Chapter Four: Tortuga

Loki stared at the maps covering the desk, no longer seeing the images. Not that they would have helped anyway.

Instead, his mind was wandering. Meandering. Completely lost. Normally, he would be filled with ideas, brimming with strategies and dozens of backup plans for when things inevitably went wrong. No matter what tight corners Thor had gotten them trapped in on any of their other journeys, he had always been able to come up with an escape, a solution. Always.

But even after two days on Midgard, he was still drawing a blank. In fact, his mind was even less productive now than that first day on the beach. With a vessel acquired and a crew soon to be as well, they needed to decide on the next step. And yet, no idea for a next step sounded better or worse than any other. At this rate, he might just end up letting Thor decide what to do.

What was wrong with him? Had Odin's curse taken mental strength away from him in addition to the physical? Or was this truly an impossible situation that Odin had intended for him to fail?

Resentful of that entirely possible notion, Loki swept the maps from the desk, the parchment crumpling on the floor. If only he had a useful map, but that would make it far too easy. The map that he and Thor had made for the mortals was probably at the bottom of the ocean somewhere.

Loki pushed back the chair and leapt from the seat, suddenly overcome with the urge to pace. The captain's quarters were small, barely taking ten steps to cross the width, but it was better than pacing the deck with Thor watching him or the lower levels with the even worse humidity. At least there was a modicum of privacy in the room, where his struggle could be hidden from view.

As a last resort, he supposed with a shudder, there was the absolutely abhorrent option of sailing from island to island and scoping them all out. If they could be strategic about it, maybe they would be done in a decade. Assuming his sanity lasted that long.

Being a sailor was hard. But also, strangely satisfying. At least, that was Thor's conclusion after nearly two days of sailing.

A slight smile tugged at his lips as he turned the wheel a few degrees to the left. The ship was slow – almost painfully so at times – but it had given Peter plenty of time to teach him and Loki about the basic functionality of the vessel. Though he was sure he had not retained at least half of the information, he did know enough to plan ahead for any adjustments to the course since the ship did not change direction quickly.

"You're doing great, sir!" Peter exclaimed as he ran up the stairs to the quarterdeck. The boy had a plate in his hand, and Thor appreciatively snagged a piece of dry bread. The black cat had been a decent meal that first night, but all of the food since then had been the bland remains of the ship's stores. Hopefully this Tortuga place would have better offerings.

"My thanks to you, young Peter," Thor said with a nod. He regarded the boy as he sat down on the top step to eat his meal. "How do you know so much about sailing?"

The boy shrugged. "I've been on a lot of ships."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, my aunt and uncle sent for me after, um, after my parents died a few years ago," Peter started quietly, focusing his gaze intently on the horizon. "But by the time I got here, they had both been killed in a raid."

Thor felt a pang of pity for the poor boy. Life on Midgard was harsher than he had imagined.

But the boy continued before Thor could offer any condolences. "So, my choices were to either become a thief or a pirate."

"And you chose piracy."

"Yes, sir." The boy sighed. "It seemed like the smarter option at the time. At least pirates never stay in one place for too long. And they can rely on each other. As long as I never get caught, maybe someday I'll make it onto a real Navy ship."

"Even if you don't, you should be proud of yourself." He left the wheel for a moment to clap a hand on the boy's shoulder. Peter looked up to him, his eyes round and curious. "Not everyone can look out for themselves so well."

"Thank you, sir."

Thor released his hold, shoving the boy lightly before returning to his post. "You don't have to call me 'sir.'"

"But you're the captain, aren't you? Or is Loki?"

Captain? Huh. Now, there was a pleasant idea. Captain Thor and his crew of rogues, pillaging the wastelands of Midgard while in search of a forbidden treasure. Yes, he rather liked that. It would make for a better story once they returned home.

"Yes, I am the captain," he asserted with a grin. And while Loki solved their little problem, he would be the best pirate captain this realm had ever seen.

If this was what passed for a city on Midgard, then the mortals were even more unevolved than Loki had feared them to be.

From their arrival at the port, he could tell that the city was not very large at all. An assortment of stone and wooden buildings lined the streets, leaving little room for vegetation and air circulation. Everything was dirty, from the windows on the shops to the streets filled with animal droppings and unwashed citizens. How had he ever believed that a mortal could possibly be worthy of one of Idunn's apples? They were nothing more than animals themselves.

Still, he followed behind Peter's bobbing and weaving form, trying not to lose him in the bustling streets. In between learning how to sail and trying not to lose his stomach from both the constantly rolling of the ship and his body's continued revolt against the lack of magic flowing through it, the boy had explained to him how the former captain used a middleman in Tortuga to sell off stolen cargo. Now, it was time to put that knowledge to good use.

Finally, Peter stopped in front of an ordinary, wooden door. "This is it."

"Splendid."

Apparently unbothered by Loki's sarcasm, Peter let himself into the building. Loki followed him, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. The air was musty, stale. The windows were excessively grimy, reducing the natural light that illuminated the dust floating in the air. Shelves holding various sundries and goods crowded in from all sides, making the room seem even smaller than it was. A dark-haired man behind the counter in the corner watched them with a fair amount of suspicion in his gaze.

"We're here to see Luis," Peter announced to the man.

The man nodded silently and pointed to a door to the side of the counter. Eager to get this over with, Loki followed Peter through it.

This room was even smaller than the first, evidently an office of some sort. A man looked up from his papers at the desk, a smile lighting up his face as he saw Peter. "Ah, Peter, that's my boy! Been a long time."

"Yeah," Peter replied with a grin. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too." He gestured enthusiastically for them to take a seat. "Who's your friend here?"

"I am Loki, the new quartermaster of the Black Raven." He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the ship's name; it was so redundant as to be ridiculous.

Luis's mouth rounded in a dramatic, "Oh!" He turned toward Peter. "What happened to Mr. Burch?"

Loki cut the boy off from answering – he was already far too accustomed to the boy's proclivity for rambling in his explanations – and expertly drew the attention back to himself. "My brother and I didn't exactly ask for names while the crew died. Bloodily. And violently."

The man's eyes looked ready to bulge out of his skull. With a large gulp, Luis nervously turned to Peter again. "Is that true?"

Loki examined his fingernails in apparent boredom, carefully glancing at Peter out of the corner of his eye. Thankfully, the boy had some ability to act. "Yes. I'm the only one left."

The boy sounded genuinely upset, but Loki pushed right on. "Now that that's settled, I have a trade to offer you."

The man slid himself as far back into his chair as he could, the fear finally setting in. Excellent. "What sort of trade?"

"I have a fair amount of cargo aboard my ship, and Peter tells me that you are the best in town for helping relieve me of it." He pulled out an inventory listing that he had transcribed from Peter – the boy could neither read nor write, for pity's sake – and handed it to Luis.

The man reviewed it for a minute then looked up, a slick, fast-talking businessman persona rapidly covering the signs of fear. "That's some nice stuff you got here. Just for you, I can do ten dollars per crate. Best deal in town."

Even with his limited understanding of the currency, Loki knew when he was being cheated. Such nerve for such a pitiful creature. "I'm rather disappointed in you. Surely someone as smart and successful as you would know better than to try and cheat someone like me." He grinned devilishly, subtly brushing back his coat to reveal the sword attached to his hip. "I'll accept thirty."

The man balked, his confidence evaporating. "Thirty!? No, no, no, the best I can do is fifteen."

Loki tsked. "I wonder what your wife and children would think of you valuing their lives so little?"

The color drained from the man's face. "All right." He quickly wiped away the sweat beading on his brow. "I really can't go any higher than twenty. It's been getting harder and harder to offload goods with the Navy hiding everywhere. Maybe if you dealt with that lot, I'd be able to meet your demands."

Loki inclined his head in acceptance. "Twenty it is. I'll take thirty percent now and the rest tomorrow. Have your men come by the docks in the morning to collect the wares." He gestured at Peter to get up. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

The man grumbled something under his breath as he handed over a pouch of coins, but Loki ignored it, happy to leave the stuffy room behind. Once outside, the air tasted fresh in comparison, and he grinned at his accomplice. "I'd say that went rather well, wouldn't you?"

The boy nodded glumly, but he complained, "I didn't tell you about Luis's family so that you could threaten them."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I wasn't actually going to hurt them. Some people just need a bit of a nudge to do the right thing."

Peter snorted but made no further comment. Not caring for that self-righteous attitude, Loki reminded the boy, "And now your share of the gains will be double what you would have received under the initial offer. What will you do with it?"

That brought the typical cheeriness back to the boy's face. "I'd like to get some new clothes. And food that doesn't taste like sawdust."

"And from there?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I can stay here for a week or so until I find a new post."

Did all mortals live their brief lives with so little care? Loki shrugged off the flitter of concern that the boy's casualness induced. No matter, the boy's lack of forethought would be to his advantage. "You know, you can stay with the Black Raven. Thor and I need a crew, and you've already proven yourself useful."

"Really!?" The boy looked excited beyond belief. What a strange creature. "I'd love to stay! And if you're looking for more men, that tavern over there," he pointed to a large building down the street that they were crossing. "That one always has sailors for hire. That's where the last captain got most of our crew."

Considering the last crew had gotten stranded and eaten, Loki did not think that the best recommendation for the place, but he would take it. Anything to get out of this dreadful city faster.

Thor shifted from foot to foot while Loki finished putting away the last of the newly acquired supplies. The afternoon had been boring, guarding the ship while Loki and Peter handled selling their wares and purchasing supplies. The abrupt shift into doing nothing after a few days of constantly running around on the ship had let the aches and pains of all that activity catch up with him. Now, with the sun setting in the distance, it was finally his turn to go out and forget about how frustrating it was to be without his usual strength.

After what felt like ages, Loki emerged from the captain's quarters that they shared; Loki had outright refused to sleep below deck. Now, at least, they had two beds, though they did take up quite a lot of space in the small room.

"Can we go now?"

Loki shot him an annoyed look. "I don't know why you're so eager. I doubt we'll find anyone of quality in a place like this."

"I don't care," Thor shot back, irritated by Loki's attitude. As unfortunate as their situation was, would it kill Loki to get into the spirit of things a bit and at least try to make the best of the experience? "Ships are dull when they're in port."

With a huff, Loki crossed the gangplank to the dock and took off down the dusty street. Thor followed close behind, taking in the view. It was primitive, but so were many other worlds that he had been to. This one at least had the unique quality of being unseen by anyone but Heimdall.

The tavern was just as primitive as the rest of the town – also noisy and dirty. Lively music filled the air, stirring up his excitement even more. Indecently dressed women paraded around the room while filth-covered men drank liberally from tall mugs.

So, nothing all that different from Vanaheim.

With that in mind, Thor approached the bar, calling out loudly to the man behind it. The man's brows rose as he took Thor in. "What'll ye have?"

"Whatever's the strongest."

The man filled two mugs near to the top while Loki pulled out a coin in payment. Thor took a sip. It was sweet, not at all what he had expected. Curious, he asked the man, "What is this drink?"

"Rum."

Hmm. Thor finished the mug and was about to throw it on the ground when Loki's hand wrapped around his wrist. He shot his brother a questioning look.

"This place is filthy enough without you making a mess that we'll have to pay for."

Rolling his eyes, Thor returned the mug to the counter with exaggerated care. As the barman obligingly refilled it, Thor turned to survey the room. He could hear Loki asking the barman about any men looking for work, but that was Loki's way of doing things. If he wanted good men, he would find them on his own.

A quick scan revealed several possible candidates. A large man at a table near the side of the room had red tattoos covering his dark skin, his laughter ringing out even over the cacophony filling the air. That was where he would start.

Loki suppressed a sigh as Thor wandered off, drink in hand. He could only hope that the fool would not stir up too much trouble on his own.

As if he would ever be that lucky.

But he had his own mission with which to contend. Though surprisingly reticent for a man running one of the rowdiest taverns he had ever seen, Loki was satisfied with the number of marks that he had received. First up was the man in the darkest corner of the room.

Loki picked up his drink along with a second one and crossed the room. The man was leaning forward over his own drink, his dark curls hiding his features. But he had not noticed him yet. Perfect. Careful not to spill, Loki plopped the second mug down in front of the man. "Banner."

The man looked up, raising a brow. "Yes?"

"A drink for you."

"I don't want a drink."

"In that case, you are spending your evening in a very strange place."

Banner shrugged. "I like the atmosphere."

"Then let me enjoy it with you." Not waiting for a response, Loki pulled out the chair opposite the man and sat down.

The man tilted his head, squinting at him as if he were trying to read Loki's intentions beneath his relaxed mask. "What do you want?"

"Who says I want anything?" Loki countered breezily, taking a sip of his drink. Oof. He quickly set it back down. The alcohol burned beneath the overbearing sweetness, and as lovely as it would be to forget about his current situation for a while, he would need his wits about him tonight.

Banner took his own swig. "No one in Tortuga is that generous to spend coin on a drink for a stranger and not want something in return."

Loki let a small smile crack his lips. "You're right."

At his lack of clarification, Banner rolled his wrist in a "go on" gesture. "So…?"

Loki steepled his fingers over his drink, pondering the man across from him. Obstinance and cynicism were traits that were tough to work with; tactful bluntness was likely his best option. "I want to offer you a position."

"No."

The man shut down faster than Loki had expected. The barman had said the man was open for work; why would he not even wait to hear him out? "You haven't even heard the full offer yet."

Banner leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I don't need to. I'm not a doctor anymore, and I won't be one for anyone."

Doctor? Oh, yes, a Midgardian healer. That would be rather useful, even if the man did not want to be so anymore. Eager to placate the man, Loki smoothly replied, "That's quite all right; I don't need a doctor. I need a sailor."

"Oh." The man straightened in his seat. "Well, in that case, feel free to say your piece."

The man reached for the second drink. Loki smiled. Bribing and cajoling mortals into doing his bidding was turning out to be a rather delightful endeavor.

Thor threw back his head and laughed with the rest of the men crowding around the table. What was so funny, he was not quite sure, but everything here seemed so hilarious. He reached for his mug, tipping it back against his parted lips. It was empty.

Disappointed, he set the mug back on the table, still mocking Loki's request to be cultureless. How many had he had so far? Three? Four? He was not quite sure; he just liked the way it warmed his insides.

The bulky man – Drax, he was fairly sure – noticed his change in mood. "We need another drink for the pirate angel!" he called out, sending the rest of the onlookers into another round of laughter. With a slam of his own mug, Drax pushed himself up, wobbling just a bit.

"It's all right, friend," Thor said, trying to coax the man back into his seat. "My brother can get me one." He turned around in his seat, his vision going out of focus for a moment at the movement. How odd.

"Loki!" he called out, not seeing his brother anywhere. "Loki, I need another drink!"

Either Loki was ignoring him, or he had left. What a bore. Why was Loki never any fun lately?

He turned back to the table, feeling nauseous again before noticing that Drax had left. Where did he go?

Loki raised his mug in salute to his newest crew member. Banner had been surprisingly easy to bring around.

The man looked resigned to his fate, though, not eager, even after downing nearly the full mug. But maybe that was a good thing. Thor's recruits were bound to be miscreants; the least he could do was provide some level-headed creatures to the mix.

Before he could take a sip, a large man bumped into their table, spilling his own drink on Banner. "The pirate angel wants another drink."

Pirate angel? Loki looked him up and down with a quizzical eye. What in the blazes was this behemoth of a man talking about?

Before he could ask, Banner sputtered. "You spilled my drink!"

The large man looked unbothered. "So?"

"So, apologize!" Banner demanded angrily.

"No."

"Fine, then."

With that, the much smaller man swung a fist at the giant. To Loki's surprise, the giant staggered back, looking shocked. Then, with a roar, he swung his own fist at Banner. Banner ducked, and the man's fist hit the patron at the next table.

"Hey!"

"Hey, yourself!"

In a comedy of errors that Loki could hardly believe even as he watched, chaos broke out. Patron attacked patron, chairs and tables were flung about, and barmaids ran out the doors while the band kept playing its obnoxious tune. It was like Sif's party all over again, except this time, he really just did not have the time or energy to join in the fun.

Calmly watching it all unfold, Loki scooched his chair out of the line of fire of a stray plate hurtling through the air and took another sip from the rather sweet drink. After a minute or two, Thor staggered over and collapsed on the floor beside him.

"I think you picked a good one," Thor offered, reaching up to steal Loki's cup.

Loki smacked his hand away and finished the drink off. Norns, that burned. "We're doomed."

Thor leaned heavily against Loki's shoulder as they stumbled out of the tavern. The sounds of the fight could still be heard, but Loki had said that they had done enough damage for one night.

"I don't want to go back to the boat," Thor whined. The ground beneath him seemed determined to trip him; how would he survive the rocking of the ship?

"I don't care what you want," Loki grumbled, wrapping an arm around his side to steady him. "We did what we came here to do and then some."

Thor huffed but could not find any words while his stomach felt so queasy. It twisted and roiled with each step. Pushing Loki away, Thor grabbed ahold of the tree beside him and bent over, letting it all come back up.

"You're disgusting as a near-mortal."

Thor forced himself back up and wiped a hand across his mouth. Norns, that was vile. Was it a mortal thing to feel sickened by drink so easily? Why would Loki let him drink so much in the first place if that were the case? "And you're useless."

From the look on Loki's face, he knew the words had come out wrong. Before he could take them back, Loki stiffened. "If I'm so useless, then you can find your own way back."

"Loki-" Thor started before breaking off with a cough. But his brother had already begun walking away.

"I hate to interrupt this little squabble," came a drawling voice. Thor looked around, trying not to lose his balance. Where was that voice coming from?

A man stepped out from the shadows and leaned against a building lining the street only a few paces away. He was a bit on the short side, with hair trimmed close to his scalp. "But I heard that the two of you are running the Black Raven these days."

Thor groaned at the reference to the ship. He did not want to think about ships or sailing or their mission anymore for tonight. Sleep, though, sleep would be good.

Both men ignored him. "You heard correctly," Loki affirmed cautiously, tugging his coat back into proper place.

The man nodded to himself, pulling out a hidden knife and apple from somewhere on his person that Thor could not quite see. As he began slicing the fruit, he stated nonchalantly, "I'd like in."

"Why?"

"You need sailors; I need a job."

The words gave Thor a boost of alertness. He exchanged a look with Loki as he pushed himself back into standing fully upright. They could not afford to have high standards, but the stranger did not need to know that. "What are your qualifications?"

The man smirked. With no warning, he whipped the blade in his hand through the air. Thor felt the whoosh of it as it sailed past his head and lodged itself in the tree behind him.

Thor leaned back heavily against the tree. The blade was a mere finger's length away from his ear. He swallowed, not liking the feeling in his stomach nor the delighted grin on his brother's face.

Loki reached over and pulled out the blade, handing it to the stranger. "What's your name?"

"Barton. Clint Barton."

"Well, Clint Barton, welcome to the Black Raven. We leave in two days. Feel free to bring along anyone else looking for work."

"Happy to serve." With a mocking bow, the man took a chomp of his apple and walked away.

Thor looked after him for a long moment. "Well, that's three."

"Congratulations, you still have the ability to count."

Had he mentioned yet that Loki was insufferable?