Crimson and Viridian:
Everything Burns
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: FrostIron (Loki/Tony), canongirl!Tony Stark(i.e. Natasha Stark), and the rest of the Avengers movie cast.
Warnings: For moar violence, and fresh romancin'. Also, movie spoilers, obviously, and in a major way. Spoilers for various events throughout the comic-verse, including Civil War, Dark Reign, and Siege.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Well, except Earth-199990, but that's pretty useless to me without all these great Marvel characters.
Notes: Amora.
Chapter Twenty:
They Want To Push Me Down (They Want To See You Fall)
There is no concept for time within Natasha's workshop. There's a vague sense for time past, but Bruce would not be able to say whether it was night or day. He knows, however, that even before he'd ventured into the lower depths of the Tower, Natasha had been burrowed with her machines for hours after her day in the labs.
"No rest for the wicked," she'd proclaimed with a wink and a grin.
As Bruce watches her work, he can't help but be impressed with all she'd accomplished in his absence.
"You … don't want to take a break?" Bruce asks, grimacing as he hears the controlled click, then hiss, as the needle in the hand gun punctures the skin of Natasha's inner forearm and inserts the cybernetic implant. Five distinct spots of blood bloom in a track down her arm before she wipes them away and sets the hand gun aside. "Have you even slept?"
"Einstein slept three hours a year," Natasha mutters, eyes darting around her station as if searching for something.
Bruce studies the pinch between her brow with a frown of his own, sighing quietly when she flexes her left hand to test the feel of the implants. "Exactly what is this all for, anyway?"
"It's just a prototype," she shrugs, distracted by her thoughts. "Essentially, it's for a convertible suit that, unlike the full body variants, will make it easier for me to change while in the middle of battle. It's broken down by sections that are able to identify me at any location." She cants her head to one side, then holds out her left arm for inspection as she says, "These implants help the suit triangulate the distance between individual units and myself. Using the parallax method, JARVIS determines the distance and the velocity at which each mobile piece must travel to reach me. Without ripping me apart. The longer the distance, the greater the risk. There's five implants—arms, legs, and torso."
"Which suit is this?" Bruce wonders, twisting back to study the hologram of the suit suspended above Natasha's desk.
"The Mark Forty-Two."
Bruce frowns, shooting her a concerned look she doesn't see because she's slipping on her visor, monocle glowing arc-reactor blue as it comes online. "How many suits are you working on?
"Presently?" Natasha's lips twist in a fleeting smirk. She moves around the desk, heading for the open testing area of the workshop. "Four. The Forty-Two, the Extremis suit, Loki's suit, and the Space Armor."
"You have a problem," Bruce mutters, shaking his head. Then, with a start, "Wait—Loki's suit?"
"I call it the Chaos Armor," Natasha declares, pivoting in a circle as she scans her immediate surroundings to make sure the area is clear.
"How original," Bruce snorts, turning to face her monitors. The specs for the Mark XLII are up, the holo representing the suit as complete while the actual armor sits in sections on the workstation directly in front of the desk. "What's it do?"
"Right now, its main operational feature is its ability to utilize Loki's magic as energy to fuel it," Natasha explains, holding out her left hand and wiggling each finger. "He wasn't too keen on letting me study his magic. I wore him down eventually, though."
"I'm sure you did."
Natasha's glare is sharp and swift as it's fixed upon him. Bruce pretends not to notice, studying the complex algorithms JARVIS is churning out as the Mark XLII begins to respond to Natasha's implants.
Crossing his arms, Bruce studies the numbers with interest. "So, I'm still trying to catch up on what happened in Lower Manhattan."
"It was a mess," Natasha shrugs, balling her left hand into a fist and punching the air directly in front of her. "But it did provide us with one unexpected benefit."
"What's that?"
"Recruits. For the Avengers."
Bruce frowns but Natasha isn't looking at him, instead scowling when her various hand gestures fail to provide a response from the Mark XLII.
"I didn't realize you were recruiting. Or that you were so invested in Fury's pet project."
"More Steve's than Fury's, now. And mine. Fury all but relinquished the leash to us."
"To the both of you? Why?" Bruce snorts, incredulous. "That seems … counterproductive."
Natasha doesn't answer, distracted—glares at the armor set sitting across from her on its station and then thrusting out both hands. At once, the repulsors and thrusters on the various armor sections ignite. She claps both hands to her chest. Suddenly, thirteen different sections of armor are airborne and rocketing towards her.
A gauntlet catches her left hand like a slap, jolting her arm backwards. It nearly knocks her off her feet, but she steadies herself just in time for a pauldron and adjoining rerebrace to clamp in place on the same arm, articulated plates from each module reaching out to jointly create a flexible elbow connection between them. Each armor segment strikes her with enough force that Bruce expects there will be bruising in some places. The pelvic piece makes him wince, but it's the chest piece that has her knees nearly buckling as she scowls and hisses a curse at JARVIS to slow down.
Bruce rounds the desk when he sees that she's nearly completely covered as the solid plates extend over her limbs and neck, stitching together to create a full suit that is sleeker and far more adaptable than previous Iron Women he's seen, the color scheme inverted so that the gold is dominant over the hotrod red. Only the visor is missing—and a rattling at the station gives him a moment of panic when he sees the faceplate shuddering on the table.
"That seems—" He's interrupted as the faceplate suddenly rockets into the air, shooting for Natasha. With a jolt in his stomach, Bruce borrows on the quick reflexes of the Hulk, catching the visor in midair. "—seems dangerous," Bruce says on an exhale, closing his eyes and willing his heart rate to slow.
"Yeah," Natasha drawls, completely unconcerned. "That's what the testing is for. Thanks, though."
Shaking his head, Bruce exhales again before heading for her. Natasha juts out her chin, smiling, and Bruce moves the faceplate into place—listens for the micro-gears locking together before removing his hand.
"Thanks," Iron Woman says, rotating her shoulder joints and stretching her neck. "My girl still has some kinks, but she'll be flying with the rest of her sisters in no time. Also, I lied."
Bruce blinks—needs a moment to register a second sentence meshed seamlessly into the first. "What?"
"It's five suits. Not four. But—I didn't think you'd approve." Iron Woman shrugs.
"What's the fifth suit?" Bruce frowns, dread nagging like an inky swirl at the bottom of his belly.
"Hmm." The thoughtful hum sounds strange through Iron Woman's synthetic vocals. "I'm calling it the Hulkbuster."
Bruce lets the words sink in.
Expression dissolving, he intones, "You're an idiot."
"It's an Iron Man, so it's not like I'd even use it. It'll be completely vacant." The visor drops and Natasha smirks, reaching out to pat his cheek. "You know. Just like real men."
She laughs and turns away, shaking out her left hand as if still trying to get used to the feeling of the implants sitting just beneath the surface of her skin. Bruce can picture it clearly in his mind and it makes him grimace in disgust.
Absently, Natasha waves him off, her back to him as she lowers herself to a half crouch, half lunge. Bruce moves away, returning to the station just as the thrusters on her boots ignite. She hovers about a meter off the ground before dropping heavily.
"Was that five percent, JARVIS? Good. That's good." When she turns around, the visor is back up and Iron Woman says, "I used the data we gathered from your DNA, localizing the Hulk clusters for better analysis, to create a suit that—at the very least—could detain the Hulk long enough if the need ever arose. The Hulkbuster's exo-frame consists of impact-resistant carbon composite plating with magno-hydraulic pseudo-musculature to provide greatly enhanced strength. One hundred seventy-five tons. Onboard sensors are adapted to focus on detecting gamma radiations and it features a new anchoring system built into the spinal column. I mean—even if it ends up being useless against ol' Jade Jaws, it still kicks ass. I think."
It's impossible to feel any sense of relief when he knows that the Hulk's strength only ever grows—that there is no obstacle he can't overcome through sheer force of will and pure, unadulterated fury.
He smiles, though the expression looks weary, and sighs, "Well, I'm glad you're taking it seriously."
"Well—yeah. You thought I was just going to unleash the Hulk in the old IronWork's bunker and not have a plan?"
"Isn't that usually your M.O.?"
Iron Woman huffs, setting her hands on her hips in a comical image of indignant displeasure. "You wound me, Doctor Banner."
Bruce rolls his eyes, snagging the chair he knows is usually reserved for Loki from Natasha's desk and seating himself backwards on it. "Okay," he grunts, crossing his arms over the back of the chair. "So when are we doing this?"
"Well, you're fine, now. Right? Like—your little siesta. That all work out? You good?"
"If you're asking whether or not I'm on the verge of Hulking out—the answer is: I don't know. I'm fine, now. Canada was good."
"You were in Canada?"
"But there's a difference between the solitude one can find out in the middle of nowhere with only snow and trees for company—and New York City."
Iron Woman inclines her head in acknowledgment. "Fair point."
She's distracted again as she runs the suit through checks and Bruce swivels in his chair to watch the transparent monitors regurgitate the suit's specs. It's almost soothing—the rhythmic pace at which JARVIS works, swift and efficient. The wireframe of the suit displays bursts of red at various joints as Natasha test's their range of motion.
After half an hour, she's done and the armor abruptly clatters to the ground. She stands still for a second, staring down at the armor modules around her feet.
Then she releases an exasperated breath, letting her head hang. "Fuck. I gotta fix that."
He knows she's completely engrossed in her work with the suit, but Bruce is not nearly as fascinated as Loki would be so he says, instead, "So, aside from that mess HYDRA—it was HYDRA, right? The HYDRA—aside from that and the fact that they're recruiting supers for their cause—what's up?"
His words are vague because, in addition to the painfully obvious conclusion to the awkward (for everyone unintentionally involved) courtship between Natasha and Loki (that had evidently flourished in his absence), Natasha seemed involved in a number of different new projects and affiliated with a half dozen new groups and Bruce was having a hard time keeping track of everything that was going on in her life. For someone who had spent much of his adult life on the run with only a single purpose to drive him, it amazed him to see just how much work Natasha seemed instinctively inclined to bury herself under. Without even finishing one project, she was already moving on to three others, always pushing herself to achieve more before even allowing herself to complete a single task. It seemed insane—was insane—and a part of Bruce envied her a life and existence that provided her with the luxury of time.
"What do you mean?" Natasha mutters, purposely oblivious as she makes her way to him, waving over DUM-E, then gesturing towards the pile of armor.
"I mean—Anything new? Aside from the proverbial shit hitting the proverbial fan?"
Natasha huffs, frowning, and shrugs, "Uh—there's a new Indian place that opened up down the street." With a grimace, she adds, "Zero out of ten. Do not recommend."
Bruce rolls his eyes, swatting her arm as she passes him. "I was being serious."
Natasha flashes him a smirk, removing her monocle carefully and setting it on her desk as she moves behind her monitors. Bruce turns his chair to face her, waiting, and she sighs, shaking her head and fluttering a hand by her temple impatiently, "Uh—ah—Cap called in. The Avengers got called on a Level Two upstate. The Melter and Radioactive. Sounded fun. Sorry I missed it."
Bruce frowns, interested. "They grounded you?"
She shrugs, nodding her head at a monitor as she brings up her schematics for her super villain prisons. Bruce doesn't linger on them long, trying not to think about whether the Hulk would ever prove enough of a threat to warrant permanent residence at one of the facilities. Or even if any of them would be able to hold something as powerful as the Hulk.
"Fury wants me to focus on my work and Steve doesn't think it's a job for Iron Woman. Or the Hulk."
Bruce ignores the second part and frowns. "So you're not going after The Melter."
"I'm ... too emotionally invested." Natasha mutters, pursing her lips. Her gaze shifts—staring into space as if seeing a memory. Then, she says, "S.H.I.E.L.D. wants him alive."
Surprised, Bruce whistles lowly. "You're stepping aside and letting S.H.I.E.L.D. handle this. That's a first. A lot has changed."
Natasha sniffs quietly, her expression stern as her attention is refocused to her monitors. "It's not as simple as it used to be."
"And Cap? Last I saw you two, you were barely capable of civility. Now he's Steve?"
Natasha shrugs. "The Avengers need us working together. We need to be able to provide any new recruits with a united front. All these rookie supers S.H.I.E.L.D. is enlisting for the Avengers Initiative barely know their elbow from their own ass. I'm not even sure I'm ready to classify them as Avengers. Something Fury and I agree with, it seems. They're too inexperience. Which is why they need someone like Cap to lead them."
"And you?"
Carefully neutral, Natasha studies her work, fingers moving quickly over custom keyboard.
"I'm no leader."
It's been a year since he's felt the might of Mjolnir crushing into his body—and he can't imagine how he could ever have forgotten its weight or its strength but it is clear to him in this exact instance that Thor has never before truly struck him with the entirety of his strength. When Mjolnir bears down onto his left side, Loki feels ribs snap and the rush of blood that bubbles up his throat and into his mouth—choking him for the second before it boils and thickens as ten thousand volts of electricity surge through his body.
He's fought Thor on many occasions—more so in recent years as their paths took separate courses and his schemes incurred the wrath of the Thunderer—and while he has always believed sentiment to be one of Thor's greatest failings, the agony is blinding and paralyzing because this is Thor's strength.
Thor, absent thought, a weapon possessed by the will of a wicked Enchantress—this is Thor absent regard or foolish loyalty to a kinship founded on deception.
This is Thor, Son of Odin—the fearsome God of Midgardian legends.
For a moment, Loki feels fear bubble in his chest when he feels a thick hand wind about his throat—and then the fear is gone and replaced by rage when he is viciously cast aside and the whistle of Mjolnir twirling sharply reaches his ears.
"How does it feel, Trickster? To know you are not as clever as you thought?"
Amora's laughter is delicate and deceptively sweet. As he lays immobile on the ground, electricity crackles over his skin and he feels the shift across his form to the icy blue of a Jotun.
Amora gasps. "So the monster at last reveals his true face! See, Thor! Do you see, my beloved? He is no brother! He is a beast!"
Loki does not wait for Thor to strike again—listens to the rumble of thunder that should not have been possible in the depths of space as his magic swirls about him like a protective cloak.
The last thing he sees before disappearing is Mjolnir's flat head, crackling with unspent energy, inches from his face.
Peter sits, crouched in full Spiderman ensemble under the cover of shadow, ducked beside a squad car as the operator rattles off incident reports. Many are minor acts of vandalism or misdemeanors—and while, normally, these would be just the sort of work he'd be interested in, there was something particularly ominous about this night. He can feel it in his bones and like a tingling at the back of his neck, itching and urgent and vaguely terrifying.
"All units, we have a ten-thirty-four and shots fired at the Capital One Bank. One-oh-Nine, Forty-Second Street . Unit to handle, identify."
"We'll take that. S'only a couple'a blocks from here." The squad car starts up, lights flashing, sirens silent.
"That ain't too far from Stark Tower, yeah?" The other officer wonders.
"Well, we betta' get there b'fore Stark shows up ta take all th' credit. Folks sta'htin' ta think there's no need for us cops with them super-freaks and them Avengers. Call it in," the disgruntled partner mutters.
Peter frowns, perturbed by the unwarranted hostility, but he remains silent as he latches onto the back of the vehicle as it merges into the light flow of traffic, sounding its sirens. In the distance, Stark Tower looms beside the Chrysler Building, and as they approach 42nd Street, the itching at the back of his neck feels more like clawing.
They round the corner and Peter peers careful over the side of the car to see that the street is eerily empty. There are no gunmen and the bank stands intact and completely in darkness. The night sky, heavy with pollution, retains the ambient glow of the rest of the city, so it's a moment before he realizes that the streetlights have been shattered in a wide radius around the bank, casting everything into deep shadow. The pebbles of glass along the pavement glitter as the squad car's headlights sweep over them.
Peter drops himself lightly to the ground as the car rolls to a stop in front of the bank. The officers exit the vehicle wordlessly, drawing their weapons and flashlights as they approach the bank's doors. Quietly, he moves back to the building across from the bank where he can survey the area.
His senses are on fire, blaring in warning.
Gritting his teeth, he crouches further, knuckles aching from the strength of his clenched fists.
His head throbs—senses overwhelming and frightening.
In the dead silence of the street, he hears something like a beep.
And then the front face of the bank erupts, knocking both officers backwards into their squad car with enough force to rock the vehicle on its wheels. Bright orange flames illuminate the street. The face of the bank sits as an inferno, blazing and violent.
Peter hears cackling overhead and he moves swiftly out of the way—hears a second explosion before he's registered that instincts have pushed his body into motion and he's darting from streetlight to streetlight as micro explosions follow his path with growing precision.
As if in anticipation of his movements, Peter barely throws himself to the side as the air in front of him erupts. He lands on his shoulder and grunts, rolling with the momentum of his fall and back to his feet.
Hovering above the ground on a pronged glider, a ghoulish green face sneers down at him. A mask, he thinks, though it is difficult to tell from where he stands. Absently, the man bounces an orange jack-o'lantern in one hand, looking down on Peter as if basking in a victory.
"Who are you supposed to be?" Peter snaps, irritated by the level of violence.
"Pest control."
Unimpressed, Peter does not remove his eyes from the jack-o'lantern, scowling. "You have a name I can give the nice officers when I capture you and turn you in to the authorities?"
The man smirks, looking left to the fallen officers and the burning bank. "You mean those officers?" With a grin towards Peter, the man sends a jack-o'lantern flying towards the vehicle, landing it neatly underneath the car. In a second, the explosion has Peter diving out of the way as debris goes flying, heat licking at his skin through the thin mesh of his suit.
It's everything he can do not to think about the officers (or what might be left of them), swallowing bile and stomping down on his terror as he hits the pavement with the amplified force from the explosion.
"You are a maniac," Peter grits out, pulling himself onto his hands and knees to glower up at the man.
"And you're—what? A hero? Is that what you're telling yourself, Web-Head?" The man sneers, drawing another lantern from a pouch at his hip. As Peter looks closer, he sees that the man's outfit is made up of a green armor that fits his body like a second skin, over which he wears a heavier purple chest plate and pauldrons. Shifting on his glider, the man says, "Call me Green Goblin if you need something to call me. And just between you and I—here's a little secret. Here's what it all means. You think you're leading this story, but you're wrong. Because those of us you and your Avenger buddies have labeled as the 'bad guys'? They will always win. Me? Killing you here? It's just perfect symbolism for the times. There is no such thing as heroes."
The Green Goblin is holding two lanterns, suddenly, one in each hand. He bounces them and grins maliciously as his glider brings him closer and—Peter is frozen, fear clinging at him like a weight. He feels the certain deaths of those officers pressing down on him and his brain seems to shut down—body unresponsive—
Loki materializes directly in front of him, standing tall and proud in his Asgardian armor. He doesn't even take a second to register the man hovering above Peter, and with a violent jerk of his hand sends the Green Goblin hurtling into the flames of the bank.
A beat.
And suddenly Peter can breathe again.
Exhaling loudly, Peter gapes up at Loki. "Holy moly, am I glad to see—whoa!"
Without a warning, Loki's expression flickers, belaying such an extreme emotion that Peter has trouble placing it—then abruptly he falls to his knees, clutching at his middle as if in great agony. Moved to action by the sight of the proud Asgardian in such a vulnerable state, Peter jumps to his feet and darts across the street to Loki's side.
"Whoa—man! Whoa! What—what happened?"
A crackling of thunder overhead seems to answer before Loki has the chance to. Urgently, Loki reaches out to clamp a hand on Peter's shoulder heavily, jerking his shoulder in the same direction he juts his chin. Peter glances over his shoulder, confused until he see—
Stark Tower.
Natasha only leaves the workshop when thirst for something stronger than water scratches at her throat and demands to be sated. She shares a scotch with Bruce as she listens to him rattle out thoughts while he reads over the specs for the Hulkbuster. It was downstairs with the rest of her suits, but he'd looked a little green when she'd offered to show him so—
An icy chill settles over the room and she hears a boom of thunder in the distance. Bruce looks up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. Natasha is already moving around the bar and towards the balcony windows to investigate, Bruce at her heels when he sees the urgency in her expression. Before she can move more than three steps from the bar, Loki and Spiderman materialize at her feet.
"We've got a problem," Spiderman declares nervously, huffing and shifting uncomfortably under Loki's weight.
Loki snarls, scowling and looking like he's disgusted to be relying on the support of Spiderman's arm, which the boy bravely keeps curled around Loki's middle to keep him upright. The weight of Loki's own body seems to make him sag so it's obvious it's Spiderman keeping Loki from meeting the floor. Natasha is rooted in place, unable to look away from the harsh bruises blooming over Loki's face but incapable of moving forward to lend her support. Fear swells in her belly and her hands flutter to it unconsciously.
"What happened?" Bruce demands, moving to Loki's other side and pulling Loki's arm over his shoulders.
"I-I don't know. He just showed up like this and—"
"JARVIS," Loki grinds out again, "Bring out the Mark Forty-Two!"
"On its way, sir."
Loki drops his scowl to her, hissing through clenched teeth. "You are done with it, right?"
"I—uh—" She's distracted by the pain behind his eyes and the sickly sheen to his skin. Clearing her throat, she holds his gaze and nods curtly, straightening her spine and curling her hands to fists—imagines she can pull all her emotions into her palms and guard them carefully behind her fingers while she figures out what the hell is going on. "Yes. It's still—it needs work but—it should—Are we under attack, or—what's going on?"
"Loki, who attacked you?" Bruce asks, grim. There's an edge of the Hulk's fury coloring the words that sets off warning bells in her head.
"We don't have time," Loki growls, pushing them both away roughly and stepping back to prove he can stand on his own.
Natasha frowns. "For what? What—"
The Tower shudders and thunder seems to rumble all around them. When Natasha looks past Loki, the sky is black and thick clouds swirl violently, low in the sky and hugging the Tower so that she cannot see beyond Iron Woman's docking station.
"Those aren't regular thunderclouds," Bruce mutters, turning to face the windows. Natasha notices his hand clench and unclench.
"Thor—" Loki coughs, failing to cover his mouth in time and when Natasha looks to him, it's to see blood dribbling over his lips, almost black—which was decidedly not normal. Natasha stares at him, horrified, but Loki's expression in unreadable as he looks back at her.
"Dude, that does not look good," Spiderman whispers.
Loki coughs again, doubling over, and Natasha brings her hands to her hair, clutching at the strands with all the strength she is apparently unable to employ to move closer to him. "Loki, what's—"
The entire balcony side erupts.
She doesn't turn away in time, shards of glass and slivers of metal tearing into her like vicious needles. Loki's weight collides into her chest like a wrecking ball as they're sent half across the room to land by the elevators—hears Spiderman's groan and Bruce's curse but remains silent as all the breath is stolen from her lungs when her back slams to the ground and Loki's weight threatens to shatter her. Her ears are ringing—the piercing dial-tone she remembers from The Melter's attack on the factory turning her blood to ice and bringing a wave of nausea over her.
Despite his condition, Loki recovers quicker than her, groaning as he struggles to flip his body off of her so he lands on his back with a crunch of broken glass.
"How adorable. He runs to his mortal like a broken pup."
Natasha knows that voice immediately.
"Amora," she groans, squeezing her eyes tighter as she sits up and shakes her head to rid herself of the glass shards clinging to her face. When she doesn't think she'll be blinded by opening her eyes, she looks to the balcony where Amora stands, grinning, flanked on both sides by the massive forms of Thor and the Executioner. Behind her, Natasha sees the Black Knight and his stallion hovering outside, completely unhindered by the chaotic clouds swirling around the Tower. Immediately, the pieces begin to fall into place and Natasha snarls, "You sent The Melter and Radioactive Man as a diversion. What? Too scared to face me on your own, bitch?"
Beside her, Loki slowly sits up, coughing tightly behind a closed mouth. Spiderman appears from under an upturned chair and she hears a suspicious growl from behind the bar.
"You are mistaken, dear," Amora smiles patronizingly. "But you do not need to understand. Step aside while we deal with Loki. You'll have your own part to play, soon."
As if by silent command, Thor begins swirling his hammer at his side in preparation for an attack. Eyes widening, she shouts, "Shit! Bruce—!"
Bruce is charging out from behind the bar before she can get her words out, clothing shredded as he shifts to the Hulk's incredible form. Thor's attention is immediately drawn to the larger target, lowering himself to a crouch as the Hulk charges with a roar. The Executioner moves in front of Amora, but it only serves to garner Hulk's attention, who immediately curls a hand over the Asgardian's head to swing him into Thor, knocking both out of the penthouse and onto the balcony. Amora is snarling commands at the Black Knight, but before the horseman can get Loki in his sights, a long stream of webbing binds his lance to his stallion's powerful neck. Spiderman is across the room and diving out the window and under the horseman, flinging out his web-shooters to catch the Black Knight's exposed back before the man has even registered his new assailant.
"Ma'am!" JARVIS calls out to Natasha, drawing Amora's attention as well.
The elevator doors swing open and the Mark XLII bursts out in a cluster of segments, swerving in a wide arc back towards Natasha as she struggles to sit up. Her left gauntlet slips over her hand without the recoil from earlier and Natasha immediately finds Amora's furious expression, releasing a charged repulsor the moment the pauldron and chest plate have locked into place—at the same moment that Amora whips out a hand encased in bright magic, coiling a barrier around the remaining segments of armor and knocking them across the room with a scream of rage. It costs the Enchantress valuable seconds she could have used to avoid Natasha's attack and the muon blast strikes her full in the chest, throwing her backwards onto the balcony.
Natasha curses as her eyes dart to where her armor lays, then to Loki. He lays propped on an elbow, his other arm curled over his middle, expression contorted in pain.
"Can you fight?" Natasha asks, careful not to belay her concern.
It takes him a moment before he eventually huffs, nodding curtly.
Natasha brings her left hand to her chest, extending her right arm, then slides her left hand across her chest to her opposite shoulder. The Mark XLII responds immediately, bursting to life and sailing across the room to her. She stands as her right side is covered in armor, pivoting on a heel to present her left side and give the last greave and solleret an easier time. The neck plates extend from the back and breastplates, forming her helmet upon completion of the suit; she pretends not to feel it when her visor slaps onto her face, jarring her in the process.
She turns back to Loki, face crumpling in worry behind the safety of her mask when she sees his head bowed and shoulders rigid with pain.
"Come on," she mutters, extending a hand. Loki barely looks up before reaching for her, hand curling over her wrist. She secures her other hand under his elbow as she pulls him to his feet and says nothing when he keeps a grip on her arm and doesn't pull away.
Amora is up, livid as she summons incredible amounts of magic to her hands. Natasha can see her mouth forming words but the Enchantress' chanting is lost to the storm. There is no sign of Thor or the Hulk—which Natasha hopes does not take to mean they've moved their fight to the street—but the Executioner has turned his attention to Spiderman, working in unison with the Black Knight. Fortunately, though greatly outmatched by their combined strength, Spiderman is smart enough to use diversions and his agility to keep them from landing a blow.
Satisfied that she can focus her attention on Amora, Natasha charges the repulsors at her palms, ignoring JARVIS' warning that the Mark XLII was still a prototype and would need some time before reaching full power.
"I'm going to kill that witch," Natasha mutters, taking comfort in the words through Iron Woman's voice.
"She's working with the Red Skull," Loki says.
Natasha jerks her head to him, balking, "Excuse me?"
Loki is watching Amora, wary. "And they're both working for Thanos."
Natasha groans, shaking her head as she looks back to Amora. "Sweetheart, next time you're planning a reunion—give me a little warning, yeah?"
Loki snorts. "I'll try to remember that."
Slowly, something starts to materialize in Amora's between and Natasha curses herself for her lapse in attention.
"Repulsors at thirty percent. You overcharged the circuitry with your first attack, ma'am. I apologize, but I am working as quickly as I can," JARVIS says before she can demand an answer out of him.
"That's just great," Natasha growls.
Amora's spell is complete and in her hands—
"That's your scepter," Natasha observes, incredulous. She looks to Loki for confirmation but the set of his jaw and the furrow of his brow is answer enough. Natasha turns back to Amora, rolling her eyes. "Right. Thanos."
Spinning the scepter from hand to hand, Amora leaps back into the penthouse, grinning as the head of the staff glows a familiar blue. With a growl, Loki holds a palm facedown over the floor and Natasha watches on her HUD the temperature rapidly drop. Amora is halted in place as ice forms around her feet, rooting her to the floor. Igniting her thrusters at their lowest setting, Natasha rockets her body at the Enchantress, crushing her shoulder into the woman's middle while her annoyance for the Trickster minutely distracts her from Natasha.
They hit the floor with Natasha straddling the woman and she brings down her fist across Amora's jaw. Barely nudged without the Iron Woman's full strength, Amora snarls and uses the length of the staff to smash it against Iron Woman's chest and send Natasha crashing into the ceiling. A responding thud from above alerts her to the whereabouts of Hulk and Thor as she drops back to the floor, landing on her shoulder and rolling as her HUD blares warnings. She narrowly avoids a blast from the scepter and is on her feet just as the ceiling buckles and Thor comes crashing through with a furious Hulk in hot pursuit.
Oblivious, Thor and the Hulk grapple in the center of the room, blocking Amora from view. Thor is whipping out his hammer in an arc before he's even hit the ground, striking Hulk across the jaw with enough force to nearly send the green giant spinning.
"What do you need?" Natasha grunts as she moves to Loki's side, eyes on the glimpses of Amora she can see between blows as Thor and Hulk pull each other into a deadlock. "You're not batting at a hundred percent—I can tell. Tell me what to do."
She spares a look to Loki and sees his eyes drop to the arc-reactor in Iron Woman's chest.
She stiffens, swallowing nervously. "Will it help?"
Loki frowns as if offended by her suggestion, glowering up at her. "Even if it did, it might not be enough."
Natasha argues, "If it will help—"
"No," Loki growls, looking back to Amora as he summons his magic around him. "Go. I'll cover you."
As the Hulk loses his footing on the slicked floor, Mjolnir strikes the thick concrete as Thor misses the creature.
Natasha hears a sharp crack—and then a groan.
Her eyes drop to the floor where frost coats the floor and she drops her faceplate, cutting a glare to Loki, who glares at Thor in return.
"JARVIS!" Natasha barks, eyeing the devastation of the penthouse's interior with dismay.
"I've lost operational priority with the top three floors of Stark Tower, ma'am. The Hulk and Thor—"
"Yeah. No. I can see exactly what they're doing."
"Estimated losses—"
"I don't care!" Natasha snaps, raising both hands as Thor and the Hulk are blasted apart by an impatient Amora.
On her HUD, JARVIS reminds her that all three repulsors are two minutes away from full capacity and she curses. Loki steps forward, skin Jotun blue and eyes blood red as he snarls and releases the built up magic in a pulse that knocks Amora back a step. Sharp cones of solid ice erupt from the floor beneath the Enchantress and she leaps away, slashing at the pillars with the scepter as energy gathers again at the head. The pillars shatter and Amora aims the scepter at them in midair.
Natasha shoves herself into Loki's side, knocking them out of the way as the scepter releases a sphere of energy that disintegrates the ground where they'd stood.
Loki lands on his back and exhales loudly through his nose, gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes tightly. Natasha is only grateful she'd had the forethought not to land on him as she twists around on a knee to face Amora, snarling, "Thanos has the Cube?"
Groaning, Loki sits up. "No. The Tesseract is in Asgard. But the Red Skull—"
Natasha looks to him sharply, distracted only fleetingly by the hand he holds over his sternum, expression a grimace of pain. She scowls. "You're going to have to explain what the hell some dead Nazi is doing working with your old boss."
"Your guess is as good as mine," Loki mutters—and then promptly de-materializes before her. A clone.
Natasha looks back to Amora where Loki has suddenly appeared, startling the Enchantress as he slams a palm over her mouth—cutting her off mid-chant—and slams her head-first to the floor with remarkable strength. Natasha swallows nervously as she feels the concrete beneath her shudder again—glances to Thor just in time to see the Hulk take the Asgardian by the leg and fling him through the wall behind the bar where Thor disappears through several other rooms. With a roar, Hulk stomps off after him and Natasha sighs, bidding her bedroom a silent goodbye as she stands.
Amora tries the remove Loki as she'd done with Natasha, but Loki catches the scepter just under the head and bares his teeth in anger as he closes his other hand around her slender neck, raising her a foot above the ground.
Amora screams.
The pain in the Enchantress' voice baffles Natasha until she glimpses a peek of blackening skin spreading from where Loki's blue hand grips into Asgardian flesh. Amora claws at Loki's hand but the pain is too much and all her strength seems reserved for her shrieks of agony.
Natasha glances at the corner of her HUD.
Three seconds …
Two …
One.
Raising one hand for maximum accuracy, she releases a repulsor blast that catches Amora's hand and rips the scepter from her grasp. Immediately, Loki vanishes from Amora's side, reappearing beside Natasha with the scepter in hand.
Natasha straightens, adjusting her body's angle as she aims her other hand at the collapsed Enchantress. The Asgardian remains kneeled on the floor, still clutching at her throat with an expression twisted in anguish.
Dropping her visor, Natasha looks to Loki, brow arched as she takes in the details of Loki's Jotun face—a deep sapphire blue with spattering patterns of darker blue. She sniffs, biting back a grin when red eyes meet hers. "It's incredibly sexy how much of a badass you are sometimes and I kinda wanna kiss you, but I'd rather not get frostbite on my mouth. Though I'm strongly considering it."
Loki stares at her like he's worried she'd taken a blow to the head when he wasn't looking. Then, shaking his head, he rolls his eyes and mutters, "I can control it," before leaning forward to grant her a brief kiss.
Natasha nearly jumps out of her suit at the shock of cold but when Loki pulls away she's grinning and dropping her faceplate as she turns back to Amora.
"You will pay for this!" Amora hisses, clutching at her throat as she glares up at them.
As if summoned, the Executioner drops down through the hole Thor had created in the ceiling, snarling as he braces himself protectively between them and the Enchantress.
Natasha scowls, holding onto the charge in her right palm. "JARVIS, you got something a little heavier for this guy? Anything at all would be great, buddy."
"Ma'am—apologies, but—"
When the Executioner charges for them, Loki's magic forms like a thin barrier over his armor and skin—clinging tightly—then bursting outwards before the Executioner can get any closer. The explosive barrier does little but parry the axman's blade—but it knocks Natasha clear off the ground and several feet away.
Her HUD blares warnings and she follows the nav point on the screen to where the Black Knight has found a clear shot of her—sees Spiderman sprawled on his back, groggily struggling to roll onto his side. The point of the Knight's lance locks on her position and erupts in her direction, blasting chunks out of the floor as she rolls away, grunting and feeling her stomach twist as the ground beneath her trembles and drops an inch.
"Oh shit," she whispers, eyes wide as she keeps perfectly still and feels the concrete floor jerk beneath her again.
The Executioner's roar draws her attention and she looks to see him slash his blade at Loki, jagged cone of ice protruding from his shoulder doing nothing to impede him.
Loki does not successfully avoid the Executioner's blade and it's curved edge catches his side, cutting smoothly through the armored layers and into the Jotun flesh beneath. Blood spurts out and sprays a grim pattern on the floor as Loki falls to a knee, clutching his middle and bowing his head.
Terror clutching at her throat, effectively silencing her, Natasha tries to scramble to her feet—but she's forgotten about the frost that still slicks the floor in a thin sheet and she loses her hold twice before she can get on her feet—and by then the Executioner's weapon arcs high above Loki as Loki's blood seems to pour from the wound in his side.
Before Natasha can release the muon charge waiting patiently in her right palm, Amora's curt, "—alive!" reaches her ears and she sees the angle of the weapon's descent curve so the broad side strikes Loki brutally on the side of the head, the force flinging his body half across the room to the elevators. Her repulsor charge escapes her palm with enough force to fling her shoulder backwards, striking the Executioner and slamming him into the opposite wall. Natasha scrambles towards Loki, HUD flashing as JARVIS immediately attempts to scan his vitals.
And then the floor begins to shift, slowly caving, and Natasha feels her boots lose their grip on the floor. She stumbles, then slips when the floor jerks beneath her feet, concrete made brittle by the cold losing integrity with every merciless impact against it.
She manages to regain her footing by bracing herself in a low crouch. When the floor settles, Natasha half-crawls half-runs to Loki's side, skidding on her knees to a stop beside him. Breathless and with her heart in her throat, she tries to move him from his stomach to his side but the amount of blood pooling beneath him freezes her hands and she stares, nausea smashing into her like a blow to the chest.
It was typical of her character that she immediately assumed she would, inevitably, achieve control over anysituation. It was one of her many flaws. But—this …
Gods don't bleed.
Gods shouldn't bleed.
"Babe, come on," she whispers, choking over her words as she leans over him, her eyes darting to the tear in his armor and unable to make out a wound beneath all the layers and blood. She knows she needs to remain alert—that she has a house full of Asgardians and their accomplice that are desperately trying to kill her—but instead she's pressing her hand—Iron Woman's hand—to the shredded armor and imagining she can feel the pulse of his blood pumping out against her palm. She wants to drop her faceplate—look at him with her eyes and not through the eyes of Iron Woman—but she's a coward.
Loki's pulse is slow on her HUD, it's presence the only thing keeping her from breaking down and relinquishing hope—because if Loki is no match for Amora and her followers, what good was she against three Gods alone?
Only—
She's not alone.
Taking a steadying breath, she looks to Amora, but the Enchantress has not moved. It occurs to Natasha that the deadened flesh of her throat was likely restricting her breathing and it's then that she sees that Amora's hands glow a soft green as she works to heal the damage.
Natasha can't summon her anger at the sight, grief and terror clinging to her persistently. Inhaling slowly, she murmurs into her COM, "JARVIS. Loki's down. Activate—"
"Activating Chaos Armor."
She doesn't move, hand tightening over Loki's side as she watches the Black Knight maneuver his stallion through the balcony and into the penthouse, hooves lowering to the floor gracefully as the Knight adjusts his lance to aim it at Natasha.
"Remember, Zemo wants her alive," Amora declares hoarsely, sneer twisting her delicate features.
There's an odd calmness to the Knight as he commands his stallion to move closer with his thighs.
The elevator doors swing open and the Chaos Amor delivers itself into the fray by barreling itself into the Black Knight and knocking him from his horse. Natasha doesn't dare breathe, however, as she watches JARVIS take command of the Chaos Armor to blast the Knight out of the Tower with a fully charged repulsor. The stallion takes off after its master and JARVIS turns the Chaos Armor to face the Executioner.
Amora rises slowly, neck nearly completely healed as her hands glow and her glare locks on the Chaos Armor with deadly intent.
Before she can commit to an attack, a stream of web shoots out from the balcony and catches Amora's wrist, diverting her energy blast to the floor. A heavily battered Spiderman flings himself into the room, diving quickly out of the way when a furious Amora releases her second spell in his direction. He darts out of her range, deftly avoiding her spells—but he is on the defensive.
Natasha scowls, snapping, "What are you doing? This isn't a game! Attack her!"
Spiderman catches himself on what remains of the ceiling, stammering, "I—ah—I'm not sure I'm—ah—comfortable hitting a lady—"
Natasha growls in frustration, looking to where JARVIS is still occupied with the Executioner. "JARVIS I need that armor! Loki needs that armor! Shake off the bastard and get the Chaos Armor over here, now!"
"I am trying, ma'am."
Thor bursts through the remaining wall to her right, carving a furrow into the floor before coming to a stop nearly at Loki's feet.
"Hulk!" Natasha protests when the green giant pummels through the rest of the wall in pursuit. "Watch it!"
Thor grunts as he pulls himself to a knee, twisting to glower at her over his shoulder.
"Sorry," The Hulk grunts unapologetically, charging for Thor just as the Asgardian stands, hammer raised as his eyes drop to his unconscious brother. Natasha scowls, tensing—but she doesn't abandon Loki's side.
Mjolnir swings down, hard, and—
Then Hulk catches him by his cape, flinging him in an arc over his head and smashing him to the floor behind him.
The concrete groans one last time.
And buckles.
Natasha is knocked back as the floor begins to shift beneath her, her grip on Loki lost. She watches, paralyzed by a horrific sort of shock, while Loki's unconscious body slides away as the floor between them splits and slants in opposite directions. The floor gives way beneath Thor before the Thunderer can regain his footing, a fissure erupting down the length of the room, forming slabs of the floor that splinter and shatter.
The concrete beneath her jolts—then drops.
She catches herself on the edge of a slab, arms hugging it to her as her body dangles the fifteen feet above the next floor. Across from her, she can see Loki's body begin to slide further along the broken floors and she feels her blood chill.
"JARVIS!"
"Ma'am, I must initiate—"
Squeezing her eyes shut, the choice is made the instant Loki's body rolls over an edge and he is plunged head-first to the level below.
She let's go.
As her body goes into free fall, she flexes her left hand and clenches it into a fist, curling her arm sharply towards her body, then jerking her left shoulder to twist in the air, aiming her hand outward, towards Loki.
She hears thrusters erupt around her—and then the Mark XLII is unclasping itself from her body and rocketing away from her in sections, following the angle of Loki's descent and clamping along his body. The back plate arrives first, then the greaves and gauntlets—none quite locking into place, but the propulsion of the thrusters directing Loki's body horizontally and slowing his descent to the ground.
She lands hard on her back and every bone in her body is on fire.
Above her, the slab she'd been holding on slips from its purchase and begins to drop. Pain paralyzes her body but she still struggles to pull her arms in front of her protectively—knows there is no surviving the impact and imagines her soft human body being pulverized to paste beneath heavy concrete.
Dropping down from the penthouse level, the Hulkbuster appears, catching the heavy chunk of debris on his shoulders, barely jolted from the force.
Gritting her teeth and swallowing her pain, she rolls herself out of the way and rests on her side as the Chaos Armor, with no Executioner in sight, arrives, diving down from above. She flexes her left hand, igniting the repulsors at Loki's gauntlet, pulling him upright. The Chaos Armor moves itself so that it aligns with the Trickster, chest to chest, and the seam down its front opens as the armor unlocks, pulling the Asgardian into its metal embrace as the rest of the ill-fitting Mark XLII armor falls away. The Chaos Armor seals itself, the plates rotating and relocating so that the downward facing panels are shifted forward and the armor rights itself along Loki's body—a perfect fit.
"Mr. Laufeyson is gravely injured, ma'am," JARVIS says grimly from the Chaos Armor.
I know, Natasha thinks, closing her eyes as her breath catches in her throat painfully, letting herself rest for a moment while the Tower seems to crumble around her. "Try to stop the bleeding and get him out of here."
She waits until she can no longer hear the sound of the thrusters before swallowing her trepidation and her pain and flipping herself forcibly to her hands and knees. With a breath, she fists both hands and brings her arms to her chest, hugging them to her body. In front of her, where Loki had lain, the sections of the Mark XLII rattle—then the thrusters ignite and she spreads her arms wide and forces herself to her feet as each segment slots itself into place over her limbs and torso.
On her HUD, a notification from JARVIS sits in the corner of her screen, blinking.
Boots igniting, she blasts herself into the air, catching the faceplate and setting it in place as she bursts through the wreck of the penthouse floor, through the ceiling, and to the roof where Spiderman is having trouble against the combined efforts of Amora and the Executioner.
Fueled by rage at the sight of Amora's satisfied smile when she spots the Iron Woman, Natasha snarls, "Get the hell out of my way, Parker!"
Spiderman dives for cover.
A fully charged Uni-Beam had been JARVIS' parting gift and Natasha had no intention of wasting it.
End Notes: I guess Natasha's last line answers any questions about whether she knows who Spiderman is, hm? Also, I apologize if it seemed like I glossed over Thor and Hulk's fight, but given that this was from Natasha's point of view, it was chaotic enough trying to keep all the commotion in order. Don't worry, though. There will be future opportunities to see the two in action.
I borrowed some dialogue/scenes from IM3 mostly because I am obsessed with meshing CV with the continuity of the other universes, further cementing the fact that this is an alternate verse, but that certain things still exist tie the multiverse together.
Hope you guys enjoy and if you thing this is a terrible cliffy, know it could have been worse but I spared you that agony.
Drop a note if you enjoyed because I love hearing from you guys!