Hey, guys! Sorry I didn't warn you about the lack of chapter yesterday, but this one is SUPER long to make up for it. I would've been longer, but my dog died today, and I couldn't really make myself do anything more than edit. It's a good distraction, though, so I'll almost certainly post tomorrow.
Disclaimer: not mine
Warning: swearing.
Tony had been woken up by cold water exactly three times in his life.
The first was the (only) summer that he spent at a camp for privileged young men while his father went on a tour to promote some new Stark-Tech. The older boys had decided that a hazing was in order, and Tony had been roused from a sound sleep when two of them dumped a bucket of icy pool water on his head. His subsequent reprogramming of every computer and television screen to read "Jackson and Mark are Dirt-Sucking Nincompoops" (He was eight, okay?) was what had led to his expulsion from the camp (a serious punishment, yes, but only because nobody could figure out how to fix said computers and televisions.)
The second time was when he had somehow ended up passed out in the entry hall of Buckingham Palace during a drunken romp (that, incidentally, began in L.A.). The guards were not amused that he had hacked their passcodes after ingesting nearly two bottles of whiskey on his own.
The third was when he had fallen asleep during a crucial Stark Industries board meeting that his father had allowed him to sit in on. The person throwing the water had, in fact, been Howard Stark.
This was the fourth time.
Tony jolted upright with a colorful swear, swiping at the water in his eyes and the light that seared his brain. Voices mingled together into a senseless roar (or was that an actual roar?) as Thor thrashed at his side. Tony's head gave an almighty throb, and he toppled forward onto the carpet and emptied the contents of his stomach onto what his blurry eyes identified as two very bare feet. Another shriek assaulted his ears, and Tony's eyes squished shut as though they could lock the sound outside of his head. The water's chill soaked through the suit and added to the post-vomiting shudders that emanated from his spine.
Eventually the cruel noise dulled slightly, and Tony managed to swallow the foul taste on his tongue and growl, "The lights, JARVIS. Turn off the fucking lights."
There was a burst of voices that brought tears to his eyes (so fucking loud) before the red of his eyelids went black, and he eased open his stinging eyes.
Pepper was kneeling beside him, her face distraught. "I'm sorry, Tony-" (at least she had the good sense to whisper) "-I told him not to, but he wouldn't listen..."
"He threw up on my feet!" An angry voice caterwauled (at least, that's what it sounded like to Tony's abused ears).
The vicious throbbing in his skull persisted. "...Advil?"
Pepper fumbled with a bottle beside him, and he managed to choke two down without water (although they both stuck unpleasantly in his throat). He blinked heartily before sitting back on his haunches, head cradled gingerly in his hands, to do a quick count of the people he was going to kill. (No, seriously.)
Clint was peering around the door frame, looking contrite (as he should), and Natasha was leaning against the wall beside him, looking a little smug and a little bored (although Tony suspected/hoped that "bored" was a front for "massively hungover like Tony"). Each of them had dark circles under their eyes.
And there was Pepper, of course, at his side. She was looking properly apologetic as opposed to Captain Rogers, who was picking something from between his toes with a vigor rarely found in this day and age.
On the couch, Thor let out a groan that seemed to shake the floors, and Tony was torn between being selfishly glad that someone shared his pain and telling Thor to shut his inhuman trap.
"Why am I drenched?" The Asgardian rumbled. Tony winced.
"The Captain over here got his panties in a twist when you two didn't wake up right away. Thought he'd teach you a lesson," Clint was a wonderful whisperer. Tony never really appreciated that about him until right that second.
"Fuck you, grandpa," Tony grumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Jeez. Okay, who wants to help me into the shower?"
Clint and Natasha chose that moment to bail, and Tony wished them all sorts of bad luck. Steve followed, muttering something about his feet before he slammed the door. Thor let out a pained roar, and Tony's stomach lurched again.
Pepper, lovely Pepper, was able to shove Thor's ale-trough under his nose before he puked again (though he suspected it was for her own benefit- she was rather close to the line of fire).
"Cover your ears, Tony," she whispered once he'd finished. He acquiesced, but her regular-volume words were still remarkably clear through his palms. "JARVIS, call the Captain back so he can help Thor."
Tony bravely uncapped his ears a bit to catch the response after a few moments.
He is rather unwilling, Ms. Potts.
"Tell him to stop being a baby and that it's his fault to begin with." (Must I use your exact words, Miss?) Tony felt a surge of affection amid the nausea before she tried to make him stand up.
"No, no, don't want to... carry me?" He opened his arms beseechingly, but she didn't bat an eye.
"If you want my help, get off your ass."
Pepper deposited him in his shower a few minutes later (lights on the lowest setting, of course) and turned on the spray before leaving with "I'm not going to wash you off, so get moving." She did, however, fill a glass with tapwater and leave it just outside the shower stall. Tony downed it in one, cursing her and blessing her in the same breath. (Then he moved on to cursing the Captain.)
He stripped off his then-sodden (likely ruined) suit and kicked it into a corner of the shower stall. As he struggled to scrub the stench of the ale from his body, he marveled at the smooth, clean skin that was entirely without bruising after Loki's bizarre face-grabbing thing.
He held up his left wrist to examine in the dim glow of the arc reactor. The gauntlet was about four inches long, and it wrapped rather firmly (and conspicuously) around Tony's arm. The metal wasn't glowing green or sprouting spikes, but it was probably magical. (Most teleporting devices were, after all) Maybe Loki could even monitor him though it.
Tony put his mouth beside the cuff. "Oy, antler-brain. Do you copy?"
There was nothing but the sound of water hitting the floor and his skin for a while, and Tony jumped (and almost slipped) when JARVIS said, Were you speaking to me, Sir?
"No, no, not at all. Just testing a theory." Still, he treated the cuff with care during his showering/goatee-trimming/Advil-popping/coffee-brewing routine.
By the time he'd exited the bathroom, he was feeling quite a bit better. His headache had dulled, and his eyes weren't quite so sensitive to the light. He was even a bit hungry. "JARVIS? Heat up the waffle iron for our hangover special. I have a feeling Thor'll want some, too, godlike metabolism be damned."
Certainly, Sir. Additionally, you should be aware that there has been a significant decrease in temperature in the general vicinity of your dresser. The cause is unknown.
"Decrease in-?" Tony stopped, his hand hovering by the door's fingerprint pad, and turned to look at the dresser in question. With a jolt, he remembered the flash of cold that preceded Loki's entry in the Player Correspondence section. "When did it start?"
It became tangible shortly before you were awakened, Sir.
"Gotcha." Tony yanked open the tie drawer and winced as he rifled through the frigid silks and cottons. "Jeez, that's cold. JARVIS, what temperature is this?" As his fingers met the binding of the book, the blistering cold dissipated from the cover. Still, Tony's breath made a cloud in the air by the dresser before he stepped away.
The coldest recorded temperature was negative twelve degrees Fahrenheit.
"Shit," Tony hissed in awe. He turned the book over in his hands- it didn't feel the least bit chilly anymore. "Well, let's see what's new, eh?"
Shall I turn off the waffle iron, Sir?
Tony bit his lip and looked at the clock, then back at the book (Waffles vs. Loki: a match to the death). "Yes... But turn it on again in thirteen minutes and get my attention after fifteen." (Certainly, Sir.) He flipped quickly through the pages, looking for anything unfamiliar. It was easily spotted- there was a small cluster of new messages on the Correspondence section.
The second Challenge of the Game will take place at some point in the three days that follow this one.
Be prepared.
Well, that was handy. And still pretty vague. (And also kind of creepy... what was this, the Lion King?) Then, an inch below the first two, a third line read:
Enjoy the clues.
How nice. Clues. Tony flipped ahead in the book, but there was nothing but blank paper past the first few drawings. He returned to the Correspondence page, re-reading the lines. Something didn't quite sit right with him (more so than usual, anyway). It took him a minute for it to register.
He'd won the first challenge. He glared at the page, thinking. He'd won. The challenge had been to find Loki, and he'd found him.
Tony returned to the drawer, wincing at the cold as he rummaged around to find the pen that Loki had left him. He almost uncapped it with his teeth before deciding that, hey, this is a god's pen. Who knows where it's been? Once opened, he wrote:
I won the last challenge, didn't I? Doesn't that mean I get something?
He stared at the page for a long minute. Then another long minute. Then-
"Screw this, I'm getting waffles."
Tony was just about to close the book when a sudden flash of black made him stop short.
Your point?
Tony pressed the pen to the paper eagerly.
That means you owe me something!
He sat back, feeling self-satisfied until Loki's reply appeared.
You woke me for this trifle? You truly are dense. In order to receive compensation of your choice, you must address your desires at the Juncture of the Games immediately following the Challenge in question. You did not, and therefore you forfeit your boon.
Tony gaped at the paper, dimly aware that JARVIS was saying something about the iron.
You tricked
He stopped short and cursed. Of course Loki had tricked him. And now he couldn't even erase the angry, little-boy words that he'd scrawled hastily on the page. (Beside Loki's, his handwriting certainly looked like a little boy's.)
I did. Are there any other insights that you wish to impart?
Tony snorted, and almost slammed the book before remembering.
Why does the book get cold?
A moment later:
It is a means of attaining your attention. Once I have entered a message into the Player Correspondence page, your Book of the Game becomes ever colder until you place your hand upon it.
Oh. Tony thought about it and nodded vaguely to himself. On a whim, he wrote,
Does yours do the same thing?
The answer took a minute, and he could image Loki rolling his eyes at the page.
Quite the opposite. It becomes warmer. Now, if you have exhausted your supply of questions, I have important matters to attend to.
Like what? Tony wrote hastily, but when a minute went by without a response, he knew that Loki was ignoring him.
He shut the book with a sigh, a pleased smile on his face. It slipped when he remembered that he'd been gypped out of a free prize, but he was still feeling pretty good. He'd gotten Loki to talk to him. That alone was miraculous, but Loki had actually answered his questions.
Sir? The iron is heated to your specifications. I recommend that you begin the preparations for your breakfast.
"Coming, JARVIS."
He took a moment to think about Loki's unexpected attitude. Tricking Tony out of his win? That was typical. But this?
Tony thought back to the night before, trying to remember what Thor had said. It was fuzzy at best, but after years of binge-drinking, last night's endeavors were nothing. He remembered Thor carrying on about how sad he was that Loki was acting this way, how Thor had described his brother as artistic and misunderstood (Tony's heart seized up for a moment when he remembered Thor's description of his father's actions). Something about playing the game in teams, and ending without death.
Then Tony's headache returned, and he snatched the bottle of Advil off of the top of the dresser as he shoved the book and pen back into the tie-drawer.
When he returned, he was burdened with glorious waffles.
It was one of the wonderful things about being a genius. He could invent something that would make endless waffles for him, or he could program JARVIS to make them, or any number of other things that would get the waffles to his mouth. But there was something about pouring the batter into the scalding pan and pressing it closed, listening to the melodious hiss of the iron as it turned the waffle's crust into the perfect, crispy, golden shell around the fluffy white insides. It was a ritual that needed no technology to aid it.
Tony had narrowly evaded the Captain in the kitchen, catching a glimpse of him through the closing elevator doors. Choosing to eat upstairs had been a fantastic idea, because all food items tasted better without the seasoning of Captain Buzzkill's annoyed lectures.
The first bite of maple-y, buttery goodness was already in his mouth when JARVIS asked, Sir, do you intend to visit the results of the internet-database search for the keywords "Loki" and "games"?
Tony swallowed reluctantly before replying. "I had you search for that?"
Indeed, Sir.
"Huh. Well, pull it up on the screens at my desk, please." Tony shoveled more waffle into his mouth as the three screens came to life with articles and pictures.
There was little found involving the combined keywords. Shall I search for something a bit broader?
"Yeah... go for just 'Loki' and sort through all the recent articles to get to the relevant stuff. Myths, that sort of thing."
Certainly, Sir.
Tony was disappointed as he scanned the pages that the first search had uncovered- there were some children's games from Norse cultures, some random blog posts, and one fairly disturbing Youtube video consisting of grainy pictures of Loki with the accompanying song "Love Game" by Lady Gaga.
"Scrap all of this, JARVIS, and show me the new stuff."
The images on the screens vanished and were replaced by old-fashioned texts and distorted imagery. Tony blinked at it for a moment before leaning back in his chair. "Give me the basics." JARVIS explained as Tony stuffed his face with waffles.
Loki is known as the God of Mischief, or the God of Lying. He has undergone reincarnation numerous times, most recently as the adopted brother of Thor- though, that is what we know from Mr. Odinson's testimony. Loki is notable because of his utter disregard for rules and boundaries, and for his tendency to become easily bored-
"Teff m' summfn n'," Tony called through a particularly massive bite.
...I beg your pardon?
With some difficulty, he swallowed. "We know all of that already. Tell me something new- something legendary."
And JARVIS did. The myths were confusing at first, and Tony kept asking for visuals on the names. The first few stories were pretty tame... until Thor ended up in a wedding dress.
Tony sprayed crumbs across his desk. "Oh, God, is there a picture? Please tell me there's a picture."
There is indeed a picture, Sir.
Tony burst out laughing at the old, hand-drawn picture of an irate Thor in a long, white dress (and a scowl to match Fury on his best day). Loki was at his side in similar garb, adjusting Thor's veil. "Oh, JARVIS, make that the ID picture for Thor on my phone, won't you?
As you wish, Sir. Shall I continue?
"Yeah, sure. Nothing could top that, though." Tony took another bite of waffle, still snickering.
It would also seem that Loki fathered and birthed several children throughout his more recent incarnations due to his ability to shape shift-
Tony choked.
After much coughing and much insisting that no, he did not want JARVIS to call Pepper, he asked, "Did you just say birthed? As in, gave birth to?"
I did, Sir.
Tony shook his head slowly. "Didn't really see him as the mothering type..."
Might I add that the births of his children did take place throughout his past life?
"So he probably doesn't have stretch marks. Wonderful." Tony imagined Loki, pregnant and cranky, and shuddered.
Before Tony could ask JARVIS to expand on it, someone began to hammer soundly on his door. "Stark! You've got a package downstairs."
Tony diminished the Loki-centered windows and grabbed his plate before making his way to the door. He opened it, relieved to find Clint instead of Steve. "A package? Here?"
"Yup. From D.E.F. Industries. Not too heavy, but Peps thought it might be something important, so it's waiting for you." Clint peered at him. "You wearing makeup or something?"
"D.E.F. Industries? Never heard of them. Maybe they're free samples or something." Tony ignored the last question as he slipped past Clint and into the hall. "You coming?"
The archer grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting a bit long. "I wish. I lost the coin toss with pretty boy down there, so I've got to check on Thor."
"Ouch, Good luck with that." Tony grinned around a bite of waffle.
"Thanks... seriously, man, what's with your face? You looked like you went ten rounds with a bull yesterday, and now you're all squeaky-clean." Clint's brows were furrowed.
"Oh. That." Tony thought fast. "Makeup. Lots. That's what took me so long. You seriously can't see anything?" He raised his eyebrows and blinked owlishly. Clint shrugged.
"Looks pretty good. Just don't go for the eyeliner, or I'll start to worry about you." Clint sent him a grin before heading off towards Thor's wing, and Tony breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Arriving downstairs, he came across Pepper, Steve, and Natasha, all of whom were eyeing a box the size of a college student's backpack. Steve opened his mouth, no doubt to say something scathing, but Pepper elbowed him and he closed it again. He still glared, though.
"Morning, darlings," Tony dropped his empty plate on the counter on his way to the mystery box. "Somebody got me an early birthday present?"
"Your birthday was a month ago," Natasha said dryly. "Remember? Two of your cars ended up at the bottom of the pool?"
"Early Christmas, then." Tony pulled open one of the utensil drawers and rummaged until he came up with a pair of scissors. "Has it been scanned? Nothing naughty? Wouldn't want the Captain exposed to anything, now would we...?"
There are no traces of harmful substances or devices. It should be safe to open.
With that, Tony flipped the scissors open and dug them into the tape, ripping the package open.
Inside was a number of individual packages wrapped neatly in what seemed to be newspaper. That was odd- for larger companies, there was usually more finesse than using the comics (though Tony couldn't see Garfield anywhere...). A small typed not sat on top of the packages, and Tony plucked it from where it sat.
To the Avengers, it read, who seem to have such a fondness for hiding the truth.
It was signed L. Astuce.
"O-kay, I have never heard of this man in my life. Or-" he glanced at the box, "D.E.F. Industries. Look 'em up for me, JARVIS?"
Certainly, Sir.
As JARVIS processed, Tony dropped the not onto the counter and began to pull packages out of the box. There was a small name printed on the top of each one.
"Catch, Cap!" Tony might've admitted to throwing a little harder than was necessary (and maybe aiming for Steve's face), but the Captain caught it without trouble.
"And... One for Clint. He can get it once he gets back from waking Thor... and speaking of Thor..." Tony set the two packages on top of the counter. "Ah, here we go. One for Natasha-" she caught it easily and turned it over in her hands, looking intrigued. "-one for... Bruce. Huh. Hey, Pots! You get one, too!"
Pepper caught it, looking wary. "Tony, I don't want to take Bruce's just because he isn't here. We can mail it to him-"
"No, that one's yours. I guess that makes you an Avenger, right?" Tony grinned before returning to the box. "Now, my question is, where's mine... Oh."
"Don't tell me- they forgot you." Captain deadpanned, beginning to rip at the paper.
"No... there's one for Fury."
Everyone's heads jerked upwards to look at him. "But Fury isn't known to the public," Pepper said in a hushed voice, as though the sender might hear. "How would they know to send one for him?"
Sir, I have searched every one of our national and international databases. D.E.F. Industries does not exist.
Steve dropped his half-opened package as though it held the plague, and Pepper looked tempted to do the same thing. Tony gulped. "Okay... then how about Astuce? L. Astuce? Just look up the word, I doubt it's a real name."
He set Fury's aside and reached for the last one at the bottom, the one with Anthony Stark written across the top.
"Hold on- you're going to open that?" Steve looked alarmed, not angry (for once).
"JARVIS said it wasn't harmful. Besides, I'm sure you know the saying about gift horses and mouths." Tony was about to rip into it when JARVIS spoke up:
Sir, the word "astuce" is French for "trick."
It took a few moments of the following stunned silence for Pepper to understand and fling her package away with a shriek. Tony looked at his with a newfound respect.
Enjoy the clues, Loki had written.
Tony ripped his open, oblivious to Pepper and Steve's warning shouts. Beneath the paper was-
-a wolf mask.
He dropped the newsprint carelessly on the floor and stared at the gift in his hands. It was made of simple plastic and had small slits in the wolf's yellow eyes for the wearer to see through. The animal bared its teeth, but it was obviously mass-produced and cheap. Tony frowned. He had expected better from Loki.
Glancing up, he saw that the others were regarding him with mixed levels of confusion and worry. He held it up wordlessly.
"Interesting," Natasha muttered. She opened her own in deft movements before anyone could tell her not to, and she displayed what she found: a tiger mask.
"I'll open yours for you if you want, pops," Tony offered, but Steve nailed him with a glare and snatched it up. He turned an odd, blotchy shade of red when he tore off the paper, and he reluctantly showed them his mask: a golden retriever's sweet face looked back at them (Tony snorted).
"JARVIS, see what 'def' means in French. Could be a clue."
"Def isn't a French word," Natasha told him. She was examining the mask in her hands.
(Oh, right. Fluent in French.) "What about d-e-f-i, 'defi'?"
She glanced up, looking contemplative. "Defi. Could be défi, which means 'challenge'."
Tony twitched at the word. D.E.F. Industries. défi. Challenge. How clever.
"So Loki's challenging us," The Captain said, rubbing his jaw and eyeing the golden retriever mast with distaste. Tony almost said "Me, not us," but he bit his tongue and resisted.
Instead, he said, "Potts, what's yours?"
Pepper eyed her package as though it was a snake, and after a moment, Tony went over and picked it up for her.
"Aww... That's just adorable!" He held it up: a kitten mask. She looked both insulted and relieved. "You and Rogers are the cute editions!"
They protested, but Tony found himself smiling broadly. Loki had them all nailed. (He didn't really get his own mask, though...)
"JARVIS? Call Thor and Clint and get them down here. They're missing the presents."
Certainly, Sir.
Steve was staring at Tony oddly. "You haven't forgotten where these came from, have you? They could have surveillance features, or poison, or, hell, they could turn us into animals, and you're acting like it's Christmas morning!"
"Seems a lot like Christmas to me, Cap. I'll run some tests on the plastic, no worries." (Tony did wonder what would happen if he put his on, though, and he ended up leaving it on the counter for the time being.)
When Hawkeye and Thor arrived (annoyingly, the only sign of Thor's drunken antics were the dark circles beneath his eyes), they reacted quite differently. Upon hearing that the packages were from Loki, Clint whipped out an arrow and aimed it at his package, looking rather savage, until he finally heard that Natasha was saying "not harmful" over and over again. Thor was ecstatic. He ripped his open gleefully and roared in delight when he found a bear mask beneath the newspaper. He'd put it on immediately despite Pepper's shriek of caution, but when there was no bear-Thor sitting in his place after a few moments, they determined that the masks were safe to wear.
Once Clint got over his initial reservations, he opened his to reveal a golden eagle mask. ("I guess they were all out of hawks," Tony joked. No one laughed.)
After some hesitation, Tony had convinced the rest of them to let him open Bruce and Fury's packages to see their masks. Bruce was a rhino, while Fury got a lion's growling face. Again, each choice of animal was eerily appropriate.
When the rest of the team showed their masks to Thor and Clint, they had agreed that each mask seemed to suit its recipient. Upon seeing Tony's, Clint nodded and said, "I get it- you're a lone wolf." Everyone had agreed and moved on, but Tony's mind had stalled.
Lone wolf.
Lone. Because he was taking on Loki alone.
But that couldn't be right, he told himself. Loki had been on earth a few months- it was unlikely that he had picked up all of the nuances of their idioms and turns of phrase. It was a coincidence.
Still, the gleam of the kitchen lights on the mask's plastic yellow eyes did nothing to assuage his unease.
Intrigue, huh? I like this chapter, personally, and I'm really excited about the one to come. I have interesting ideas... *winks*
Thank you all for your patience and for your kind feedback! I really appreciate it.
Cheers!
BlackSheep