The world has changed much since my last update. I hope everyone is doing well and taking precautions to be safe in these uncertain times. Whether you believe this worldwide lockdown to be an overblown reaction or justified, please take a moment to think about your friends and loved ones and reach out if you haven't. And if you happen to be in an area that hasn't been locked down yet, please take the precautionary social distancing advice to try to keep it that way. I'm currently locked in, working from home and let me tell you, it's not what I thought it would be. =(
Ichigo arrived in the deserted field that held the coordinates he had been given. It was a barren wasteland as far as the eye could see, the flat rocky terrain occasionally interrupted by a lonely tree. Overhead in the far distant, a single black dot circled the sky, perhaps a solitary vulture waiting for any foolish enough to have wandered this far from civilization.
Even with the speed and distance of his shunpo, it had taken the better part of an hour to reach this spot. It was well away from the walls of Seireitei, leaving behind even the outer distracts teeming with the souls of those trapped in the poorest crime-infested districts.
The sun beat down mercilessly from overhead, somehow hotter and fiercer than within the safety of Seireitei. Ichigo had always wondered about the extent of the land of the afterlife. There wasn't an infinite amount of souls, at some point, the living districts had to end. Yet when he looked off in the distance, the desolate environment extended beyond sight.
This was the first time he had taken the chance to travel beyond where souls dwelled. He had to wonder if this realm indeed did have an end or perhaps it merely stretched out to infinity, ever-extending if one kept going. Throw in some sand, and he could have easily mistaken this for Hueco Mundo rather than Soul Society. His senses could pick up on only one life force this far away from where souls dwelled.
The substitute Shinigami finally spotted the old man seated on the rock he had been sent out to meet. The supreme commander of the Shinigami forces sat still as a statue, seemingly meditating while he awaited the human's arrival.
Allowing his aching legs to rest, Ichigo examined the old soldier in respectful silence, waiting for the man to finish whatever it was he was reflecting upon.
His bald liver-spotted head served a stark contrast to the bushy eyebrows and waist-length beard he boasted, the picture of a wizened sage. Yet upon closer examination, the sizeable cross-shaped scar marring his wrinkled forehead spoke of a man, not of words. This was a man who lived by his sword and would likely die by it.
Seated on the waist-high rock, he was slightly hunched over, his signature gnarled wooden cane propping both his hands up. The traditional haori that signified a captain's rank was missing, leaving only the dark Shihakusho worn by the rank and file. Despite his tired stance, he still held an intimidating aura about him, the living embodiment of the phrase "old man strength."
The wizened warrior's eyes opened to the barest slits as they fell on Ichigo. He grunted in greeting and gestured for the human to come closer.
"I'm here, old-timer," Ichigo said as he drew up short before the old warrior. "What did you want?"
The ancient Shinigami spat to the side and got to his feet with the aid of his cane. "Disrespectful little rascal. Took your damn time, didn't you? Hard to believe you were taught by the one we crowned Goddess of Shunpo with lazy steps like yours."
The orange-haired Shinigami rolled his eyes but waited for the other man to continue. Having worked indirectly for the crotchety old geezer the past two years, Ichigo was used to the griping and had learned to look past it. The old man would eventually get to his point once he'd pointed out all the shortcomings of the young ones.
"I've handed over my position to Shunsui," the ancient warrior stated brusquely. "It is time the next generation stepped up to inherit the mantle."
Ichigo nodded, having received the news when he had arrived through the soul gate. "I'd heard. That lecherous bastard you put in charge will drive out the female Shinigami in droves before the year is out."
Yamamoto snorted. "He knows better. Shunsui spent his years as a captain whoring and chasing skirts because he knew the day would come when he would be asked to take my place. There will be no more of that nonsense now that his shoulders bear the weight of responsibility."
Ichigo privately doubted that but didn't voice his disagreement. "So, what did you want with me, old man?"
The elderly warrior grunted, planting his sword cane staff firmly on the ground. "I'm sure by now you've heard about the result of my little scuffle with the impetuous brat, Aizen."
Ichigo's mouth pressed into a grim line. Who hadn't? Reports had come in that the traitorous bastard had finally crawled out of his fortress in Hueco Mundo. The former captain had been sighted in some remote corner of the world doing who knows what, sending alarm bells screaming across the Shinigami division barracks.
Almost half of the captains and their lieutenants had charged off to confront the leader of the opposing forces. The now-former commander of the Shinigami had led the assault himself. They had been fighting the endless hordes of transformed Arrancar for over two years with little to show for their efforts except for a slow depletion of able bodies Shinigami.
It had been a chance too good to pass up, and Aizen had known that.
The rogue Shinigami had laid a trap separating the other captains and lieutenants into a realm outside of reality. Alone, the old warrior had to stand against the tides of transformed Hollows. Had it been any other Shinigami, they surely would have fallen. Unfortunately for Aizen schemes, it had been The Shinigami that stood before the endless hordes.
Even faced with overwhelming odds, Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto had been unmoved. The fearsome one-man war he waged had transformed the battlefield into a wasteland. There was a reason why Aizen had never dared confront the ancient warrior that had been a pillar of Soul Society for more than a thousand years.
Many Hollows and Arrancars fell before the hungry flames of Ryūjin Jakka that day. The slaughter would be burned into the pages of history, the records speaking of the unfathomable events of that field for centuries to come.
Yet it had not ended in victory for the Shinigami.
With the aid of an artificially modified hollow, Aizen had sealed away the first division head's bankai. That single action had cost him countless foot soldiers that would take time to replace. Yet, the sacrifice of the fallen Hollows had led to a devastating blow to Shinigami morale more surely than had he felled Yamamoto himself.
The other captains had escaped their imprisonment in time to force Aizen to flee before he could finish the job, but the damage was done. Ryūjin Jakka would never soar again, and the life force of Genryusai had diminished along with the power of his partner.
"They tell you how much time you have left?"
Yamamoto nodded somberly. "A year at most. If I don't use my reiatsu at all, perhaps a little longer."
The son of Isshin grimaced sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be," the wizened soldier countered dismissively. "I've lived a long life and done all that I have sought to do. Death comes for all of us; it is the cycle of life. None can escape the clutches of destiny, not even the Shinigami. I have been blessed with more time than others, I will enter the cycle of rebirth with little regret."
The wooden staff burned away like a shimmering mirage, showing the sword acknowledged to be the most potent fire-based zanpakto ever recorded. Even from where Ichigo stood, he could feel the heat radiating from the legendary blade.
"But there is still one thing I can do for this war before I depart."
The old warrior grasped the hilt of his sword and drew.
The blistering heat unleashed from his body from that single action was unbelievable. His dark robes simply burned away to ash around his body, leaving his heavily scarred torso exposed to the world. And there were many scars.
The intensity of his reiatsu was so high the very clouds in the sky bubbled and boiled away to nothing. In the distance, the dried dead trees burst into scorching flames like they had been soaked with kerosene. Their vast trunks wilted away like candle wax before the torch, scattering as ash in the wind when they could no longer keep a solid form.
"You are powerful, Kurosaki Ichigo. Of that, no one will dispute. Your teachers have taught you what they could in the little time you called them master, but you are an incomplete product, an unfinished blade. You are good, Ichigo, but you are not yet great."
Yamamoto's eye opened fully for the first time. The awakened reiatsu emitting from his body ignited a ring of fire that surrounded the two Shinigami in a massive dome, leaving no room to run. Fortress Blaze, the technique he had used to stall the three treacherous captain level Shinigami to buy himself the time needed to deal with the hordes of Hollow.
"Draw your sword whelp. I will teach you what it truly means to be a Shinigami."
Ichigo knew without asking that Yamamoto's mind was made up. There would be no backing out of this. He wordlessly drew Zangetsu, calling on the power deep within his soul to unleash his bankai. The familiar wellspring of energy opened, wordlessly transforming his oversized blade into its final form.
The former commander may only have his shikai left, but Ichigo knew that was still more than enough to turn him into a grease stain on the ground if he didn't go all out from the start. He would not disrespect the man by underestimating him or taking pity with his blows.
Steeling his courage, Ichigo charged towards the molten heat, sword raised high, prepared to accept this final lesson from the old warrior.
SCENE BREAK
Ichigo's eyes snapped open, the distant spike of anomalous energy shaking him from slumber. Whatever had happened was probably on the other side of the world. Breathing out, he turned onto his head, hand reaching out for the empty side of his bed.
The echo of Yoruichi's warm laughter, full of life and music, haunted his ears as he touched the spot where his lover had lain. Closing his eyes, he let the lingering memory soothe his frantic heart, counting between beats until he was calm and in control once more.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Ichigo glanced at the alarm clock by his bed and realized with a start that he had slept in for the first time in recent memory. The only time he deviated from his schedule was when Yoruichi visited.
"I must be getting old," he muttered wearily as he forced himself up.
The dull ache of wounds he had taken in his youth throbbed throughout his body. He knew it was purely psychological. Any injury he had received had been dealt to his spiritual form and fully healed courtesy of Inoue or liberal applications of the demon arts. His corporal body had never been put in harm's way during his time as a substitute Shinigami. Yet, the ghosts of battles past continued to haunt him despite whatever truths he knew of his condition.
Hauling his aching frame out of bed, the human went about preparing for his day as he had done for years. Washing his face and brushing his teeth, Ichigo then headed downstairs to have his glass of water, followed by an early morning protein shake.
He ran through the predawn neighborhood at a brisk pace, enjoying the fresh air and silence as he slowly warmed up his body in preparation for his ritual sword practice. With a start, he realized his body had taken him through his morning run on autopilot while his mind had wandered aimlessly.
Entering his living room, Ichigo began reaching for the bokken he practiced with but hesitated. His eye strayed from the wooden practice blade to the weapon hanging over the fireplace. Drawn inexplicably closer, he focused his attention on the sword that had defined so much of his younger self. Reaching a hand up, he ran a finger down the wooden sheath, the familiar sensation bringing a wave of nostalgia.
He flinched back at the phantom echo of blade striking blade. Ichigo frowned down at his left hand as he watched his digits flinch uncontrollably. It had taken months after settling back into civilian life to realize that he was not the same Ichigo before he had picked up his sword to march to war. Even after all these years, he had never truly become whole, merely adapting to his new reality of frequent nightmares and overreaction to loud noises.
Ichigo felt his presence before he heard the footsteps. The human did need to turn to know who stood behind him. As he had done countless times before, he clenched his hand into a fist, willing the tremble away through sheer force of will.
"Ichigo."
The orange-haired doctor turned and nodded at the tall, middle-aged cloaked man standing in the living room.
"Zangetsu," he greeted his old friend quietly.
It had been a long time since Ichigo had lain eyes on the spirit standing before him, but nothing had changed. The tall, middle-aged looking man stared solemnly at him through the odd clear glasses that covered his dark eyes. His arms remained hidden beneath the frayed cloak that ran down to his knees, the bits of white poking up from the collar hinting at the rumpled dress shirt beneath the shrouded veil he wore.
Unkempt shoulder-length brown hair added to the disheveled image of a man who had little care for the world or his appearance. That impression was quite deceiving for anyone who would take him lightly for it. Ichigo could attest to that given how many duals he had lost to this man standing before him.
His sword spirit dipped his head in acknowledgment, the shadow of a smile on his somber face.
"How long have I slept?" Zangetsu asked, stepping past Ichigo to stare intently at the blade hanging over the fireplace.
The sound of inhuman roars and the screams of dying souls followed each footstep. Ichigo blinked his eyes to force his mind away from the memories of battles past.
"A little over ten years," Ichigo said. "Did you enjoy your nap?"
"One cannot be awake to enjoy a nap if one is napping correctly," Zangetsu replied dryly. "You swore never to draw me from that sheath again, and so having no purpose, I slept."
He turned away from his physical manifestation to look questioningly at his owner. "I can only imagine my reawakening means something has changed your mind. Is it time again?"
Ichigo sighed. "It would appear so."
The taller man sighed. "What little time left you have in the mortal realm will shorten significantly should you choose this path."
The human smiled ruefully back at his partner. "I'm afraid this path has chosen me."
Zangetsu observed his human counterpart silently before nodded resolutely and fading into wisps of shadow and smoke. "We will be ready."
"Damn right, partner," echoed Ichigo's hollow self from deep within his subconscious. "Been far too long."
Ichigo scowled at the floor. The pieces of his soul had known what his mind had tried to reject. The time for peace was over. Reaching his hand out, he took the blade down from the mount on the wall.
Grasping the hilt with a practiced grip, Ichigo began murmuring the incantations that would unbind the spells he had cast on the sheath. He had sealed away this part of his soul made for war, hoping he would never need it again. But perhaps he has always known he would find no peaceful death in bed.
As he became lost in his murmured chants, the living room filled with a blinding unearthly glow. In the trance-like state, Ichigo lost track of how much time passed. With a final whispered incantation, the zanpakto was freed from the scabbard with a gentle tug.
The blade shattered into a million motes of light dancing around his body before being absorbed in a breathless rush. Ichigo could feel his reiatsu swelling, tapping into his full potential for the first time in years. It was like sitting back down in the driver's seat of a favorite old car filled with nostalgic memories, both bitter and sweet.
"It is raining Ichigo," whispered Zangetsu woefully from within his mind. "I don't like the rain."
"Sorry old man," Ichigo replied aloud. "I'm afraid I won't be in a very good mood until this gets resolved."
Pulling out his phone, he dialed the clinic staff line and left a message letting his workers know that he would be taking the day off.
Opening the door, he stepped out of his house and left without looking back.
SCENE BREAK
Natasha watched the thunder roll outside the Quinjet, hands steady on the helm despite the chaos outside. They had managed to get their newly surrendered Asgardian guest on board before the local authorities had arrived. The stealth capabilities of the experimental aircraft had ensured they left German airspace unmolested. Currently, they were flying through a thunderstorm over the less inhabited stretches of Europe.
As the aircraft continued to spit out reassuring readings on the sophisticated dashboard instruments, Natasha found her fingers mindlessly drumming on the handles of the yoke. Grimacing, the spy forced her hands still, knowing that her nervous energy stemmed from how smoothly the operation was going.
It was never that easy.
The sly grin on the trickster god's face set off every alarm in the spy's head. She'd let herself be captured by the enemy enough to know a ploy when she saw one. The operative would have to watch for the crucial moment when Loki would spring his counter trap. It's what she'd have done in his place.
"Is he talking?" demanded Fury over the private communication channel she had open.
"Not a word," she reported with minimal movement of her lips. She glanced at the camera feed monitoring their prisoner just to double-check. He had been bound in manacles made of synthetic adamantium, something the eggheads down in R&D had come up with for high-risk prisoners. Nowhere near as durable as the real deal, but even the Hulk would need a few tries to get through that stuff.
"Just get him here in one piece," grumbled the one-eyed man over the line taking her attention off Loki's unsettling grin. "We're low on time. I don't care how tough these Asgardians are, we'll find a way to make him talk."
"I doubt physical torture will break a man like that," Natasha responded flatly.
She'd taken one look in his eyes as he was escorted on board the Quinjet, and she knew he was going to be a tough egg to crack. Loki was someone so depraved that he may spill his guts just to get a rise out of them. On the other hand, he might decide to take his secrets to his grave out of spite, even if it meant being turned to mincemeat. Natasha had met this kind of crazy before. Her usual solution was a bullet to the head, preferably though the long barrel of a sniper rifle viewed through a scope at a safe distance.
Unfortunately, that was not a workable solution for their current dilemma.
The spy tapped into the microphone of the small monitoring device she had planted in the back, listening in on the men staring off at each other in the rear of the plane.
"I don't like it," murmured Steve as he glared at the jovial Loki.
The soldier stood next to the armored billionaire, his gloved hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The hairs on the back of Steve's neck rose as he listened to Loki hum an odd little tune under his breath. The unusual melody felt both familiar and alien all at the same time, leaving his gut clenching in anticipation. Of what, Steve could not say.
"What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?" asked Tony as he stared back at the godling, helmet retracted to expose his face.
Despite his cavalier attitude, Tony shared the feeling of unease. None of the sensors onboard the Iron Man suit designed to pick up on all the telltale signs of nuanced human subconscious reactions had given him anything to work with. Everything from Loki's heartbeat to his skin temperature suggested a man out for an evening stroll, hardly the response you'd expect off the readings of a man taken prisoner.
"I don't remember it ever being that easy," replied the super soldier, ignoring the glib response from the son of his friend. "This guy packs a wallop. There's no way that was all he had; he's got plenty left in the tank if he still wanted to go."
Tony turned to glance sideways at the physically imposing soldier, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. "True that. But still, you're pretty spry for an older fella. I hadn't expected an 80-year-old man to be able to scramble with a godlike being from another dimension as well as you did. What's your thing? Pilates?"
The New York native turned to shoot the inventor a perplexed look. "What?"
"It's like calisthenics. You might have missed a few things, you know, doing time as a Capsicle."
The trooper's eyes tightened at the corners at the mention of his time on ice. "Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in."
Tony sniggered, waving his hand dismissively. "I bet there's a lot Fury doesn't tell you. Part of being a mysterious spymaster, I guess. Or maybe he's just an asshole. Asshole has my vote."
Steve opened his mouth to snap back a response, but just as he did, the entire jet dipped and yawed violently. Both men grabbed an overhead harness to steady themselves, trading a look of concern, verbal jabs forgotten. The boom of lightning was deafening, the closeness of the strike enough to cause an uncomfortable crawling sensation over their skin. It felt like hot needles being raked against the flesh, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to think it will.
Loki's attention was now focused entirely on the front of the cockpit, his impish smile replaced by a frown of concern as he stared at the bursts of light playing outside the windshield. Another flash of lightning lit up the outside in a blinding display of nature's wrath, turning the handsome godlings face into a twisted visage.
"What's the matter?" taunted Steve, directing his question at their distracted interdimensional prisoner. "Scared of a little lightning?"
The corner of Loki's mouth lifted sardonically, his strained eyes not quite matching the anxious parody of a grin on his face. "I'm not overly fond of what follows."
The Quinjet dropped like a rock; the onboard lights instantly killed. Natasha grabbed uselessly at the controls, getting no response from the dead bird.
"Shit!" she cursed, hollering over her shoulder at the occupants in the back. "Brace for impact!"
Before they could fall out of the sky entirely, the jet leveled, the power kicking back in with a lively whine. Natasha yelped as the instrument shocked her hands. Her eyes widened as the sparks emitting from the dashboard illuminated the figure of a man crouching before the cockpit window.
Training kicked in. Natasha's hands reached for her pistol, leveling the weapon at his face without thinking. In the brief moment it took her to draw the hidden weapon, the hulking man had lifted a clenched fist and punched the flight canopy out.
Her shadow armor encased her body out of reflex, deflecting the shrapnel that would have torn her apart. Natasha opened fire, but the bullet sparked uselessly off his chest and armor. She nudged the barrel of her weapon up a few centimeters, deftly aiming for the head despite the wild jolting of the out of control aircraft.
She never got the shot off.
The intruder lunged into the cargo bay, swatting aside Steve, who had barely gotten to his feet. He didn't even give Tony on the floor a second glance as he strode purposefully past. In one hand, he wielded a sizeable ornate warhammer, the steel forge weapon sparkling with incredible power. With his free hand, the large man snatched up Loki by the front of his garb, glaring into the grinning face of the God of Mischief.
Wordlessly the interloper blasted open the backdoor of the plane with another deafening bolt of lightning from his archaic weapon. The intruder dragged Loki to the opening and threw them both out the back, vanishing into the howling darkness.
Tony finally struggled to his feet, his facemask clicking in place to seal up his armor. "Great, now there's a new guy," he complained sarcastically. "Is Santa Clause going to drop out of the sky next?"
"I think that was Thor," Natash shouted over the howl of wind rushing through the broken cockpit window, her armor gone before the others could notice. "Loki's brother."
"Another Asgardian?" shouted back Steve. "Is he friendly?"
"Did any of this look friendly?" Tony snipped back as he ran a quick diagnostic check on the Mark VII. "Doesn't matter. If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract is lost."
Iron Man stomped toward the open back of the Quinjet, clearly intent on following the duo.
"Stark, we need a plan of attack!" barked Steve, grabbing the other man's shoulder. "We can't just jump in blind against these guys."
"I have a plan," snapped Tony heatedly. "Attack!"
With that parting shot, the armor-clad super genius shrugged off the younger man and leaped out the back. The flare of his jet boots lit up the night sky, sending his form shooting away at hypersonic speeds with an audible boom even over the lightning storm.
"God damn it," growled Steve. Grabbing a parachute, he began to speedily strap on the necessary safety harnesses and double-checking the cords. His practiced hands moving far faster than any normal man could, and within moments he was ready for airborne deployment.
"I'd sit this one out," warned Natasha as she glanced back at the furious soldier. "These guys are from legends, they're basically gods of old."
"There's only one God ma'am," the super soldier responded firmly. "And I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that."
Steve stepped out the back of the plane, leaving the spy alone in the damaged Quinjet.
Natasha fought the urge to bang her head against the flight controls. This was why she preferred solo operations, less room for complications.
The infiltration specialist programmed the Quinjet to land in the closest clearing the navigational system could locate. Unstrapping herself from the pilot's seat, she tapped her communicator to reopen the channel to the Helicarrier.
"Give me some good news Romanoff," growled Fury irritably in her ear as she moved to the back of the Quinjet. "My line is blowing up nonstop because some dumbass with a cellphone caught Loki's little tantrum in Germany and uploaded it on the internet. Every god damn agency on the planet from the CIA to UNICEF is demanding answers over SHIELD's involvement in this garbage fire. On top of that, we just found out that half the labs Banner listed have had their equipment sabotaged!"
"Thor just dropped by and snatched Loki. Stark and Rogers are already in pursuit."
"Motherfu-!"
Natasha cut off the communication line before the Director could really get going with his expletive-filled reaction to her update. His blood pressure must be through the roof.
Calming her racing heart with a few deep breaths, the redhead focused her mind on the power deep within. Her shadow shrank, oozing up over her legs and covering her full form before hardening into the familiar contour of her armor. Natasha felt the incredible strength and confidence that came with being cocooned in the protective embrace of her shadow. The false feeling of invincibility was almost intoxicating.
Cracking her knuckles, Natasha leaped out the back after her male comrades, allowing herself to free fall through the air. The night sky was pitch black, and with no human population below, she could not make out a thing. As she prepared to reach out her senses to pinpoint Roger's reiatsu, the whole area before her lit up, much to her surprise.
The now much clearer vision wasn't precisely like sunlight, more akin to night vision mixed with thermal. It seemed the mask of her armor could serve as more than just protection for her head. She made a mental note to expand her exploration of her powers on more than just offensive and defensive capabilities when this was over.
Off in the distance, she could make out the falling speck that had almost reached the ground, most likely Steve. As she strained her eyes, her vision zoomed in, giving her a hawk's view of the World War II veteran as he pulled the cord and allowed his chute to unfurl to slow his fall.
Natasha figured that regrouping with the super soldier was probably her best course of action. Focusing inwards, she called on more of her reiatsu, reshaping her armor through sheer force of will. A dark pair of membranous wings sprouted from between her shoulder blades, the delicate extensions to her armor unfurling to spread out behind her.
The wings caught air with a hiss, turning her graceless plummet into a controlled glide. She aimed her body at where she saw Steve's descending chute. Natasha would have categorized the current situation as something above her ability to handle a few months prior. She would have elected to stay back with the Quinjet to monitor the situation. But a few months earlier, she hadn't spent a week brawling with a certain dark-skinned feline goddess.
Godly beings didn't quite scare her the same way anymore.
SCENE BREAK
The night sky erupted with thunder, illuminating the darkness for a moment as two men fell from the heavens. Loki felt the air crushed from his lungs as he was bodily thrown against the rockface of the mountain. The glare directed at him by his brother could have scorched stone, but he responded with only a teasing chuckle.
"Where is the Tesseract?" bit out Thor harshly, standing over his brother. Mjolnir was half-raised in hand as if he was unsure whether he wanted to use the weapon or put it down.
"I missed you too," replied Loki, allowing his Cheshire grin to stretch further.
"Do I look to be in a gaming mood, brother?" shouted Thor. "You have gone too far with your games, this ends now!"
Loki pushed himself up by his elbows, wincing at the pain of his brother's rough handling. He probed the inside of his mouth, gingerly with his tongue, searching for loosened molars. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Really, you should be thanking me," the frost giant protested in mock hurt. "With the Bifrost gone, how much energy did the Allfather have to muster to conjure you here? Your precious Earth?"
The whole mountainside shuddered as Mjolnir fell to the ground. The legendary weapon slammed into the earth with concussive force, the tremors scaring wildlife for miles. Thor stalked forward menacingly, expression thunderous. Grabbing the front of Loki's garb, he slammed the smaller man roughly into the rocky mountainside.
"I thought you dead!" the Lord of Thunder roared, grief-stricken voice cracking with emotion.
Loki hid the pain that pierced his heart at his adopted brother's heartfelt declaration. Before his betrayal, he had yearend for any acknowledgment of kinship from his family. That path was shut off to him, now and forever. Hope was for fools, and while Loki was many things, a fool he was not.
Instead, he adopted a sinister smile, seeking to rub the pain in to help sever whatever bonds that still tied Thor to him. It would be easier for both of them if Thor learned to hate his adopted brother.
"Did you mourn?" the God of Mischief whispered as he leaned in. "Did they hold funeral rites for me?"
The dark-haired Asgardian's expression twisted into a sneering visage, knowing in his heart what he spoke of next was the most likely outcome. "Or did they consign my name to disgrace? Struck from the family tapestry? Deeds and valor forever to remain unsung?"
The draining of color from Thor's face confirmed what Loki already knew. But damn if it still didn't hurt.
"We all mourned," Thor croaked painfully after a moment of heavy silence, unable to meet his brother's sharp gaze. "Our father- "
"Your father, you mean," hissed Loki, the bitterness in his voice needing no play-acting. "He did tell you my true parentage, did he not? Where I come from? How he stole me from the cradle of his fallen foe as one might a spoil of war?"
Thor released his iron grip on Loki, not knowing what to say in the ruby red glow of Loki's accusing gaze. The smaller man stalked away in anger, taking deep breaths to quell his rising emotions. The two brothers stood awkwardly in silence, unable to face each other.
Once, they had been inseparable, thick as thieves. Time and the weight of societal expectations had drawn them apart, but both had thought their brotherhood remained unchanged. Yet the gulf that stood between them now seemed insurmountable.
"We were raised together, played together, we fought together," pleaded Thor, voice cracking. "Do you remember none of that?"
"I remember a shadow," snarled Loki turning around to glare at his brother. "Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into the abyss, brother! I was, and should be king!"
By now, Loki was practically nose to nose with Thor, his raised voice raw with years of feelings unspoken.
Loki had planned for every possibility. Thor confronting him had not been outside the realm of his calculations, he had been prepared for it. Yet all the practiced words he had meant to say to his brothers to manipulate the great brute was thrown out the window when he finally had the man standing before him. The harsh words Loki spat now came straight from the bottom of his heart, holding more truth than he had ever dared speak.
Thor stepped back, a look of bewildered comprehension seeping into his features.
"So, you take the world I love," he murmured low, eyes sightless as if he was tracing a thought that had finally occurred to him. "You bound these people in chains as recompense for your imagined slights."
The God of Thunder scowled, crossing his muscular arms. "No, I won't let you. These people have nothing to do with whatever quarrel you have with me. The Earth is under my protection Loki."
The frost giant stepped back and laughed, the sound full of perverse delight. Moments passed before his chuckling finally died down, and he theatrically wiped an invisible tear from his eye.
"And you're doing a marvelous job with that," he sneered spitefully. "The humans slaughter each other in droves while you make idle threats. I mean to rule these vermin. And why should I not?"
Thor snorted. "You think yourself above them."
Loki shrugged, not seeing his brother's point. "Well, yes. By all means and measures, how can we not be?"
"Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother," declared the more physically imposing Asgardian. "Throne would suit you ill."
That stung, coming from the manchild who wasn't even fit to rule himself. Loki shouldered past his brother with a scowl, staring off into the wilderness. To hear a lecture from Thor about his worthiness for the throne was worse than one from Odin. At least Odin had been a ruler despite whatever shortcomings he had.
"I've seen worlds you've never known about. I have grown, Odinson, in my exile! I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it…!"
"Who showed you this power?" demanded Thor furiously, grabbing his adopted brother and forcing the shorter man to face him. "Who controls the would-be-king?"
"I am a king!" Loki spat cruelly.
"Not here!" snarled Thor savagely. "Not while I stand. You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream! You come home to us, to your family."
The last part of his shout was more a half plead.
Loki closed his eyes, pushing back the storm of emotions threatening to overtake him. He wanted to believe Thor. More than anything in the world he wanted to. He wanted so desperately to go home, to be held by Frigga, to ask Odin for answers, to beg him for forgiveness. It would be so much easier.
But life wasn't that easy. Loki had no home anymore, no family, no friends.
This was the only path he had.
"I don't have it," the frost giant responded coolly, deftly ignoring the topic of their broken family. "You need the cube to bring me home, but I've sent it off, I know not where."
His plans were complicated by having his adopted brother in the picture, but not impossible. Regretfully he may have to dispose of the man if it came down to it. But what was one more sin? They could add fratricide to his list of crimes when they spat on his unmarked grave.
Mjolnir flew from its spot on the ground into its owner's tight grasp with a hollow whine.
"You listen well, brother," Thor growled, eyes narrowing dangerously. "I-!"
Whatever declaration the God of Thunder was about to make was interrupted by the human-shaped metal missile that dropped from the sky and rammed into him, carrying him off into the night. The subsonic howl that followed was deafening, and the shockwave nearly knocked Loki off his feet.
Nonetheless, the dark-haired godling smiled, cocking his head to the side as if he were waiting to hear an answer.
"I'm listening," he said, chuckling at his own joke to no one.
SCENE BREAK
Thor and Iron Man crashed through the forest, their bodies tearing through the trees and bouncing off surfaces as they wrestled for dominance in midair. Tony turned and slammed Thor into the ground, zooming once around the downed god before dropping feetfirst into the clearing with a heavy thud.
Thor rolled to his feet, tearing his torn cape off his shoulder and tossing the remains aside with a throaty snarl. Stalking forward, the beastly man loomed almost a head taller than Tony despite the tall human having a few inches added to this height from his armor.
"Do not touch me again, mortal!"
Tony opened his helmet, staring back challengingly at the prince from Asgard, unfearful of the larger man.
"Uh well, then don't take my stuff," he responded, hand on hip. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to play nicely?"
"You have no idea what you're dealing with," growled Thor stabbing a finger at the glowing chest plate of the eccentric billionaire.
Tony looked around theatrically. "Let me guess, Shakespeare in the park? Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?"
The second jab at his mother seemed to bring a quiet fury to Thor's eyes different from the anger that had burned there before. This was pure unbridled rage, and the elements around them reflect his emotional state with the crack of thunder in the distance.
"You say another word of my mother, and I will bring down the wrath of the heavens on your head!" roared the Norse god.
Tony glared back, undeterred by Thor's threat. "This is Earth. You might be hot shit back where you come from, but here you're not that special. You don't just come strolling in here and do whatever the hell you want, Asgardian."
"This is beyond you, metal man. Loki will face Asgardian justice!"
Tony bristled at the Asgardian's presumptions. "He gives up the cube, and he's all yours jackass. Until then, stay the hell out of my way…"
The faceplate of his helmet to click into place with a firm clang. Glowing eyes glaring ominously out at the other man. "…tourist."
Tony turned to leave and was just about to take flight when something blurred past too quick for the visual sensors to verify. He whirled around to face the godling and got a face full of Mjolnir, sending him bouncing through the forest before slamming to a halt painfully against the side of a giant tree.
"Okay," Tony grunted as he sat up with a silent groan. "You want to go? Let's go!"
Bolts of lightning shot out from the darkness, missing the billionaire as he weaved a dizzying evasive pattern through the air. The boosters from his hands cut off as he closed in on the extradimensional being. Rearing up, he allowed his augmented fist to get a boost from the elbow jets, sending a terrifying punch hard enough to tear a man's head off his shoulders at Thor.
"Right back at you, bitch!" crowed the inventor as his blow found purchase with a meaty thud.
The blonde Asgardian was knocked back from the force of the haymaker. That did not stop him from retaliating with an accurate throw of his weapon.
For a second time that night, Iron Man found himself staring up in a daze at the cloudy sky. His vision sparkled from both the concussive cranial damage and flashing warnings from the internal sensors reporting the breaches to his armor.
"I think he just hit me with the world," he told Jarvis as he lay there stunned.
"Not to be a naysayer, sir, but I don't think this is a fight you can win by yourself," responded the disembodied voice of the AI butler drolly. "I would suggest a tactical retreat while I notify our allies of your position."
"Well, you know how I love to prove the haters wrong Jarvis!"
Ignoring his protesting body, Tony boosted himself up again with a blast from his palm thrusters, turning himself around in midair with a flick of his wrists. His HUD pinged a surging energy warning at him. The external cameras zoomed in on Thor, who had his hammer pointed straight up at the gloomy sky.
An ominous crackle filled the air, getting louder by the second.
"Oh, crap."
A bolt of pure energy dropped out of the heavens, connecting with Mjolnir in an awe-inspiring show of power. With visible effort, Thor wrenched his warhammer turned lightning rod to point at the hovering business tycoon.
Tony had no time to dodge. A single heartbeat passed, the time moving excruciatingly slow. Much to his surprise, he was lucid enough to realize he was, in fact, not dead. Pretty unusual for someone who had just been hit with the mother of all lightning strikes.
"Power at 400% capacity, sir," reported Jarvis dutifully in the moment of shocked silence that followed as the two men stared at each other.
The inventor was eyeing his HUD display, mind racing at a million miles an hour on the possibilities of what the overclocked suit could do. "How about that?"
A kick of his feet and he shot forward towards the Asgardian, the juiced thrusters pushing him forward too fast for the blonde to react to. With energy leaking from the blaster ports of his palms without any priming, Tony didn't even bother shooting. He just began pummeling his enemy with powerful blows that exploded with the force of a grenade with each impact.
Despite the beatdown he was receiving, Thor proved his warrior lineage, giving as good as he got. His fists rammed against Tony blindly, responding by more reflex than thought, leaving bruising dents across the titanium alloy frame. The two men grappled, flying, punching, exchanging energy blasts, and an equal amount of curse words as they tumbled recklessly through the woods.
The world trembled as the overcharged Iron Man wrestled with the increasingly frustrated God of Thunder. Two lightning encased fists grabbed onto Tony's wrists, putting a brief halt to the furious melee as the two men struggled against each other in a pushing contest for the ages.
Alarm bells wailed in Tony's suit, alerting him to the energy flowing directly from Thor's hands into his suit, the feedback pushing the excess energy dampeners into dangerous levels. At the same time, he could feel the titanium gauntlets began to cave inwards under the Asgardian's incredible strength.
Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, the billionaire channeled the excess power towards the ring on his chest, hoping to deal a decisive blow against his adversary. The miniature arc reactor lit up like the sun, the desperate gamble to tilt the odds impossible to miss.
Thor's eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen. Snapping his head forward, he slammed his forehead into the armored man's jaw hard enough to dent metal. Ignoring the pain from his headbutt, the God of Thunder planted a foot into the armored man's chest and threw himself back with a strong push of his leg before the startled Tony could react.
The energy blast unleashed from the suit's chest exploded upwards in a massive pillar of energy. Thor got blown backward on his ass, head over heels despite the overcharged energy beam missing him by quite the margin. By the time he scrambled to his feet, Iron Man had pulled himself together enough to stand back up into a fighting stance of his own.
Before the two men could continue their epic brawl, a flying metal disc bounced painfully between them, causing both men to recoil from their aggressive stance. The iconic starred shield flew back into the waiting hands of Captain America, signaling his entry into their battle.
"That's enough," the super soldier ordered sternly, a dark scowl marring his handsome features.
He dropped from the remains of the tree he had been standing on, landing on the forest floor with a soft thump. Taking a step towards Thor, the world's first superhero gestured at the Asgardian with his free hand, careful to keep his shield slightly angled towards the incensed planeswalker.
"Now, I don't know what you plan on doing here, but we can't allow you to just walk off with Loki," Steve stated plainly. "He has answers to the most important questions of the hour, and we aim to have them."
"I've come here to put an end to Loki's schemes!" snapped Thor indignantly. "You don't know what you risk by getting in my way mortal."
"Then prove it!" challenged Steve. "Put the hammer down."
"Um, yeah, no! Bad call!" shouted Tony as he stomped forward, palms humming with energy. "He loves that hammer!"
Iron Man charged, ignoring Steve's protest, but found himself swatted painfully out of the air by the muscular Asgardian's favorite weapon.
The godling turned to Steve, his face dark with anger. "You want me to put the hammer down?"
With a roar, the Asgardian leaped into the air, weapon held aloft, his intentions clear. The captain seeing no alternative raised his shield and braced himself for impact.
The collision of overwhelming power and immovable defense sent an explosion of energy cascading in a circle of destruction around them. Like a meteor striking the Earth, the trees blew back and collapsed, pulled from their roots, and torn to shreds by the tremendous force of the clash of otherworldly powers.
An odd dull hum hung in the air, a sound that echoed from within their skulls like a rung bell. When the chaos had cleared, the two men stood in the epicenter of destruction, glancing warily about them, spooked by the odd feeling their clash had evoked.
"Holy shit," said Iron Man, cutting the power to his jet boots to land beside his human ally with a muted thump. "Collateral damage much?"
Shooting a glare at the armored engineer, Steve lowered his shield somewhat.
"Are you boys done? Or should I bring out the tape measure for you? Might be simpler than all this macho posturing."
The three men turned to look in stunned surprise at the redhead strolling casually through the destruction, all for different reasons.
Ever since Steve had taken the serum, nobody had been able to sneak up on him. The battle had been distracting, but not so much that he shouldn't have picked up on her approach. Steve gave the lovely woman an evaluating glance, noting the odd feeling in his gut he had come to trust to warn him of dangers.
Tony had his scanners running on full capacity the minute he had charged Thor. Before Natasha had spoken, there had seen no indication of life signs in the area except for the three men in the tense standoff.
Thor had felt a stir of some power, something unfamiliar to him as the woman had announced her presence. Despite his confidence in his prowess in battle, the uncomfortable feeling of facing the unknown left him somewhat wary.
But perhaps what was most surprising of all was the presence of Loki, following docilely along behind the spy without protest. Like Natasha, he had not registered his presence until they had laid eyes upon his form.
"I will not be swayed," Thor growled, lifting his hammer menacingly. "Give me Loki, or this gets ugly!"
Tony lifted his hands, palms glowing with energy, prepared to blast the Asgardian. At the same time, Steve raised his shield to a guarded position, instinctively inching his way towards Natasha in the hopes of covering her when the shooting started.
All three men found their movements slam to a halt, unable to move a muscle.
"What the hell?" shouted Tony in panic. "Did you hack my suit?!"
The internal servomotors of the Mark VII whined audibly as they strained against whatever was keeping him in place.
"Jarvis?!"
"Sir, no system intrusion detected," reported the AI butler dutifully. "Whatever is holding you in place is not from the software end."
Steve had instinctively resisted, but realizing that it was something to do with Natasha calmed himself. He glanced over to the woman, straining to see what it was she was doing. Frustratingly, she stood just outside his peripheral vision, leaving him with few answers other than his twisting gut.
Thor was noticeably straining, his movements slowed but not entirely ceased. Focusing his immense strength, he took a stumbling step towards Natasha, Mjolnir trembling in his hand as he tried to raise the weapon.
"What manner of foul sorcery is this witch?!" He bellowed face turning red from his efforts to resist that shadow bind.
Natasha dropped the hold on her two allies, focusing entirely on the Asgardian as the otherworldly prince continued to call forth more inner strength from a seemingly bottomless well. The man struggled like a raging bull in a pen, muscles bulging, and veins throbbing as he pushed his body to its physical limits.
It was like trying to hold back Banner all over again, she wasn't going to win matching strength with Thor. Time to fight dirty.
Feeling his victory imminent, the God of Thunder could not help but boast as was his nature.
"It matters not mortal! Your dark magics are no match for the mighty Thor-!"
The rest of his words cut off into a high unmasculine squeak. He felt a pair of disembodied hands reach out from between his thighs to grab his family jewels and member.
"I yield!" he yelped as he felt the firm grasp on his precious manhood turn frighteningly painful. "Fire and damnation! I yield woman!"
The pressure on his male pride vanished as did the paralyzation spell on his person. The sudden loss of resistance nearly dropped the Norse god to his knees, but he caught himself. Thor reached down frantically between his legs and breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed he had not become a eunuch or worse.
"I knew you'd see it my way," Natasha said sweetly.
Loki chuckled aloud as he stared at the redhead in wonder. "A woman who can silence my brother's boasting! Marry me, darling."
The spy turned a half step to deliver a brutal reiatsu enhanced liver blow to the bound Asgardian's midriff, sending the dark-haired man down to one knee in agony. Asgardian physique was hardier than a human, but their physiology was almost exactly the same, including the softer bits.
"Certainly, an internal fire to match the lovely shade of her hair," wheezed Loki from the ground, chuckling despite the bitter tang of bile on his tongue.
Tony unlocked his mask to squint intently at the spy. "You. You look familiar. Have I slept with you before?"
Natasha rolled her eyes. She was not paid enough to deal with this.
I know there may be some complaint again about how the story hasn't deviated from the original timeline. As I've explained before, I'm not planning to do a 180 from the get-go. Natasha will have more involvement with each scene as we move on, but at the end of the day she is still the sabotage and infiltration specialist of the team, not truly meant to slug it out on the front lines. Her training and mindset won't change simply because she has come into some new abilities.
Ichigo is finally preparing to join the battle so to speak, and where have Yuroichi and Kisuke run off to? Hopefully won't be too long until you get to find out!