9. Breakout
Laura Barton had known that having anyone from her family in the super spy business meant that certain risks were involved, and that there was always a chance that they would be discovered and threatened, or hurt. She had been prepared for it, even though she didn't like to think about it on a daily basis. Laura was not an action hero like her husband or Natasha, but she was ready to do whatever it took to protect her children when the time came. Now, however, she had no idea what she was supposed to protect her children from.
She burst into Lila's room and immediately saw both Cooper and Lila curled up in a corner, surrounded by a haphazardly constructed pillow fort that would have been adorable if not for the sheer terror on the kids' faces. They had their arms around each other, and Cooper was shielding Lila from… something. The rest of the room was silent and empty. All Laura could hear was the sobbing of her children.
"Cooper? Lila?" she said, trying her best to stay calm despite her racing heart, "What happened?"
Lila looked up at her, eyes wide and teary.
"Mom," she whispered urgently, "Get down! There's monsters in here!"
It could just be a game, but games didn't make the kids so genuinely scared. Laura dropped to her knees next to the kids, still trying to figure out what had them rattled.
"Alright. I'm here. Where are the monsters?"
"Everywhere," Cooper said quietly, "Right outside the window. Even… even in here. They tried to get Lila."
"They're makin' everything all scary…" Lila mumbled into her brother's arm.
Laura peeked cautiously out of the bedroom's window. The fields outside were windy, but otherwise undisturbed. The sky was ominous, but that could be chalked up to the thunder that was probably on its way. Laura slowly turned to look back at the kids.
"There's nothing there," she said, "What did you see?"
Lila let out a squeak and buried her head into Cooper's shoulder. Cooper was staring at the corner of their room, unblinking and terrified. Laura turned to look. There was a flicker of movement, caused by the shadow of a curtain, and then… nothing again. Lila started to cry.
Laura wrapped her arms around her children, trying to calm them down while her own mind was racing. What was happening? Whatever was attacking them was invisible and intangible, or simply didn't exist. Laura knew that weird things had happened on Earth lately, especially around the Avengers. Had that weirdness finally caught up with them? Laura hoped with all her heart that was not it. Her kids clung to her desperately, and Laura fumbled for her phone only to find the battery dead even though she had charged it just a couple of hours ago.
"Don't worry, kids," Laura said quietly, "We'll be fine."
A shiver went through her spine, and without a good explanation, she found herself doubting her words.
In Laura Barton's arms, Cooper and Lila were staring terrified at the storm of dark shadow creatures that their mother couldn't see. At least their mother's arms were comforting, helping them believe that it would all be okay soon.
Tony found himself being again reluctantly impressed by Santa's sleigh. He had seen glimpses of it in their last fight against the Boogeyman, but he hadn't actually properly ridden in it. He preferred his suit, thank you very much. Still, there was something sleek and well-designed about the sleigh, and that was always something that made Tony's mind tingle with approval. Or then it was just the wonder vibes the Santa Claus was sending with his mere presence. Tony hoped not. He liked to be able to trust his own emotions, thank you very much.
"It's not a bad ride," he admitted once they were in the air and Santa was busy driving the sleigh through one of his portals, "But you do realise you could easily make the reindeer obsolete with a couple of adjustments? It would make for a smoother ride too."
Just as he had said that, Santa made a sharp turn after the portal had closed behind them, and Tony's stomach flipped when they started speeding downwards towards what looked like the S.H.I.E.L.D. base they were supposed to meet at.
"I know," Santa said, "But is traditional. And I like my reindeer."
Tradition over efficiency. That might as well have been the motto of the Guardians. Tony was far too practical for sentimentality like that.
"He also likes driving this like a rollercoaster," said Jack, who had balanced himself precariously on one of the sides of the sleigh, "Bunny hates it, but I think it's great!"
Tony could empathise with both sides as the sleigh touched down with the smoothness of a Roman horse carriage on cobblestones. He jumped out as soon as he was sure his breakfast wouldn't decide to evacuate its remains as soon as he stood up. Santa, Jack, and the Tooth Fairy followed him to the base, where Fury was waiting for them.
"Where are the rest?" he asked as a greeting.
The Tooth Fairy was the one to speak up with her hyperactive speed:
"They went to help Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanoff!"
Fury raised a brow.
"With picking up Banner?"
The Guardians glanced at each other.
"Actually, we were talking about-"
"No, forget it," said Fury suddenly, "They will keep us updated, and you will keep them updated. It's good to have you all here. Stark, I need you to give me everything you know about the attack on your tower. Frost, you too. And you had some intel on his weaponry, North? Also, the Taskmaster is still here in our custody, if the Tooth Fairy wishes-"
"I don't," the fairy said a bit testily, and Tony wondered what he had missed, "Not like that."
"He's still not talking," said Fury, but then sighed, "Well, I'm sure our enemies are about to show themselves properly now. Once Rogers and Thor get here, we can hopefully start planning."
Hopefully. Tony was tired of running and waiting. He thought about the suits he had stashed away in various locations. Some of them hadn't been properly tested yet, but there were also some very finished ones in storage. He had promised to retire, but now he was being practically forced back into action. He couldn't just twiddle his thumbs when there were assassins and gods after him. He was sure Pepper would understand if he put his retirement on hold for a while. There were still things he needed to do.
And if he was being completely honest, he had missed it all.
Clint's mind was working chillingly calmly through his anger. Shadows were falling all around him, riddled with arrows that he shot with deadly precision. Beside him, Natasha was kicking and punching the nearest ones that went down screaming as well. Bunnymund and the Sandman had scattered to take care of the things farther away. Clint shot down the last ones near them and then turned to look for the Sandman. The golden shape was above the battlefield, taking care of the largest wave of shadows with impressive efficiency.
"Sandman!" Clint shouted over the screams of the monsters, "Help me get to the house!"
The Sandman nodded, and in the next moment Clint found himself standing on a dolphin made of sand. The Sandman settled near the head of the sand creature and steered it towards the house. It hit the dark wave around the house with ramming speed, sending the creatures scattering around their fields. A couple of shots from Natasha and a boomerang dispersed the rest of the larger clouds, and Clint jumped from the dolphin's back onto the roof of his house.
A hit to his back sent him sprawling on the roof, and what felt like three slashes burned even through his combat armour. Clint hissed, rolling to get away from the attacker. His arrow was ready for launch when he turned, but by that time a boomerang had blasted the shadow's head into dust. Bunnymund hopped onto the roof, catching the boomerang and smiling smugly.
"Careful there, mate. These aren't too strong, but they're crafty. Just like the ratbag who's orderin' them around."
Clint stood up, an arrow still nocked.
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."
There were still monsters banging against the windows and circling the house, and Clint kicked and shot them on his way towards his kids' windows. He stopped only briefly when he realised something peculiar about the attackers. He looked at the Sandman, who had wrapped about five creatures with a golden whip and was now quite calmly slicing them to particles with another whip. It was slightly disturbing to see the mascot of pleasant dreams so methodically ruthless. Clint shook it off, however. There were more pressing matters to worry about.
"Those things aren't getting in," he said in an uncertain voice as if he didn't believe them himself, "They're just… stopping at the window."
The Sandman nodded, sending shreds of darkness tumbling away into the wind. A sandy heart appeared over the little man's head, as did a picture of a nurturing-looking woman.
"They can't get in because Laura is in there?" Clint said.
The Sandman nodded.
If you get in there as well, everything will be fine, was written in hasty cursive into the air.
It made sense. Boogeymen were usually chased away best with a protective parent. Clint nocked an arrow, shot it into the roof and grabbed the wire that was attached to it.
"Then I'd better get there soon."
He jumped off the roof, into the sea of shadows. He hit them with his feet, and with the ferocity of an angry father. The shadows around his kids' windows were fleeing before he even had time to draw his bow again. He almost caught a glimpse of the room before a small wave of black sand swept him away. Clint lost his grip on the wire and fell, hitting the ground on his yard. Air was driven from his lungs, and he coughed even as he got back up. There was no time for breathing now. He knew who was behind that wave. He searched for the shadow man with his eyes, but saw nothing. Nat danced across his field of vision farther away, quick and deadly just like she should be.
"Well, I'm pleasantly surprised."
Clint spun around, pointing an arrow to his own shadow at the wall of his house. The shadow was smiling, sharp teeth and yellow eyes glinting against the wooden boards. The mouth spoke with a mocking tone, and Clint resisted the urge to just let his arrow fly. He doubted the Boogeyman was tangible enough for it to hit.
"Such a warm welcome, all for me," the shadow said, "You shouldn't have. You even got the Sandman, and the bunny here."
The almost-face disappeared, and the voice moved to Clint's right.
"Then again, this is their fight, isn't it? Protecting children from me… it's almost refreshing, these small scale attacks. I eat some dreams – and your kids have some delicious ones – and they show up, and I escape. A nice pattern we set up centuries ago. Or was it millennia? It's been so long I forget sometimes."
"Get out of here," Clint said in a dangerously low voice, "If you've hurt my kids in any way, I promise that I'll really start stress-testing your 'immortality'."
"How quaint," said the Boogeyman, his head and shoulders emerging from the shadow of the house's porch, "Your threats are just a pathetic attempt to hide your fear. All this time, you thought that no enemy knew your secret. But I knew the moment I first met you. You know that whatever you do, your family won't be safe from-"
His speech was interrupted by a bang, followed by the Boogeyman's head snapping back so harshly Clint could wishfully imagine the man's neck breaking. Natasha stood behind Clint, her Glock still aimed at the head that recoiled back into the shadows.
"Well, that's just rude."
The Boogeyman appeared from behind the tree, a closing bullet hole in his forehead. Clint let his arrow fly, and it struck the man in the heart. The Boogeyman lurched and steadied himself against the tree. His grin still didn't disappear. It did waver a bit, however, when the Sandman lowered himself from the sky and raised his hand in a clear threat of violence.
"Fine," the Boogeyman said with barely concealed nervousness, "I can tell when I'm not wanted here. Have fun dealing with the fallout of your little side trip."
Clint shot another arrow, but the man was gone before it hit. The last remaining shadows dispersed and the sky seemed to clear of the foreboding feeling. It was… almost too easy, really.
"What was that all about?" asked the Easter Bunny, "Bloody coward. Can't even face us after harassing the ankle biters…"
The Sandman shrugged his shoulders, a frown on his face suggesting he was worried about something.
"This was probably a trap," said Nat, "Or a diversion. I better call Fury."
Above them, the window to the kids' room rattled. Two heads peeked out of it and looked down at Clint.
"Dad?"
Clint turned to look at Cooper and Lila's pale faces, and he lifted his hand and gave them a reassuring smile.
"Hey," he said, "Don't worry. Aunt Nat and I took care of the bad guys."
Laura appeared behind them, her arms winding around the kids protectively. She was smiling as well, but there was clear worry in her eyes. Clint knew he'd have some explaining to do.
"Alright, kids," she said, "Which one of you took my phone and alerted dad?"
She didn't sound angry about it at all.
Thor Odinson sat next to Steve Rogers in a car that was a bit too slow and too loud for his liking, but he had to admit that their options on transport were limited. Thor could have flown with his trusted hammer Mjölnir, but Steve had been worried that if anyone happened to spot him on the way, Fury would tan their hides. Not that Thor's hide was easy to tan, but even the Thunder God had to agree that with Nicholas Fury one didn't want to take any chances.
"Is this going to take long?" he asked after a very tedious stretch of road, "We need to hurry. I have a feeling we are already too late."
"I'm going a bit too much over the speed limit to be comfortable with it already," said Steve, "It's not far. And as soon as we get there, you can do as much hammer jumping as you like. I promise I won't nag."
"I know, it is just… LOOK OUT!"
Steve swerved sharply to the right, only barely avoiding the green clad figure that had appeared as if out of nowhere in front of them. The car slid out of the road and into the sands on each side of it, and Thor could hear Steve gasping and muttering something that was not quite a curse.
"Who in the world was that?" Steve said, quickly opening his door and stepping outside. Thor followed him, all of his instincts prepared for a fight.
"Whoever she is, she is still there," he said, "Waiting for us."
The woman really had just appeared, and the road was empty without many hiding places she could have sprung from. She was clad in a green dress, and her hair was long and golden. Her features were strong, and there was something about her that instantly made Thor aware of where she was from. She looked too familiar, and no one of Earth looked too familiar to Thor Odinson.
"Well met, Thor Odinson," the woman said, "I wish to speak with you."
Thor nodded, keeping his stance relaxed and Mjölnir loosely in his hand. He was ready to spring to action at any time, however. After everything that had happened lately, Mother Nature's warnings of his kin had come back to haunt him. He might loathe how that woman had insulted his home, but he had to admit that she also had a point, in a way. After his brother and now an attack on Stark by what according to Fury's latest call was probably an Asgardian, his home wasn't giving very many reasons for the Earthlings to appreciate Asgard the way it deserved. Well, Thor was about to change that. Starting with this woman.
"I wish to speak to you as well," he said, and glanced at Steve, "Go, Rogers. I shall see you later."
"What?" said Steve, "But we were supposed to be… you know, in a meeting soon."
"I know," Thor said, "But she is one of the Asgardians."
"Indeed I am, Thor," the woman said with a seductive smile on her lips, "My name is Amora. I do not know if you remember me."
Thor didn't. The woman apparently remembered him, however. Perhaps they had met in a time Thor wasn't so proud of, when he had still been too arrogant to even properly pay attention to the passing faces of his own people.
"I will remember now," he said.
"I am glad," Amora smiled again, "I believe some privacy is needed for this… conversation. Is your companion insisting on staying?"
"He isn't," said Thor, "Rogers. Go."
Steve looked like he wanted to protest, but in the end he sighed.
"Fine. Tell her to not just appear on roads in the future. It could cause a serious accident."
"I will remember that," said Amora. She watched with calculating eyes as Steve went back into his car and sped away. Then she turned to look at Thor with eyes that held so many promises.
Looking into them, Thor found it rather hard to think that she could ever do anything harmful to anyone.
Laura was looking at Clint with a mix of disbelief and worry. Her arms were crossed and she stole occasional glances to the bedrooms, where the kids had fallen asleep exhausted from panicking.
"Nothing?" she repeated, "The kids didn't seem to think it was nothing."
"I can imagine," Clint said quietly, hating himself for lying to his family, "But Nat and I checked everything. Maybe it's just the times we live in. After the attacks, and what happened in New York. The kids know, they listen to things."
"I know that. And… maybe you're right," Laura sighed, still not completely convinced, "They just… they really seemed to believe there was something there."
"But they were fine because you were with them," Clint put his hands on Laura's shoulders, "This is probably my fault. I should be here more often so they wouldn't have to worry about me. I'll check the area again, but I'm sure we're still safe. Fury will make sure of that."
He wasn't sure, and he hated himself even more for saying he was. The Guardians had assured him that the Boogeyman usually worked alone, but this time it seemed like he didn't. The timing was too convenient. If the Boogeyman was here now, it was likely that someone else knew about the farm too. It was a terrifying thought.
"I'll stay here for a while to make sure things are clear, okay?" he said finally after a torturous silence. Laura hugged him, but shook her head.
"If you really have to go… then go," she said.
Clint looked at Nat, who had stood in the sidelines. She nodded with wordless understanding and called Fury. After a while she sighed.
"He's mad because we still haven't brought Bruce there. And he says he'll do whatever he can to make sure Laura and the kids are safe."
"And we will, too," said Bunnymund, "If the ankle biters might be in danger, we'll keep watch as well."
"You don't have to," Clint said quietly, and Laura glanced at him oddly.
"We do," said Bunnymund, "It's our job. We can get around quickly in case someone decides to come back."
The Sandman made a thumbs-up and then formed a few reassuring sand images over his head. Clint couldn't find the words to properly express his gratitude. Not that he could have said them without looking like a crazy person in front of his wife. Laura didn't need to know about the Guardians. It would be one more secret that could get her in trouble. Adult believers were apparently rare and would catch the attention of spirits easily. Clint really didn't need any more disturbances for his family.
"Well," said Nat, checking that her weapons were in place and giving a quick one-armed hug to Laura, "I wish I could stay, but Fury insisted I go pick up Bruce. I'll see you guys later, okay? Clint? Will you come with me?"
"I… yeah. Fury would probably fire me if I didn't."
"Okay," said Laura, "Stay safe. And come back soon. The kids miss you."
Nat smiled. Clint gave Laura a light kiss.
"We will."
They went outside, and once out of sight of the window, they were gone with a tap of a rabbit's foot, and a spark of sand. Clint took some reassurance from the fact that the Sandman and the Easter Bunny wouldn't be far away from protecting his family, at least.
Still, he hoped the Boogeyman had got the message and would stay far away from them. If this screwed up the safety they had so painstakingly crafted, Clint didn't know what he'd do.
"Well?" said a voice from under the purple hood that was probably permanently stuck to the speaker's head. The Baron had heard Pitch materialising into his room. The man had a sharp hearing, he'd have to give him that.
"The Avengers I diverted from their mission had backup from the Guardians," Pitch said, "I had to retreat, but actually killing them wasn't the plan, anyway. Did you get the green man?"
The Baron nodded.
"Yes. He has been captured. Your diversion tactics worked wonderfully. What did you do to get their attention so easily?"
"Oh, a few false alarms in places I knew they'd be watching, and a small attack I knew they'd respond to. You know how they get when someone even sneezes at their bases."
"Oh, I know," said the Baron, "I was surprised that the Taskmaster even got that much intelligence before he was intercepted. You have proved your worth, herr Black. I hope you continue to do so."
"I'll do my best."
Pitch looked around and saw that only the Baron and the Asgardian man – Skurge – remained in their little scheming den. Pitch supposed The Enchantress was somewhere trying to get a hold of that ridiculous so-called God of Thunder, and the Radioactive Man was busy securing the Hulk. Pitch had to admit that taking the Hulk out of the picture was a very smart move. The same couldn't be said of some of the other moves this new group had made. Pitch was very much in favour of fear tactics and sowing disorder into the enemy ranks, but so far the group's guerrilla attacks hadn't been as effective as the Baron had clearly hoped. They had crippled Stark's tower, which was a plus – even though Pitch was sure the billionaire had tons of gadgets and weapons elsewhere as well – but otherwise, they hadn't really done much to breach S.H.I.E.L.D.'s defences. Not that Pitch cared that much. He was just along for the ride, strengthening himself with the fear these fools caused with their antics. If he managed to knock the Guardians and the Avengers around in the process, well, that was just a bonus.
"Is there something else you needed of me?" Pitch asked with feigned humility that anyone could see through.
"I need you to keep up with the interference," said the Baron, "The Executioner shall soon go assist the Radioactive Man with watching the Hulk, just in case. I will go to my laboratory and I will not be disturbed."
Pitch bowed mockingly when he was sure the Baron couldn't see him and melted through the shadows of a wall and to the main corridor of their small HQ. Of course the Baron would want him both out of the way but also used in a place he couldn't do much damage to the Baron's precious project. Not that he was interested in doing that.
Pitch crossed his arms and drank in the darkness of the empty corridor. Getting Hawkeye to call the Widow off the Hulk had been so easy. Pitch was actually proud of his work. He had known Hawkeye had no one else he could viably turn to in case his secret family was threatened. All that knowledge was so deeply tied to the man's fear of losing his family that Pitch could read it like an open book. They had known for sure that something was up, that it was a trap or at least a diversion. They still had had no choice but to go. Pitch knew the way a father's love could blind and bind a person. He had seen it so many times. Perhaps that was why he hadn't given away the existence of the Barton family to anyone else and had made sure his little army couldn't be followed. Yes, it was his trump card in case things went sour. That was why he had stayed quiet; there could be no other reason.
"He seems to trust you," said a threatening baritone voice, "I cannot imagine why."
Pitch turned to look at Skurge, who almost blocked the entire corridor with his impressive frame.
"I am very reliable," Pitch said with a straight face, "As long as you don't give me a reason not to be."
"I do not believe you."
Pitch shrugged.
"I don't particularly care. Besides, distrust is just so common around here. Your woman doesn't trust me either. That Chen Lu -fellow barely trusts anyone. You have serious doubts about the Baron…"
"Yet you are the greatest mystery," said Skurge, "Why did you come here? You weren't called. I doubt it was out of selfless interest to help."
"It's called opportunism. I know, big words for you. It means I saw my chance, and took it. There's nothing more to it," Pitch sighed theatrically, "This group can't work if there isn't even a little bit of trust between us."
Skurge frowned.
"I trust Amora, and that is what matters. She doesn't feel comfortable around you, so I am warning you: if anything you do hurts her, you will answer to me."
"Ah, yes. Amora," Pitch gave the man his best, sharp-toothed grin, "The biggest liar out of all."
Skurge took a step forward. Pitch knew he was treading on very dangerous grounds. The Executioner was like a puppy to the Enchantress, following her around everywhere, expecting only affection in return of his undying loyalty. It was pathetic, really, and the woman was so obviously using the man for her own ends. But it didn't mean that making him mad was still a good plan.
"You will not insult her," Skurge growled.
Pitch's grin didn't fade.
"I'm sorry. It just slipped. I should know better than to feed your doubts," he said, half-melting into the nearest shadow just in case. Skurge didn't seem to be quite in control of his emotions right now. The man was clenching and unclenching his fists in a way that suggested he would very much like to flatten Pitch's skull against the wall, "Or especially your greatest fear…"
Skurge looked at him murderously.
"I fear nothing."
"I've heard that before. Too many times," Pitch chuckled, "You fear that she never really loved you. That the tiny voice in your head that claims she has literally bewitched you is right after all."
"BE SILENT!"
Pitch slipped into the shadow right before Skurge's fist cracked the wall the shadow was cast on. Pitch almost felt the impact even though he wasn't tangible any longer. It was clearly the time for a tactical retreat. Besides, he already had an idea for more "interference" the Baron wanted him to run. Pitch smiled to himself, listening to the growing doubt in Skurge's little mind.
Oh, how he had missed working with people he could manipulate.
The Easter Bunny had dropped them off at the point they had met before they had set off to Clint's farm. Then the two children's mascots were gone and Natasha and Clint were left alone. Natasha settled back into the driver's seat of her car and Clint sat next to her.
"I hope Bruce didn't mind the delay," said Clint, "Thanks for helping me, Nat."
"Any time," Natasha said, starting the engine, "I'm sure Bruce was just glad for having some time to think. He seemed a bit worried this would get out of hand."
Clint leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.
"I can relate."
Bruce's apartment seemed dark, and when Natasha parked the car and neared the door, Natasha felt a wave of apprehension shooting through her spine. The door was slightly ajar. Bruce would never be that sloppy. The man had lived years in hiding, paranoid and avoiding anything that could get him into trouble. Natasha put her hand on her gun, and quickly and quietly went to the door. Clint was next to her, his bow drawn. With a quick nod, Natasha nudged the door open, and spun around with her gun drawn.
Some clothes were strewn on the floor, along with a bunch of papers. Bruce was gone. A quick check confirmed that the apartment was empty.
"Shit," Natasha whispered, and put her finger on her earpiece, "Fury? Did you send someone else to pick up Banner?"
"No. Why? What's going on there?"
Natasha and Clint shared a look. This wasn't good.
He had been left out of the action again, and it was getting annoying. Tony Stark didn't like being sidelined, even if he had been given a computer and a reasonable access to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources. Fury had taken the Guardians with him mostly to keep an eye on them but also to get information. A while later Jack Frost had entered Tony's room, having apparently given all the info he could and was probably and understandably not too keen on staying in Fury's presence after what had happened when they'd met last time. Tony took a more relaxed position on the seat he'd been given and checked a few status updates on his phone. Then boredom set in again and he turned his attention to the annoying but admittedly scientifically fascinating being who had perched on the back of a chair in the corner of the room.
"So, Frost," he said conversationally, "How are the Guardians made, really? Are you the only one who had to die, or is it a usual thing?"
"Magic," said Jack as if that explained everything, "The Man in the Moon chooses us. I think that over the centuries, we've just become more and more like the things we represent so we qualify as spirits."
"And the dying thing?"
Jack looked uncomfortably at his feet.
"I don't know. It's different for everyone."
"So this almighty moon deity just occasionally decides to save dying kids and gives them superpowers?"
"I thought I said I didn't want to talk about it too much," Jack muttered, "And no, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one he brought back… you know, after the fact."
"Why you?"
Jack shot Tony a chilling glare. Tony raised his hands defensively.
"It's a scientifically valid question. What makes you special?"
Jack opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it after a second. Tony looked with disbelief as the usually smart-mouthed, carefree hell-raiser seemed to deflate. The aura of joy he usually filled the room with felt considerably less there. A small voice at the back of Tony's mind said that maybe, just maybe it wasn't the nicest thing in the world to question why a more or less nice person deserved to not die. Right in said person's face, no less.
The door to the room suddenly slammed open and Fury walked in briskly. Steve Rogers was with him, and they both looked agitated. Well, by their standards. By normal standards it was barely noticeable.
"Stark," Fury said, commanded really, "what have you got?"
"I… uh…" Tony looked at the computer screen in front of him, "Not much, yet. But I can help seal up the security leaks you had in your system. It was this… Tony Masters, right? He's the guy who shot me?"
"Yes. Seal them if you can do it quickly. Do you have any operational suits?"
"A small task force of A.I.-controlled suits, and some for me," Tony said casually, "I'm aiming for an army of them again, but I think what I have now will do."
"Good. Get them ready. Thor has been delayed. And Banner has been taken."
Well, that had escalated quickly. Tony stretched his arms and let his fingers fly on the holographic keyboard. Goodbye, sidelines.
In the corner of the room, tendrils of frost crept up the wall, seemingly unnoticed by their creator, who sat with his arms around his knees, and stared into space.
A camera had gone dark. The Taskmaster noticed it sparking faintly in the corner, clearly out of commission. He looked at it with interest he made sure didn't show on his face. The guard in the corner near the door to his cell was still watching him, and the Taskmaster didn't want to clue the man in on the malfunction that had brought his potential escape that much closer. If it hadn't been for the cameras, the Taskmaster would have left ages ago. He could easily lure the guard in, incapacitate him, and then sneak through the corridors he had memorised when he had been taken from the interrogation room to his cell. Then he could maybe even blend in by taking someone else's clothes and walking out pretending to be one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents. Or pretend to still be one of them. He didn't remember much of his old life, but he did know he had been an agent once. When he got outside, he was free to seek out his current employer and discuss the rest of his payment.
The Taskmaster hadn't been that surprised when no one had bothered to show up to get him out. When the Baron had hired him, he had mentioned that there would be a team on his side soon enough, but that the Taskmaster didn't need to worry about that yet. He had been supposed to just kill or at least incapacitate some key members of the Avengers. That… could have gone better, as was evident. The Taskmaster didn't like failure, but if he got out, he could amend his mistakes and get paid in full.
There were three cameras and one infrared sensor in the cell and the adjacent room. One of them was still sparking, and the Taskmaster let his eyes drift as if by accident to the other two cameras. Perhaps the malfunction would spread. Even if it didn't, the Taskmaster was fairly sure he now had a blind spot he could use anyway. He would just wait a little longer and prepare for the escape.
The second camera went out in a swish of what looked like darkness. The Taskmaster blinked. Strange. Perhaps it wasn't a malfunction at all. Maybe it was sabotage. As the infrared sensor stopped working, and the final camera went dark, the Taskmaster concluded that maybe someone had decided to assist him in his escape after all. Or then it was a trap. Whatever the case, he was free to get out, and if it was a trap, he'd just be prepared for anything. He slowly stepped to the door, and the guard raised a brow but didn't react yet. The lock was electronic as well, but the Taskmaster was sure he could provoke this guard to open it. He had spent his time in the cell quietly profiling his guards. This one was a bit of a hothead. It would be easy.
After a few well-chosen words, a quick twist of an arm and a few dislocated vertebrae, the Taskmaster was sneaking through the corridors of the S.H.I.E.L.D.-base, silently thanking whoever had decided to be his mysterious helper.
Even though Pitch Black couldn't read people's thoughts, he could guess what the Taskmaster was thinking.
"You're welcome," he said quietly and disappeared back into darkness.
Author's Note: SURPRISE! I managed to get this out right before NaNo started!
Man, Tony, why are you being such a jerk? Oh, well. He's fun like that, and his jerkassery is surprisingly good at pushing some of my kind of pointless subplots forward. Still, I don't know, the moment he started questioning Jack's right to live (even though he didn't mean it maliciously, I'm sure) I kind of wanted to punch him in the face, and I'm the one who let him say it! I'm trying really hard not to go overboard with his douchiness, but I've gathered that Tony does get really carried away with his desire to understand and figure things out.
This story lacks focus. Agh! But hey, we finally got action! Still no escaping those phone calls, though. Speaking of phone calls, there was a bit in the last chapter with Bunny speaking in the phone, and I was debating with myself whether to explain it or not, seeing how I had established that the Guardians are invisible to cameras and can't be picked up by microphones (something I occasionally forget and have to fix later but this time I did think about it). We can now all agree that North had some magic technology thingy that enabled a believer on the other end to hear Bunny's voice or something. Right? Good.
Pitch proves to be surprisingly competent in this one. The thing is, he really is smart (especially in the books), and that's one of the things I like about him as a villain. Also, I missed writing him. He's really fun to write.
Reviews would be super nice. Thank you all who have made it this far!
I'll probably be back in December. Until then, peace, love, and all kinds of nice things for you!
REVIEW RESPONSES:
Mala: Yeah, Nightlight/Jack hasn't had the easiest life, in book or film. And if we go by the book, the poor kid was also sealed away for millennia with Pitch, which must have sucked. I have a plan on how I'm going to merge book!backstory and film!backstory for Jack and Nightlight if I'm going to use it and I now think that I might actually do that just because I want to. Even if it didn't add much to the overall plot. I'm glad you like the story.
Crossover Junkie: I love Pitch's backstory from the books as well. The moment I read it (which was almost right after I'd seen the film) I was like "Why the heck didn't they use this in the film? It would have added SO MUCH to his character!"
