AN: Sorry this is so late! I had to rewrite this chapter a few times, and it was a lot longer but I decided to it break up considering a whole bunch is going to be happening very, very soon. I'm only planning on making a few more chapters, so I hope you enjoy climactic resolutions, because this is where it starts. Thanks for reading, and please follow, favorite and review!
oooooooooo
Chapter XI
Finality/Fatality
Indy pushed the pieces of hair that were falling out of her sloppily made ponytail as she rushed to stay in step with Clint. He had been moving increasingly hurriedly, which was unusual for him on a job. The times he did take her with him he was cool, calm, collected and maybe a little bit cocky. He was never one to not have confidence when it came to what he did best.
Today was different. Something strange hung in the air, making him uneasy and a shiver crawl up Indy's spine condescendingly. His eyes darted about the complex, the address given to them in an abandoned warehouse not too far from their street. Indy hadn't gotten a good look at it, but an air of familiarity was present, but it was easily suffocated by her anxiousness. She didn't have time to puzzle over their location, Clint already looked like he was pondering humanity's existence and about a million other things by his tense facial expression.
They breezed up onto the roof of the building effortlessly, scaling the fire escape easily. Indy followed closely behind Clint, matching his strides and watchful glances across the roof. He pulled his bow off his back before she could catch her breath once they were on the landing. She had always been crap at archery, much to Clint's dismay. She reverted to hacking the building's ancient security systems instead. He hated having her in the line of fire anyway.
"Clint, we're in," she whispered, cheeks flushing in the cold. He nodded in response, turning towards her from his crouched, alert position on the ground. She moved away from him, glancing swiftly behind them. The heavy, dark, uneasy feeling never left them, only making Indy more paranoid.
She shifted back behind him, making sure to close the heavy door behind them silently. Clint hadn't told her much about their current job, which meant he hadn't been told much about their current job. He didn't particularly enjoy working in shady commissions, but when they were tight on money his morals became a little looser. Indy found it all very demeaning, and hurt for Clint. He didn't deserve this, but getting real jobs was tough and there weren't enough good people left in the world. It was what kept them off the streets, and that was the only moral they clung to.
Indy scanned the room they had dropped into thoroughly, eyes lined with suspicion. It was a very large space, perhaps the entire length of the building. The floors were concrete, the rest of the building seeming to be industrial-made. It looked to be some kind of factory at one point. Long, tall windows stood out against the bland walls. They must have been on the second floor.
The tense quality of the room was palpable, unease rolling off Clint in waves, and Indy was getting the aftershock of it. The unlit room was eerie in an indiscernible way, like a nightmare you had forgotten but knew you had. Nothing felt right, and she fought the urge to hide behind Clint like she used to as a child. She instead checked the electric board of the building, messing with the wires and trying to set a stable connection. She tried to dampen the impending feelings of anger and grief that plagued her thoughts, origins unknown and influence hard to contain. This didn't feel right at all.
Clint lowered his bow slightly, eyes never resting in one spot. "We're supposed to meet an 'old friend of the boss's' to get what we need to for the job," he whispered, barely audible but the tension there all the same.
Indy didn't have time to let in a breath before she froze up, hands still entangled in frayed wires and heart jumping into her throat adamantly.
"An old friend is right. But it's one of yours, I'm afraid."
oooooooooo
No.
This couldn't possibly be happening.
The man that had destroyed his life time and time again was back, willing to throw his world on its head all over again.
The rage that flickered behind his eyes was almost uncontainable, growing like a crackling fire throughout his body. The primal need to throw himself at the man before him with unbridled anger and power was almost too much for him, to rip him apart until there was nothing left but the haunted memory of what had been done. He knew this wouldn't change anything, no matter how much his desire to see him dead was overpowering his reasoning. He had to be there for Indy.
God knows he wasn't there for Her.
"Why the hell are you here?"
oooooooooo
She felt like her entire body had been encased in ice, the chill of it crawling up her spine as if consumed her nervous system. She tried to breathe, remembering to take deep breaths. She could feel an asthma attack coming on, something she hadn't had since she was very little. She repressed it as best she cold, trying to gain control back over her body before she had time to react in an other way. She warily glanced back at Clint. He didn't seen to be faring any better than she was.
"Why the hell are you here?"
Her eyes snapped up as she heard Clint speak, voice rough with barely contained anger. Every part of his body was poised to strike, angry and alert. But more than that, he was closed off, like he was preparing for something, something that wasn't physical. But most of all, she could see he was scared.
She had only seen the Great Clint Barton scared once before. It was the day she had first clambered onto their roof, a few weeks after they had moved there. They had been mostly nomadic during her infant years, Clint having to take refuge from "old friends" from his past. He said it was because he had no idea how to take care of a baby, and he needed as much help as he could get. He said this with a smile. She knew he was lying. He was running. From what, she had no idea. But it was something she never asked about, because she knew what the answer would be. He, of course, was the one who taught her denial was everything.
He hadn't known that she had waddled up the stairs to the roof, or that she had been tipping quite precariously off the edge. She didn't see him until he had wrapped his arms firmly around her, eyes filled with fear and unbridled worry. He had told her to never go up there again, that it wasn't safe. But she did. Again and again. Because that was the one place she could think, tipping precariously off that roof. The focus to keep herself balanced was what kept her sane, she liked to think. Or not.
But this man made Clint Barton scared, and it made worry wrap itself along the ice encasing her body. The man before them didn't look like much, just that he had escaped some renaissance faire-haunted house. He was clad in black leather, green and gold intertwined along his odd garments. His raven black hair fell against his face, seemingly out of place. Everything about him was off, almost like he wasn't fully there. He stood with grace and confidence, but every part of him screamed of unbalance. His complexion was that of marble, cheekbones hollowed out pointedly and eyes unnaturally bright against the darkness around them. And yet the most haunting part about him was his smile. It broke out against the dark planes of his face, mocking and knowing all at once, like he had the schedule to the end of the world carefully tucked in his pocket. It unsettled Indy greatly, fear and worry trying to break out against the chill she had wrapped around herself.
"Well, it is lovely to see you again as well, Mr. Barton. You certainly have not changed at all," he said, his smile growing impossibly wider over his stark face, "I should know."
Indy snapped her head back to Clint, curiosity screwing her face up in confusion. This man spoke in riddles, and it rubbed her the wrong way. She stayed in her place among the shadows, her fingers thawing as she tried to think of a plan. Though this guy hadn't done anything threatening yet, she still wasn't going to give him any opportunity to mull it over.
"You don't deserve anything, especially not from me. I'm going to ask you one more time, what do you want?" Clint grit his teeth, while the other man didn't even flinch at the hate-filled sneer.
"Am I not allowed to drop by to say hello to a dear old friend of mine? That is quite rude of you, Clint. I am sure Natasha would have taught you some manners by now," he said softly, mockery lining every word like poison. Clint flinched, an angry scowl piercing through his well-mastered poker face. Indy could see he was playing into his hand, but she couldn't do anything about it now, much less wonder what the other man was referencing.
"What the hell do you want, you sick son of a bitch? I'm sure you have better things to do than try to emotionally torment me," Clint spat out, barely restraining from yelling at him from twenty feet away.
And yet the man still did nothing, hands furled languidly at his back, smile still playing endearingly at his lips. He paused, relishing the tension thickly filling the room. "I have some unfinished business, Clinton. I am quite sure your mortal mind would not understand it. I had hoped to use you later, but unfortunately you have grown stronger since my last visit," he hummed pleasantly, and with a quick flick of his hand, Clint was thrown into the concrete wall.
Indy gasped, still fiddling with wires hurriedly. She needed more time, but the moment the man's eyes sought her out in the shadows, she knew she had none.
"Come out, most elusive one. I think it is high time we meet, face to face that is," he grinned knowingly, and Indy equated then and there that if there was such a thing as Satan that this man was it.
She took one last breath of air, controlling her breathing as she stepped out from the shadows. She wore a determined face, sizing the man up from across the warehouse room.
"Do you know who I am?" He cocked his head curiously, like a vulture would a wounded mouse, mulling over the ways it could kill it.
"No," she managed to say, voice unwavering. Her hands balled into fists on impulse, taught to always be ready for a fight.
"You should," he chuckled, turning away from her. "Though it was quite long ago."
His riddles were frustrating Indy, patience thinning as her need to help Clint grew. She saw his blood out of the corner of her eye, and she itched to throw herself over him and drag them both out of here. This wasn't right, this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. It was wrong, but she had no idea why.
"Look, I'm getting really tired of your mind games. I don't care who you are, I just want to get my friend out of here, okay?" She tried reasoning with him, her flight instincts growing as her unease and desperation crashed against her in waves.
"I do not think you will be leaving here very soon, elusive one. At least, not through the door," he mused quietly, almost inaudible through the echoing room. He stayed facing the far wall, hands slipped behind his back as he surveyed their surroundings.
"I am Loki Laufeyson, once of Asgard. I have come here in hopes to destroy it, actually. It is called irony here, is it not?"
Her face twisted in concentration, trying to remember where she had heard of those names.
"I killed your birthparents in this very room."
The breath caught in her chest, and she tried to keep herself from falling into a fit of coughs. The shards of ice stabbed adamantly at her heart, and she refrained from leaning against the wall behind her for support, instead holding her frozen heart against her chest.
"Your father fell first. He was protecting your mother, though it did not do much good in the end," he smiled to himself. "She, however, was more difficult to defeat. I had hoped she would have followed your father easily after she knew he was dead, but it was quite true what they said of the infamous Black Widow. Heart of ice that never went down without a fight, I would learn," he paused, unaffected by the stillness of the room while Indy almost bowed over under it.
"Why?" Her eyes were closed, heat prickling at their corners as her face contorted in pain. She still held her hands against her heart as if she could keep herself together by the small defensive action.
"Why," he repeated mockingly, "because of you, stupid mortal. I needed you dead."
She almost keeled over, tears threatening to spill over. She wanted to join Clint on the ground, burrow herself under his arm like she used to at night when she couldn't sleep.
"I thought I could do the job before you came to be. It would have been so easy. I did not know at the time when your calling would come to fruition, so I thought the sooner I could get rid of you the better. However, things did not go quite according to plan," he retorted, sneer replacing his once knowing grin. "I did not know you had survived until years later. It was quite a blow to know I had failed, to say the least. I tried killing you many times after that. I am sure your… 'strange' fascination with tall buildings can attest to that," he paused to smile knowingly before he continued, "I had to wait for years." His haunting grin returned to his dark features as he turned around to face her once again.
"Happy sixteenth birthday, Indy."
It was only then that she realized that he wasn't the only other person in the room.
A pair of bright blue eyes glowed in the shadows, filled with nothing but emptiness.
They were ice, and they were the final blow to her heart before she finally collapsed, knees hitting the ground as the tears slipped over her eyes.
She kept her hands on her ribcage, holding her shattered pieces.
"Cairo."