2.

. . .

Alphonso 'Mack' Mackenzie knew better than anyone that his forte wasn't traditional diplomacy. Unfortunately, the current situation and his role in it wasn't about being diplomatic, exactly. It was about making sure ducks stayed in rows, trains ran on time, and nobody went straying off the reservation without four different backup plans and methods of contact on record. Logistics butted up against clockwork engineering. And that, Elena liked to tease him, was something he was good at.

Also there had been the fact that nobody else was lining up to be on this job. No, the higher ups had decided it was his time in the barrel to dictate operations - along with Loki as the diplomatic front-face of the current team, which made a lot more sense than using Mack for that part of the job. Loki, at least, could fake it in a building full of generals, politicians, aides, coffee gophers, and all the other security problems that walked on two legs.

It did not help that they were shorthanded due to some behind-the-scenes bs.

Mack looked up as Loki came into the smallish ops room, closing the door behind him on the flurry of a large number of SHIELD agents running the more ordinary mass of tasks and checklists Mack needed them to get done. Loki looked stressed, which was unusual, since usually his poker face had its own, even more blank poker face. "Okay?"

His first response was a mild, distracted grunt. Then Loki seemed to collect himself. "What went wrong now?"

"Symkaria's losing its mind over Transia's request to overhaul the security cams in the E-E wing of the conference, claiming… guess what?" He at least tried to make it light.

"Latverian influence over Transia, with the other various factions, probably mostly Russian, taking sides and getting loud." Loki dropped into a chair with an uncharacteristic amount of sloppiness. "The usual nonsense with new and more irritating variables. What do I win?"

"A trip to the last surviving Radio Shack in Alaska with Turbo, probably. We got another hot rumor, too. This one says that von Doom is back at home and personally involved with everything that's going wrong, including the time last week when the contractors said the water pipes were leaking a tiny bit."

"Oh, good." A long-fingered hand dragged down over Loki's face from where he'd already been tugging agitatedly at his hair. "More paranoid garbage. Where'd that come from, that git with the show where he attempts to die live on the air from apoplexy over the sexual habits of amphibians?"

"Just about." Mack pulled his tablet towards him as Loki next slumped back in his chair to study the ceiling. "We haven't made a dent in the sane requests the UN is making, I don't even know where to begin with the mad crap. I mean, I understand. We all remember what happened in Vienna a few years ago. That's never gonna happen again, not on our watch, but is it bad if I don't want to lose my damn mind over a guy in Norway who thinks it's a security problem that there's too much salt in the catering? Isn't half their diet salted fish anyway?"

"I would call it a reasonable stand, but then, my impatience with these sorts is fairly legendary and deep down we all know that the real security threat is going to be me crowning myself Emperor of the World and sending them all back to their rooms without supper an hour into this damned thing officially starting." Loki didn't move. Fortunately, he also didn't sound particularly serious. "I cannot believe we're still only in the preliminary stages. How much longer is it until the conference itself? I try to not look at dates. They're depressing, even for a near-immortal."

"You don't want an answer."

The conference. This year's UN world council. UN events in general had become unusually exciting every year since Tony Stark had gone whole holiday ham with an Iron Man suit, and the rollercoaster ride that had become seemed to hit a new high regularly. The Accords, well, everyone remembered those. Then, last session, Wakanda had finally come out into the open air to show what only a few people in the entire world had even suspected.

Now a number of central European states wanted to solidify their places in the tumultuous union. Formerly quiet nations looking at power vacuums caused by the changes in the European Union. Transia, a former slice of Romania, heavily militarized. Symkaria, a modern monarchy with a number of natural resources and a lax idea of external diplomacy. And Latveria, trying to stabilize itself after their own dear leader had gone missing - under circumstances SHIELD knew more about than most.

And then there was all the other shitshows going on around the world. Including at home. And so, as SHIELD attempted to reclaim its place as a reliable watchman of that world, they had been quietly approached to manage and monitor security at the event. As an olive branch. As a functional third party, whose politics did not seem tied to the current administration. Another positive.

And also as a test, to see if they managed to fudge something up on the public scale again.

General Talbot was still a mite upset about recent events, with the organization only recently recovering its position and turf at home. It was understandable, sure. But it was also a giant pain in their collective ass.

"Hell."

Yeah, that summed it up, really. Mack studied Loki's attempt to resemble a corpse, feeling sympathetic. "Asgard went smooth, then."

"Ruddy, bloody hell." The pale hand came up again to tug at his face, pinching at the top of his nose as if his sinuses were bothering him, the only answer Mack was going to get. He understood. Family. "All right. Pass me my share of the latest stack of emergent troubles. I'll spent the next four hours on the phone, wrangling cats so they might stop screaming for a night or two."

"I'd just like to make it through a meal without something else blowing up." Mack paused. "The thing is, the emergency ping I sent you wasn't really over that. I need you on something ASAP."

Loki managed to lift his head a mere two inches, just enough to flutter a suspicious, weary eye his way.

"I got a diplomatic call from one of the main players. They requested you specifically." Mack picked up the notice and flashed the intricate Xhosa-style letterhead at him. "On the bright side, it should be a pretty chill meet."

An eyebrow arched. That caught his attention. "Where?"

"He's in New York tonight. Can get you there and back in time for pizza."

. . .

Wakanda had already opened several locations in the US from which they could operate diplomatically. Not embassies, although they were completing one not far from DC according to UN standards, but locally-engaged outreach centers, beginning in California. For now, though, East Coast meetings often happened through a small but growing facility on the poorest edge of Harlem, where young Wakandan women in casual gear that blended the most colorful of both worlds kept an eye on security. War dogs, according to SHIELD's intel sheets. Battle-ready spies who knew more of the foreign West than most Wakandans, and probably many westerners. Some now acted as liaisons for their King, as well as his careful eyes.

At the door waited one of the Dora Milaje. Loki recognized her as one of the most important figures in the King's service, possibly even their general, although he wasn't privy to their organization and had enough sense not to pry deeply into it. She'd been among those who watched over the throne the one time he'd been in Wakanda, and she gave him a knife-like look of recognition now. There was no approval or disapproval in her eyes, just a bland acknowledgment that here was a man, and there he stood.

Which meant also no overt hostility, so Loki decided he'd take it. There was something about Wakandans, that culture of pure ability and respect only when earned, that had previously drilled into him that he was not about to ever start trouble with them - some of these warriors just might be capable of going toe to toe with an Asgardian in a fight. And if they weren't toe to toe, but on their turf and terms, it might well end very badly for a demigod.

He'd learned about underestimating humans. These were humans at a secretive peak of capability. Loki liked not getting his ass kicked unnecessarily.

The warrior nodded her sleek, bare head to him in silence and led him inside the center, which was also a new community library, to where the King of Wakanda sat in one of the quiet reading rooms waiting for him.

"Your Majesty," said Loki, automatically. A millennia of courtly rule had its uses, even on this modern Earth. He kept his head tilted low as T'Challa rose from his seat. A moment later, the king reached out his hand in a more casual greeting. Loki took it with his, didn't test its strength. It was a small thing from Asgardian tradition, but a meaningful one. "An honor, again."

"And on, I hope, less careful terms, although our last went well enough to give me confidence in this hour." T'Challa nodded to the woman. "Thank you, Okoye. Will you ask one of the men to bring us some coffee?"

T'Challa gestured to the window set in the far wall when she'd left. Beyond it was a vibrantly painted room with young children seated in a circle, listening to a volunteer read to them from a book with a familiar fuzzy yellow bear and his piglet friend on the cover. They were transfixed, not interested in looking at the two men only a wall away. "I do not think I will tire of these small, pleasant sights soon. It's good to try to fix problems, not hide them."

"I've come, over the years, to agree. With what some might think is a strange amount of verve." Loki snorted in a small laugh. "There's a time and place to keep one's mouth shut, but maybe that ought to not be a default."

T'Challa seemed to contemplate that, but he said nothing. Something, some incident had brought Wakanda into the world, and Loki knew some of the outlines of that incident from the intelligence documents. Good enough to guess from. He left it alone. He also decided whatever this was about, he'd let the king lead the conversation.

One of the staff slipped into the room and left a humble wooden tray with a silver press coffee set, then disappeared again. Loki poured them both a cup, again acting on basic royal instincts. T'Challa took it with a small nod. "I am aware SHIELD is operating behind the scenes for security at the UN conference in the next month. We received our copy of the brief last week." He took a sip, still watching the children in the next room. "I think this is good. I have confidence in your organization. I am, however, also aware that there are those who are would like to make it… difficult."

Loki joined him at the glass again, sipping his coffee and watching the volunteer read aloud. "We're following a number of rumors about who might attempt a disruption and why." He didn't bother with the usual reassuringly politic version of the screed. T'Challa was the sort of man to appreciate forthrightness. "They're being investigated, naturally, but as ever, so far most of these rumors, even the more dangerous ones, fade into little concern once we follow them."

T'Challa paused, his fingers toying with the edge of his cup. "We have… intercepted some of these more dangerous rumors as well."

Loki licked his lips, feeling a fresh tension headache start right behind his eyes. If Wakanda's deeply-embedded security eyes had found something… "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

A slight smile crossed the king's face, both dour and amused. "Unless you like Latveria a great deal." He turned away from the window to look at Loki, noting the crease between his eyes. "Which I think you do not."

Loki brought up a hand to rub at his face. This was not what they needed. An active and potentially successful political threat on their watch might be the final nail to put SHIELD under for good. "We'd received a direct rumor about their involvement in something to do with the building's infrastructure at the meeting. It didn't seem to have the endurance on it to be a real threat. Not to dither, but it's just not possible for Doom's influence to be behind any of this."

"That's… not exactly what we have." T'Challa finished his coffee and set his cup aside. "We've intercepted certain contacts." He didn't expand. The War Dog spy network was rumored to be formidable - as was Wakanda's silence on the topic. "In the interest of cooperation, I've already had a copy of our findings prepared for you. While certain things were redacted for our security, I assure you everything salient is in the report. If there are questions on the matter, you may contact Okoye through the embassy line."

Okoye had slipped back into the room at some point. Loki never heard her come in, only the sensory whisper of another person's aura hinting to him that it had happened. Impressive. He turned and inclined his head to her with careful politeness. She handed him a tiny data drive only after glancing to her king.

"Thank you," said Loki, his head still bowed but aware of the actions around him. When he came back up, there was the barest glimmer of approval from her. He palmed the drive away in his suit jacket, which then proceeded to vibrate excitedly at him as if he'd accidentally petted something.

The phone.

The gods-damned phone.

Loki's armor of politeness slipped just a titch, a tweak felt along an eyelid, a sensation of tension at the corner of his mouth. T'Challa gave him a small grin of sympathy as he slid the phone out to glance at the caller.

Mack on the priority line. Of course. "My pardon," said Loki, with real apology, and he hit to accept call as the king graciously looked away. His answering whisper could have been a bit more congenial in tone. "You just sent me out here, now you need me back?"

"We've… got a new situation." Mack sounded nonplussed. "A really specific one."

Cold steel thunderbolted out of the sky and landed in Loki's gut. He knew. He knew exactly what that situation was. For once in his entire damned life, a member of his overdramatic family had provided an actual, useful notice previous to the actual, obnoxious circumstance. Sure, it turned out to be remarkably short notice, but it was something.

Ye gods and twinkly damn stars, even old Odin can learn something new.

That didn't resolve the irritation flickering all along his skin. "I'm already aware, I think. Relates to prior. I'll be back as soon as possible." Loki paused, then added his own vaguely useful warning. "Don't let him into the leftovers, you'll regret it."

"Good advice. He looks like he wants to stress-eat. Coulson's already expanding the pizza order."

Loki hung up and found both Okoye and T'Challa now outright watching him with faint matching smiles. "Families," he said, strained.

"Oh, yes," said T'Challa.

"You know how it is."

"Oh, yes."

Loki patted at his suit pocket, distantly absorbing their amusement and not really up to questioning after it right now. "I appreciate the information. We'll get someone to look it over right away." He nodded to Okoye. "Thank you in advance for your assistance."

The barest head tilt in response. But a friendly enough one. It was something.

Loki slipped out of there, managing to not trip on half a dozen free-range children just released from a different reading room.