A/N: I don't know why, but this chapter gave me a LOT of trouble. Loki's POV I tried keeping in character, and hope that third person works better than the first draft of this chapter, which was in first person.
Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I will never own Marvel. Perhaps that's for the best.
You Were Never Wise, Only Clever.
"I would be Dr. Grant. And you would be wise to cooperate." The menace in the doctor's voice held warning enough, for the blast of energy that came next Loki expected, but tumbled to the side regardless, clutching his head before he was aware the room getting grey, dots encroaching his vision before swimming beneath a sea of crushing darkness.
Domed ceiling, cold steel crossbeams curving in and out of the dimly lit room he found himself waking in. The fools haven't moved me. Were they afraid? Overly cautious of course, he was the God of Lies, Mischief and all that spoke of deception.
In his sleep, which Loki guessed was poison induced- years of childhood with Thor yielded many days when he'd test his dear brother's endurance at fending off the effects of certain poisons, which did prove effective on one occasion when Thor ate the wrong end of a barbed vine- Loki discerned the voices of the Avengers, broken but there.
In this room, he and another we're the only bodies apart from glinting steel tools and machinery along the walls.
"Our Prince is awake."
Grant.
He still wore the white lab coat, sitting casually in the corner of a room with a holographic screen close to what Stark uses in his labs. It pales in comparison, for what Stark used is saturated in colour and intrinsic depth taken from his own intelligence.
Grant is a beast, not a man of science. Loki knows the look of the deranged, the twisted man holding power too large for them to control.
He used to be that man. Loki knows how Grant thinks, and sees in the dim holographic interface floor plans of Stark Tower, a list flying down the side of different numbers and combinations of code.
More voices subdued as if through cloth, emotionally drenched in panic, worry, surprise, calm. These different variations telling Loki more about the situation outside the barren walls of Dooms labs, than Grant's sinister smile directed at the god. As if a smug I win was soon to follow.
Win against whom? Surely Doom was paying him well, if his clean cut suit beneath the white coat and polished black loafers indicated this man's status. Loki knew clothing didn't denote how rich a person was- Tony was a perfect example. The last Loki remembered Tony Stark had been wearing an old black Metallica shirt and threadbare jeans.
Even if the pay was not substantial, Grant as far as Loki knew had nothing against the Avengers or even his previous employer, SHIELD. There were no grievances laid or on account in Grants file that Loki had seen, with the help of JARVIS. He even had a wife, Samantha.
Dr. Grant's motives were unclear, but his actions weren't.
"Can't speak? Forgive me, but I thought it wise you hold your tongue until I tell you some things. My employer agrees."
Doom wasn't there. The corners were dark, but Loki knew the doctor was absent, off licking his wounds and crying like the mortal he is. Expertly, Loki kept his satisfied grin off his face. There would be time to gloat later, when his brother was among his company and could share in mocking and pummeling Doom into his highly polished floor.
The room was ostentatious, nothing so smooth and richly articulate as anything Stark owned. There was nothing personal, nothing misplaced or spoke of who Doom was apart from his work. Loki suspected Doom didn't have enough in him to live like the others, the mortals who swarmed Midgard and interacted.
Reclusive.
Grant was no such being. Even sitting in the rolling desk chair, studying his schematics and diagrams that was of no use to Loki, the god could see Grant was reserved much like his 'employer' but careful not to bring attention to it.
Then, as if a child were wasting away the afternoon with useless activities, Grant rolled himself over to where Loki still laid, hands bound with layers of metal and mouth gagged with a leather strap. "Loki, right? If you give your word you'll behave, I'll remove your gag."
Not even giving time for Loki to nod or indicate he would cooperate- there really was no other choice if he were to gain useful information- Grant forcefully and without regard to hurting him, tugged the strap over his head, discarding it across the floor.
Loki tried speaking, and Grant held up a hand. "Know that your brother is in some danger here, and I am the only one who can control the thing hunting him."
"You speak of her as if she were never your colleague."
There was no mistake in the doctor's eyes, he still cared for the woman he spent years researching with, and sharing triumphs and loses together. He thought of her as what… a daughter? A trusted peer? Loki didn't know. The flash of emotion was gone before he could put a name to it.
The doctor's eyes narrowed slightly before widening in mock surprise. "You know who it is?"
"Do not play games with me; it would be a grave blunder. Your intention was for us to figure it out. Have her gain their sentiments and pity as feeble insurance they would hold back and try to reason with a mindless machine."
Loki shifted, noticing Grant flinch slightly, hands tight in fists on his lap. So not a complete fool as to think Loki entirely powerless, yet still a fool. "You are wrong- the Avengers will give no mercy." Loki put enough conviction in his voice to convince the doctor what he said was truth.
Loki knew if Thor were to see the slightest indication in the girl turned monster's eyes he would stop himself from harming her- he had done it with Loki, and it hadn't ended well for either of them. Images of the Void had to wait, however, because Grant had rolled back over to the large desk after busts of static and voices lured him.
It would be easy for Loki to shed his restraints; meagre mortal devices could never truly hold him. Yet he refrained from it.
The motives behind this entire operation were misplaced- Loki didn't know the endgame, and there was no harm in pretending to be docile for more information.
Grant's voice held a calm anger, rolling off him, offensive. "It seems your friends are onto something-" Clearly. Grant was not just angry, he was irritated. Fuming. His finger ran across a part of the hologram and the volume turned up, voice hitting Loki hard. Only one voice could connect severed tendrils of mental control so quickly, to the point Loki reminisced hearing the Chitari in his mind before he could ground himself that he was out from under their influence.
It was Agent Barton. "Captain, don't share any vital info, I'm afraid this channel isn't secure anymore."
So the good Captain was not with his comrades? They had been planning on going to SHIELD…
Damn. Of course, that was what Doom and Grant had hoped for. Split up the team, and Loki for once had played into the enemies hands perfectly.
Luckily the doctor was submerged in tracking the signals, typing something out of Loki's field of vision. The god instead gauged how dire the situation was based on the Captains voice and not his disappointment that mortals had outsmarted him. "Affirmative. Don't worry about anything except getting to safety. Contact us when you're out."
Worry. As always, not for himself. His team was in danger, and from what Loki had gathered from previous transmissions, his brother was not in immediate danger. Agents Natasha and Barton were still in SHIELD, it was something to worry over, for Doom would not just let them go free.
Grant's pleased smile didn't throw Loki off guard; it only served to cement his suspicions.
Did Doom send someone to take care of the agents? How sorry they would be when the infamous Black Widow took them out. Loki had seen her spar, and even Lady Sif would be wise to decline engaging battle with the woman. And Barton was no delicate flower himself.
"Got it, Widow and Hawk out."
Grant twisted to glance at his prisoner before shutting the screen off. "As we speak, an army of Doombots are attacking SHIELDs main base. Same operations centre your friends sent Black Widow and Hawkeye. Not so wise."
It was pageantry. Jonathan Grant was nervous. Perhaps Widow and Hawk should have been dead by now, not able to answer their devices. Loki remembered the pulse of energy that had knocked him out not long before, Barton had used such a device strapped to his arrow, to help take the Helicarrier down two years previously.
Communicating should be impossible as Grants irritated demeanor implied. So the Avengers had done the expected- foiled someone's plan.
Remembering that he should be acting the victim, Loki coughs his way into grants perceptions again.
"Yes?" He is not pleased to be interrupted.
Say something about Galton? It would be Loki's pleasure. "Did miss Ryan suspect you? Is that why you chose her over Regina Wells?"
Damn if that wasn't the most pleasant reaction the god had gotten since his fall from the Bifrost.
Grant's eyes held nothing, no mirth, not even anger, only intense nothingness as if his words were so unexpected there was no time to playact.
"She suspected," Grant drawled, careful not to take his attention completely away from the screens in front of him. "Doctor Doom was invested in her cause."
"Her cause? Surely you joined in on her dream of relieving Midgard of war?"
"She was naïve. She believed her technology could combat all forms of war eventually. But us humans here on Midgard…" Grant scoffed at the word for his home, "we know it is impossible. War creates money, serves a purpose at a high price. Ryan- Galton," He recovered quickly, and again Loki strained to imagine any look of remorse on the faces for his words were monotone and devoid of care. "Was careless to a fault. Single-minded," Grant pulled up another screen, it seemed something was going on at Stark Tower, there was a blinking red light on the schematics, which Grant did something to remove. The screen returned to its peaceful gold and gray colours of running code. "Selfish… her search for power left her without it."
Power was his motivation. Loki recalled an article Stark's computer had provided for him.
"Dr. Jonathan Grant, experiments kill three in workplace explosion."
Grant was stripped of his position, his power of scientific influence.
Mortals, Loki would never understand them. He knew power, coveted it for the longest time even before the Chitari grabbed control of his ambitions and twisted them so far out of his reach that they could imbue him with their own will.
Grant was of a different purpose. he sought power to destroy, not rule.
"Why does that keep blinking?"
"Tony Stark is trying to get his program running. The A.I."
Loki chose then to act woefully befuddled. "A.I.?"
"Artificial Intelligence. It's a little beyond you, I know," Oh yes, the word for his personality Loki had heard Steve call Tony many times. Grant was being cocky. Believing himself above everyone else, and like a parent to a misbehaving child, would eventually explain thinking the child wouldn't understand.
As much mischief as Loki made, he was no child, and so Grant stayed true to Midgardian ritual and explained, "but it's what he calls JARVIS. I turned the A.I. system off, and have locked him into the Iron Man suit." Maniacal laughter didn't suit Grant, but the low timbre of his laugh gave Loki pause.
He had been one step ahead of the Avengers the entire time. One step ahead in every way.
Did he not see his fatal flaw as Loki suddenly did?
"He's trying to get back in. It's child's play… especially with Galton's programs at my hands."
There it was. For all of Grant's posturing, he was still just a bioengineer. Galton's had been the 'brains' handling code running across the screen mirrored in Grant's eyes.
It was borrowed intelligence. He had to have gotten it somewhere, and Loki knew the man was not an imbecile and would have discarded Ryan's original notes. Galton had been a genius, and all geniuses wrote in failsafe's. Selvig had, without even knowing it, a guaranteed way to close the portal the Tesseract had created over New York. It only proved no one had control of one's entire mind, only the worst aspects of it.
It struck Loki, in the odd circle his mind had just made, that Ryan Galton could still be in the machine, aware of what had happened, and was holding back.
It that why Grant looks displeased with the slow progress? The red dot continues to appear.
Loki needed to be sure, that was the case before executing what he'd been planning since he first woke. Loki needed to hear what was happening.
Good thing Grant was an imbecile and had left communications up while Stark was in his suit.
"Tony? Iron Man, is there a problem?"
"FUCK, this isn't happening. Cap I'm not going anywhere."
Loki knew it was too good to be true, because something else began to flash across grant's screen.
Transmissions from another site, and on the map it was far from the tower. "Black Widow to Captain America, do you copy? We're headed your way, thirty minutes."
It was fortunate the screen was holographic, the desk being upturned and the screen hovering there ominously, lighting the space just beyond Loki's vision. Colours bleed into themselves against grant's lab coat, readouts clearly posing a problem for his plans.
Widow was still speaking, calm and in control. "Captain, if you can hear me help is on the way."
"Not for long." Standing amidst the overturned desk and chair, papers and a notebook littering the pristine glossed floor, Grant sideswiped a tab on the screen, pulling up a set of nine numerical numbers in odd categories.
Loki focused on it, ignoring the ringing in his ears Natasha's continued wave created, echoing off the walls. Grant was tapping each sequence of numerals, turning them from a faint red to glaring green.
"Let's see the agents get out of this one."
The tone was too cool and composed in contrast to the deranged man that had raged out at learning Widow and Hawk had escaped whatever he had planned for them.
Once all the sequences were lit up, Grant pressed something else and stood back. Silhouetted against the lights, Grant took on the air of a man desperate for battle and had started a war in the process, reveling in his supposed power.
Loki was acclaimed to striping power from those who deserved no such thing, and his feral grin mirrored one he'd left behind on the Bifrost.
"Captain, if you can hear me help is on the way." Natasha clutched the radio close to her mouth, adjusting her headset for the fifteenth time since hitting open sky. Clint was pushing the Quinjet to its limits and still it was not enough. He just wished she;d quit it with the fidgeting- it wasn't like her and he hated when she did it. how could a man concentrate with the constant movement? It made his skin itch more than it had been at the thought Captain America might be dead.
Way to be pessimistic.
"Nat… the radio is unreliable." He said it more to calm her than himself.
"You know it's not."
The dark sky gave nothing away, even if it was daylight they were so far above the clouds that land would be impossible to view. The moon was full, making the tops of the clouds shine silver and the inside of the jet ethereal, the only source of light the control panels. This was the perfect place an aircraft could cruise, and Clint would have been enjoying it any other night.
Natasha went to try contacting their team again and stopped halfway through her first word, sitting straighter. The movement caught Clint's eyes, looking over to her catching something in his peripheral from the other side.
It was gliding beside them.
The signature wasn't Iron Man; it didn't have a signature they recognized. The radar did a sweep and nothing came up, not even a viable energy signature or distance.
Natasha was out of her seat, belt unclipped and swinging before Clint could even reach out to stop her.
"Nat, wait!"
Clint knew what it was, and when Natasha opened the back of the jet it revealed four more following in formation behind them, popping out of the clouds in swirling mist before levelling out. Punching the button to raise and lock the hatch, Natasha strapped herself into the co-pilots seat once more, forgetting about her attempts to reach the Captain in lieu of a better alternative- getting to Stark Tower alive.
Taking precaution, Clint switched channels to link directly to the server on Stark Tower, taking the yoke up again and manually switching off autopilot.
Natasha tapped in her code to arm missiles, and Clint felt the clunk of them emerging from their protective pods in the undercarriage. She then took the parallel controller and kept a thumb poised over the button on its hilt.
"Have they locked on?"
Natasha shook her head, they hadn't engaged. "I wish they would- but they're just following."
"Well that's no fun, is it?" Throwing a conspirator look to Natasha. The bots couldn't be allowed follow them to New York.
Nat nodded, and Clint found that peace between accuracy and action, raising the yoke up swiftly, pointing the nose of the jet up until he felt it shake against him, and at that point twisted and lowered it level to his thigh so the jet back flipped over the formation. His decreased speed met with theirs, ending up smoothly flying behind them, gaining speed.
One of the things broke formation, coming up against the belly of the craft with a metallic thunk.
"Clint!"
He knew that tone and engaged the ones still in formation but breaking fast, while Natasha rushed to open the dropping dock where the bot had attached itself- willingly letting it into the jet.
Clint wasted no time in activating what Stark had called "ode to the old days", a missile he had designed only for the Avengers Quinjet in case of emergency.
Doombots on my ass qualifies, Clint thought before pressing his thumb down into the controller, letting it up with a sigh of contentment. The missile broke apart halfway to its target, igniting in midair before zooming ahead and pinpointing bodily signatures.
It was the type of weaponry that needed no heat signature, one use only.
Now there was only the doombot inside the fucking jet Clint had to worry about. Switching to autopilot, he pulled down his bow from the overhead compartment and slung an arrow so fast it was flying in the air over Natasha's dipping head before autopilot had fully initiated.
The dip in altitude he had counted on, for Natasha had instinctively grabbed for a loose strap to the side, holding herself steady.
The bot had risen a few inches up into the pathway of the arrow, and with a little beeping noise it began counting down.
The bot grabbed Natasha's ankle, pulling her into its crushing arms, her groan and insuring kick threw them both back against the hatch.
Clint reversed his plans of opening the hatch and kicking the thing out before his arrow detonated. He needed to be quick, and his heart pumped blood so fast it was a cascading echo in his ears.
The thing had Natasha. Fuck me if that's going to happen. Pleading to himself that this would work, Clint yelled at her to grab something and hold on over the crunching of the bot flailing madly into everything it collided with, she jet lilting in the air as it compensated for the movement and weight. Already two steps ahead of him, Natasha was clutching a bundle of straps tied to the side braces holding equipment.
Whistling wind blasted through the aircraft as soon as Clint hit the controls to open the back hatch.
With both bay doors open, the bot's massive body took flight out of the back, dropping from sight until all Clint saw were flecks of dismembered bot shooting in all directions out of a ball of flame. Pieces of metal debris shot into the jet before Clint could close it, one of them embedding itself into the back of the pilot's chair he knelt beside.
The following silence and whirr of the bay doors locking into place was a comfort after almost being shot down by doombots left over from the attacks at SHIELD.
"Nat?"
The jet was righting itself, raising in the air and out of the clouds where it had plummeted.
"Mid-air fight is checked off my bucket list. You?" Her smirk was all the confirmation he got that she was unharmed. She wasn't the type of person to bring attention to the cuts on her arm or where her black suit was ripped in a few places along her torso.
Clint noticed, his eyes couldn't help but roam over her to mentally reassure himself.
Apart from the fright almost losing Natasha to an air-drop, Clint was fine. "I'm golden." He sat himself back into the chair, with Nat settling beside him.
Taking up controls again, Clint flew the rest of the way in silence.
Natasha had given up trying to contact Steve.
New York announced itself on the horizon in a display of bright lights reflecting against cool Atlantic water, and Stark Tower was easily picked out among the dots of buildings and descending rain clouds.
Dropping onto the top helicopter pad, above any buildings around it, Clint and Natasha stood at the edge.
Not even a cop car in sight on the streets below. The chilled wind blew Natasha's hair into her face and she held it back with a hand, gun ready to be used in her other. The streets were quiet, the disembodied sounds of cars honking floating u to them before being carried off in the quickly picked up wind.
Clint walked over to the door leading down and into the top floor of the tower- what the team called the 'go room', which held equipment and other things they usually grabbed before heading out on a mission.
One of Tony's suits would be in there, and Clint bet everything he owned that if he activated it, JARVIS would answer.
There was just the problem of getting the locked door to open, and repeatedly pulling on it wasn't working. Clint walked back over to Nat, who had crouched down and onto her stomach over the edge of the roof. It was in this exact position she had been two years ago, when Selvig spotted Loki's sceptre, that Natasha got an idea.
"Clint, grab the climbing gear out of the jet."
Her eyes reflected the light around them, and he saw what she did.
The penthouse lights were on, and the burly shadow crossing the balcony couldn't be mistook for anything other than the Hulk.
A/N: So, next chapter will have EVERYONE.
Nat and Clint are repelling down the side of Stark Tower to hopefully get into it. Thor, Steve and Tony are making an escape to… somewhere. Loki is planning a rescue, sort of. Doom is also up to something. What's going on with Bruce you ask? You'll find out next chapter.
Also, I've been asked if I could write a fic after I'm done this one to explain more about Loki being with the Avengers, like a prequel. I'm not opposed, but let's see how this goes first, yes?
I'm also going to see Thor 2 in about an hour, so hopefully that'll spur me into writing more.
Reviews are nice!