The moment his feet touch solid ground, Tony rips the glasses off. He couldn't give less of a fuck about destroying whatever piece of shit spacecraft he's on. Every inch of the dim room is covered in pipes, valves, and levers arranged in a maze-like knot of machinery.
Looking down he sees they landed on a glowing raised platform in the center of a spherical room, watched by a gnarled looking alien at a control console. Apparently beam technology already exists, so there goes one lifelong ambition. Next they're going to tell him the holodeck is downstairs and he will officially have nothing left to live for.
Wordlessly Maw levitates he and Loki like a couple of oversized dolls and steps off the platform. In the game of real life rock paper scissors, apparently telekinesis beats matter. Tony seeks out Loki and the look of resignation he wears is worse than the suppressed fear Tony expected. It's the look of a runaway teen being shoved in the back of a police car and taken home.
Just looking at him gradually dissolves what little hope Tony has, so he focuses on studying their surroundings instead. Unless they pass some very convenient escape pods or shuttles, that transport room is their only way out. As rooms float by, he memorizes the route as best he can. Nobody tries to stop him, and that's either phenomenally stupid or a very bad sign.
The ship is made of some carbon based material, at least he assumes so from the matte black color. It is designed as a series of bulbous chambers connected by transparent tubes. He only looks out once because the view is the stuff of his nuke-and-wormhole nightmares. No escape pods or emergency shuttles in sight, bummer. After a long series of turns and airlocks they arrive at a cylindrical nexus and Tony cranes his neck up to take in the gargantuan network of magnetic lifts and floating walkways.
The sheer number of personnel traversing the atrium could rival any Stark facility, and no matter how he tries to suppress it Tony feels a bit intimidated. This isn't some rogue revolutionary, it's an army. Fighters, mechanics, secretaries, scientists. It's a whole living mechanism operating in service of this would-be galactic emperor. And he's one out-of-shape superhero with magic snot in his brain.
They take a lift to the top, and an honest to god monorail system carries them to a staircase labeled in strange glyph-like writing. It looks important, the edges all trimmed in white paint.
The room awaiting them looks like a cave, because of course it does. What's worse, it's an apartment. A few feet from the elevator the floor turns to a glossy black onyx, and the ceiling is carved into intricate geometric reliefs. An arrangement of couches sits under a large circular window at the back, and something like a kitchen is built into one wall. The centerpiece of the space is a long table lined with high backed chairs and laden with trays of food and drink. With a flick of his hand Maw seats he and Loki side by side, and the invisible force holding them dissipates.
"Thanos will see you shortly." Maw says, and glides over to sit on a bench at the back of the room. He occupies himself with levitating a handful of metal orbs in circles around his hand, not even paying attention to them. Because he knows they can't escape. What a fucking power move.
"I believe we are being Dr. No'd." Loki says softly, leaning back in his chair and eyeing the steaming platters of meat and vegetables. For a second the phrasing throws Tony off, then he notices a scrunched look come over Maw's face. The telepath can read their minds all he wants, but it won't matter if he doesn't get the references. Clever. Apparently all those nights laying on the couch watching Netflix weren't a waste of time.
"Better than going against a Sicilian when death is on the line." Tony says, and means 'Is the food poisoned?'
"I would choose Vizzini over Immortan Joe quite happily." Loki replies. 'No, he thinks himself a prophet, not an assassin.'
"Any chance we could Kingsman sequel it?" Tony asks, 'Pretend to negotiate and turn when we have an advantage?'
Loki shakes his head. "We would be the cowboy, not the knights." 'We can't beat him physically.'
"The Dark Tower?"
"I am not taking my clothes off." Loki rolls his eyes. "Much as I'm sure you would enjoy a naked brunch."
Tony smirks. "I was thinking of sharpening plates, but if that's where your mind goes-"
"Quiet." Maw snaps, firing an orb at Tony's head. It stops a centimeter from his nose, and he has to grip the arms of the chair to keep his cool. Loki sits up beside him.
"Is it not the point for us to talk? We would be in a cell otherwise." Loki says, leaning calmly on one elbow.
"You would be dead otherwise." Maw replies, and the metal orb near Tony's nose flies to press at Loki's temple.
Loki grins, no longer faking the insolent attitude. "Empty threats will get you nowhere with me."
Tony's heart just about stops at the fury on Maw's face, he's so sure Loki just earned himself a hole in his brainpan. But the orb stays where it is.
"As I thought." Loki says, settling back in his chair and spreading his legs to give those brass balls some fresh air. Fucking crazy bastard. Tony kind of wants an oil painting of his smarmy kiss-my-ass expression. Maw is less impressed.
"Permission is easily granted." he threatens, but it's too little too late. The slow return of the orb to his hand looks like a walk of shame.
A door opens on the far wall, and a bulky figure walks through. He's purple. Not purple like hypothermia, or purple like a tinted window, or even attractively shimmery like Proxima. He's Barney the Dinosaur with a chin implant.
"Who's this clown?" Tony asks, at the same time Loki says, "Greetings, Lord Thanos."
Thanos walks with the long steps of a man in control of his destiny. Despite himself, Tony feels a bit jealous. He's pretty sure that used to be his walk. The titan's hands are covered in rich red dirt, and he's carrying a basket woven out of some kind of reeds.
"Wait, that's Thanos?" Tony stage whispers, "We're fighting purple Homer Simpson and you never thought to mention that?"
"It didn't seem relevant." Loki replies.
"We're fighting a California Raisin, that is so relevant."
"Stark, Loki." Thanos greets, approaching the head of the table and setting down the basket.
"You know me?" Tony says.
Thanos pulls a knife out of his belt, and the low light of the room glints off the golden gauntlet on his left hand. A purple stone gleams from his knuckle, and Tony just about shits his pants. Odds are it's the power stone, that's the one he was after last they heard. No guarantees though, he has no idea what color time is or how shimmery a soul might be.
"You are impossible to ignore." Thanos says, dusting his hands on his pants. "Each time I think I am free of your meddling, we meet again."
"Again?" Tony asks, still eyeing the knife. Despite his slouch he's on the edge of his seat, his spine like a coiled spring.
"Timelines." Thanos grunts, shaking his head like the nature of time and space is just so inconvenient. "I am tired of beating you over and over again. You've become too great a distraction, and so I hoped we could arrange a ceasefire."
He pulls out his chair and sits, regarding them.
"Honored as we are by your invitation," Loki says dripping with irony, "we are not interested in bargaining."
"How unusual. Your fellow Asgardians were not so discriminating." Thanos remarks mildly, reaching into the basket and pulling out a fruit that gleams like his gauntlet.
Loki's smile turns rigid. Tony almost stands, almost starts a fight they can't win. The only reason he stays seated is Loki's heel pressed hard into his ankle.
The golden apple looks like a grape in Thanos' massive, calloused hands. Carefully rotating it between his thumb and index finger, he slices the peel from the pulp like a seasoned hunter skinning a rabbit. The precision and finesse of it sends a cold shiver down Tony's back.
"Fortunate then, that I am not Asgardian." Loki says, leaning in his chair like he's bored. "Name your price."
The golden skin of the apple falls to the table in long jagged strips, and the titan holds the naked fruit over a wide silver basin.
"This is not about my price, it's about yours." Thanos rumbles, and closes his fist around the apple. Juice drips into the basin with a sickening wet noise that reminds Tony of spilled blood and open wounds. He starts to stand and Loki grabs the back of his shirt.
"I am fascinated to hear what you think we want." Loki says in a passable attempt at a carefree tone, pulling Tony back to his seat.
Thanos picks up a strip of the apple peel and lays it across his hand. He squints at it for an exaggerated moment, and shakes his head.
"I never learned to read runes." he rumbles, and stands wearily from his chair. With heavy steps he comes to stand behind them and lays the peel on the plate in front of Loki. "Perhaps you can enlighten me."
Loki's face twists, fear and fury blending into a seething roar as he stands and Thanos grabs him by the back of his head. That massive golden glove wraps all the way from one temple to the other and squeezes. Crawling veins of purple magic flow down impossibly thick and powerful fingers and Loki yells, his body going limp in Thano's hold as the stone burns his flesh.
Tony's on his feet in an instant, his own stone wrapping around his body in gold and crimson plates until a silver orb flies to press at his forehead. Maw stands from the bench at the corner, his fingers poised to follow through on the threat.
"What does it say, Loki?" Thanos growls, squeezing.
Loki screams, and the word turns Tony's stomach to lead. "Hela."
Thanos throws Loki into the chair, purple tendrils of raw power crackling around his hand as the stone reforms on his gauntlet.
"Now was that so difficult?" he asks gently, petting Loki's hair in a way that has Tony wondering if permanent brain damage would be worth landing a punch. Loki flinches away, his hands spasming on the armrests as residual waves of energy tear through him.
"I made it so easy for you, little god. I gave you the mind stone, an army at your command. And still you failed." Thanos sighs, walking back to the head of the table and reaching in the basket. Loki's eyes widen as he stares up at Thanos, jaw tight with pain and sweat rolling down his angular cheeks.
When Thanos pulls a second apple from the basket Tony loses his patience. The look on Loki's face tips him over, and he doesn't care if this is the last thing he ever does. He raises his repulsor and fires, knocks the apple out of Deep Purple's grip and fires his boots.
There is a split second where he's certain he's about to die, where everything seems to move in slow motion and he knows if he doesn't disable Maw then he and Loki are as good as dead. With a twist of his wrist he cuts the sorcerer into one inch cubes and flies over the table. It works, thank fuck, it works.
Snatching the basket with an outstretched hand, he lands in a crouch over the second apple and throws it in.
"I don't want to do this, Stark. There's no reason we can't parley like civilized beings." Thanos says, grabbing Loki by the neck and dragging him up.
Loki's hands come up to grip the hand around his throat, his legs kicking wildly as he struggles to loosen Thanos' hold. His eyes meet Tony's, cracks of red invading the whites as his nostrils flare, and he looks meaningfully sideways. His gaze darts between Tony and the table, and he realizes Loki is indicating the basin of juice. He's telling Tony not to save him, to take Hela's life and run. As if.
"Ok fine, us and our family against the world. That's our price. Name yours." Tony says, setting the basket on the table like a loaded gun and raising his hands.
Thanos loosens his grip and Loki gasps. His eyes on Tony are furious, practically glowing with ire.
"The stones." Thanos says, "All of them."
One step at a time, Tony makes his way to the table. "Like, as in you actually trust us to fetch 'em for you?"
"I trust you to protect your own skins." Thanos says darkly.
"Fair." Tony says, tilting his head and grabbing a corked bottle from the table. He motions to the basin of soul juice. "Do you mind if I bottle this? I gotta do something with my hands. Kind of an ADHD thing-"
Thanos zaps Loki again, and this time he bites back his shrieks. It warps the sound into a horrible, muffled wail that doesn't match Loki's resolute gaze.
"Okay-" Tony says, dropping the bottle and raising his hands again. Thanos doesn't stop, he raises Loki higher.
"I know your tricks, Stark. And I will not be double-crossed-"
Tony doesn't hear the rest of the would-be Grape Dictator's speech. Loki throws his left hand down to his side while his body convulses and it draws his full attention. The gesture is so unusual, the shape of his hand so odd with three fingers out and two tucked in. He meets Tony's eyes and very deliberately curls his ring finger up. A countdown. Hela, he mouths silently, over and over as his middle finger goes up and his right hand creeps up the gauntlet. Reaches subtly for the purple stone on the knuckle while Thanos continues issuing threats neither of them hear.
Loki's last finger curls into his fist and Tony doesn't hesitate. Circling his hands, he bends the silver basin into a closed sphere with the soul juice trapped inside and throws it in the basket. Without warning he's thrown back by a concussive blast that hits as solidly as a punch. Glasses, bottles, and crystal platters shatter in an advancing line across the table, the shards flying up and outward like saturn missiles on the 4th of July. In a split second it reaches Tony and slams him into the wall in a shower of debris and shimmering glass.
It detonates in a wave centered on Loki, so fast and powerful that Tony doesn't hear the sound of it until after it crashes. Unlike a normal explosion, the force continues after the initial blast, growing into a howling black and violet torrent that nearly eclipses Loki's banshee-like screaming. His partner's skin is cracking, crevices of purple energy crawling up his arm from where the stone has fused to his palm. He's staring at his hand in horror, his eyes shining pure white while he yells in uncontainable agony.
Tony calls for him but it's drowned out. He fires his repulsors at max power and barely moves, swimming upstream through waves and waves of primal force. The cracks on Loki's palm split open, his very core glowing purple. With a surge of light and energy the stone begins to consume him, and Tony's world narrows to the sound of his roaring voice and the unwavering resolve of his sharp features. He barrels around flying rubble and pushes with all his power to close the distance, to rip the stone from Loki's ruined flesh and damn the consequences. He isn't fast enough.
Deep fissures open from Loki's searchlight eyes, fracturing his cheeks and splitting into a ruinous rift right down his face. His body looks like a dry lake bed, blackened and shattering into craggy fragments. Tony panics, a chink inside him cleaving open as all his worst nightmares play out in front of him.
Blindly reaching backwards, Loki fights against the torrent. Even as his body starts to come apart he fights, his teeth bared and light beaming from his insides like a supernova. Power flows through him in waves and Loki channels it, becomes it, and in that moment Tony understands what it means to be a god. To exist on a frequency no mortal could stand and synchronize with it as two parts of the universe's collective consciousness. Loki's fractured body pulses in time with the rippling waves and with a ringing, otherworldly cry he lays his palm flat on Thanos' bare shoulder.
The cracks spread to him, halving the strain, and the wind holding Tony back weakens. He reaches Loki like a man possessed, awe-struck and panicking as he grabs his smoking hand. He makes his suit's hand into a blade and digs into the scorched flesh. Pries the damned gem out and throws it to the floor like trash. The cracks on Loki's body close into sizzling black flesh, and Tony catches him in his arms. He smells death and cut grass and his eyes refuse to focus on anything but his lover's split, bleeding lips. Their chanting, soundlessly mouthing Hela Hela Hela.
Thanos recovers too quickly, shaking off the stone's power like harmless static and raising his fist to punch. Tony doesn't give him the opportunity. A repulsor blast to the nearest wall propels him backwards, arcing over the table to land near Maw's cube-ified body. He hesitates to call it a corpse, isn't sure if the change is permanent, but ultimately it doesn't matter. The only priority is escape.
Now that he's out of range Thanos changes tactics, goes for the gem instead of him. He doesn't need a fucking billboard to recognize an opening when he sees it. Somehow the basket is intact, two apples and a silver sphere tucked inside. He grabs it and guns the thrusters. The winding staircase is too narrow, and he bounces off several walls on his way down like a game of Pong.
There's no time to think, he can only retrace the route to the transport room and hope the cavalry doesn't come. It's not a very effective plan. The sight of Iron Man descending the mile deep elevator shaft snags the attention of every living being on the way down, and Tony's so tense he thinks he could shove coal up his ass and it would come out diamonds.
Pops and bleeps of energy guns follow them, ricocheting off his armor and splashing across Loki's tough Jotun skin. It's a blur of rushed motion and weightlessness as he cuts the thrusters and allows them to plummet. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred feet fly by them as Chitauri click and screech in their horror movie language. The apples float precariously over the basket and Loki stirs, weakly grabs them and tucks them into his belt pouches.
In a blink they reach the bottom floor and gravity slams back in, stealing Tony's breath as he arcs them into a dive. Loki's feet dangle, and he hits the ground running. Tony lands a few feet in front of him, taking out three armed guards with a slice of his blue ringed hands. Their bodies hit the floor in pieces with a wet smack and Loki stumbles, falling to a crouch at Tony's side.
The corridor before them seems never ending, a limitless dark expanse of round, rib-like doors obstructed by guards. A crowd gathers around them, and he can hear the humming of blasters powering on from far away platforms. Hundreds of hostiles draw their weapons when he looks behind, balancing long barrelled guns and wide mouthed cannons on guardrails. No going back, then. The only path left is the longest bottleneck death-trap he's ever seen.
Grabbing Loki by the arm, Tony drags him in his wake as he sprints down the dark hallway. His lungs feel like they are on fire, every breath turning his stomach at the smell of blood dripping from his nose. His eyes are bleeding too, his vision going foggy as he overrides every sign and symptom that his body is at the limit. Rooms fly by, turning into transparent tubes and back to black, over and over as they hurdle over platforms and through doorways. Guards stand in their way every few rooms and he slices and dices them without a shred of guilt or hesitation. All that matters is survival, staying one step ahead.
The transport room appears like a mirage on the horizon, such a relief he doesn't believe it's real. They draw closer and closer, and an alarm fires in his head. A rush of pure protective fury from the Aether that drives him into a dark corner near the final door. Two figures stand waiting on the other side of the wall, a slender horned figure and a pacing behemoth, Proxima and the giant from the helicarrier. He crowds Loki into the narrow alcove and shoves his face into the high collar of his suit, tries to smother the sound of his ragged breathing in the sweat soaked fabric.
Sharp nails dig into one shoulder and Loki trembles against him, hissing incomprehensible Aesir into his ear. Tony clamps his hand over Loki's mouth and holds his breath. His whole body braces for the worst. Their lungs fight for air, and thumping footsteps pace in the next room.
Proxima grumbles something sharp and caustic in alien, and the giant growls. Footsteps come closer. They pass through the doorway and sweat drips down Tony's neck. They stalk steadily down the corridor, searching, and in a fit of paranoia Tony wonders if aliens have night vision. Maybe even in this pocket of darkness Proxima will see them plain as day. In a heartstopping moment, they pass by. Leaning on Loki's taller form, Tony tries to catch his breath, tries to formulate a plan—and stupidly leans on Loki's fresh wounds. He hisses in pain, his face screwed up with the effort to keep quiet, but the footsteps immediately stop.
An alien phrase that can only be did you hear that bounces off the walls. Leather slaps against boots and feet hammer the floor. Tony panics.
"Hold on." he says, bringing his hands down and sending exploratory threads of aether into the floor. It's carbon, tough but easily decomposed. He transmutes it into charcoal dust and they fall through, crashing into what Tony desperately hopes isn't the vacuum of space.
Joy of joys there is still air, and the area isn't occupied because it isn't meant to be. It's a tunnel beneath the corridor, a crawl space intended for electrical conduit and HVAC systems. Loki lands on top of him, his heavy body knocking the air out of Tony while he scrambles to reconstruct the floor. Well, technically it's now the ceiling. Whatever, the barrier between them and certain death, he's reconstructing that. Fresh blood leaks out his eyes and it feels like his brain is being bisected one neuron at a time.
Loki whines, rolling off to one side and curling around his wounded chest. They need to keep going, but he can't move. Loki moans, his voice gurgling around a tight throat, and Tony makes himself check on him. Fuck, his face is a crime scene. There's a massive, web-like lesion burned diagonally from one horn to the opposite ear, and his eyes have rings of soot-like blackness sealing them shut.
"Loki-" he whispers, reaching to touch but unable to find an undamaged place to put his hand. His partner curls further in on himself, and Tony has to sit up. "Can you open your eyes?"
"ᛗᚨᚲᚦᛟᛚᚨ-" Loki croaks, shaking his head no.
"Ok, ok does it hurt? Can you feel them?"
Loki nods, grinding his teeth.
"Alright. Okay, that's good, that means the nerves are-"
Hammering footsteps pound over their heads, and Tony looks up. Listens to see if anyone notices them. His heart pounds loud in the silence that follows. Looking back down, he carefully lays a finger under Loki's right eye and pulls down. The skin stretches but stays sealed, and Loki flinches away.
"ᛒᛖᛁᛋᚲᚱ."
"Hold still." he says, switching his arrays to gold. Loki pushes his hands away, patting repeatedly at the base of his neck. He grips Tony's wrist in his other hand, wincing.
"ᛒᛃᚨᚱᚷ. ᛒᚱᛃᛟᛏᚨ ᚢᛈᛈ ᚷᚱᛃᛟᛏ-"
"English, Loki. I'm a filthy, uncultured American. You gotta speak English."
Loki screws up his face. "Stone. The stone."
"We don't have it, you can't get to it."
"Here." Loki says, bringing Tony's palm to where his hand is shaking on his collarbone.
Tony sighs. "I can't, genius. I'm not-"
"Listening?" Loki spits.
"-magic." Tony finishes, and he doesn't need eye contact to feel Loki judging him. He spews out a meandering litany of Asgardian swears, and Tony rolls his eyes. Only Loki would waste his last breaths on slurred insults. Under Tony's hand he curls his fingers into a loose fist and points to the dip in his collar bone. The motion cracks open one of his burns and he jerks, but keeps pointing.
"Void." he says, jabbing at his clavicle, "Dark matter-"
Puffs of dust and dirt fall from the ceiling, and Tony hears pounding footsteps overhead. His arrays cast faint shadows on Loki's frantic gesturing, and just like that he understands. Loki wants him to reverse the spell with the stone. Whether or not it's possible seems irrelevant. At this point it's their only hope. The footsteps pause directly above them, and he stiffens, dust falling into his hair and sticking in his eyelashes.
Thanos's rumbling bass seems to cut right through the layers of carbon. He speaks loudly, like an actor addressing the audience.
"I don't want to do this, Stark. I gave you an out."
Something above them explodes, and purple energy sparks down the structural beams to discharge on the floor. Loki flinches, leans away even though it stretches the barely closed puncture wounds in his chest.
"It's not too late to join the winning side." Thanos continues, pacing. Tony can practically feel the power of his presence, an unseen threat looming just inches above them.
They need to move. Now. The access tube is tiny. Dissolving his suit is more a necessity than a choice, he needs the space to hoist Loki on his back.
"I admire your conviction. I know how it feels to believe in a cause, to fight, and struggle, and still lose." Thanos says, and another explosion shakes the craft. This time the impact dents the tunnel several feet back, and Tony starts crawling like a recruit at boot camp. It's grueling. Loki's weight is an anvil dragging him down, but he pushes through the exhaustion. They didn't go through all this bullshit to die like rats in a fucking utility pipe.
Something must tip Thanos off, because he starts aiming his blasts downward. Risking a glance back, he sees a gold fist crash through the ceiling and a cloud of purple fire detonates right behind them. The force of it throws them further down the passageway, and Tony grits his teeth through the bite of metal on his knees and the screaming ache of overused muscles. Sweat soaks his back, or maybe it's Loki's blood, and he pushes onward.
"If you think about it, I'm doing you a favor." Thanos says, punching another hole just a few paces from Tony's feet. "I'm giving your death meaning."
Jesus tap dancing christ, why does he always get the villains that monologue? He can never get a mute Russian assassin like Cap or a nice, monosyllabic She-Hulk. Oh no, not Tony. He only gets the ranting, psychotic terrorists.
The tunnel opens into some kind of vertical access shaft ahead, and despite his hazy vision he can see a ladder bathed in orange light. One arm then the other, he drags them under twisting pipes and low hanging bundles of wires. All the while the ceiling panels creek under the weight of their unseen assailant, and he tries not to think about what happens if he doesn't make it to the ladder in time.
Loki's arm around his neck half chokes him, and his pained breathing is like a wind tunnel in Tony's ear. The ladder is so close now, just a few more feet. A heart attack or a stroke could hit and he might not even notice, he's so far past his limit.
"He will only betray you, Stark. You know he will." Thanos taunts, and Tony almost takes the bait. It's just so infuriating, that old jab he's taken as much from friends as he has from enemies. But he is within arm's reach of a way out, so he bites his tongue and pulls himself over the final stretch. Wiggling out from under Loki, he holds tight to the ladder and pulls himself into the vertical tube. His feet slam hard on a rung, and he feels exposed by the free flowing air and the seemingly endless pillar of space. A fan spins lazily at the top of the air duct, hundreds of feet above and casting shadows that circle like vultures waiting for a kill. Below there's a drop that would kill most humans, but in a pinch he and Loki could probably walk it off.
Turning around, he braces one leg on the opposite wall and steadies the foot still on the ladder. He's doing a kind of half split over a very long drop, and if his foot slips there won't be anything stopping his descent.
Swallowing down the fear, he reaches both hands for Loki.
"Whatever you do, don't fucking let go." he says, and grabs Loki around the elbows. His partner returns the hold, eyebrows pinched in confusion as gusts of wind hit his face and ruffle his matted hair.
"What-" Loki gasps, squeezing the life out of Tony's arms when his elbows leave solid ground.
"Just hold on, Bambi. I've got you."
He has his partner half out, his hips right on the edge, when the ceiling caves in directly above him and a golden fist fills the tunnel with purple fire. A burst pipe fills the crawl space with hissing white smoke, and something starts dragging Loki back in. Hoarse yelling echoes through the ventilation shaft and his hands slip to Loki's wrists.
Thanos is stronger, there's no comparison. One lurching pull, and Tony's foot leaves the ladder. Like fish on a hook, the titan reels them in. Steam obscures everything. A stinging bite of boiling water that turns the floor slick and stops him getting any leverage. Thanos pulls them to the hole he punched in the ceiling, and by pure luck Tony's feet land on either side.
Aether coats his arms, great corded lines of artificial sinew that ripple and strain. Rocket boosters materialize on the backs of his elbows, and somehow it overpowers Thanos. They slip his hold and Tony's back hits the ladder like a freight train. The sickening crunch of ribs breaking forms the soundtrack to their rapid ascent as the boosters carry them up, his bare shoulders ripping rungs off the ladder and sending them careening into the opposite wall in an uncontrolled climb.
By the time the pain registers and the stone cuts the thrusters it's too late, he feels like tenderized meat. Groaning, he flops over on the floor and watches his vision swim in and out. Blinking lights look almost like stars until his eyes adjust and they become a tantalizing puzzle of alien machinery. Rolling on his back, his arm brushes Loki and he stares vacantly at a spiralling pillar of wires and glowing chambers that pulse rhythmically with flowing energy.
"Good boy." Tony grunts, his arm flopping limply on Loki's leg and patting his kevlar hip guard.
"Not your pet." Loki says around wet, gurgling exhales that don't sound good at all.
"No." Tony agrees. "You'd be the worst pet. You'd piss on everything."
"Eat your shoes-"
"Bite anyone that takes my attention."
"Sounds fun." Loki murmurs, coughing.
Sitting up steals what little breath Tony has, but who the fuck cares. The mechanism nearby is an engine, he can see fuel lines extending to the massive tanks in the next room, and an exhaust pipe that goes up to what looks like a catalytic converter. It's not like any machine he's ever built, but there are only so many ways to generate power and they all look similar.
"Dark matter." Tony says, leaning over Loki while moving his ribs as little as possible. "You mean like a wormhole."
"Yes." Loki wheezes.
"When you pull rabbits out of hats, you open a tiny wormhole and finger it."
Loki nods, and despite everything his evil little lip curls in a lopsided grin. Like he's proud of himself for playing with unstable quantum mechanics for the sake of convenience.
"You are such a fucking health hazard." Tony says, and if he's grinning slightly it's only the post-battle endorphins kicking in.
Lucky for them, Tony made himself an expert on anti-electron collisions back in 2012 and not much has changed since then. Hard for progress to happen when one leading expert is in a mental institute and the other is working out of an RV. He runs the details by Loki, who nods along vaguely enough that Tony's only half sure he's actually listening. Finally he decides he's about as prepared as he's ever going to be to summon a fucking black hole in his lover's esophagus and throws a leg over Loki's hips.
Opening portals doesn't seem like a reality stone thing, but dark matter is still matter. The arrays are gold, but there's nothing safe about this. No way he can think of to make this not ridiculously deadly if he fucks up. Around his broken ribs and rapidly swelling shoulder he can't even take a calming breath, he just goes for it.
Picturing the theoretical diagrams he's studied, he makes a disc of energy and inverts it. Turns reality itself inside out in that space and puts his finger through the middle, makes it a tube of molecules connected by matter but existing outside of time and space.
With all the recklessness of his youth, he sticks his hand in. It disappears, and ain't that a mindfuck. Feeling blindly, he stretches his fingers and touches something solid. A lot of somethings, actually. Shit, this pocket dimension is crammed full of stuff. It's like a damn junk drawer inside Loki's neck. How does he find anything? Fortunately the locket is familiar, so he finds it pretty much immediately.
His hand comes back intact, and laying innocently in his palm is a cheesy old school locket. Bless this mess. Dissipating the tube of anti-matter, he practically collapses in relief. Only Loki's hiss of pain and the matching stab in his ribs propel him back up.
Slim fingered hands feel for his, and he presses the locket into them, cups them as firmly as the burns allow. Loki clicks the mechanism open with practiced ease. The brilliant blue stone has never been such a welcome comfort.
"Beam us up, Loki." he says, raising his hands and holding the right over the left. If they're blowing this popsicle stand, they might as well leave with a bang.
"Right away, Mr. Stark." Loki rasps, closing his fist around the space gem. A rippling black portal opens underneath them. They start to sink, not fast but not slow, and Tony studies the towering engine a few feet away.
Once he's waist deep, he whips his hands apart and slices clean through. What little he sees of the explosion as he fades away is magnificent. It probably won't stop the titan for long, but it's one less ship in the armada.
A freezing wind hits him like a full body slap, so cold it burns, and they land in a deep drift of snow. It cuts through his scrubs like tissue paper and every muscle in his body seizes before he even starts shivering. Loki burrows farther into the mound of powder and purrs like a cat, the bastard. It probably feels like a soothing ice pack to him.
By Tony's estimation, and his math is always right, he has about five minutes before he starts losing fingers. He summons the suit and tries not to think about the small rivers of blood flowing from his nose. At this rate he'll be a vegetable by sunset. Assuming there is a sun on whatever backwater moon this is.
Spidery black trees stretch toward the sky all around them, bare limbs splitting and spreading like skeleton fingers. Thick clouds obscure everything but the distant blue mountains and the revealing expanse of white ice that surrounds them. Nothing stirs as far as he can see, no animals or people. It's bleak, totally alien.
The display in his helmet flares, detecting a heat signature invisible to the naked eye. It's approaching, low to the ground but still impossible to see through the billowing snow storm. He fires both repulsors.
"Show yourself." he calls, stepping into a wide stance.
The fog shifts, like a swish in the curtain of reality. Tony's back goes rigid. A salt-and-pepper snout appears as though emerging from the blizzard itself, followed by tufted ears and intelligent yellow eyes. Seemingly out of nowhere a massive white wolf pads into the deep ditches and snow drifts. It moves with the grace of an animal completely in its element, and Tony finds himself leaning in.
Snowflakes gather on the beast's springy fur, it's black nose twitching and sniffing at scents on the wind. The clear intelligence scares him more than the wolf's massive size. Even an idiot could feel the threat in that gaze.
The creature's nose could take up Tony's whole hand. He knows without a doubt because it's sniffing his gauntlets. It's hackles raise and it snarls. A line of dagger-like teeth take up Tony's entire display, and he jumps back to stand over Loki.
With one big stride it advances on him, growling. Powerful jaws snap in his face, and he ducks, side steps. Another bite nearly misses his hand and he fires his repulsors to get more distance. Only after he's midair does he realize the beast is herding him away from Loki. By the time he lands, it's nose is in Loki's hair.
It becomes a stand-off. Tony holding out his repulsors, unwilling to spook the beast. His partner laying half-conscious beneath a tree. The beast sniffing at his neck and… licking is face? Ew.
Loki stirs. At the first brush of the wolf's enormous slobbery tongue he brings his hands to the tufts of hair behind its ears.
"It's me-" he says, "No tricks."
The wolf growls, it's huge head angling toward Tony and back to Loki. Keen eyes regard them, and the wolf turns back the way it came. A fluffy tail swishes behind it, and Tony thinks abruptly of Fenrir. It's identical to the restless, agitated kind of tail swish that precedes a tantrum or a fight with Jori. Creeping realization works its way over Tony's aching brain. No way. Loki didn't just teleport them to-
"Angrboða." Loki calls in a pathetic voice, listing into alien words that can only be described as pleading. It's not exactly a farce, but it's also not real. Genuine distress doesn't quite reach that decibel, even if Loki can be a cry baby about it.
The wolf stops. Mournful eyes turn back, and Loki feigns like he's trying to sit up but he can't. The wind carries a canine whine, and Loki groans.
"Please." he yells like he's on a soap opera, and Tony kind of wants to kill him. "I have no one else."
Tony sighs. Apparently, this is the part where they beg Loki's ex for help.