvig as well. She breathed deeply and nodded. He stood more upright and nodded to her. "I'm Captain Steve Rogers of the United States Military," he added. "And I'm here to help."
She raced forward and threw her arms tightly around his enormous body as best she could and breathed shakily. Rogers put one arm around her, turning to Stark and nodding. Stark grabbed Loki by the shoulder, hoisting him to his feet as the jet landed and readied to take its passengers to the helicarrier. Darcy breathed deeply as an uncontrollable few tears streamed down her cheeks with a few appropriate sobs. "Thank you," she whispered as they began to walk. Rogers glanced down at her and frowned a little and then towards Loki who smirked proudly and winked at him. Rogers narrowed his eyes as he helped Darcy onto the jet and helped her to sit. She seemed to be shaking terribly and she was extremely warm for someone in shock. As the two finished placing the safety belts around the two new passengers, Darcy clutched Roger's hand and looked deeply into his eyes. He shuddered a little at the sight of her strange blue-white eyes, but ignored the disgust in the name of manners; she was still just a kid and a young girl at that. "Where are we going?"
Rogers looked over at Loki and frowned. "Somewhere safe, ma'am," he replied flatly, not wanting to give anything further to the real enemy and his obvious captive. He gently squeezed the girl's hand before he hurried over to where Stark stood, contemplating the situation. Darcy frowned and sighed, clutching her hands together as she sat across from the trickster. Loki smiled at her, his eyes flashing with a terrifying calm for someone being held prisoner. He chuckled and shook his head as he stared at her.
"What's so funny?" she said angrily.
He leaned forward, replying in a tone so smooth and casual that it seeped into her skin and seemed to freeze even the inflamed flesh around what she assumed was a swollen wound. "There is nowhere safe, Darcy," he replied softly. Her heart sank as she realized that he had some sort of plan for being taken captive, this had not been a victory on their part at all. "Not from me."