A/N: I tried uploading this last night but the servers were down so I couldn't. I'm sorry about that guys but I'm here now. So there was no Loki appearance last chapter, but he's in this on today, albeit briefly. Loki isn't all that central in comparison to other characters in this story, but his involvement is a key part of the Hanora storyline, which is of course, going to be the major conflict in this story. Anyway, as always beautiful people don't forget to read, review and enjoy.
Natasha waited outside Phoenix's door for several hours before Phoenix opened it. Stone faced and expressionless, she addressed Natasha with a nod. Natasha placed one hand on Phoenix's shoulder, and then traced her hand upwards, cupping Phoenix's face gently in her hand. Phoenix conveyed a small smile, illuminating the bruise on the right side of her forehead. Natasha gently traced a finger over it, observing the sickening purple colour of the mark. A reminder.
Phoenix brushed Natasha's hand away. "I'll be fine," she told her, trying to convey false stability.
"Of course you will," Natasha told her. "You have me."
Phoenix looked around her and cleared her throat, looking up at Natasha, confused. "What time is it?" she asked.
"Close to midday," Natasha answered.
Phoenix looked back at her door. "Was I really in there for that long?" She asked in a lowered murmur. "How long did training go for?"
Natasha put her hands on her shoulders and drew Phoenix away from her door. "You don't need to worry about that right now, training is another matter that we will deal with tomorrow," Natasha reassured her. "Now, Clint and I are going out for lunch, do you want to join us?"
Phoenix nodded and quickly ducked back into her room to grab her leather satchel. Natasha regarded the bag with reasonable distrust, seeing as how it was a gift from Steve, and its contents were of the highest secrecy. Phoenix it over her left shoulder and brought it around so the strap went across her chest, and the bag hung near her right hip.
"Let's go," Phoenix said enthusiastically as she walked alongside Natasha.
Clint pulled the car up in front of the building, a silver BMW this time. Natasha and Phoenix both climbed into the car, pleased with the provided luxury. Phoenix travelling outside the tower was a rare treat, so she would usually make the most of it, taking in everything she saw.
That's precisely what she did as Clint knowingly took the scenic route he believed would favour Phoenix the most. However, when they get parked, Phoenix's fascination quickly turned to concern when she looked ahead and saw Broadway, as well as the hundreds of people walking around the street, most of them tourists.
While Phoenix had studied maps of New York City and its Boroughs in depth, she had no understanding of which sites were famous and which weren't. To her, Broadway was just another road in New York. She couldn't comprehend it's fame or significance.
"Why are there so many people?" Phoenix asked as they walked onto the street and looked ahead of them at the looming crowds.
"Welcome to the Broadway Theatre District, a section of Broadway St made up of about 40 theatres. Sometimes called The Great White Way for its spectacular neon signs, this is quite literally show business central" Clint stood behind Phoenix and put his hands of her shoulders as he spoke.
Phoenix looked ahead of her, gazing down the street in wonderment. "I though a musical was something of or related to music?" She enquires after a minute of staring. "In the dictionary its an adjective, so why is it used as a noun on that billboard? See, look up there, Wicked, the greatest musical of all time."
"I wouldn't exactly call it the greatest musical of all time," Clint shook his head. "Mediocre at best."
"A musical is a movie or a play that incorporates singing, dancing and acting," Natasha explained. "Broadway is where all of the best plays and musicals in the world are performed."
Phoenix considered Natasha's answer and nodded while looking up and down the street, no longer confused, but curious. She scanned all of the signs up and down the street, trying to decide which one she found the most appealing.
Phoenix pointed to an advertisement on the side of one of the buildings. "What's that one?"
"Les Misérables," Natasha read the title out loud. "It's a musical set in early 19th century Paris. There's a historical element to it as well, part of it takes place during The Paris Uprising of 1832. Unlike most musicals, which usually have an element of comedy to them, this one is a little more dramatic."
Phoenix contemplated the poster she saw, taking in the image of the young girl. "It seems fascinating," she mused. "1832, Paris Uprising. That would be the barricade wouldn't it?"
"That's exactly right Phoenix," Natasha praised her.
For a few minutes, Natasha, Clint and Phoenix walked around the street. Phoenix asking about whatever shows looked fascinating to her. Natasha knew enough to be able to explain most things, and Clint usually contributed if it was something he liked. Phoenix was jotting down the names of shows she was later going to research, onto a notepad she had pulled out from her satchel.
Eventually they reached their destination, a restaurant its name written in Russian on a black sign with a neon ballerina wearing a red tutu made of metal that flashed neon. Natasha spoke the name in Russian before she translated it. "The Ruby Maiden," she told Phoenix was seemed engrossed in staring at the sign and didn't seem to hear Natasha at all.
"Sounds more like a bar than a restaurant," Clint commented as he ushered Phoenix inside.
As Natasha stepped in the door a cacophony of Russian greetings echoed around the room. A tall and strong built man with a snake tattoo that started at his neck and spiralled all the way down his right arm, was working behind the counter and grinned when he saw Natasha. Speaking in rapid fire Russian, he greeted her warmly.
While Natasha conversed with the owner at the bar in Russian, Clint led Phoenix into a booth and handed her a menu. Phoenix did not pay much attention to the laminated piece of paper she held in her hands. Instead, she watched Natasha lean across the bar, attempting to translate what she was saying, even though Phoenix understood less than ten words of Russian.
"Natasha has a lot of contacts and informants," Clint told her as he looked at her over the top of his menu. "Believe it or not some of them have day jobs."
"It's not that," Phoenix shook her head. "I'm realising that I don't know Natasha as well as I thought."
"Natasha's not exactly the sharing type," Clint put his menu down and leaned across the table, taking Phoenix's menu from her hands and also placing it flat on the table, so as to have a serious conversation. "She never was. It comes with the job, and Natasha's personality doesn't help that either. She locks her emotions and her history away, because it's safer for her and the people around her."
"Phoenix!" Natasha called out to her from her position of leaning against the bar. "Come and meet Milos."
Phoenix approached the bar hesitantly and shook the hand of Milos who spoke to Natasha loudly in Russian before turning back to Phoenix. "A great pleasure to meet you," he spoke in a thick Russian accent, making it hard for Phoenix to decipher what he was saying. "I hear you are Natasha's student."
"That's right," Phoenix nodded.
"Must be hard work, I know Natasha, she is woman of great expectations, very hard to please," Milos laughed as he jokingly elbowed Natasha. "Ah but the time for reminiscing is long over, I have business to run and customers to serve."
"Aren't we customers Milos?" Natasha asked sweetly, leaning across the bar.
Milos shook his head while chuckling. "Ah Natasha, you can play anyone like a fiddle," Milos laughed at his own words as he punched numbers into the cash register. "Now what would you like? I think an on-the-house meal is in order. Especially after the Constantinople job."
Phoenix returned to the table as Natasha ordered and then rejoined them moments later. "What did you order for me?" Clint asked cautiously as Natasha sat down.
"Well I know you never eat anything you can't pronounce, so I'm not telling you what it's called," Natasha responded with a smirk. "But trust me, you'll like it."
"Well you know exactly what I like," Clint gave Natasha a knowing look as he bit his bottom lip and looked at her slyly.
Phoenix watched their interaction closely, analysing behaviour the way Natasha had taught her, she deduced several things that confirmed several of her recent suspicions. They conversed for a short time more, Phoenix watching them closely the entire time. There were slight hints that gave it away, and Phoenix only picked up on them because of what she had learnt from Natasha.
"Are the two of you engaging in sexual intercourse?" Phoenix asked.
Clint, caught off guard halfway through a glass of water, nearly spat the water across the room in shock. Natasha however, calmly looked at Clint, who found himself unable to say anything.
"I told you she was good," Natasha addressed a still stunned Clint. "Very good observation skills Phoenix, you're a natural at this stuff," Natasha praised Phoenix and nodded to a group of three males sitting together on the other side of the room. "Try deducing those men and tell me which one isn't local to New York.
"Woah stop!" Clint exclaimed, holding up his hands. "Phoenix you are 15, you're not supposed to know about that stuff. Who even told you about it?"
"I was taught sex education when I turned eleven to prepare me for puberty. I was taught in a scientific matter, which was normal for me. Why is it a big deal anyway?" Phoenix questioned. "Everyone knows about it don't they, I mean it's common knowledge isn't it?"
Natasha put her hand on Phoenix's to reassure her. "It's not a big deal," Natasha told her. "I'm glad you know about it because it means we don't have to teach you."
Phoenix nodded in agreement and looked back and forth between Natasha and Clint. Clint caught her eye and stammered a bit before he could form a sentence. "Are you uncomfortable that Natasha and I are..." Clint trailed off before he finished his sentence correctly.
"I don't have any issues with it," Phoenix told him, surprised that Clint had asked her the question. "What would I know about relationships anyway."
Nothing more was said on the matter as Milos delivered their food and they ate in silence. Phoenix didn't say much, instead she focused on her food, despite Natasha's efforts Phoenix withdrew. Taking refugee inside her own mind, Phoenix did not speak for the remainder of the meal, or later when they returned to the tower.
Natasha had no seen Phoenix do it for quite a while, the last time was when Maria had interrogated her. Natasha believed it was a response to a situation she was unable to handle, though she wasn't entirely sure what had caused it this time around.
The last thing Phoenix said to either of them was, "I need time to think." With that she slunk inside her room and closed the door.
"We are not training this afternoon," was the first thing Natasha announced to the line-up of five, confused teenagers in front of her. The training room seemed empty that evening without the presence of any equipment set up and the absence of one particular member.
Although Clint was standing on Natasha' left side as usual, there was an empty space on Natasha's right that was usually occupied by Phoenix. While most of The Experiments saw this as a positive thing, there was a degree of concern in their expressions as they stared at the empty space.
"Phoenix won't be joining us today," Natasha informed them. "She's struggling to deal with all of the trauma you've dealt her."
"We didn't do anything!" Heather exclaimed.
Natasha held up a finger to silence her, interrupting what was most likely going to be an unnecessary rant. "We're going to be using this opportunity to get everything off our chests and come clean about our emotions," Natasha told them. "Think of it as a confessional. Everything you're feeling about the situation, now's your chance to let it go and be completely honest."
"This is a stupid idea," Heather commented bitterly.
"Well there's a great one to start us off," Clint commented sarcastically. "Thanks for your contribution Heather."
Natasha looked up and down the line expectantly, waiting patiently for one of them to speak up. They shifted uncomfortably in the line, each one attempting to hide their emotions, but ultimately failing. Their behaviours were portraying different stances and opinions, but each of them were as equally afraid to speak up as the next.
"I don't like any of you," Bella spoke up, looking at the other teenagers surrounding her, seeming unapologetic. "You're all ignorant and incapable of maturity. To be perfectly honest I hate interacting with any of you, but I cover it up."
The Experiments looked down the line at Heather, wearing expressions of complete offense. Natasha dwelled on the last sentence Bella had said. "Why do you cover it up?" she asked, already knowing what the answer was, she was determined to prove a point.
Bella looked down and mumbled something incoherently, before she cleared her throat and spoke louder. "I cover it up so I don't get treated like Phoenix," Bella answered, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room. "I don't want to be the outcast."
Guilty looks were passed between the Experiments, but Heather held her ground with a scowl on her face, refusing to acknowledge her actions as being bad. There was however, doubt brewing in the rest of the group, some were beginning to question their motives of hatred against Phoenix.
Sam stepped forward and cleared his throat. "What you made us do this morning, the fighting, it was a terrible idea," he told Natasha and Clint this like it was an intent fact. "You were basically asking for a fight to happen."
Natasha shrugged. "We did acknowledge the risk," she told him. "But we needed to see how you fight, how you behave around each other. Which parings are strongest, which oppositions have the most animosity? All of these questions were answered after that exercise yesterday. Some of you would be surprised at the results."
Sam nodded and stepped back into line. Josh spoke up next, raising his hand like he was in a class before he began talking. "I never wanted any of this. I just want to go back home and forget about all of you," he told them all. "I feel like you're holding us against our own will. I know that it's to keep us safe from HYDRA, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."
There was a silence in the room, until a snickering sound came from further down the line. Mark was laughing to himself, barely keeping it together in fact. "I honestly have no idea who spat in your morning coffees," he pointed up and down the line, a ridiculous grin on his face. "I think this is amazing, I'm having a blast right now. This is the greatest thing to ever happen to me, we are quite literally living with The Avengers. Can you hopeless excuses for human beings even begin to fathom how awesome that is?"
Everyone seemed to have shared, some in different ways, but still to say anything remotely honest, was Heather. Clint politely motioned to her, giving her an opportunity to speak up. The odd thing was that she outright refused.
"I don't need to prove anything to you," was all she said as she folded her arms, adamant to not reveal anything about how she felt, which was usually exactly what Heather did. So her refusal to say anything, was possibly the most confusing thing Natasha had ever encountered.
Heather seemed to be hiding emotions that went a lot deeper than hatred and fear in reverence to Phoenix. Natasha was scared to think what those emotions might be.
Loki sat in the odd Midgardian room, considerably bored and eager to leave. They had left him in plain chambers with no entertainment whatsoever, not even sunlight was allowed into the room. A blinking mediocre object was mounted in the corner of the room, watching him constantly.
Loki of course had already formulated many ways in which he could escape from the room but still he remained, waiting for someone to enter the room to provide him with sustenance that he didn't even require. It wasn't all that really, he also required the trust of the Avengers.
Pointless and trivial nonsense. He couldn't even be sure his plan would work, it relied too heavily on chance to be completely safe. Hanora would not be waiting forever, she would act soon, and when she did, Loki knew that they would be much more willing to accept his help.
A noise outside his door called his attention, soft footsteps moving down the hallway before stopping in front of his door. There was a pause, and Loki looked up to see the red light on the funny object cease to continue blinking. Primitive Midgardian trickery, easy enough to dispatch. However Loki was not the one who had turned it off.
He glanced at the door, fully aware that someone was standing on the other side of it. "Enter," he gave the order, and heard a sharp intake of breath. Surprise. Were they expecting him to be entirely unresponsive? "Enter," he repeated himself, speaking much louder the second time.
A shaky hand rattled the doorknob as the individual unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly. Taking a single step inside and peering one eye around the door to look inside. What Loki saw was not what he expected.
The girl entered the room, and stared at Loki as if he were a complex puzzle that had been laid out in front of her, and she had no clue of how to put it together. She stepped in front of the door and walked backwards to push it closed, leaning against the door once she had done so.
She was young, stuck halfway between adolescence and adulthood, although her mannerism indicated she appeared older than she really was. Long untamed hair, the colour of burning sunlight, was swept over one shoulder. Her eyes of deep blue reflected a high level of caution, as she inspected Loki up and down, but he saw no trace of recognition.
"What do you want?" Loki asked the girl, amused by her appearance inside of his cell. From her expression, it looked like she had not intended for this meeting to happen.
The girl did not answer, she simply stared at him. Loki recognised her from a brief encounter upon his arrival, she was the one that Romanoff had sent away in a hurry, out of fear from exposing her to him. It seemed her attempts had resulted in failure, for here she was, of her own accord.
"Phoenix," the girl's first spoken words to him seemed to be an attempt at an introduction. "Who are you?"
"Do you really not know?" Loki demanded, rising from where he sat on the edge of his bed. He moved several steps closer to Phoenix, and she responded by taking a stronger stance where she stood, conveying the message telling him to step back. He saw it in her eyes, upon seeing no signs of recognition in her eyes, he answered his own question. "You really have no idea."
"You're Asgardian," Phoenix stated. "I've met one before, it's fairly easy to figure out. So who are you? I gave you my name, it's only courteous you give me yours in return."
"Loki," he told her, giving her a daring look. "Do you know me now child? Recognise the name?"
"No," Phoenix shook her head.
Loki cocked his head and took three steps closer to Phoenix, advancing on her slowly with his head remaining tilted to the right. "You mean to tell me you have never heard my name?" he asked. "Not even a whisper. A story hissed in the shadows."
Phoenix folded her arms across her chest tightly, refusing to back down as Loki continued advancing. "I have never heard the name Loki before in my life," Phoenix told him flatly. "Why are you here?"
Loki scoffed, a small grin etching across his face as he looked at the girl in a different light. She was determined, but behind her stone demeanour there was shattered porcelain, waiting to be broken further than she already had been. There was innocence, but at the same time the girl seemed to have seen far too many horrors of the world.
"Your curiosity will lead you down a dangerous path one day," Loki warned her as he flicked his hand at the door. "Leave me, or else you will encounter that path much sooner than you wish to."