Chapter Seven: A Chance Meeting, A Pretty Face, and A Lethal Dance.
"I'm taking it slow
Feeding my flame
Shuffling the cards of your game
And just in time
In the right place
Suddenly I will play my ace
…
Eyes on fire
Your spine is ablaze
Felling any foe with my gaze
And just in time
In the right place
Steadily emerging with grace."
Eyes on Fire, Blue Foundation
.oHOPEo.
Author's Notes: see bottom.
Thanks: all my love to Sergeant Hiddles, Loki'sTimeLady, TimeLady945, gforcejedi, and Guest for the reviews. Many thanks also go out to my follows and favs. I adore you all!
Warning: mild violence and obscenities. But nothing that I don't think you can handle.
PS: enjoy the longest chapter yet.
.oHOPEo.
Anna whirled, her muscles tensing in anticipation of attack.
Under different circumstances, she would have considered the man who owned the voice to be handsome. Harsh, ice-colored eyes gleamed above an aristocratic nose. His ebony hair, the precise shade of a raven's wing, was smoothed back ruthlessly from his forehead. And he was tall, towering six feet at least. The lines of his face were elegantly sharp and pointed, like a rapier. The wicked, mirthless smile that twisted across his thin lips screamed "DANGER" in Anna's mind.
"It is not slander if it is true, Brother," Thor replied softly, and Anna stiffened. Brother? But that meant –
The other man's face contorted in a momentary fit of rage. He spat, "I am not your brother" in a low tone rife with danger.
So this was the infamous Loki. Again, images of hellish destruction and fire and death swirled behind Anna's eyes. She snarled, baring her teeth in a fashion bordering on animalistic. Thor and Peter fell away until it was just her and him, this…this creature that had seen fit to try to enslave the whole of humanity. Her hackles rose as she regarded him as one might a coiled cobra.
If Loki heeded her guardedness – or even noticed her at all – he made no outwards reaction. His full attention was aimed at Thor with all the pointed intensity of an arrow nocked, taught and ready to be unleashed. "What was it that Frigga used to say when admonishing us, Odinson?" he inquired sardonically. "Although it may ring true, it does not necessarily need to be stated'? Do you remember nothing of what your mother taught us?"
"I do," Thor replied gravely, gazing at Loki somberly, "though it would seem that it is you who has forgotten her lessons. Do you not recall when we had bullied a servant boy, and Mother said, 'Do unto others as you would do unto yourself'? Do you remember how repentant we were, how we followed that servant boy around for weeks on end?" His voice dropped a few decibels further, until it was like the gentle rumble of faraway thunder. "I have forgotten nothing, Brother. I wish that you could claim the same."
A beat of silence. Loki surveyed Thor with half lidded eyes, his head kicked back and arms crossed. His lip gradually curled into a sneer. "Sentiment." He spat the word out as though it were an acrid and infectious expletive eating through the flesh of his tongue. Thor flinched slightly in response, but he didn't look surprised, and that sent a spike of anger into Anna's heart. She had only known Thor for a few hours, but she already had a lock on his personality since he was an open book written in size seventy-two neon font. Hurting him equated to punting a three legged baby kitten with non-functioning eyes.
One does not simply kick a kitten, Anna thought sourly. She didn't think she could bring herself to purposely barb Thor, and she didn't even know the guy. Loki was supposed to be his brother. His brother! How could he live with himself?
That was not to mention his other transgressions.
"I grow weary, Odinson," Loki snarled, "I did not come here to chat idly of our regrettably shared childhood. I came to collect and leave before my new kingdom becomes privy to my absence." The side of his mouth quirked in triumphant gloating as Thor reddened.
Anna floundered for a moment, struggling to understand the subtle undercurrent skittering between the two brothers before she gave up wholly.
Her curiosity was all but forgotten as Loki stepped towards Thor.
Peter and Anna reacted immediately and instinctively.
Peter clasped the handles of the wheelchair and hefted Thor backwards as Anna simultaneously sprung forward, standing between the two brothers. She sank into a defensive crouch, halfway relieved and halfway irritated that she had decided to wear a skirt today. On one hand, it was a skirt, and she was well on her way to scuffle. On the other, it provided for free range of movement.
Still. It was a skirt.
"Back off," she growled warningly, tightly coiled for battle.
Across the room, Loki's eyes narrowed to slits as he seemed to notice her for the first time. He raked her up and down with his gaze, and she felt…well, almost violated. The back of her neck tingled.
Behind her, Thor and Peter bickered unintelligibly.
"Peter, take Thor and go." Her tone was low, even; she didn't take her eyes off of Loki. Her tone was such that Thor and Peter broke off their argument abruptly and looked to her, the former incredulous and the latter frazzled. But her order was as moveable as a morbidly obese elephant pregnant with quintuplets, and neither Thor nor Peter appeared to be willing to truly argue with the command.
She could sense Peter's hesitance. "Annie, are you sure?"
"I can handle this. Go." She explored her mental map of the room, plotting a course of action. There were knives there, at the bar. Those could be useful. A chair, always handy. There was her, the best weapon in the room. Yes. This would work quite well.
Loki stiffened as Peter began to wheel a protesting Thor from the room. The Trickster took one long, leonine step forward – only to backpedal, outraged, as Anna mirrored his motions.
"Did I stutter, Tall Dark and Creepy?" she demanded, lifting her top lip slightly and growling. "I'm sorry, let me rephrase: back the fuck off. Did you hear me that time?"
He bristled, cold blue eyes snapping with barely contained rage. His voice, however, retained a melodic, velvety quality that flowed as smoothly as water over round rocks. "I will ignore that slight and spare you, mortal, if you bring to me the Odinson. My quarrel is with him. You would do well to withdraw your nose from the business of gods."
Anna straightened gradually, crossing her arms and kicking her head back. She cocked one angled brow, lips pursed as though she were contemplating his offer of clemency. A tiny smile threatened the corner of her mouth as he smirked in triumph – he obviously overestimated his own skills of persuasion.
Typical man.
He advanced to claim his prize – and quickly found himself flying backwards thanks to a blow delivered to the center of his chest.
"Sorry…" Anna picked at her nails idly and gazed at the round white crescents as if they were the most interesting and unique scientific specimens in the history of the universe. "…but no dice. Do not pass 'Go'. Do not collect two hundred dollars." She waved her hand dismissively. "Your tiff with Pantene here may not be any of my business, but his safety is. At the present moment, he is under my care. I hate to sound cliché, but if you want him, you'll have to go through me first. And I can promise that that will be very, very unpleasant."
He picked himself up off the floor. All pretenses of civility were gone from his countenance, and he fixed her with a glare so intense that it could surely cut through metal like a fish through water. "You would dare to challenge a god, child? You, an insignificant mortal, an ant in the scheme of the universe?" The air about him shimmered with a golden light. Armor, complete with a daunting, wicked horned helmet, began to appear on the contours of his body. "For this, I will rend the flesh from your bones while you still live. I will do unspeakable things to you until you beg, you scream for mercy, mercy that I shall not grant you. I will make you suffer. You will wish that you were dead."
Anna regarded him with ill-concealed humor and an astounding lack of fear. Without having to look, she knew Peter and Thor had disappeared into the corridors of the tower. She loped to the bar and sat upon the marble surface, laughing. "I'm quaking in my boots." She wriggled her bare feet at him. "Come on and do your worst."
Perhaps, in hindsight, it wasn't her best idea.
.oHEARTo.
"Sir."
"Not now, JARVIS." Tony beckoned to a vial of clear liquid, indicating that Bruce should hand it to him. Bruce gave a long suffering sigh and handed it over. "Bruce and I are in the middle of a scientific breakthrough, certain to change the face of science forever."
Bruce sighed again. "We're making a model volcano, Tony, I'm fairly certain this is not a monumental achievement."
Tony gasped in mock outrage. "Why, Brucie!" he exclaimed, knowing that the horrendous nickname plucked Banner's nerves. "I'm offended."
"Sir, I'm afraid I must insist. It's rather urgent."
"And I'm afraid that I might have to alter your parameters of what constitutes as important and what does not," Tony retorted, "but please, continue with your most likely trivial and not-worth-my-precious-time news report."
"I simply thought it pertinent to inform you that Miss Hellfire is currently engaging in combat with an intruder on the top floor, and Mister Parker and Mister Odinson are en route to the nearest elevator."
A blue streak that would have made even the hardiest sailor blush erupted from Tony. He and Bruce rushed from the workshop, their model volcano all but forgotten in the wake of their urgency.
.oCHAOSo.
She was captivating, this mortal. Perhaps that was due to the startling contrast present in every aspect of her appearance; yes, that was certainly the case. Her bone structure angled sharply, resulting in fine features and a cacophony of wicked flections. However, gentle, winsome swells and curves marked her as a woman. Her proportions were all long and slender, and yet she was at least a full head shorter than him. The tresses that tumbled down to her shoulders were neither curly nor straight, neither dark nor light, neither short nor long, but somewhere in between all of those descriptions.
All of her attributes compiled could agree on one matter, though: she was a handsome specimen, and he had no doubt that she could weave a web of seduction around any man. Mayhap she could have led him into her skillfully crafted net…were it not for her eyes. Her eyes shattered any burgeoning feelings of lust that may have begun to implant in the pit of his abdomen.
Everything about this girl was multidimensional and interesting, but her eyes were completely flat. They were a disconcertingly muddy brown color; filled with wit and wisdom indeed, yet lacking in depth. They were not the kind of eyes that one got lost in, and for Loki, that broke her spell.
Well, The Voice helped, of course. At the first hint of slight appreciation of her visage, Loki felt a brick wall slam into place in his mind.
Sentiment! Detriment! The Voice chastised viciously. Do not allow such base and petty matters as physical attraction cloud your judgment, fool.
And there was also the fact that she had dared to hit him.
So, he lunged, but not in the manner that Thor, for example, might lunge. No, Loki's lunges were slow. Calculated. Silky. Dangerous. One foot crossed in front of the other, and he grinned a hungry wolf's smile. The other foot took a step. She didn't flinch, only watched him. Another step. He was only a few feet away. If he so desired, her could reach out and touch her.
One more step.
She moved.
She moved faster than he had ever seen a mortal moved. She moved fast enough that there was a slight possibility that she could put an Aesir to shame. She moved in the space of one blink of his eyes.
She jumped, flipping over him, twisting, twisting, like an agile cat. Before he could even turn, she was behind him and had grasped the horns of his helmet and wrenched him backwards bodily. The movement was so swift and fluid that he hardly had a chance to fight back, and she managed to send him crashing to the floor completely. The sound of his metal helmet colliding with the hard floor rattled his brain.
"You know," she contemplated, tapping his helmet, "I don't think the horns are such a great idea."
Snarling, he knocked her off her feet with a sweep of his arm and shot fluidly to his feet, newly unburdened by the heavy presence of his helm. Gungnir remained on the floor where it had fallen, for he didn't want to risk leaning over to pick it up. Instead, a dagger was in his hands in a moment, and he flung it at the girl with an unprecedented force.
She caught it, and threw it back at him. Stunned, he could only dodge.
You'll have to do better than that, The Voice spat venomously.
His features contorted in anger. Let us see if you can handle this, child, he thought, and felt a purr of approval from The Voice's enigmatic presence.
He threw three blades flying towards her, streaming with small trails of green sparks. Two, she dodged, but she was only that lucky, because the third found its mark.
The girl cried out in surprise and pain as the short blade pierced her abdomen with a thunk. She covered her mouth as she jerked the dagger from her skin. It fell from her trembling hand and hit the floor. He watched with some sort of satisfaction as she held back a shriek and doubled over. Her hand clutched at her stomach as she tried to staunch the bleeding.
If her hair had not fallen in a curtain around her face, Loki would've seen the mischievously triumphant smirk that was beginning to spread across her face.
Loki closed the distance between the two of them and took firm hold of her hair, forcefully pulling her head up so that he could look her in the eyes. Finally, finally, there was fear there, and he fed off of it. "Perhaps you'll think twice about trifling with gods." He cocked his head to the side, grinning mirthlessly. "That is, if I allow you to live."
"At first I was just protecting Thor," she panted, steeling against him. "Now, you've ruined my dress, and that makes it personal." She let her hand fall from where she cupped her abdomen, and his skin paled in surprise. The bleeding had already stopped, and the injury was almost completely sealed already. She barked in laughter once, and hit him for the second time that day.
.oCAREo.
Peter was quite convinced that once he was an old codger – if he made it that far, at least – he would be able to claim that he had "seen everything". In front of him was one more reason.
As soon as they'd exited the room that now contained Annie and Loki (and Peter would be lying if he said that he certainly did not feel comfy-cozy leaving his new teammate in that situation), Thor had protested loudly and vehemently. All the way down the hall. All the way down in the elevator. All the way towards his room.
"You do not understand, Son of Parker!" Thor appealed. "My brother is not well! He is ruthless! Lady Annie is not aware of what she has involved herself in!"
"I'm sure she'll be f-fine, Thor." Peter attempted to soothe, still wheeling him along.
Apparently, that wasn't cutting it for Thor.
He held his palm out. Peter heard distant crashing in the Tower coming from…behind him. He barely had time to duck as a large object zoomed through the place where he had just been standing and smacked into Thor's outstretched palm. Upon closer inspection, Peter realized that it was a hammer, hewn of a silver metal, etched with lines of runes. Offhandedly, he wondered if they were for decoration, or some other purpose. Peter didn't have much time to wonder, however, because Thor held the hammer above his head and rose from his wheelchair, buoyed by the hammer (which could apparently fly, because that made sense).
Thor flew down the hall at breakneck speeds, heading back from whence they had came. His leg encased in the pink cast dragged across the floor with a steady clunk, clunk, clunk.
An alien with a pink cast and a hammer that could make him fly…Peter's fingers itched for his camera.
.oLEADo.
Steve was the first to make it to the room where Loki and Annie battled. Instead of aiding her, though, he stood back and watched in awe, because she held her own.
When Steve had been young, girls were not in the habit of fighting. There was, of course, Peggy Carter, but even she had been more likely to fight with a gun than with her fists.
Then he had woken up in this era, and it had been disconcerting. And even though he knew Natasha Romanoff and had seen her impressive fighting skills, he still found himself constantly reverting back to his old ideals.
Annie was nothing like Natasha. She had not been trained to fight. She had not been handpicked to be an elite assassin. She was barely more than a child. Yes, Steve had seen her on the same video that everyone else had seen before they decided to accept her on to the team. But he had hardly been impressed. Steve had been the loudest voice against her joining their ranks because she was not ready yet. He had watched her on the screen and had only seen a child, lacking in skills, in training, thirsting to prove herself worthy.
Now he realized that he had seen what she wanted them all to see. Annie had held back; for what reasons, he could not fathom.
Because, as he watched her now, with new eyes, he could have thought that she was the most highly trained fighter in the country.
She twisted, flipped, practically flew, jumped, danced. He had never seen someone so graceful or swift in battle. Steve was almost completely sure that she could pulverize Natasha if they ever fought hand to hand. In fact, he had a feeling that she could even hold her own against him.
In that moment, Annie truly became part of the team.
.oHOPEo.
Anna thanked her lucky stars that Loki had decided to storm the Tower right after she had finished eating; her healing factor was soaring through the roof. If he had attacked before she had a chance to eat, she might not have healed as fast, and that would have been very, very unfortunate.
She felt her heart clench in exhilaration as she feinted, causing a beam that he shot from his spear to scorch the floor. Anna laughed as Loki practically shrieked in anger. She darted forward, sliding across the floor until she was behind him.
Her blood pounded in her ear, a thundering percussion – battle music. Adrenaline tore through her veins like cold fire. This was fun; she had never fought with someone who made it a challenge. Those guys at the SHIELD complex had been as easy to beat as Tetris. People she had had to fight in the past had been easier still. But Loki…well, Loki was a Rubik's cube in comparison, and she liked that.
She jumped onto his back, clinging to the edges of his armor, and giggled as he attempted to throw her off while still holding his fancy golden spear thing. Over his shoulder, she spied the team beginning to file in with awed expressions. She freed one hand to wave, beaming.
"Hi, guys!" Anna chirped. Steve's eyes threatened to pop out of his skull. She fell backwards from Loki's back, simultaneously kicking him in the small of his back. He stumbled forwards as she jackknifed off the floor. "So you're all just going to stand there and not even try to help?" Her tone was light, teasing, and confident.
So of course, that was precisely when everything took a trip to hell in a handbasket.
.oCHAOSo.
Loki was out of breath, and that did not please him. He hadn't expected the mortal girl to be such a fierce combatant; he had not encountered an opponent of such difficulty since his days on Asgard.
Actually, that was not entirely accurate. There had been the Hulk. But the beast had been completely brute strength; there was no fight, no strategy, only a thorough smashing. He didn't count that. The memory made him sore, anyways; that had not been one of his most flattering moments.
He digressed, however, and The Voice reminded him.
Will you allow this child to smite you where you lie? I knew you to be pathetic, but this is truly a new low. You are weak and worthless and cowardly – no, Loki wanted to scream, I'm not – and you've been defeated by a Midgardian child-warrior, and you dare to dissemble as a king?
Loki's anger and vehemence surged, swimming in red before his eyes. I was cheated of the throne! I am deserving of that title!
Then prove it, coward. Victory is only attained through force, so take it. Take victory. Take her.
Take her.
Struck by sudden instinct, Loki shot upwards, swinging Gungnir as he went. The end collided with the back of her head, sending the girl sprawling. Aware of the presence of her teammates, Loki moved before any of them could act. He seized her beneath the arm and spun her around, slamming her back against his breastplate. While he held Gungnir in one hand, he locked the fingers of his other hand around her throat with a bruising pressure and squeezed, cutting off her struggles before they could even start. She scrabbled at his arm, but her wickedly sharp nails found no purchase against the cool metal of his vambrace.
He reached for his magic. The tendrils came readily at his command, and he sent a pulse of energy that tore through her mind like lightning. She loosed a short, sharp, strangled screech and became pliable beneath his grip. She collapsed backwards against his chest, completely stunned, and he lifted her easily into his arms. Her head lolled over his arm and she groaned low in her throat, which was ringed with a necklace of violet-but-fading bruises.
Loki looked up at her teammates. They had not moved; they knew their place. He gave a long suffering sigh, fighting the urge to smirk. "All I wanted was Thor. When you're willing to make a trade, let me know. I'll be waiting."
On that note and with his prize – his victory – in tow, he disappeared in a flashy exhibit of green and gold sparks.
.oHOPEo.
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