I'm rather starting to enjoy this staying up past 3:00am writing thing. It's fun.
Loki waits for Huginn to return.
Somewhat patiently.
His curiosity and talent for poking his nose into things had caused but one incident, that involved a bucket of paint he'd accidentally (no really!) knocked over, all over the counter, the cupboards, the floor, and himself.
Not wanting to lick the stuff from himself, he'd tried to run it off, tracking red paw prints behind him, splatters dappling the floor and smudges on the wall from where he'd tried to rub it off.
Perhaps he shouldn't have investigated what the strange-smelling can was, and shouldn't have been so determined to open it.
And now he smelled strange too.
He couldn't decide whether it was better or worse than stinking of fish.
When Huginn finally flies up through the drop beneath the glass cage, Loki is sitting there in ubiquitous shadows, waiting.
The raven makes a soft sound, somewhere between a gurgle and a cackle, as he drops a scroll at the cat's feet.
Loki pulls at the black bow with a claw and it slips undone, fragile as frozen petals it shatters on the ground, the parchment rolling open to reveal Hela's handwriting, full of sharp, deliberate lines that nearly tear through the page.
That's quite a risky gambit you're playing. But your reasoning is impeccable as always; your bargain weighty. I wouldn't expect anything less from you.
I accept your proposition, God of Mischief.
The expression on Thanos' face will be well worth it.
Loki purrs, and the parchment bursts into emerald flames.
He watches the edges blacken, spreading towards the center like ruination wrought by war and leaving dead lands in its wake, as it slowly curls in on itself, crumbling to dark gray ash and blowing away into the sky, where the particles condense to water and join clouds.
Huginn caws, fluffing up his feathers. Another game? He asks, ever eager.
Oh, that raven was such a playful creature.
It was how Loki had gotten it to assist him in the first place.
He'd been on the landing pad of the Helicarrier, watching the jet take off, as the raven had practically dive-bombed him.
Catch me if you can, Loki! Huginn had cried, recognizing a fellow frolicsome troublemaker.
Odin had always had problems with that bird.
I'll play Huginn, Loki had agreed, even as he licked a paw and drew it pretentiously over a black ear. But there must be terms.
Terms! The raven had agreed.
If I manage to catch you before we pass beneath the next cloud, you will do me a favor, Loki had said, curling his tail around his feet.
And if you can't catch me before then? The raven had asked, fluttering closer and perching on a jet, cocking its head at the cat.
Then I will do you a favor, Loki had answered, licking his shoulder.
Agreed, Huginn had said, taking off into the air, hovering above him. Go!
Loki had humored the raven for a time, leaping up and swatting the empty air, letting the bird cry its taunts and flaunt its wings.
Just before they'd passed under the next cloud Loki had caught him, jumping at the raven who dodged and the cat collided with the wall, pushing off with his feet to grab Huginn midair with his teeth and claws, the two of them spiraling back down.
Hearing what the favor was, Huginn had been only too eager to help, loving a bit of acting, the offer of food and an excuse to ditch the Allfather—the old man was such a bore.
The raven looks at Loki expectantly now.
Yes, another game, he says. Called be-sneaky-and-steal-shiny-stuff. You'd like that, yes?
Thus two black creatures crept and hopped through the sleeping Helicarrier, collecting bits of string, wire, ribbons, beads, metal washers, hairpins and the like.
Natasha steps out of her room and freezes, for a moment her heart pounding like a fist against her ribs as she's the red smeared everywhere—all over the floor, the walls...
Her rationality returns however as she notices the shade is to bright and shiny to be blood, and the chemical scent of paint reaches her.
She registers the paw prints then, and follows them back to the lab, a can of paint on its side on the floor.
Her breathing slowly returns to normal, and she wipes a hand across her forehead, glancing down to see the sweat streaked there.
That crazy cat.
How in the world were they going to wipe away all this red? She thinks, shuddering at the thought of what her ledger must look like.
Can you? Can you wipe away That. Much. Red?
There's a drip of paint from the counter to the floor, and she hears the wet splat in the ringing silence she's sure must be in her ears.
Because the silence is quite literally ringing.
"Gave me quite a scare, all that red paint."
Natasha glances up to see Clint in the doorway, and she gives a tight-lipped smile. "Me too," she admits.
Bruce walks into the room then, looking a little green as he rubs some red paint between his fingers, sniffing them as if to make absolutely sure its not blood.
"Okay, who left a bucket of paint on the counter?" he asks.
The assassins both shake their heads, looking as perturbed as he does, eyes lowering to the floor as if their eyelashes could hide the shadows behind the colored depths.
"I don't know, but I'll slap them for you," Clint offers.
"Please don't," Tony says, entering the lab as well, frowning down at his now red socks. "It was me—I was touching up the scratches on my suit. Should've known better than to leave it out with that cat around," he admits, trying for a smile that isn't quite convincing.
"But at least he didn't knock over the gold paint," he tries for some optimism.
"I would've preferred the gold, personally," Bruce mutters. "Excuse me, I'll be back after I go get some tea," he says, before exiting the room, brushing against Steve.
"I think I almost had a panic attack when I opened my door," the soldier says, as he sets a plate stacked with waffles down on an unpainted section of the counter. "Breakfast anyone? I hope you haven't all lost your appetites... but I did bring the maple syrup instead of the berry jam," he continues, as he sets a pitcher down as well.
"I'll have some breakfast," Tony says, walking over and pulling a plate off the bottom of the stack, grabbing a couple of waffle and drenching them in syrup. "Did you make these?"
"I did," Steve smiles, trying to keep his pride tuned down. "Phil showed me how to this morning. I burnt the first batch, but then I got the hang of it."
"Thanks for making breakfast," Natasha says, as she swallows down her memories and then washes away the taste with maple waffles, Clint following suit, nodding to the soldier in gratitude.
Bruce came back into the room with his mug of tea, to find everyone sitting on the couch (one of the only places not covered in paint) and eating waffles.
"You've got to try these," Tony mumbles with his mouth full, gesturing at the waffles with his fork. "'Ey're delicious!"
Steve is just collecting everyone's plates to take them to the kitchen when the monitor that's tracking the tesseract starts twittering like a mechanical songbird.
Bruce hurries over to it as everyone's heads snap up, staring at him.
He removes his glasses as he looks at the screen, expression pulling shock, eyebrows knitting together even as his lips part slightly.
"Oh my god," he says, meeting their expectant gazes. "It's in New York."
Thor awakes in the morning with a black cat sitting on his chest, and a black raven hopping around his pillow, cackling as it messes with his hair.
"What are you two doing?" Thor demands, shooting to a sitting position and sending them both scattering.
He shakes his head to rid his mind of sleep's clutches, only to feel things woven into his hair knock against his skin, and he quickly gets up and stumbles over to the mirror, letting out a loud groan when he sees his reflection.
His shoulder-length blond hair is woven with ribbons and strung with beads and strange metal objects.
"Loki, you put Huginn up to this, didn't you?"
The cat rubs against his legs, purring, as Thor tries fruitlessly to get the stuff out of his hair.
He sighs, wondering if one of the humans will help him.
Huginn thinks it looks wonderful on you, Loki says, leaping up onto the bed to stare at the thunderer.
Thor's mouth pulls down in a frown as he turns to glare at the cat.
"And what do you think?" he dares to ask.
I think your facial expression is hilarious.
That only caused Thor to glower further, eyebrows lowering over his eyes as he crosses his arms over his bare chest.
Suddenly Loki's ears perk up, and Huginn utters a caw announcing his departure and that he better leave before Muninn gets too worried and sweeps out Thor's partly opened window, before there's a knock on the door.
"Thor!" Tony's voice calls. "Thor, get your ass out of bed! We've located the tesseract!"
Thor walks over and opens the door, the human almost crashing into him.
Tony's dark eyes are wide and alarmed, brown hair sticking up all over the place. He opens his mouth to speak, sees the thunder god, and then blinks.
"Dude, what is up with the hair? And a word to the wise: don't ever walk around in just sweatpants, because women will swamp you."
"Ah..." Thor stammers, face flushing.
"Never mind," Tony cuts him off flippantly, "Just suit up and meet us on the bridge. You can grab a waffle on the way."
"So," Clint says, cleaning his bow as he sits in one of the chairs on the bridge. He looks up at Fury. "Is there a reason why we're gathered here? Because I have unfinished business with an alien, and I'd really like to figure out whether he has eye sockets."
"I have to agree with bird boy here," Tony says as he walks into the room, suit-case in hand. "Less talk and more action. You're not going to try to give us a push, are you? Because I have mine already: Stark Tower is Pepper's baby. She'll kill me if anything happens to it," he explains. "I'd rather like to live, thank you very much."
Natasha comes in already in her catsuit, guns holstered at her sides.
"Nat?" Clint asks, looking at her with a confused expression. "What are you doing here? You're not really going to wade knee deep into a war..."
"I'm in," the Black Widow says curtly, leaving no room for questioning. But as she walks over to stand next to the archer, she says, so quietly only he can hear, "I've got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out."
He can practically see the red flash before her eyes, gaze cast down for but a moment, and he nods.
Bruce hurries onto the bridge next, followed closely by Thor.
"I'm sorry it took a few minutes," Bruce apologizes, reaching up to fiddle with his glasses only to remember he'd purposefully left them in his room. "I had to change into a shirt I didn't like quite so much."
"I will smite The Other for what he did to my brother," Thor declares, fingers twitching towards his hammer. He notices their raised eyebrows and adds: "And anyone who makes fun of my hair."
The other Avengers glance at the ribbons and metal washers, all wisely electing to say nothing to that.
"So what are you waiting for?" Agent Coulson asks, receiving a glare from Agent Hill which he ignores.
"Go kick some alien arse," he says, expression completely serious.
"You heard the man," Tony says, dropping his suit-case and flipping it open, stepping onto it, the mechanisms forming along his body like scales, clicking into place.
The faceplate drops.
"Let's move out."
Thanos stares out over the hundreds of ships of Chitauri, leviathans stirring restlessly against the backdrop of galaxies just begging to be conquered, as they hover around the mothership.
The Mad Titan waits for the portal to open with anticipation; once the battle on Midgard is fully raging, he can make his move against Asgard.
And there will be no thunder god to protect it.
So now we know a bit about what Thanos is up to... just a little bit... (well, it's obvious to me, since I'm the author... I'm not quite sure how much I've given away though...)
And of course, thank you myriads for all your support! (I apologize for not being able to reply to all your lovely reviews - my internet has been super slow today and it takes forever to do anything. It's driving me crazy XD But do know that I appreciate every single review ^.^)
Let me know your thoughts on this chapter!
