I can't help but feel very happy about the turn-out. Before chapter 24, everyone seemed worried that something would happen to Loki, but in fact it's Clint that has the shorter end of the stick in the situation...glad to see that people were worried for our poor Hawkeye. Poor guy has gone so far.
What I learned in my first class of Intro to Fiction Writing: to write is a right, to be read is a privilege. That being said, I want to once again thank every one of you from the bottom of my heart for taking time to read my crazy story. Lots of love from LC~
Natasha sensed them before she could see them.
"Get down!"
Before Loki could react, she grabbed a hold of his invisible arm and jerked him to the ground before spinning on the spot, swinging the metal meter rod with ferocity. She felt the impact against the sharp end of the stick, saw the spurts of blood erupt from the unseen, heard the screeches.
The moment they were cut, the Chitauri shed their invisible shields, hissing in pain before immediately launching their attacks upon her. Shoving what she hoped was Loki out of the melee, she dived into a roll to avoid a Chitauri's blow before pushing herself off, kicking the Chitauri in the chest in the process.
"Tony, you could have warned us!" she said.
They aimed their rifles at her and pulled the trigger. She was caught in the arm, throwing her off balance—but not nearly enough to throw her off her game. With just as much vengeance, she hurled the meter stick forward. The Chitauri soldier used its rifle to bat it away, but the moment it directed its weapon away from her she ran forth and kicked it in the chest, twisting its arm until the bones cracked underneath the tough skin and wrestling the rifle away from its grip.
"Wasn't I trying to do that until you skipped along toward that area?" Tony said.
"Yeah, well, I think I found the spies," shouted Natasha. She shot down one of the warriors.
"You realize that SHIELD's going to see all of this on their cameras?" said Tony.
Natasha wished she could remind Tony that she was just a little bit too busy to be conversing with him as she dived away from another bout of certain death. She knew that the Chitauri were aiming to kill her—all they really needed was Loki.
She tightened her grip on the rifle. They would not touch him again, if she could help it.
"Whatever you do, Reindeer Games, stay away!" she said. She didn't know if the Chitauri knew Loki was with her, but if they did not, then all the better for her. "I've got this—"
As if she brandished a broadsword, Natasha parried a warrior's rifle away with her own, knocking it off course before aiming a shot at it. It dodged and pulled the trigger, forcing her to dance her way to survival.
"I don't think SHIELD's going to blame Loki for this shit anymore once they've seen this," said Tony.
"Not helping, Stark!" Natasha cocked the rifle, only to find that it was out of power. Her heart leapt to her throat and she looked up, nearly nose to nose with a barrel of the rifle before an unseen force pulled her to the ground before her head was shot through. She gasped, kicking hard only to find her foot in heavy contact with tangible air at her ankle.
"Warn me, at least!" Natasha said to Loki before scrambling back to her feet. "Get out—just get the scepter and get out!"
She felt a soft hit across the back of her head and she gave a yell of frustration.
I'm not leaving without you, idiot, said the invisible hand.
She sparred the warrior, but with a dead rifle and a shot arm, they were overpowering her. In five blows, the Chitauri knocked the rifle from her hands, sending it flying down the hall. She fell on her back, pain shooting down her side from the strike, with a Chitauri aiming what positively resembled a flamethrower at her. She could see the bright blue flames building within the nozzle, gathering power, searing—
She saw the flames erupt from the weapon, felt the heat reach out to her, but nothing touched her. The flames dissipated, diverting from her as if she bore an invisible wall. She couldn't breathe, her heart running rapid-fire in her chest, knowing only too well what had the power to protect her.
"Don't!"
It was too late. The air between her and the fire flickered before Loki broke from his invisible armor and came into view. The magic that built the shield around them sapped his energy, leaving him unprotected from all eyes. The moment the fire died down, he fell to his knees, gasping for air.
Natasha took the moment of the Chitauri's distraction to lunge toward it, wrapping her fingers around its neck and locking it into a paralyzing throttle. It thrashed and flailed, trying to fight her off. She only squeezed tighter, feeling the vibration of every struggling breathe shake under her fingers.
Loki pulled himself back onto his feet and forced an attack on the third soldier, using the rifle in its hands to butt against its own chin nailing a kick to its groin and stomach. It doubled over enough for Loki to hurl his fist against its chin and send it flying against the wall.
"Natasha, the guy's reaching for a knife behind him!"
Natasha's hands flew to both sides of the Chitauri's head before twisting it violently, snapping its neck. It shuddered before falling underneath her, sending her crashing onto the ground.
"I take it you fixed the cameras?" Natasha said grudgingly, pushing herself onto all fours.
"I never said it was impossible…"
Natasha felt Loki's hands around her arm, pulling her onto her feet. She sucked in a sharp breath of pain as the shot wound shocked her arm and she wrenched her arm away from his. Loki took her arm again, this time more gently, and placed a hand upon the blackened wound.
"Don't, Loki," said Natasha. "Don't do it."
But she felt it before she finished, how the burning subsided and the new layer of skin regrow itself underneath his hand. The moment the pain subsided she pulled back her arm and slapped him across the face.
Already weakened by the magic exertion, he stumbled back, a look of absolute bafflement across his face. It did not improve as she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.
"You idiot," she said in his ear. "Don't ever do that to yourself again."
He gave her a tentative pat on the back before she broke away. His ashen face had a harsh red mark across his cheek and she felt a pang of guilt at the sight of it. She placed a cool hand on it.
"Sorry," she said.
Loki smirked and shook his head.
"Once you guys are done with your victory dance," said Tony, "you need to find Clint."
"Where's Clint?" Natasha said, pulling her hand away from Loki's face. "What happened to him?"
"The dead body was identified to be Vulk's. Clint said he was with Vulk. Something obviously doesn't add up. I can't find him and I'm willing to bet that it's the Chitauri that messed with the cameras. They're pretty technologically savvy."
"I thought you fixed them," said Natasha.
"Cameras aren't in every room, every corner. As much as I can see, I can't see."
"Does his ear bud still track his location?" she said.
"It's gone. The signal's gone. I think it's destroyed, the earphone. He's not in friendly hands."
Natasha's stomach churned.
"Stark, how many Chitauri did you say were in the basement?" she said.
"I didn't say any number."
"Then how'd you know if they were there? Listen—I want to find Clint. Loki can get the staff, and if he does it with his magic and you hiding the video feed of his actions, then we'll be set. But I want to know that the threat against SHIELD is dealt with first before I consider them losing their security cameras."
"There are five blobs in the basement, according to the heat signature."
"Risk it. We don't have time to lose," said Natasha. All she could think of was Clint—Clint, who may or may not have wanted to come in the first place but put himself at risk anyway, who hesitated at the idea of splitting up, who probably both knew and had no idea what the hell he signed up for—
"Done and done. Get working," said Tony.
Natasha spun around to face Loki. "The scepter is in the room in the hallway to your left, third floor. I know we meant to do this together but…I need to find Clint."
Loki bit the tip of his tongue but gave a short nod. Natasha was suddenly seized with the desire to hold onto him, as if she could assure he would come back if she latched onto him, albeit briefly. But the thought of Clint with a Chitauri spy—alone—returned to her mind and without waiting another second, she turned around and ran down the hall, blood pounding in her ears.
Clint—
A gnarled finger had dug itself into Clint's ear, pulling out the ear bud before it was squashed into bits of discarded wire and plastic. Clint was barely aware of it, with the digging, inexplicable pain in his shoulder. His hands and feet were bound, but this was far from what kept him from moving. What pained him—and terrified him, if he was honest—was the hook on the chain in his shoulder. Like a fish or a butchered pig, he was strung on a chain by the shoulder, dangling a foot above the ground.
The metal pierced and distorted his skin and muscle, tearing him from the inside as gravity hung heavily on his ankles. The pain made him nearly throw up and his mind ram itself against the side of his head as if desperate to escape the sensation of agony. He barely understood what the creature—the spy—was saying.
"Chitauri typically do not ask questions," said the hissing voice that reminded Clint of wheels on gravel. "We do not waste our time with what does not readily aid us."
Clint wanted to spit in the spy's voice.
"Yeah?" said Clint, his voice having as much volume as a piece of string. "And what about Loki, huh? Was that just a pastime? A sport?"
The spy's lips—or what Clint thought was its lips—curled into a sneer.
"Yes," said the spy. "That is exactly it."
Clint clenched his teeth—both in anger and in pain. "Kind of got that notion considering I'm hanging on a meat hook right now."
"I'm not unreasonable," said the spy. It tugged the pulley until Clint's toes barely scraped the ground. Clint immediately took the chance to set his weight on his toes, easing his throbbing shoulder of his pain. "Especially not with a valuable asset as yourself."
Clint snorted. "Yeah? Well, the handling effing sucks."
The spy smiled leisurely before sliding the hook up and down through the hole in Clint's shoulder. Clint clamped his mouth shut to keep from screaming; the hook was barbed.
"No doubt you mortals have a skewed perspective of our kind," said the spy. "But I prefer compromise and agreements. And I'm sure that a compromise is not impossible."
Clint glared at the spy in the midst of his pain. The spy backed off, wiping its bloody fingertips on its armor. Clint's blood glinted red in the white light.
"Sticking me through isn't a good way to convince me to buddy up with you, you know," said Clint.
"Subjugation is meant to quell the wild spirit," said the spy. "Just as you would muzzle a beast before you treat it."
Clint swallowed, his saliva tinged with blood from biting down on the side of his cheek so hard. He felt vomit rising from his stomach as the pain dizzied him.
"Didn't know you alien types spoke English," said Clint.
"Do not think we are so mindless," said the spy. "As a warrior race, we are expected to use knowledge to its advantage."
"Kind of hard to picture that," said Clint, "considering you're under the control of some crazy-ass titan that wants to kill everything in existence anyway."
He felt the tension on the chain before the excruciating pain as he was lifted off the floor again, so sharply he was almost certain muscles were irrevocably torn in his shoulder. He gave a shout of pain that he could not force down, forcing himself not to twist or writhe in midair to disturb the wound. When he was lowered closer to the ground, he was gasping for air.
"You are foolish," said the spy, its voice edgy. "You know nothing in respect to the entire universe. You, who've only seen the tiny speck of Earth in comparison to the entire universe. Entire existence."
"I'm pretty sure death is death no matter where your spaceship's parked," said Clint, nearly out of breath.
"And will not death bring order?" said the spy. "Will it not set the planets and stars into the motion they were meant to hold until mortals and immortals alike distorted its nature? We Chitauri are keepers of order, and life has corrupted its balance. More specifically, it is the life of mortals and AEsir that corrupt the balance, that think it is their place to conquer other realms and poison its resources with their waste."
Clint didn't know if the spy was pulling his leg or if he was being absolutely serious.
"Are you kidding me?" said Clint. "So your whole purpose in life is to make sure we're all dead?"
"You mortals are self-centered and vile," said the spy. "You think that what revolves around you and your lives is what matters the most. Never the ultimate peace of the universe. Never the order of how things ought to be."
"You don't decimate us and call that peace," said Clint. "That's called the biggest act of violence you're ever going to get."
"Mortal ethics were always so slanted," said the spy. "If you will not put the order of all existence above everything else, then I have no respect for you. And when I have no respect for you, I will not hesitate."
"What about that Thanos asshole?" said Clint, struggling to keep himself from gasping in pain. "All he cares about is pleasing Death. Isn't that putting one thing over everything?"
"You will not speak poorly of our master," said the spy. "Our life is bound to him, thriving because of him, much like how some of our brothers are bound to their mother ships. To insult him is to insult all of us."
Clint would have made a sour retort when he came to a realization. The Chitauri's lives, their entire existence, depended on a single being. The fact that their purpose in life had to cling like parasites to the bidding of one creature—and a crazy, merciless creature, at that—made Clint almost pity them.
The spy leaned closer, its dark eyes no more than two inches away from Clint's face. Clint felt repulsed, as if he looked into the eyes of a battered road kill.
"Where do you keep the Frost Giant?"
Clint gritted his teeth. It was always Loki, wasn't it? Loki who brought the Chitauri to Earth in the first place, Loki whose staff sent them all on this godforsaken mission, Loki who had Thanos and the Chitauri chasing after their tails, Loki whom the Chitauri apparently needed back so much that Clint was here dangling on what was left of his left shoulder.
"Under the Christmas tree," said Clint.
The hook in Clint's shoulder jerked and he gasped in pain as he was hoisted off the ground again, pulled up and down violently until the hook dug deeper into him, splitting his muscles and scratching against his bones. His body gave a spasm of pain, twisting the hook in him and he couldn't breathe.
"So you have a sense of humor," said the spy. "So do I. But let that be the final act. Shall I ask again? Will you be more compliant?"
Clint was lowered to the ground, but no sooner did his feet meet solid floor did the spy grab Clint by the throat. Clint struggled to breathe through his paper-thin airway.
"Under what protection do you keep the Asgardian?" said the spy.
"As if you don't know already," choked out Clint. "Your fellow soldiers crashed into New York City a while ago, didn't they?"
"A wise observation," said the spy as Clint's throat burned for air. "Those arrogant, hungry fools did not anticipate the gravity of the situation. An underling discovered the truth and instead of reporting to his officers gathered a vigilante of his own to attack for his own glory. But of course, came to the welcoming arms of Earth's greatest heroes, and what an advantage that has given us!"
Clint swallowed. Each breath was a knife swimming through his veins.
"But we don't need to resort to mindless violence, do we?" said the spy. "Not when you could be so gratified if you handed over the Asgardian."
"Oh yeah?" said Clint through clenched teeth. "Something tells me you don't know much about what pleases me if you're trying to be diplomatic after you've stabbed me in the shoulder."
"Do not pretend you would not consider the same if the roles are reversed," said the spy. "That is the funny phenomenon of all the different creatures of the realms. If the enemy looks nothing like you, a little torture doesn't nick the conscience."
"So you lizards have a conscience?" said Clint. The pain was intensifying. "Funny—that you say that—after you deal with Loki so badly he doesn't talk."
"So the Asgardian doesn't make a sound still, does it?" said the spy. "I suppose that means it cannot tell you what did happen to it during our time together? Or, perhaps more accurately, what did not happen?"
Clint stopped his struggling. He looked up at the spy demandingly.
"What are you insinuating?" said Clint.
"Ah, ah," said the spy. "I'll let you figure that out for yourself."
Clint bit down on his tongue. It was true; he had no idea what Loki went through during his captivity with the Chitauri—it could have been absolutely horrible or absolutely…nothing. If he was silent, he didn't have to lie. For all they knew, he could have teamed up with the Chitauri and plotted mass destruction of Earth and was brought to Earth under the pretense of torture to gain their favor. This whole thing could be a trick.
Stop, he urged himself. This is exactly what the enemy wants you to think. Stop.
But how did he know that Loki was not the enemy?
Because they had the same enemies.
How was it not an act?
The seed of doubt was always the easiest to sow.
"Forget it," Clint said, nearly spitting the words to speak. "Whatever his side is doesn't change the fact you want to blow everything up."
"Mortals as a whole are destructive and foolish," said the spy. "But you can be spared, mortal, for your role would be too insignificant to bring ruination. You and your companions. The mortals are the ones that cause the most damage and crimes upon your home that force you to fight. If they were gone, would you not be at peace? At rest?"
"No," said Clint. "You're crazy."
"You will not do it to save your few companions?" said the spy. It clucked its tongue. "Pitiful. And here, the Asgardian said that you humans had puffed up hearts."
"What did he tell you?" Clint said.
He was dangling on the hook like a fish on a line; all the spy had to do was reel him in with his rod of lies.
"It told us everything," said the spy. "Your mortal headquarters. Your greatest weaknesses. Your fears. And then you took it in like a wounded pup."
Clint did not take his eyes off of the spy. It had to be lying—it had to. Clint wasn't a fool, nor was he gullible. But the accusation struck a chord in him that he couldn't identify.
"You shoved the goddamn Mind Gem in his chest yourself," said Clint. "What sort of ally does that and then sends him off just to chase after him again?"
"You think it did not run off itself?" said the spy. "That it escaped for its own selfish desires? It is not part of a whole—it tears itself apart, thinks itself higher, only to be devastatingly weak."
"You're a liar," Clint said, raising his voice until he sounded nearly hysterical. "You're lying, you're lying, you're lying."
"You will not accept the truth?" said the spy. "What was it about the Frost Giant that has softened your heart to the eternal traitor? Did it cry its pretty eyes in front of you? Did it cower at your shadow like a shamed beast? Did it give you a morsel of compassion for you to suck on?"
"None of your business," said Clint.
He saw the spy's hand upon the chain and he braced himself for the pain (no no nomorepleaseno not the painIdon'twa nt). He was almost positive his gums were bleeding from how tightly he bit down on his teeth to keep from screaming.
"You once had hatred in your heart for the Asgardian," said the spy. "Have you banished it from your mind, or does it lie dormant in you? Does it crave for revenge, for justice, like lust? Does it not want to make the Asgardian pay for its crimes?"
Clint only now realized how the spy referred to Loki as an 'it.' It strangely sickened him.
"Do you not want to do something before it takes what you want most?" said the spy in such a sickeningly sympathetic voice that Clint wanted to kick at it, if only it would not upset his already dire wound.
"You're talking bull," said Clint.
"Am I?" said the spy. "You are very, very mistaken, mortal."
The spy turned away and slipped through the door. Clint's mind raced—he couldn't waste these precious seconds of privacy. He needed to escape. He needed to get out of here before this spy played mind games with him without even needing a damn scepter. He couldn't get himself off of the hook but surely there was a way to notify the others where he was. There were no security cameras in the closet, but surely Tony could think outside the box.
He reached out his bound feet in a swift swoop to knock down the shelf closest to him. It toppled with a deafening crash, but the movement pained Clint's shoulder so badly he was blinded. He swallowed down vomit as black dots speckled his vision. He stretched his feet until his toes scraped the floor, barely lessening the load off of his shoulder.
What if it was right?
What if the spy was right?
He thought of how Natasha was probably alone with Loki this very moment and he bit down a cry.
Natasha.
If Loki touched her—if Loki let any harm come upon her—
He breathed short breaths through clenched teeth. He was almost hyperventilating.
Natasha.
He could only be glad that it was not she dangling by her muscles by a hook in the ceiling. His mind betrayed him and pictured her tortured by the spy and he suddenly felt so much anger within him that he gave a silent scream.
He didn't know how many Chitauri were here—but if there was only one and it only knew of Clint, then that meant Natasha was safe. As safe as she could be without Chitauri, anyway.
As for Loki…
Natasha trusted Loki. She trusted him, and she was normally a good judge of character. Surely she was right. She had to be right.
She had to be all right.
The door was kicked open, making him jerk and upsetting his shoulder. Sweat was pouring down his hairline now.
The spy emerged from the other side, this time with another Chitauri soldier who dragged something behind it. Clint breathed deeply through his nose, trying to clear his mind and lungs from the pain.
"If I cannot convince you to give up the Asgardian," said the spy, "perhaps another can."
Before Clint could shoot back a retort, the other soldier hurled the figure behind it into the room before stepping outside to guard the door. It crashed onto the floor, clad in black and drenched in red, curled in a ball and shuddering.
Clint's heart skipped a beat as the figure lifted its head to face him.
"Nat?" he whispered.
Blood. There was so much blood on her side, her legs, her chest, her head. So much pain—she could barely keep herself up straight. She kneeled before him, almost dying.
"Clint," she choked out. Blood ran down her lips. "Clint, I've been compromised."
When Loki had taken over Clint's mind years ago with the staff, Clint clearly remembered the edges of his vision lining a bright blue, the colors hazing as if in some psychedelic theme. The world became obscurer by sharpening, convincing him that the change was the truth.
Now, he knew nothing possessed him, but anger colored his vision blood red.