Chapter Eight: A Fine Mess, And Did I Mention A Date With Fate?
Strobe [Adagio in D Minor]
Kick Ass: The Score
Dying Soul
Antonio Pinto, The Host Score
.oHOPEo.
Author's Notes: I hope you all don't find the curtness disconcerting. I left it to the important pieces of this chapter.
Thanks: much adulation to purenonsense, Padaloki, bloodrightsforever, and Sam0728 for their reviews on the last chapter! Another big group hug to my follows and favorites. I love you all!
Warning: hostage situation, overall Loki-centric naughty-not-niceness, peril, violence.
.oHOPEo.
Her head was on fire. Her brain beat a steady rhythm against the inside slope of her cranium.
What the hell did Loki do?
He had grabbed her around the neck, nearly strangled her, and then he did something – it had been like a bullet tearing through the soft tissues of her gray matter. It had been like living lightning dancing through her mind and burning everything it touched. She had imagined for a moment that her skull was a plasma ball, filled with pulsing violet electricity.
The experience had not been, in so many words, pleasant.
She vaguely felt her body moving sans her own volition and in response she struggled to find the muscles to peel her eyelids open. A slight flutter was all she managed to accomplish. But even that meager success became obsolete as a voice above her head, muffled by the dull ringing in her ears, said, "All I wanted was Thor. When you're willing to make a trade, let me know. I'll be waiting."
Nothing – nothing – could have prepared Anna for the next event.
Suddenly, her body was twisting and flipping and stretching and pulling in every which way and her only anchor was the cradle of arms that supported her.
And isn't that ironic and somewhat cliché, she thought, that the person that I have to cling to for safety is the one person that I am fighting against.
She finally managed to wrench her eyes open and wished that she hadn't.
Colors, colors, mostly in shades of viridian, swirled and writhed in a surreal vortex before her. Anna felt dizzy instantly; there was no focal point to stay the uncomfortable feeling, because there was nothing to focus on.
Her stomach jerked –
The world stopped spinning –
She bucked violently, landing in an ungraceful heap on the floor –
– And was promptly sick all over the rough gray stone beneath her. As the spasms of her stomach calmed, her vision blurred with scalding, involuntary tears, and she retched against the flavor of bile in her mouth.
Anna barely had time to wipe a shaking hand across her mouth before Loki snatched her beneath the arm and practically hurled her into a nearby chair. She landed in it solidly, too dazed and mind-numbed to react with full vigor. Anna struggled to scrape her thoughts together in some semblance of awareness, but her efforts did not come to fruition in a timely matter.
Loki placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed her firmly against the chair. He gazed down at her imperiously, head kicked back, and a small cruel smile twitched on his mouth. Her chest heaved in panic as she tried to fight back and failed.
His cruel smile only grew as she felt stirrings at her wrists and ankles. Annie dared a glance at her wrists and cursed herself for being so bold. Ropes were appearing in a flurry of smoke and embers, as though she were watching a video of a burning rope in reverse. The coarse black fibers wound tightly around her wrists, securing them to the arms of the chair, before slithering up her arms and across her throat. She hissed in anxiety as the ropes continued their journey around and down her body until she resembled a climbing plant's trellis.
Loki pulled away and observed his handiwork with an air of superiority. "Comfortable?" he quipped.
She blinked, trying to rid herself of The Greatest Headache of All Time. A strained "quite" squeezed out from between clenched teeth. Gradually returning to normal, she was beginning to feel far less fearful and far angrier. Consequently, her wit returned bit by bit. "You're missing the railroad tracks though. And you also lack a fantastic curly moustache to twirl between your thumb and index finger."
His brows quirked upwards in a bemused expression that somehow managed to remain frigid and detached. "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"
Anna scoffed. "It's a human thing. I don't have the patience to explain it to you, just know that I'm implying that you're a fiend who preys on helpless damsels."
His expression quickly darkened. "You dare," he purred, "to insinuate that I am no more than a paltry and witless fiend?"
She jerked at the ropes experimentally; to her dismay, she found no give whatsoever. "I think that was the gist of what I just said, yes."
Loki made an aborted move forward, as though he had planned to strike her and had thought better of it. In lieu he folded his hands behind his back and circled her like a vulture scoping out a nice cut of carrion. "You are more foolish than others of your kind, then, mortal. At least they did not underestimate me as you have."
"How exactly did you do this?" she asked, indicating the ropes. She didn't want to talk about this failure quite yet. Since she hadn't escaped the situation at the present moment, it was still a very tender subject.
He snorted – and it was so strange that a sound as mundane as a snort could still sound aristocratic when it came from him – as though he'd picked up on the reasoning behind her not-so-subtle subject change. "Magic."
"Magic." Of all things, bibbidi bobbidi boo had to be her downfall. She would never live this down at the water cooler. "Of course, you're some crazy, off-the-rocker wizard with a grudge against humanity. How did I not know?"
A muscle in his jaw throbbed, and his eyes burned with such an intense hate-fire that she was afraid that she might spontaneously combust if she didn't look away. "I am a god, lowly mortal, and a king among them at that." Loki grasped her chin between his fingers forcefully enough to bruise when she looked away. "You will speak to me with the respect that I deserve, and you will conduct yourself in the modest manner that I would expect from my disciples. I may be using you as an insignificant hostage at the moment, but do not assume that this grants you immunity. I will kill you if you push me hard enough."
"King, huh? I'm royalty, too, you know." She beckoned him closer with a jerk of her head, seeing as her arms were rather…occupied. "I'm a royal pain in the ass."
Anna leaned forward as best as she could and spat on his boot.
Loki didn't do anything at first. He simply stared at her, as if that was the last action he'd expected her to take. Then he did hit her. Her head whipped to the side and her teeth clamped on her tongue. She tasted salt and blood in her mouth.
He adopted a clinical mien and trapped her face between his palms. "Let us stay that poisonous, wretched little tongue of yours, hmm?"
She attempted to respond and found that she could not. A cold and heavy weight had settled over the bottom half of her face, clamping her entire jaw shut and rendering her mute. A plate inflexibly depressed her tongue inside of her mouth. Anna sucked a short breath up her nose and smelled the sharp tang of metal.
That cruel little smile had returned to Loki's face. "I now see why your Avengers drew humor from watching me bear this accursed muzzle." He chucked her under the chin and she glared up at him balefully. "I find the situation much more amusing now that I do not wear the burden. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a team of 'superheroes' to taunt."
.oHEARTo.
"On your left, Stark!"
Tony heard Barton's warning over the comm just in time to execute a perfect barrel-roll, dodging a jet of light. The cobalt beam lanced past him and exploded in a flurry of blue sparks and crimson tongues of flames.
"Thanks, Legolas," he panted, rivulets of sweat trickling through his hair and down the nape of his neck. He had never been quite so hot inside of his suit. Loki was really giving them hell.
The combined efforts of SHIELD and the team hadn't been able to pin the rogue demigod down. The entire affair was like playing a giant game of Whack-A-Mole: Loki would pop up when they least expected, in the place they least expected. He would wreak some havoc until the Avengers arrived, and would then spend a few minutes mocking them before he disappeared again.
Whack-A-Loki, Tony thought derisively, must be invented, and now.
Five days had passed since the fiasco in his tower. Five days had passed since they had lost a comrade. The atmosphere between the Avengers had been tense at best, each feeling somewhat at blame for Annie's captive status.
No one even knew if Loki had kept her alive and intact, or if he was just yanking their chains.
Thor had taken on a grim and flinty silence. Sometimes Tony caught him staring into space morosely. Other times Tony noticed him tracing the patterns on his wrist armors.
The Tower had never felt so dead.
Currently, day six was in full swing, and Loki was really pulling out all the stops. He had overrun downtown Manhattan with rats and snakes to start the day off. He'd then strolled through his sea of vermin like Moses through the Red Sea, blasting everything in his path. Especially cars.
What did he have against cars? Was he jealous because he couldn't drive one?
As soon as the Avengers had arrived, the vermin vanished and the real battle had begun. Loki fought with ferocity unmatched, sending blazing jets of light at everyone and everything.
"Thor, can't you do something?" Natasha asked over the comms. She took refuge behind a flipped car, taking a shot at every opening she got. "You're the only one here who can even hold a candle to him since Bruce is still working on locating Annie."
Tony listened in anxious silence for Thor's reply.
Th'oreal replied hesitantly, "I am trying, Lady Natasha. My brother keeps pushing me back by use of magic."
As though he could hear their conversation, Loki ceased fighting and smiled right up at Tony. The grin was the feral grin of a wolf on the hunt.
Of course, he chose that moment to poof.
Tony cursed, joining Natasha, Thor, and Steve on the ground. "Do you have a visual, Cupid?" He winced as he unthinkingly borrowed one of Annie's favorite Hawkeye-related nicknames.
"No." Barton's aggravation rang clearly. "He must have teleported again, dammit."
"Alright, Barton, I'm coming to get you." Tony retrieved the agent from his perch atop a nearby building and set him down with the others.
Peter swooped in from a different perch, landing with a graceful tuck and roll. "Now what?" he asked, playing with the seam of his mask.
"Now, we bargain," a cultured and familiar tone proclaimed from behind his back. Loki tsked as every weapon was trained instantly on him. "None of that; do recall that if you wish to be reunited with your teammate again, you require my aid. I only wish to discuss the matters at hand; more specifically, whether the lot of you are prepared to hand over Thor yet."
Thor stepped forward beseechingly, Mjolnir forgotten at his side and hands held out in almost supplication. "Brother, I –"
"Stop calling me by that false title, Odinson!" Loki spat. "I was addressing your teammates anyways, you blond buffoon!" His voice turned more silken at the next statement. "It is their decision to make, after all. Will they trade one shield brother in exchange for another? I wonder."
Natasha's countenance remained smooth and unfettered by emotion. "You do realize that we will find her eventually, right?"
"Mayhap." Natasha didn't miss how his eyes flickered quickly toward Clint and back again. "The larger question is whether you will find her in time."
Behind the mask, Tony was seething.
"Well, until you make a decision, I suppose this is goodbye." Loki wiggled his fingers in a condescending wave as teleported.
Natasha jumped into motion right away. "We need to get back to base, and fast."
As soon as every Avenger stepped foot in the Tower, they were enveloped by Hurricane Black Widow.
"Clint," she snapped, "Loki looked at you when he said that we might eventually find Annie. Is there any place you could think of that he might possibly ferret her away in?"
The hawk in question turned instantly agitated, his hands working in midair while his mouth could not. "How should I know, Tasha?" he demanded. "He was in my head, not the other way around. It's not like we went out for coffee and doughnuts and discussed his favorite villain lairs…" He trailed off, eyes wide. "Shit! When he first came here, I did take him to certain place to hide with the Tesseract, but I don't know if that's where he's hunkered down..."
Steve cut in smoothly, taking his natural place at the head of the team. "It's the best we've got. Someone get Banner. It's time to suit up."
Tony smirked ruthlessly, feeling a little sorry (not sorry) for the wrath that was about to be unleashed on Loki. "Time to get our girl."
.oHOPEo.
Time had ceased to matter here. Time dragged on in droves and leaped in spurts, and she couldn't discern how many minutes or hours or years had passed. Her stomach was a hollow weight in the pit of her abdomen. It had stopped growling a long time ago, and now only felt like it had been scraped out with a sharp metal spoon, like a jack o'lantern.
Loki did not feed or water his prisoner.
Anna knew how starvation felt. Living on the streets and scrounging for food did not lead to pleasant lessons, but it led to lessons nonetheless. One of them was recognizing the signs of her own special kind of famine: trembling limbs, nausea, loss of energy and strength, and most dangerous of all, a greatly reduced healing factor; so reduced, in fact, that she may as well have been human.
She felt all of these symptoms from her place in the chair, and that did not make her comfortable when considering the company she was currently forced to keep.
Although, Loki wasn't around enough to truly call him company. Usually he just stopped in to mock her for her lowly and subjugated position, or to taunt her about how incompetent her 'shield mates' were.
Her lack of freedom was not due to a lack of efforts on her part. She had tried to escape numerous times – the fact that Loki attempted to stay out of headbutting distance could attest to that. Each attempt had been thwarted with ease.
Now Anna couldn't fight, considering that her condition was rapidly deteriorating.
She had learned a new lesson: she very much did not like being the damsel in distress.
She wondered if her teammates would ever be able to find her.
And sometimes, she wondered if she was going to die.
.oHOPEo.
"You will never guess who I just happened upon in Manhattan!" Loki poofed into existence on the luxurious chaise opposite of her. The chaise stood out like a sore thumb in this doom-and-gloom themed room; the first night, he had claimed that he needed something for his royal duff.
She had rolled her eyes, as she did now.
"Come now," he tutted, "do not insist upon being difficult. You must have some idea. Feel free to share your musings and extrapolations with me."
Anna hissed low in her throat. The muffling effect of the muzzle transformed the sound into something more fearsome and impressive. Paired with her scathing and hateful glare, the noise had Loki shaking in his elegantly tailored boots.
Not really. But she could wish.
"Ah." He stood and crossed the room to caress the side of her face. "Sometimes I forget, my dear, I apologize."
She jerked her head to the side as best as she could and snorted. His fingers lingered beneath her chin insistently, tracing the tender pale skin there and making her shiver.
Don't apologize, she longed to bite out, because no apology is better than an empty one.
Just then, a loud crash echoed through the building from somewhere above them. Loki's head immediately snapped upwards. He curled his lip and sneered at the ceiling as more rumbles shook the building.
Anna's chest swelled, her heart galloping in her chest. They had come for her, after all. Her brows canted upward petulantly as if to say I told you so.
"If you will excuse me…" Loki vanished – (and Anna could honestly say that she liked to watch when he did that, because he looked like he was unraveling into a cloud of pixie dust).
The ruckus upstairs continued in a medley of muted bangs and crashes. Suddenly, thunder shook the building in a manner that made her chair wobble and almost list backwards. She could barely be phased by the commotion, because the mantra in her head was infinitely louder (it's okay it's over I'm safe they came they came they came!)
The door flew inward on its hinges, revealing a stormy Thor sans pink cast. Anna strained towards him against her bonds; the moment he saw her sent an unreadable shadow across his face. It was swiftly replaced by relief, however, and he crossed the room to kneel beside her.
"Lady Annie," he breathed, hacking at the knots with a knife. He uttered nothing else until all of the ebony ropes had fallen away. "Words cannot convey how pleased I am to see that you are safe, and words also cannot convey how truly sorry I am that this happened to you."
She reached up and tore the muzzle from her face, gasping as her jaw creaked in surprised protest. "And words cannot convey," she croaked hoarsely, "how happy I am to see you right now."
Anna attempted to stand and found that her malnourished legs had turned mutinous and were refusing to support her weight. She slipped forward and landed in an undignified mess. Her body twitched and trembled, overcame by a wave of nausea. "I guess I could use a little assistance, though," she admitted, her vocal cords scraping and complaining in the most obscene manner. Her voice cracked twice in the duration of the short request.
He smiled kindly, bundling her over his shoulder. "I would be honored to extend a hand, Lady Annie. Now, let us get you home."
Unfortunately, Thor didn't make the journey to the door.
Battered and definitely worse for wear, Loki appeared in front of Thor. He used the scepter in his hand to strike Thor, sending her rescuer flying. Anna rolled a few feet away from Thor and struggled to make her limbs work properly. She was dimly aware of the faux brothers fighting and exchanging a flurry of nasty insults and jibes.
Two arms, yes, that's good, she encouraged herself, and push away from the floor, folding thighs and calves beneath, allowing my toes to press against the ground…yes. Okay. We're upright. Now one foot in front of the other, carefully now…
She toddled along with all the steady surefootedness of a newborn foal. Her purpose sent her lurching in the direction of Loki and Thor's duel, and she didn't pause long enough to consider how foolish her intentions might be.
Anna mustered as much hidden strength and willpower as she could from her worn muscles and used her second wind to yank Loki away from Thor. He laughed aloud as he saw who his new attacker was, and when Thor tried to intervene on Anna's behalf, a sharp hand gesture from Loki knocked the blond god out cold.
"You wish to duel me again, child?" He cackled. "Tell me, did that behoove you last time you tried? Do you honestly think that in your state you are a match for me? You can hardly stand."
"We have a saying here on Earth," she rasped, "it's 'hell hath no fury'. Now, generally it's in reference to a woman whose affections have been rejected, but I'd like to think that it applies to all women, all the time. Hell's wrath can't compare to the wrath of a woman." Her stiff face muscles managed a wisp of a smirk. "I'd say that I have plenty of reasons to be wrathful where you are concerned."
He threw his head back and laughed, a high, dangerous sound that edged on maniacal. He wiped at his eyes sarcastically, serving to exacerbate Anna's righteous anger further. "Please, show me the effects of your piteous wrath. When you cease to entertain me, I will kill you, slowly, savoring every moment, and take Thor as I have intended to."
She sprang at him, her unnaturally sharp nails ripping through whatever skin she could get her hands on. She pummeled him with her incredibly weak fists.
And all the while he laughed.
In frustration, she grasped the lapels of his unnameable coat and hurled him at the wall. Her fingers knotted savagely in the raven silk of his hair and she slammed his head into the stone-hewn wall. She slammed once, twice, putting the last reserves of her strength into the endeavor. She slammed so hard that she felt skin split and bone crack, and a sickening stream of blood crawled over the back of her hand.
He wasn't laughing anymore.
Loki crushed her wrist in his vice-like grip. Anna stifled a cry as she felt a bone snap. His eyes burned with hatred, with anger, with a great plethora of negative emotions that made her feel like she was drowning. "You will never touch me again, mortal."
His long knife sought out a home in her chest. The blade plunged through skin and sinew until the last visible remnant of it was only the hilt. Snarling, Loki twisted the weapon brutally, viciously, uncaring to the wreckage that tortured her body.
Anna gasped wetly, staring down at the scarlet river that flowed freely down her chest from a wound that she couldn't even feel – but, oh, there was the pain, searing and bright like an explosion behind her eyes. She whimpered, because her agonized vocal chords couldn't manage a scream. She slumped against the wall, feeling her legs sag from far away.
Loki hadn't moved, frozen in place, but his lids were firmly closed over his corneas.
Anna slid and flopped over. Her boneless limbs could no longer support her. A mound of limp mahogany curls fanned out over her face.
A breath hadn't passed when a pair of hands gently stretched her out on the floor and brushed her hair behind her ears. Her jaw worked as she gazed up at the owner of the hands.
Loki.
There was something different about him, though. Something was small, broken, twisted and mangled. There was compassion written in his countenance now, and fear. And his eyes…they had been the color of icebergs before, cold and icy blue that had no warmth.
That was not the color that she saw.
She saw emerald, a pure and shining color as alive as a deep forest.
His green eyes poured out the most profound apology she'd ever received. His fingers tenderly explored the edges of her ragged wound, and only after he'd finished his cautious examination did he raise shaking crimson fingers to his mouth in some expression awfully akin to horror.
(A dim, murky piece of her registered that somewhere behind him, Thor was rousting.)
.oCHAOSo.
He had blinked, and a girl lay on the ground in front of him, one of his daggers buried in his chest.
What have I done?
He looked at his wretched hands and wondered what other havoc they had wrought.
What have I done?
A cyan veil swept over his eyes as he heard voices, and he thrust space apart so that he might be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
I am afraid.
.oHOPEo.
Arms lifted her and carried her away from that room. They were thick and corded, and since her eyelids kept sliding shut, she couldn't be exactly sure of who it was, but the musculature combined with the hair tickling her face was a pretty good indicator of Thor.
She heard a cacophony of voices, too jumbled for her to discern, but one word did shine and it was quinjet. She was saved. But perhaps the timing was too late.
Her body was stretched out a different surface now, hard and metallic. Her eyes slid open unwillingly. Anna's gaze roved the innards of the quinjet slowly, taking in all of the details with utmost care. The sound of chaos around her gradually fell away until she heard only a muffled buzz. At the edges of her vision danced tiny shadows and sparkles, and they were so lovely that she was almost completely distracted by them, were it not for the many worried faces hovering above her. There was Banner, there, and Steve, and somewhere in the distance she saw Thor and Tony, looking stricken – but how could they be sad when there was an abundance of pretty sparkles? And yet another, stranger face loomed over hers, one with red skin and big, big eyes…oh, that was Spiderman, and Spiderman was Peter, and Peter took her hand in his own. His suit felt pebbly and odd, and Anna would have liked to explore the surface and texture of it, but she was having trouble moving. She couldn't even find the proper muscles to move her lips to say sorry for being caught. Sorry for losing. Sorry for this trouble that I have caused.
Sorry.
The sparkles and shadows were closing now; almost all of her vision was lost to the dark froth. Just before those curtains closed, however, she had a moment of obscene clarity, in which all she could feel was pain and an overwhelming sense of gratitude, because here was this group of people that she barely knew, and even so they were distraught over her condition. And since, in her short young life, no one had ever spared her much care, she couldn't be more touched.
And it was under those circumstances, caught in the hurricane between joy and sorrow, numbness and pain, that Anastasia Hellfire died.
.oHOPEo.
Please don't kill me. Or hate me.
Note: The hostage situation came at the request of a friend, who one time asked that I create a strong female character that has the misfortune of becoming a damsel in distress. I promised her that I would, and I honored that promise, even if it may have been forgotten.
More Notes: I wanted to talk about instrumental music; lots of authors have instrumental music to accompany their fics, which I really like, but I only have it for certain chapters. Like this one. And the next chapter. And as far as lyrics are concerned, I pick lyrics based on only a specific verse – not for the entire song. Just to clear that up.
(I was really tempted to use a few lines from Smooth Criminal for this chapter…but I controlled myself.)
Anyways, I really, really love reviews.
Hint, hint.
With love, and even more apologies, and perhaps cookies too, Bows.