Disclaimer: I don't know why I keep putting this up here, but I guess it's the norm. I don't own any of these guys.
Chapter 12
The Three Towers
Despite his memories being repaired after decades of continuous brainwashing and torturous experiment, Bucky Barnes still felt the weight of his misdeeds scream at back of his mind. He has committed several crimes and assassination under HYDRA's banner, and it didn't help at all that he was living under the same roof with the person whose parents he has crossed of his list.
Tony was kind enough to wave it off, saying that it's been done and the past was in the past. Steve felt compelled to hug to genius-billionaire right there and then, if not for Tony's protest against cuddly gratitude, which the super soldier couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head – glancing at his best friend with an 'It's-going-to-be-alright' look.
"I'm still sad I couldn't help much with the kind lady's search," Bucky said mournfully, "She did save us a lot of trouble with me possibly going off as a renegade mercenary."
"It couldn't be helped," Steve planted a hand on the Winter Soldier's shoulder, "For now, we'll keep an eye on those locations you listed, including the ones Hela provided."
"I think it would be better if we attack them now, cut off its head while the lead is hot," Tony mused aloud.
"No," Steve countered, "It would be far too dangerous, not to mention they might go under before we even finish rounding them off."
"Point taken," Tony sauntered away, most probably heading off to the lab.
Tony was soon in the lab and found Bruce straining his eyes over one of the clear holographic screens, scrutinizing a set of DNA analysis results and graphs while he took notes on his own tab.
"Hey big guy," Tony walked over, reading the contents of the screen to himself, "What are these?"
"DNA analysis an-"
"Yeah, I know that," Tony looked closer then eyed Bruce, "Is this?"
"Uuh, yeah," Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and walked over his own computer, pulling up more details of the results in his screen, "A few strands of Hela's hair got caught in my arm during the, uuh, Hulk incident…"
"I don't think your girlfriend's gonna like you tinkering with her DNA," Pulling a chair for himself, he sat backwards, crossing his arms over the backrest, sliding a couple of results into view, "Whose the other one?"
"She's not, ugh," Bruce pinched his nose on habit and explained, "The other one is Loki's, or the cat Hela called her father."
"Yeah?" Tony urged on.
"And I'm lost," Bruce conceded.
"No kidding, these results don't make any sense," Tony frowned, continuously sliding graphs and results back and forth.
"You know what this means?" Bruce looked at Tony with serious, determined eyes.
Tony, on the other hand grinned wide resolutely, "I think I do know what you mean."
Both geniuses shared a maniacal laugh, enough to send shivers down the spine of a certain archer who overheard the entire conversation somewhere in the vents and decided to crawl up and further away before he heard the resounding 'It's Science Bro time!'.
At that time, Clint could've sworn he heard the bumping of fists echo through the vents, or maybe it had only been his imagination.
"Brother, forgive me if I have wronged you in any way," Thor turned his head down, knees on the floor begging for forgiveness.
He was up at the common floor when Steve, Bucky and Natasha found him bowing incessantly over the prone figure of the cat licking its paw while Thor cried out for pardon. The three raised their brows and walked away slowly, not wanting to interrupt the amusing, yet asinine pleas for mercy by the God of Thunder.
Before they were even ten steps away, cried out 'brother' rather thunderously and went over to seize the cat in his arms when it scratched his face defensively. Only when Thor did slumped back to the floor did the cat settled down from his menacingly crouched posture, and continued to laze on.
"How long has he been doing that?" Bucky asked, aghast.
Steve and Natasha shrugged, the former responding, "As far as I know, since Hela left from her last visit."
"Five days, seventeen hours, and thirty-two minutes," Natasha provided.
"What?" Both soldiers voiced out in astonishment.
Natasha gave a knowing look, "Someone's been keeping track."
"Who?!" Steve asked, in shocked curiosity.
"It's classified," That's all Natasha said before walking over to one of the lounge chairs, reaching for the stack of new magazine's in the pile.
"Who would do such a thing?" Steve kept his tone down so only Bucky would hear, "I mean, doesn't that freak you out even a little?"
"Whoever that is," Bucky whispered in return with a shrug of his shoulder, "Is probably someone who's anal about keeping track of certain things."
Natasha watched them make their way to the kitchen, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she flipped through the pages of a fashion magazine, only stopping for a moment to read a snippet from an article then flipping through again.
Somewhere down in the lower levels of the Avengers Tower, a certain physicist shuddered for no reason, checking the temperature of the room and saw that it was the same as the usual.
Two hours or so later, Clint dropped off one of the vents in the lounge area and found Natasha immensely buried in reading an article from a magazine, several pages of which had folded marks to be read after, while the rest stood in stacks with opened pages and the familiar folds in separate pages.
Steve and Bucky were in the middle of a complicated game of chess and left them alone to strategize against each other. What stopped him in his tracks mid-stride was Thor bowed down on the floor, offering Pop Tarts to an uninterested cat, which rolled over to the other side, completely ignoring Thor's cries of plea and protest.
"How long has he-?"
"Five days, 19 hours, and eleven minutes." Steve, Bucky and Natasha sounded in unison.
Clint frowned; the need to hurl obscenities and insults trapped in his throat, and instead asked, "Has Loki ever told you that you're obnoxiously annoying?"
"Aye, indeed he has," Thor replied gloomily without looking at Clint.
Walking over to sit on the other end of the couch, he reached for the remote and bluntly added under his breath, "No wonder he went crazy."
The comment was decisively ignored by everyone who continued on with what they were doing while Clint dispassionately switched channels, looking for something to pass the time with – he may also have gotten a Pop Tart or two from Thor's plate with the help of his very deft sleight of hand, to snack on.
Flipping through channel after channel, Clint stopped pressing the remote control button and leaned slightly to look at the picture on the screen, "Hey, isn't that that building over there?"
Clint had a forefinger pointing outside, where three towers came into view from a few blows away, each one identical but with two them dwarfing against the main, middle tower which was at least three quarters up of the way.
Natasha glanced at the screen then slightly back through the glass panes where the three towers were in sight, "What about it?"
"Just asking," Clint shrugged and decided to watch the TV Special documenting the inauguration of said infrastructure. He always had a fascination with tall buildings, and New York wasn't in a shortage of them. Living in the Avengers Tower was a miracle and a blessing rolled into one, though he didn't voice it out to the team, except for Natasha who knew he liked staying above ground; the higher, the better, so he couldn't help but be curious with the opening of the new skyscraper in town, which rivals the Avengers Tower in vertical structure.
He got up to get a bottle, a two little bottle of soda from the fridge and missed the headline of the story when it flashed on the screen.
The narration went on while Clint rummaged through the different flavoured drinks, debating with himself which one he should take.
None were particularly interested, until a snipped caught the ears of the two veterans, "-socialite-philanthropist Eleanor Helström during the height of World War 2 after defecting from Germany, among other refugees in her care. In 1942, with her aid of her cousins, Wall Street esteemed investors Henry Wolfe and James Liesc-"
"Kinda rings a bell," Bucky turned his seat now to look at the television screen.
Steve looked at him to see if he was serious, and he was, "Can't believe you forgot. They were those upper-class people who turned their huge Manhattan mansion into a hospital."
"They also built that charity hospital downtown. It's where I took mom until she refused to go through medication," Steve had a sad, longing look in his eyes which Bucky consoled with a reassuring grip of his hand on Steve's forearm.
Natasha decided to look back in her magazine and give the two out-of-time soldiers their much needed privacy when Clint came back with not one, but two lime flavoured sodas.
They were all minding their own business until an interview with two of the successors and brain-childs of re-establishing their business back to its roots, in the same spot in Manhattan.
No one seemed to pay attention as two gorgeous men came on the screen, except for Natasha who was holding a magazine and curiously discreetly looking back and forth from its pages.
The minutes went on and Natasha was now focused on the screen. She was familiar with the two men or one of them most especially. If you were any normal person in the twenty-first century that enjoys great movies, you'd be familiar with the chisel-faced, dark haired, predatory eyed gorgeous man standing next to the equally beautiful man with the hauntingly wolfish grin, eye candy for the nerds with a thing for numbers.
Clint snorted, "Crushing on the pretty boys now, 'Tasha?"
"Shut up, Barton," She quipped icily.
They watched the interview without various heights of interest, mostly with Steve and Bucky looking up whenever World War Two was mentioned, and Clint, beaming up excitedly when photographs of the building where shown while Thor not even once glanced back, too busy interrupting the cat in its sleep.
Natasha, who now has her arms folded over her chest, broke the silence, "I'm going to say this, because I don't at all feel dumb or anything, but has anyone ever considered 'Helena's' last name?"
This was more towards Clint than anyone else in the room who knew nothing of the twenty-first century, aforementioned archer looking a bit lost. It was also then, when Tony and Bruce showed up, looking ready to refill their mugs and just overall check in on everyone.
"What about it?" Bruce asked, looking filled with curiosity.
Natasha pointed at the TV screen.
"That's Jorge Lieschmidt, big boss of the biggest and most badass entertainment company and the other guy is Finley Lieschmidt, the Wolf of Wall Street. Oh…"
"She did mention we should be familiar with her brothers," Bruce added in understanding.
"What is it of my niece and nephews?" Thor asked, dumbfounded.
Tony rolled his eyes, Bruce did the answering, "Look behind you."
Thor did and there he saw two familiar faces, both of which looking like different versions of his brother, but he knew it couldn't be, "What sorcery is this?!"
"Thor, it's TV, we already explained that," Natasha said with a growl to her voice.
"At least I know what television is," Bucky chided with dry humour, receiving a chuckle from Steve.
"I know what this tele-vision is," Thor stood menacingly now, hammer in hand, "But what are my nephews doing in there?"
Everyone sighed in frustration, irritation and practically every word that would correspond to the ticking headache they were all now having.
"Television doesn't suck people's souls Thor," Steve said, and was certain that it was what Thor was getting at.
Bucky grinned, "Or camera's."
"I am well aware of that, friends Steve and Bucky," Thor lowered his hand wielding the hammer and crossed over closer to the TV, "What I meant was that my nephews were not supposed to be roaming free in this world, or any world. They were banished and held captive in their own prisons."
Natasha massaged her temple and spoke without looking at Thor, "Like the myths. They were banished because they would be responsible for Ragnarök."
"Aye," Thor replied without a trace of hesitation.
"No wonder Loki went crazy!" Clint exclaimed this time, more resolute now unlike earlier.
Thor had a look of consideration, realizing only for the first time in their very long years how much his brother had suffered at the loss of his children. He may have known then, but he didn't have the capacity to empathize with Loki's sorrow, and instead, he had forcefully, insensitively made his brother go along with him and his many glorious adventures, not even giving him time to lament his loss in peace. He didn't even offer his shoulder for him to cry on, believing that tears held no room in a warriors face. He had been very inconsiderate, maybe he had been wrong all this time; no, there was no maybe, he was wrong.
Moving back to sit on the couch next to Clint and the sleeping cat, Thor felt the weight of his mistakes heavily on his shoulders.
Author's Note: So while I was writing this chapter, I've been trying to picture how Jörmungand and Fenrir would look like in their Human/Æsir forms, so I decided on this!
Fenrir would be somewhere along the looks of Ian Somerhalder, I mean, if his wolfish looks doesn't hit home then I dunno. I didn't really watch Vampire Diaries, I only got a peak at some episodes, but he is hot! I'm totally pitting his looks for Fenrir.
And Jörmungand is Daniel di Tomasso, from Witches of East End. He has the sneaky bastard look on him, and serpents are sort of akin to being sneaky, slithering, bastards. Jorge just puts the sexy in it and I think this guy fits the bill.
I actually had a debate of who's gonna be who, but I let their heights decide. Daniel is taller than Ian, and of course obviously Jörmungand is taller (longer) than Fenrir, but I think it'll be tweaking it a bit. Hela of course would be the shortest of the tree, but even if Jorge is the middle child, he's the tallest.
Well, that's it I guess.
Please don't forget to follow, fave, and or review this story. If you have anyone in mind that would fit Loki and his three children's looks or persona, please let me know in the reviews.
