AN: Happy New Year to all! Thank you for all the reviews, really feeling the love even after two years away. More notes at the end of story. I am revising the earlier chapters, both to fix some errors/cringes and to update certain elements to match what we now know.
1/13/20 – Chapters 1-2 have been revised.
The lonely hoot of an owl echoed through the early evening, the sound startling a nocturnal fox and her cubs. The alarmed mother popped her head up to warily glance around for danger. She settled down when she did not see or smell any swooping feathery predators coming to snatch her newborns. The young mother snapped her jaws irritably at her cubs who had been yipping excitedly in an attempt to calm her offspring.
The small newborn pups full of boundless curiosity bounced about their mothers' ankles heedless of her warning nips until she finally cuffed them over their heads with a paw. The whining babes fell in line and began to follow their mother's example, pawing away at the dirt and sniffing for anything edible to scavenge as the sun began to sink below the horizon.
As the animals went back to their foraging, they were unaware of the gathering of spiritual particles that were slowly forming a thin line in the air above them. The ethereal gash in the sky flashed once before splitting open to reveal a pair of Japanese stylized wooden doors. Someone with the ability to perceive reiatsu would have been astonished to see that this doorway was completely two dimensional. If one were to stare at it long enough, they would be able to see through it, behind it and into it all at the same time.
But no one was there to witness the unnatural existence of the senkaimon sliding open to expose the unearthly glow within, nor were they there to greet the two Shinigami that stepped through. The two death gods turned to ensure the gates to the realm of the dead closed before they dropped down to the earth near the family of foxes.
"You bring me to the most unpleasant places Yoruichi-chan," complained the male Shinigami loudly as he squatted down to eye the animals who remained unaware of his presence. "Why don't we ever go anywhere nice?"
Kisuke Urahara had not changed much from his time exiled in the human world. He was still dressed in the baggy green indoor robes covered by a dark brown coat laid with his signature white diamond patterns at the hem. The trademark stripped hat was plopped carelessly on a messy head of dirty blonde hair, the jaunty placement angle casting a slight shadow over his eyes. One would not have thought the eccentrically dressed man to be anyone of importance, but they would be sorely mistaken.
Despite being put back in charge of the research and development division after Mayuri assassination, Kisuke continued flouting the traditional dress of the captain's haori. Perhaps he did it as a reminder to those who had wronged him, to constantly rub in their face that despite their turning up of the nose at his presence he was still as irreplaceable as he was before. Or maybe he just didn't care too much for formalities. As with all truths, it was probably a mix of both.
The Winter War had left its mark on those who had fought in it, some mental and some physical. Urahara was no exception. While he did not carry with him the invisible mental burdens bore by many veterans, the jagged angry red scar that split his forehead down to the lower left portion of his jaw spoke of the explosive final confrontation he had with Aizen. Urahara had been the architect of the method that had finally sealed away the nigh immortal rogue Shinigami, but it had almost cost him his life to do so.
The aftermath of the war did not have him reaching more often for the bottle, nor did he suffer from the night terrors that plagued so many. To most it may seem as if the irreverent scoundrel remained untouched by the war beyond the scar. There was a noted rise in the number of jokes and pranks he played, but it was certainly a far better coping mechanism than many others had taken to.
Yoruichi rolled her feline eyes at his dramatics. Hundreds of years of friendship and the man still managed to annoy her to no ends when he chose to. Cheeky and derisive, many found the man to be disrespectful, but the heiress to the most prominent shinobi clan in Seireitei was one of the few who knew the truth. Urahara was a slave to his intellect, investigating and learning far more than any man ought to know to be able to sleep well at night. The goofy personality was just a way to cope with the unbearable secrets he carried in his mind.
The war had done him no favors in that department.
"What about that dango place we went to last week?" Yoruichi asked crossly, glaring at her pale companion. "That was pretty nice."
Kisuke snapped opened the folding fan he was so fond of carrying on his person, hiding his smug expression behind the cover it provided. "It was deep in the remote unpatrolled parts of the Rukongai district…we were out there scouting on rumors of leftover Arrancars…and you immediately got in a brawl with a gang of local cannibals…"
Yoruichi blinked vacantly at her old friend, running a hand absentmindedly through her silky dark violet ponytail. "Yeah, like I said. That was pretty nice."
Kisuke sniggered and turned away from the werecat. "Don't ever change my friend."
His ash gray eyes took on a more serious gleam as he observed the destroyed landscape before them. It had obviously been a facility of some sort judging by the rubble that remained strewn about in the harsh semi desert environment. Collapsed buildings sticking out from sunken ground like the remains of some great fallen beast gave silent testament to a great calamity that had taken place not so long ago.
The epicenter of the destruction was obvious, the ground caved in at one point and sinking in hundreds of feet into the ground. Whatever had done this had struck with the power of a mini nuclear warhead, creating a sinkhole that fell so deep that the shadows hid the bottom of the crater from sight. It was as if the fist of some mighty god had descended from heaven to smite the humans who had dared build the facility.
Kisuke removed a handheld device from his pocket, turning it on and watching the display splutter to life. An energy detector of his own invention, the unique instrument could pick up a wide variety of signals ranging between those of physical, spiritual and magical in nature. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and the scientist let out a low whistle when he saw the confusing storm of fluctuating energies the reader spat out frantically on screen.
The apparatus crackled for a moment, trying to make sense of the wild array of energies before giving up entirely and simply shutting down. A hard reboot got him the same results, except this time the device seemed to have gone dead entirely, refusing to respond no matter how much he poked and prodded. Kisuke would need to set up something much more sophisticated to get a proper tell on just what the hell happened here to create the massive hole in the ground.
"Something far above our paygrade just happened here recently," he concluded as he put the broken gadget away. "This may be a bit outside our jurisdiction Yoruichi. Why the hell are we poking our nose in this again?"
The gorgeous caramel skinned woman bit the manicured nail on her thumb in agitation. Kisuke's failure to get the answers she wanted only intensified her need for them. Her animal form was a cat for a reason, their traits unfortunately going both ways no matter which form she took.
"This was a SHIELD facility up until about three days ago. They're this spy organization that seems to span the whole world. Ichigo got himself mixed up in all this and I get the feeling he's about to be dragged into something unpleasant again."
"Three days ago?" Urahara asked with a thoughtful frown at the site of destruction. "Interesting."
The feline eyed Shinigami turned to regard her companion intently. "Interesting?"
Urahara rubbed his chin absently, eyes moving upwards in the classical indication that one was searching a memory. "There had been a brief shutdown of our monitoring system in the living world about three days back. They chalked it up to a hiccup in the system caused by an intern unplugging something she wasn't supposed to."
The scientist gave an apologetic shrug at the irate look he got from his best friend. "I hadn't found anything suspicious after we restarted the system, so I didn't give it much thought. Based off the readings I'm getting from this site, whatever transpired here would have been strong enough to momentarily blind our sensors. What exactly do you know about this SHIELD organization? Are they strictly mortal?"
Yoruichi grimaced at the questions. She had scouted out what little she could of the clandestine organization that had dropped her latest pupil in her lap. It was the sort of group that would have the conspiracy minded foaming at the mouth if they knew of its existence and the extent of its influence. She had not found anything out of the ordinary about them, at least not anything to indicate they were into anything supernatural.
But then again, she had only spent two days of her remaining holiday with Ichigo sleuthing about, distracted by her desire to spend precious time with her lover.
Damn her hormones!
If the world ending caught them off guard because she had been horny, she would never hear the end of it from Kisuke.
The short lilac haired woman pouted and puffed out her cheeks. "I know at least one of their operatives has spiritual abilities. I trained her."
Urahara looked shocked. "Really? I thought you had sworn off ever taking on pupils after that whole fiasco with Central 46 trying to recruit you to teach at the academy. What changed your mind?"
Yoruichi winced internally as she debated whether to tell her longtime friend the truth or not.
"She was poking her nose into Ichigo's business," she bit out expressionlessly.
The green clad man snapped open his fan again to hide the gleeful grin on his face. He loved needling his friend about her odd relationship with his former protégé.
"My, my, how scandalous. You know Yoruichi-chan, for someone who insists on trying to get Ichigo to settle down with a mortal woman, you do seem rather territorial of him whenever someone does show up."
He ducked the fist that went through the space where his head had been, having predicted the halfhearted swing. "Hitting me won't change the truth my cradle robbing friend."
Yoruichi stuck her tongue out childishly. There was no point trying to hide anything from Kisuke, the man knew her like the back of his hand, even when she wasn't being truthful with herself. Yes, she did have a habit of being a bit jealous with Ichigo. It did conflict with her desire to see him live a happy life while alive. Life and afterlife relationships shouldn't strictly be counted as cheating, they were separate things.
But no matter how much she repeated that to herself or how often she said it aloud to Ichigo, there was a girlish part of Yoruichi that squealed gleefully knowing that her man chose to be faithful. Even when she had given him explicit permission to run off with any hussy willing to warm his bed, he still only ever belonged to her and no one else. It was certainly something she had no problems bragging about to the Shinigami Women's Association much to their envy.
"Well sorry for dragging you out here Kisuke. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me more after I found this place, but it seems I may have to do more digging." Yoruichi tapped a balled fist against her temple as she thought about her next step to finding the answers she wanted. "I've hit a wall with how much I can find out by just popping in and eavesdropping. I need a gigai to go twist some arms and ask some pointed questions."
Kisuke nodded in agreement. "I'll prepare us two."
"Two?" she asked in mild surprise.
The scientist put away his fan, all levity leaving him. "You've sufficiently piqued my interest. Plus, Ichigo was my student before he was yours. If he's getting into another mess, I'd like to know what's going on before I get dragged into this too."
Privately he had other reasons for wanting in on the investigation. There were only a handful of things that he knew of that could release this multitude of energy signatures so powerfully that it would linger even three days after. None of them spelled good things for the peacetime they had come to enjoy.
Hopefully he was just being paranoid. Earth was not ready for the attention of some of the kinds of beings that would be drawn here if what he suspected may be the culprit behind this mystery.
HELICARRIER
Agent Coulson was one of the very best in his field. His work required that he operate anonymously from the shadows, otherwise, he'd be one of the most famous faces in his accidental profession. It was a bit of an odd paradox, the better you were at this job the less people should be aware of what you had done. The elite of his kind should just be another face in the crowd, an unnamed ghost influencing the greatest events of history without ever being caught in the history books.
But if one were to know exactly what Coulson had done through thirty year career, then one would correctly come to the conclusion that Agent Phil Coulson was the God of Espionage.
He'd been a part of some of the most clandestine operations ever carried out in the past three decades, talked down would be gods, fought extraterrestrial invaders and crossed over into other dimensions more than once. Coulson had been around the block and then some. Despite just being human, he'd come back from these unbelievable events in one piece, more than most could say.
On his off days, he rubbed shoulders with people who owned the kind of money and influence that could start and end countries as a pet project. He knew kings, despots and tyrants on a first name basis, his arrival a herald of terrible things to come for those who knew him. Hell, he had the personal phone numbers of world leaders, celebrities and the super wealthy on the contact list of his SHIELD issued phone. He could call in favors ranging from air strikes to the celebrity endorsement of just about anything he wanted at the dial of a button.
Heck, he could call the president of the United States right now and whistle up a SEAL team to bring him take-out. A Black Hawk chopper would have hardened men dropping down rappel lines to bring him his favorite Chinese takeout inside of twenty minutes. Phil knew of some of the inappropriate things the man had done in that oval office, and the man knew that Phil knew. That was the secret behind keeping people from talking.
Despite the many extraordinary events he had been a part of, Agent Coulson had also seen the depravity that the worse of human nature was capable of. Some nights as he lay awake in bed, he privately wondered if humanity was the worst thing the universe had produced. It would certainly explain a lot.
Yet despite it all, Phil couldn't help but be a little bit star stricken in the presence of his childhood hero. Captain America was the ideal of every man and woman who ever served under the American flag, Coulson was no exception.
Duty, responsibility and honor.
Steve Rogers was revered as the greatest soldier mankind had ever produced, and this titan was standing in the flesh across from him. It had been a dream come true to meet the Captain. So far, the man seemed to be living up to the legend.
"I mean if it's not too much trouble," Coulson said as he continued staring at the millions of rapidly flickering faces on screen that the shipboard AI was attempted to match to Loki's likeness.
"No, no it's fine," Steve replied distractedly, equally captivated by the rapidly changing images.
"It's a vintage set. Took me a couple of years to collect them all." Coulson mentally cursed his rambling mouth and willed himself to stop talking. "Near mint, slightly foxing around the edges, but-"
A single chirp interrupted his embarrassing ramble as the image finally froze on a face, the screen rapidly filling with information about the location and all nearby relevant details.
"We got a hit!" announced one of the bridge technicians excitedly. "Sixty-seven percent match. Wait -Cross match, seventy-nine percent."
The senior field agent's demeanor instantly shifted to all business now that the game was afoot.
"Location?" he demanded calmly.
"Stuttgart, Germany. Twenty-eight, Koningstrabe," responded another technician. "He's not exactly hiding."
The super soldier chuckled, the sound echoing oddly in the operation center that was now filled with the hurried tapping of fingers on keyboards. "Germany huh? Figures."
Fury snapped off orders into his handset, no doubt alerting the flight crew to double check the Quinjet that had been kept running hot ever since the start of the operations.
"Captain," said the Director with a serious expression. "You're up. Romanoff is on her way to take you to your transport. Your gear is being loaded on board as we speak."
Steve Rogers stepped closer to Fury so that only Coulson was close enough to catch what was being said.
"Sir, can I trust her?" he asked with brows furrowed.
Fury stared back at him steadily. "Do you trust me?"
Steve hesitated, but then decided to be honest. "No."
A ghost of a smile worked its way onto the normally stoic Director's face. "You'll be fine."
QUINJET ON THE WAY TO GERMANY
"Do you think we'll make it on time?"
The question from behind her would have been startling had she not sensed the Captain approach. For such a well built man he had the footsteps of a mouse. Too bad Natasha had already gotten a taste for his reiatsu earlier.
"We'll make it," she replied firmly from the pilot's seat.
Her hands danced expertly across the instrument panels, hours of training giving them life of their own. She examined the readings from the outside sensors, double checked the link to SHIELD's stealth satellite system and made sure the weather reports coming in were up to date. It would be a hell of a thing to miss their drop due to flying into a thunderstorm or something.
Natasha had insisted on manning the Quinjet when the call came. If they were headed off to face off against Loki, they needed someone behind the wheel who was not afraid to use the multimillion-dollar experimental jet as an expensive battering ram if necessary. Your regular highly trained SHIELD pilot might have flown just as well as she could, but it was unlikely they'd be able to think outside the box if the situation required it.
The leather seat of the copilot chair sighed mournfully as the Captain eased himself into it. The spy got the feeling he had done that out of courtesy to her, no doubt if the situation called for it, he could be specter.
"There's something different about you," he said bluntly after a few minutes of fruitlessly trying to make sense of the readouts in front of him. "I don't know what it is."
Natasha engaged the auto pilot and turned in her chair to stare thoughtfully at the man seated next to her. The hum of the engines filled the silent gulf between them while they examined each other with critical eyes, both searching for something in the other.
"If that's how you picked up women back in the day, you'll have to work on your game a bit if you ever want to get laid again," she commented dryly, ending the tense mood.
The Captain's face heated up and he averted his eyes back to the instrument panels in front of the copilot seat, fiddling uncomfortably with his gloves. "I'm being serious here Romanoff. I don't know what it is, but my instincts have never been wrong."
His eyes hardened, turning back to her. "We're about to march off into the battlefield against someone straight out of myths and legends. You're the only person I have watching my back when we confront Loki. Can I trust you?"
That question had been asked of her thousands of times and she had given the same lie just as easily a thousand times over. But this time, something about the weight of that question felt different. It wasn't the words themselves or how the man's eyes seemed to bore into her soul. There was something else intangible at play, something triggering a warning bell in her head.
Her instincts had never been wrong either.
The redhead paused as if weighing her words, and to Steve, that's probably what it looked like. Unbeknownst to him, Natasha was reaching out with her spiritual senses and trying to see that elusive bit she had felt.
He was glowing a faint blue, a color similar to his spirit ribbon.
"I need an honest answer from you Romanoff."
His aura grew brighter with each word he spoke, the conviction seemingly radiating off him in actual reiatsu particles. The spirit energy blew off him like dandelion fluff, filling the cabin with glowing blue motes of light, touching her and everything around them.
It was certainly different from how it looked when she compelled others to not notice her, but the side effect was definitely there. He was compelling her to tell the truth somehow.
Sneaky son of a bitch.
"You would make one hell of an interrogator Rogers, has anyone ever told you that?" she asked wryly.
He dropped his intense gaze, expression settled on melancholy. "Yes, someone has. Unfortunately, she's most likely gone now."
The pain in his eyes elicited a look of sympathy from the spy, a genuine one. She had asked that question partially as a joke, but partly as a test to see if the compulsion could be circumvented. It seems that while it made her more willing to consider telling the truth, there was nothing really stopping her from just avoiding answering. Natasha would have to test a lie on him at some point, but now was the time to be earnest if she wanted to gain the man's confidence.
"Trust is relative and momentary in my world Captain. The friends of today may be the enemies of tomorrow. You can trust that I will do what is necessary to apprehend Loki. You can trust that I will try to minimize the loss of life. You can trust that I will do whatever it takes to snap Barton out of the mind control Loki has on him. Beyond that? You'd be a fool to trust anyone that much."
The World War II veteran considered her words for a moment, as if weighing his judgement. Finally, he nodded.
"Fair enough."
He stuck out a hand to the spy, getting a raised eyebrow. Looks like she had passed.
"Welcome to the team Romanoff."
Natasha watched closely as she took his hand. Captain Roger's aura touched hers, the motes of light floating around the room condensing and covering them both in a brilliant flash. The spy fought down a flinch, expecting to feel something, but the particles had vanished. Her gut told her that something had just happened between them, she just wasn't sure what.
She filed it away for later. They had a mission to accomplish.
Germany
Loki sniffed disdainfully at the glass of wine he had been offered by the servants. The pungent fruity piss water was supposedly one of the better brands that the humans had to offer, but even the worse swill from Asgard tasted better than the poorly fermented garbage they passed off as good booze here.
Despite his distaste, he took a drag from the glass anyways. Alcohol was alcohol, and you didn't grow up calling Thor brother without acquiring the habit of drinking any and all that was within reach. It was the only thing that kept his sanity intact from some of the worse of Thor's antics.
The thought of his adopted brother brought about the usual mixed feelings of jealousy, loathing and the faint echo of love that could only exist between brothers. Loki was a conflicted man even before he had found out about his unusual lineage and what his adopted father had done to his people. Knowing the truth to his past had not set him free as one might expect, it had only made life more confusing.
He knew he had done some terrible things and regardless of what his brother may say it was unlikely Odin would ever forgive him fully. Loki was not destined for the throne like Thor, he was not ever going to be more than what he as, a cruel trickster who sought power he could never have due to the nature of his species. Odin had seen to that.
Loki raised the glass of poor excuse for wine in a silent toast to his adopted father.
Even now as he stood in the gala watching the humans pass while he mired in gloomy thoughts, he knew he his current plotting would not make him king. He was playing for power so that another could rule, but that was ok with him. Loki could not change his nature, just as a leopard could not change its spots. He would continue doing what he did best until one day his deeds caught up to him and he died with a mischievous smile on his face.
That was his destiny, he had come to accept it. If he was lucky, he may even pull off one last trick before his trip to the afterlife. One last grand joke to carry to his unsung and unmourned grave.
The chirp of the communicator Clint Barton had handed him alerted him to the man trying to reach him. Loki reached his free hand up and pressed against the hard spot under his ear where the receiver of the bio communicator had been installed.
"I'm in," reported the archer gruffly.
Loki had been surprised at the skill of the mortal he had twisted to his service. In an age when men could fire guns that shed hundreds of bullets a second, here was a man who still chose to learn the ancient skill of the bow and string. And Barton was quite skilled at it too from what little he had seen, easily comparable to the best warriors of Asgard. Quite impressive for a man who had been alive only a blink of an eye to be compared favorably against those who had centuries to perfect their craft.
The fallen prince did not respond verbally, but he emptied his glass with one practiced tilt of his head, plopping the wine cup carelessly onto the passing tray of one of the many peasants acting as servers at the prestigious event. He stalked up purposefully to the man who had been droning away monotonously at the podium. The tired sounding man spoke before a large group of humans who had been listening and interrupting with an occasional bout of feeble applause.
Loki materialized the staff he had kept hidden underneath a simple illusion his mother had taught him eons ago when he first began showing talent for the mystical arts. The Chitauri artifact glowed at the tip where the mind stone was mounted, the mesmerizing gem instantly catching the attention of nearby humans.
Slamming the scepter into the orator's chest, he ignored the cries of alarm from the audience. Grabbing the stunned speaker by the scuff of his expensive suit, Loki hoisted the helpless mortal effortlessly into the air and slammed him painfully onto the marble platform before the other guests.
A stunned silence had fallen over the humans and the frost giant grinned menacingly at them, the only sound being the desperate wheezing gasps of the man he held in his clutches. Reaching into his silk jacket pocket, Loki removed the sharp syringe like device Barton had provided him with. Jamming the pointed instrument viciously into the eye socket of the unfortunate speaker, he watched with sick fascination as the man's feeble struggles turned into an uncontrolled death spasm.
The screams and the chaos that followed his violent action were like music to his ears.
Loki was never going to be more than he was, but he was damn good at being himself.
His grisly task finished, he dropped the device and wiped his blood stained hand on the dead man's suit. He waited patiently for a response from Barton who should have gotten access to the Iridium now that he had a copy of the dead man's retinal likeness. The double chirp of the signal responder confirmed mission success.
Now Loki would provide the distraction necessary for Clint to get out without SHIELD interference. Hopefully they had caught his little stroll in the park earlier and already sent in this team of exceptional individuals to apprehend him. Otherwise he'd have to do something very messy to get their attention.
All part of his master plan of course.
The God of Mischief strolled casually through the screaming crowd. He flicked the scepter, sending the two unfortunate guards who tried to confront him flying backwards into the wall with bone crunching force. A quick jab of his long fingers and hiss of arcane words and the two unfortunate men were transformed into toads, a threat to no one anymore.
A brave guest who picked up a weapon dropped by one of the guards had his neck casually broken with a practiced twist of Loki's hands; no magic required. Brave, but awfully stupid.
As the Norse deity exited the museum, he dropped the illusion that he had weaved to blend in with the other guests at the Gala, his Asgardian attire now fully visible. The wail of a vehicle with flashing lights caught his attention as it sped towards him. It was probably the local constable responding to someone's panicked summons. How naïve.
Loki jabbed the scepter at the car, a blast of raw molten power unleashed from the tip of the staff. The bolt of azure energy slammed into the car and exploded, killing the two unfortunate officers within.
Reaching out with his powers, Loki cast the multibody illusion spell, mirage replicas of his image flickering into existence and surrounding the screaming crowd of humans trying to flee.
"Kneel before me," he shouted with dark delight as the humans froze, unsure of which way to run.
"Kneel!" his copies repeated, their shouts coming out as one menacing command.
The bellowed words finally pierced through the fog of panic to register with the humans. One by one, they all fell to their knees as commanded.
Strolling through the mob of humans who dared not meet his eyes, Loki smiled wickedly. Inwardly, he could only feel disgust. How weak, they would rather live on their knees than die on their feet. Pitiful wretches didn't even need the influence of the mind stone to give up their freedoms.
The humans deserved to be subservient and ruled over if their will was so weak.
"Is not this simpler?" he asked, injecting a soft paternal kindness to his voice despite his internal scorn at their cowardice. "Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity."
He paused before a shivering woman. Reaching out with his scepter, he raised her chin with the tip, reveling in the look of awe and fear in her eyes.
"You were made to be ruled," he crooned sweetly, lip reflexively curling in revulsion. "In the end – you will always kneel."
A grunt of exertion caught his ear and he turned to watch in bemusement as an old man struggle to his feet. He was well past the age of a man who could easily get up from the floor from such a servile position and the effort it took showed in the strain of his trembling body.
Loki fought the urge to offer the man a helping hand. Frigga would have tanned his hide raw with a switch if she were here to witness his inaction. The unbidden thought of the woman who raised him swept him with shame. What the hell was he doing?
"Not to men like you," the aged man said, meeting Loki's eyes with determination.
The crowd of kneeling humans had turned to watch the elder.
"There are no men like me," Loki whispered softly, partly to himself.
"There are always men like you," said the elder in resignation. "We kneeled once to a man like you here, I will not stand by again. Kill me if you will and be done with it."
Loki could feel the tide changing. The little insects were gaining courage. They couldn't have that.
"Look to your elder, people," he sang ominously. "Let him be your example."
He concentrated his will, watching as the power glowed from his scepter. The elderly man stood straight despite knowing he was about to die. Privately the God of Mischief acknowledged the man's courage. Death before dishonor, traits worthy of an Asgardian. He would grant this man a worthy end.
Loki fired.
A blur dropped down in front of the old man, shielding him from the blast. Instead of being incinerated by the power of the infinity stone as expected, the energy blast bounced off the figure and reflected back at its caster at twice the speed.
Instinctively Loki called on his power to form an eldritch shield before him. Despite the powerful protective spell, the blast punched through, barely slowing. The Norse deity found himself knocked backwards, his body scattering kneeling humans like bowling pins.
"You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everyone else, we ended up disagreeing."
Loki rose gingerly, taking his time to observe the new human before him. Despite the gaudy blue suit, the super solider Barton had warned him about was quite the specimen. He was perhaps a little taller than Loki himself, broad of shoulder and grim frown etched onto a firm jaw. The shade of his eyes spoke of a man of duty, the slight almost imperceptible glow of his iris hinted at someone with some innate gifts. It reminded him of Odin, the thought of his adopted father bringing searing pain to his chest, but Loki ignored it.
The round metal shield that had deflected the scepters blast was still glowing somewhat, an odd ethereal ringing coming from it as if the gong of destiny had been struck. It may look rather dull and mundane at first glance, but the shield had defended against the creation energies unleashed by one of the infinity stones. There had to be something unusual about its properties, he would have to be careful.
"The man out of time," the frost giant hissed, eyes briefly turning back to their natural state of blood red as he channeled his anger. "You should have stayed in the ice."
The super soldier remained unmoved by the threat. "I'm not the one out of time here."
The howl of a plane engine announced the arrival of an aircraft that swooped up behind the soldier. The ports on the nose of the craft opened and twin turrets jutted out with an audible clank before whirling into a soft hum, clearly prepared to spit lead death.
"Loki, drop the weapon and stand down," ordered a woman's voice harshly over the loudspeakers.
Loki ignored the demand knowing that the pilot would not pull the trigger with the civilians still near. He fired at the hovering jet, but the agile aircraft banked to one side to avoid the blast and to his surprise opened up in a short burst of return fire.
How unexpectedly ruthless of the pilot. He approved.
The Asgardian drained his power to momentarily step sideways out of reality to avoid the bullets, letting them buzz through his immaterial form and tear up the concrete behind him. Civilians screamed and scattered, but miraculously no one was hit by the shower of heavy caliber rounds or the inevitable shrapnel that followed.
Loki reemerged and was immediately forced to duck the heavy overhand swing of the odd shield wielded by the soldier on the ground. What followed was a blindingly fast exchange of melee, hard, quick and probably a complete blur to those still present to witness.
Loki had never liked close quarters combat; he had always left the sweaty brutish work to his brother and his friends while he personally preferred to cast his magic from the background or sneak up to slide a blade between unsuspecting ribs. That by no means made him a slouch at hand to hand, as one of the sons of the Allfather, he was a master of the duel in his own right.
The fact that the enhanced mortal could keep up with his swift movements and not fall for his feints and tricks was fairly surprising. It seemed Clint was correct; this team being formed by the opposition may prove to be quite troublesome if it wasn't neutralized.
A leaping spin kick from the soldier nearly took him unaware and only reflexes honed by a millennia of combat experience saved him from being knocked out. His quick dodge left him exposed to a forceful shield bash which he took with a grunt, sliding backwards but keeping his feet. Loki fought down a groan of pain as he warded off his opponents follow up barrage with a few well placed thrusts of the scepter, forcing both men to back off and reevaluate their opponent for an opening.
An obnoxiously loud noise that may have been what passed for music on this backwater planet began to blare from the speakers of the craft that had remained hovering overhead. Loki wondered if the wench piloting somehow expected such childish psychological warfare to work on him, a master of the subliminal battle arts.
He had halted the march of armies with a simple illusion, ended dynasties with poisoned whispers from honeyed tongue and enthralled beasts thought to be untamable with but a kind touch. Did she really think that annoying racket would shake him?
His keen hearing caught the hiss of a second set of jets and he backed off further from his skirmish with the super soldier to glance up in time to take a blast of pure energy to the chest.
Loki found himself tossed through the air a second time that night. He tried to lift himself up from his landing position, but only managed his head. His hearing came in and with an odd ringing, and the world swam before his eyes. Hela, that had hurt almost as bad as Thor's backhand with Mjolnir!
When his vision finally cleared up, Loki found himself on his back staring up at a man garbed entirely in a suit of muted red and gold armor, glowing hand pointed directly at his face. The crackling energy radiating from the palms of this new foe gave off enough power that Loki could practically taste it with his tongue.
"Make a move reindeer games," said the newcomer glibly.
A jest pointed at his choice of headgear. How unoriginal.
The new arrival's words and tone did not match the stern lifeless faceplate glaring down with ominous glowing eyes. Despite the air of casualness, there was no doubt in the frost giant's mind that this armored man was ready to turn the him into a smear on the ground.
Loki allowed his grand Asgardian court garb to fade away and be replaced by his travel gear, a more sensible leather assemble unlike the gaudy silks of green and gold required of his princely standing. He raised his hands and grinned up boyishly at the man of iron and soldier out of time. He had put up enough of a show for them to not be suspicious hopefully. Time to move on to the second phase of his plan.
"Good move," complimented the newcomer, dialing down the weapons in his palms to a less noticeable radiance.
"Mister Stark," greeted the super solider guardedly, shooting a speculative sideways glance at his new ally.
"Captain."
This ought to be an amusing experience.
AN: Some folks complained that the last chapter was a bit on the nose with how things happened in the movie. Sorry if that wasn't an enjoyable read to you, but I intend to be as true to the movies as possible when recreating certain scenes. Keep in mind that Ichigo hasn't really been introduced to the events yet and for the most part no one knows about Natasha's powers so the divergence from movie events won't take place until new elements are introduced.
I do intend to introduce some stones into the river so to speak, but that said, don't expect Thanos to come popping through the portal in New York or Ichigo going in and saving the day single handedly while the avengers stand around with their thumbs up their asses. Not really my style and part of this story is to examine more in depth what's going on in the heads of our favorite characters as events unfold and they run into each other.
Enjoy and as usual please leave me your thoughts! I always appreciate those who take the time to leave me feedback, good or bad. Until the next time, take care out there.