A/N: Surprisingly I finished this one quicker than I expected and actually had time to proofread. So hopefully there won't be a bombardment of typos and grammatical errors like there is in all my other chapters. I'm literate guys I swear, I just don't have a lot of time to go through what I write before I upload. In this chapter we've got an interrogation with Thravi and the beginning of one of the final complications that leads into the climax. Dun, dun, dunnnn. Go ahead and don't forget to read, review and enjoy.
It didn't take long for Thravi to break down. After Steve had left him in the small, grey tiled room, he had woken up confused and angry. For the first five minutes he screamed and shouted, frantically bashing the walls. Upon realising that no one was coming for him, Thravi slipped into a state of fear. The screaming transitioned into violently sobbing, as he slid down, off the walls, and hit the ground.
Natasha and Phoenix stood side by side at a computer monitor, watching all this go down on the screen in front of them. Natasha stood with her arms folded, and Phoenix was squinting at the screen, both amused and skeptical.
"Suave," Phoenix commented flatly.
Natasha turned her body in Phoenix's direction, but kept her eyes on the screen. "Are you willing to be in the same room as him again?" Natasha inquired.
"I wouldn't have any complaints," Phoenix answered, turning on her heel to face Natasha directly. "Why do you ask?"
"I was thinking you could interrogate him," Natasha expressed her idea. "You were the last face he saw, so if you get in there and play with his mind you'll be able to make him squirm. The more he squirms the more likely he is to talk."
Phoenix nodded. "I'll do it, but I have one request," she turned and stared Natasha dead in the eye. "I want Loki there."
"No," Natasha answered immediately.
"He knows Hanora and has some idea of what her play might be. He can help," Phoenix argued with a soft tone. Seeing Natasha shake her head at the idea, Phoenix sighed irritably. "Natasha he's got valuable information, and the more we know the easier it will be to take down Hanora, it's as simple as that."
Natasha hesitated, before nodding sourly. "Find Clint and head down to the room while I get Loki," Natasha instructed her, gesturing to the door with a tilt of her head. "Watch your back, Asgardians can be extremely dangerous."
Phoenix nodded in understanding and left the room, heading for the staircase. Although the lift was quicker, Phoenix preferred the stairs when she was on her own, taking great joy in running up and down them to get to her destination. It was a simple form of exercise that usually got Phoenix's heart pumping.
Several floors from her destination, Phoenix saw someone walking up the stairs towards her. As she spotted Phoenix, Bella stopped and moved closer to the railings. Phoenix slowed down her pace, and walked past Bella at a calm speed.
"Good morning," Phoenix mumbled a friendly greeting out of courtesy, keeping her head down as she walked by.
Bella watched her go past, stopping at the corner of the steps. She looked away shamefully and tried to think of something to say. She turned back to Phoenix, and saw that she had almost rounded the corner, out of Bella's line of sight.
"Nice job yesterday Phoenix," Bella complimented her lamely. As Phoenix stopped and turned around to face her, Bella half-heartedly smiled.
Phoenix attempted a smile in return, but her confusion made her face appear cracked. "Thanks," she responded to the compliment with a shaky voice.
Bella turned around and walked away, heading up the stairs quickly. Phoenix had to stop and process the conversation before she eventually resumed running down the stairs. An elated feeling rose in Phoenix's chest, and she found herself smiling as she ran, eventually coming to a stop outside the door to the right level.
She entered the hallway, and saw Clint a little way ahead of her, waiting outside the room that Thravi was in. Once he saw Phoenix coming, he waved her down, hurrying her approach.
"I don't think he's having a good morning," Clint commented as Phoenix looked through the small window fitted into the door. Through it, she saw Thravi sitting in a chair and sobbing. "Remember, once you're in that room, everything you say or do has an impact. If you need me to break him down a bit just give me the signal."
Natasha entered behind them, dragging a handcuffed and bemused Loki. "Why it seems that everyone has taken a shine to the girl doesn't it," Loki commented as he saw Phoenix and Clint standing side by side, wrapped up in discussion. "Warms the heart."
Drawing a knife from his belt, Clint launched forward and pressed the tip lightly against Loki's throat. Clint's face frozen in rage, he increased pressure on the knife. Trapped by Clint, Loki hesitated, but his face soon broke into a grin and he laughed breathily.
"Clint," Phoenix spoke cautiously, coaxing him away from the fight by putting a hand on his shoulder. "I called him down here. I'm going to use him for the interrogation."
Clint removed his knife from Loki's throat and calmly slid it back into his belt, never taking his eyes off Loki the entire time. Natasha tightened her grip on Loki's shoulder and pulled him backwards, away from Clint and the chance of further confrontation.
Phoenix cleared her throat and stepped slightly in front of Clint. "What process do you want to follow Nat?" She asked.
"Play with him a bit first, taunt him, fuel his anger because if he's angry he's more likely to slip up. Once he's really mad, come down on him hard," Natasha instructed her. "Clint and I will go in first before you walk in casually. It gives you unspoken superiority. You have to use your judgement Phoenix. Watch what you say and don't give him too much information about yourself, he's the type that will use that against you."
"I understand," Phoenix nodded, taking a sideways look at Loki as she spoke. "On second thought, can you wait out here with Loki while Clint and I go in? I have an idea."
Natasha agreed, although hesitantly, and made sure her gun was at the ready as she watched Clint enter the room. He was, of course, met by a barrage of demands, but ignored every word thrown at him as he leaned against the wall calmly and pretended that Thravi didn't exist.
As Phoenix heard Thravi's desperation and panic increasing, she hand signalled Natasha and entered the room. Very calmly, she opened the door and set her sights on Thravi. When he recognised her, his mouth dropped and he looked her up and down in complete shock, taking in every bit of her appearance.
"Erin!" He exclaimed in question when he eventually found his words.
"Actually it's Phoenix," she informed him, giving him a sickly sweet smile as she sat down across the table from him. "See, I pretended to be Erin so I could seduce and capture you," she shrugged unapologetically. "Sorry for the confusion."
Thravi stared at her, mouth formed into a small O shape, attempting to process what she had said. Realisation seemed to hit him, and he began to fume with anger. "You. Filthy. Wench." He hissed at her, his phrase strung out into single word sentences as he barely contained his anger.
Phoenix leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, casually inspecting her nails, she let out a deep sigh. "Well that's just plain rude," she commented sarcastically. "Maybe if your behaviour was as sophisticated as your words, people might enjoy your company just that little bit more. Not that you aren't a delight to be around already."
Thravi slammed his hands onto the table and attempted to leap to his feet, he didn't get very far due to the handcuffs around his wrist, connected to a chain that was attached to the floor. The pressure on his wrists forced him back into the chair.
He glowered at Phoenix, looking ready to strike her, but kept his mouth shut. Phoenix leaned forward. "I know a lot more about you than you think," she titled her head to the left and whispered a single name. "Thravi."
Thravi went rigid in his chair at Phoenix's mention of his own name. He went cold from his fingertips through to his heart as he looked her in the eye and saw a cocky smirk looking back at him. Amidst his frantic thoughts, he kept his mouth sealed and his face calm.
"I know that you're Asgardian," Phoenix continued, stating what she knew in an attempt to unhinge him. "I know that your mother is Hanora, and that she stole something from Odin's vault. I also know that she intends to use this object to wreak havoc on Earth. You can correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think I am."
Thravi clenched his fists and sat in complete stillness in his chair for a second, before he lunged forward unexpectedly, attempting to strike Phoenix. He didn't get very far, his handcuffs jarring his wrists as the resistance from his chains stopped his hands from going past the table.
He cursed in pain and howled at Phoenix. "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" He shouted.
"Where is Hanora?" Phoenix demanded, her voice raising in volume but falling in pitch. "Tell me everything you know and I'll go easy on you. If you don't want to share, you'll force me to go to extreme measures to get my information."
Thravi remained silent in his chair, but looked ready to snap Phoenix's neck at a moment's notice. He also looked unwilling to share his information, prompting Phoenix to look over at Clint and nod. He ceased leaning on the wall, and moved behind Phoenix, standing in front of the door and blocking the only exit.
Thravi began to grow concerned, and sat up in his chair. Phoenix rested her elbow on the table, holding her forearm straight and her palm facing upwards and outstretched towards Thravi. He stared at her hand, and looked her in the eye.
The second eye contact was made, Phoenix smiled. "Do you want to know why they call me Phoenix?" She asked, wiggling her fingers, a challenging look glinting in her eyes.
Without blinking Phoenix stared Thravi down and ignited a flame in her hand that engulfed her hand within seconds. Thravi pushed against the table, his chair with him in it, slid backwards with a terrible scraping of metal on tiles. He stared at her hand in shock, before his expression changed and he looked at Phoenix in a new light.
"Sorcery?" He hissed in question.
Phoenix closed her hand, and then placed her hand palm downwards on the table, opening her hand as she did so. Phoenix removed her hands quickly, and the flame that was once in her hand now moved across the table, dancing across the surface in random patterns. Thravi leaned forward and watched the flame moving, jumping backwards when the flame changed trajectory, and moved quickly in a straight line towards his face.
The flame dissipated just before hitting him and Phoenix captured Thravi's full attention. "Where is Hanora?" She asked him once again, this time a higher level of impatience in her voice, letting Thravi know that she didn't want to waste any more time.
Thravi held his silence, still refusing to give up the answers despite his growing fear of Phoenix. Phoenix pretended to act annoyed, when in reality she was grateful for Thravi keeping his mouth shut. Phoenix decided that Thravi needed extra coercion, and she knew exactly where to get it.
Phoenix turned over her shoulder, looking at Clint who still remained stoic, aside from when he nearly laughed at Phoenix's earlier quips. "Bring in the prisoner," Phoenix ordered him. Clint nodded and turned around to open the door, beckoning the person outside to enter.
Thravi's face broke out in concern when he heard the word prisoner, and tried to form a question, but ended up just opening and closing his mouth with no sound coming out. His eyes darted to the door, and when he saw who entered, his expression changed to one of complete terror.
Loki strode into the room, Natasha flanking him closely, with a death grip on his shoulder. Loki grinned like a child with a new toy, and Thravi crumpled in fear. He jerked backwards in his chair, pushing himself as far away from Loki as he could manage without the handcuffs breaking his wrists.
Rigid where he sat, Thravi was unable to move. His mouth opened and closed, incoherent sounds of fear coming out. "You're...you," Thravi managed, his words trembling. "You're supposed to be dead," he stated the fact as a whisper, too terrified to raise his voice.
"Did you think I could be killed so easily child?" Loki questioned. He stepped forward as far as Natasha would allow him and hissed at Thravi menacingly. "Be thankful I am in chains or else I would slit your throat. Your witch of a mother has meddled with things she cannot comprehend. You and Hanora are common stock, you were never anything special, not on Asgard and especially not here."
Thravi cowered in fear, shrinking away from Loki's overbearing form. Phoenix, who had been focused on thee change between the Asgardians, proceeded to stare Thravi down. "I'm done asking questions. Either you tell me everything or I leave you to Loki. Tell me where Hanora is, this is your last chance."
Thravi's bottom lip trembled, caught between obeying his mother and facing Loki. He inhaled a deep breath before beginning to talk in a sullen tone, his head sunk as he stared at the ground. "There is a grand palace in the centre of the city," he told them. "I do not recall its name, but that is where my mother is. There is a sequence of digits that can be used to contact the building."
"Give me the number," Phoenix demanded. Clint handed her paper and a pen and she scribbled down the phone number as Thravi recited it to her. Once finished, she handed the paper back to Clint and stared Thravi in the eye. "Thank you."
Despite Phoenix's obvious sincerity, Thravi huffed. "You didn't need to ask me anything," he shook his head at them. "My mother will be hunting you down as we speak. She will cut you open," he threatened, fixating his gaze onto Phoenix as he spoke the last three words of their conversation. "All of you."
Later that night, Mark slowly opened his door and peered down the corridor, searching for any signs of movement. Once he was satisfied that the way was clear, he slipped out of his room and snuck quietly down the hallway, into the stairwell
A quick watched check told him that it was 10:58. He had two minutes to get to the bottom floor from one of the top floors. Shit. Phoenix didn't appreciate it when Mark was late, she was all about punctuality. Mark cursed to himself quietly, but grinned when he realised how to solve his problem.
Concentrating, Mark took a ready position. Focusing on the space around him, Mark felt himself become surrounded by power and took off at a run. Everything slowed down around him. He moved with impossible speed, as he leaped down stairs and dashed around corners.
When Mark used his power, it was like everything fell into place, he felt whole. The others had no idea what they wanted to give up. The rush of power and the joy that came from it was the greatest thing Mark had ever experienced. He couldn't understand why the others hated it.
Mark burst through the stairwell doors, coming to a halt directly in front of Phoenix who didn't even blink when he nearly barrelled into her. Mark did another watch check. 10:59. Heck yes. Caught up in his moment of achievement, he held up his hand to Phoenix for a high-five.
He lowered his hand when he caught Phoenix's stern gaze. "You need to work on stopping cleanly," she stated. "Otherwise you might run into trouble. Literally."
Mark laughed sarcastically. "Your wit is beyond compare."
Their late night meetings had been going on for over a week now, and Mark was surprised how much he had learned about Phoenix without actually learning anything about her. He was certain of who Phoenix really was. At the thought, a pang of guilt hit him like a shot to the stomach. Phoenix was a friend, so why was he only showing her decency when the Experiments weren't around. He didn't need to ask himself the question, the answer was obvious. It's because he was a coward.
"What do you want to work on tonight?" Phoenix asked him unexpectedly. He gave no answer and stared at her, demanding elaboration. Phoenix shrugged. "It's probably better that we focus on something you want to work on. Otherwise you'll end up trying to pole vault with the batons again."
Mark laughed to himself. "Come on, that was funny."
"It was funny watching you try to do it," she commented. Holding her hand at her hip, she demonstrated the height of the baton. "They're this tall, to pole vault you need a pole at least as tall as you. Now come on, what do you want to work on. Skills, techniques, weapons, what?"
Mark put his hands together and contemplated his answer. A thought occurred to him, and he grinned at Phoenix. "I wanna learn how to fight with a sword," he confessed.
Phoenix looked at him sceptically, and when she realised that he was being completely serious, she sighed. "My swordsmanship isn't exactly the best," she admitted. "It's been a couple of years, and I never really cared for it anyway, but we can try."
"Wait seriously!" Mark exclaimed in shock. "You're actually going to teach me how to fight with a sword?"
"Regretfully," Phoenix nodded. Although she exhibited to Mark that she wasn't eager, a small smile still tugged at the corner of her mouth. She turned on her heel and walked in the direction of the equipment locker, Mark following behind her excitedly. "Swords are archaic, I doubt Tony would have one, he's extremely modernised."
She and Mark rummaged through the room and surprisingly, at the very back of the room, Phoenix saw three swords in different sizes attached to hooks on the wall. Very carefully, Phoenix removed the lowest one that also turned out to be the shortest. One hand holding the hilt and the other hand supporting the blade, Phoenix showed it to Mark.
Mark gingerly stroked the hilt. "My Precious," he rasped. Upon seeing Phoenix's confused and concerned expression, he explained. "It's from a movie." All he received in response was an unsure nod from Phoenix, who placed the sword into Mark's hands against all better judgement.
He held it up to inspect it in awe. The blade was roughly 18 inches long and curved slightly at the top, made from a silver metal and polished to the point where it winked whenever the light hit it. The hilt was circular, made of something strong and covered with a rubber grip. Mark slowly turned it in his hands, mouth agape in excitement.
Phoenix walked from the equipment locker, and Mark trailed closely behind her, fixated entirely on the weapon held in his hands. She led him out into the centre of the training room and waited for Mark to pull his attention away from the sword.
"Do you even know how to hold a sword properly?" Phoenix questioned as she watched him slowly swing the blade around in fascination.
"Uh," Mark stoped mid-swing and looked at Phoenix sheepishly. "No."
Phoenix moved toward him and pointed the sword away from herself, directing Mark's hands to where he needed to grip the hit. "Hold it with your dominant hand above the non-dominant hand," Phoenix instructed. "For you, that's your left above your right. Now, hold the bottom of it level with your waist, but don't press it against your body, there needs to be distance between you and the weapon."
"Otherwise I'll carve my own eyes out," he finished her sentence jokingly as he did as he was instructed.
"Exactly," Phoenix nodded, taking several steps back from Mark so she was at a safe distance. "Now practice some swings."
Mark did exactly what Phoenix told him and began swinging the sword from side to side, making silly sound effects like, "whoosh," every time he swung. He started slowly, but eventually progressed to the point where he was swinging the sword madly all over the place, taking no care in proper technique.
Phoenix's hand shot out as Mark swung the sword hard, down from above his head, aiming to slice the air. Phoenix's hand grabbed the blade tightly as Mark was halfway through his swing. Making direct eye contact with Mark, Phoenix gave him a blank stare. Mark watched her fearfully, eyes moving downwards to the blood dripping from her hand and down the sword.
Mark let go of the sword on instinct but it didn't drop because Phoenix still had a death grip on the blade. When she let it go, Mark couldn't stop himself staring at the gash on her right palm. The blood had stained most of Phoenix's hand red, but she didn't even blink as it dripped down her hand onto the floor.
"I'm sorry," Mark apologised quietly after several seconds of staring at her.
"Don't be sorry, just don't act like an idiot next time," Phoenix dismissed his apology as she retrieved a roll of bandages from her bag nearby.
Mark stared as she cut some of the bandage and wrapped it around her hand. Once done, Phoenix held her hand up for Mark to see, as if to prove that it wasn't a big issue. However a red blotch in the fabric of the bandage had already appeared.
"Doesn't that hurt?" Mark asked as Phoenix strode past him to where she had dropped the sword.
Phoenix shrugged as she bent down on her knees beside the sword and laid it across her lap. "No," she answered simply as she used a cloth to wipe the blood from the sword. "I'm conditioned to withstand the most extreme forms of torture known to man. I felt nothing."
Mark watched her scrub at the sword with her back to him, completely oblivious to the magnitude of what she just said. "What kind of torture did he use on you?" Mark asked.
Phoenix went rigid with a jolt, hands instinctively grabbing the hilt of the sword, looking to hold something for support. She inhaled a trembling breath before she spoke. "That isn't any of your business," she told him, voice harsh as she tilted her head only just to the right to catch a quick glimpse of Mark over her shoulder.
Phoenix tried to warn him, but Mark just kept on talking. "I know some horrific stuff has happened to you, but no one can help you unless you tell them what he did," Mark took a step forward, his voice was kind, but his words were like gunshots. "Doctor Blake tortured you didn't he? He didn't brainwash you, he beat you."
"Don't say the name," Phoenix begged, her voice jarred and cracked. She let the sword slip out of her hands and clatter to the floor in front of where she was still bent down on her knees. "I was trained," Phoenix sobbed. "I learned to fight, I learned to obey orders. The skills, techniques, weapons, I knew everything. I was trained."
"You still believe that he helped you?" Mark questioned, some of the kindness leaving his voice, to be replaced by enough betrayal to stab Phoenix in the chest. "He didn't do you any kindnesses Phoenix, nothing he did was good. How come you can't understand that?"
Phoenix grabbed her own head and leaning forward, began whimpering. "I'm strong. I'm fast. I'm agile. I can withstand pain. I have a special gift," Phoenix's voice trembled as she spoke to Mark, but seemed more like she was trying to convince herself. "Everything he did was to make me better."
"Listen to yourself Phoenix!" Mark exclaimed, the anger beginning to seep into his voice. Phoenix jumped in shock at the volume of his voice and turned around to look at him fearfully, hands falling away from her head. "He didn't do any of this to make you better, he did it to use you as his own personal weapon! It's because of him that you're a monster!"
The temperature of the room dropped by 10 degrees as everything stopped and went silent. Mark finally came to the realisation of what he had said, and stared dumfounded as Phoenix turned away from him, her own hands trembling as she clenched them into fists.
Monster.
Finally the truth emerged and Phoenix realised how stupid she had been. Friends? There was no way Phoenix could have ever hoped to achieve that title with anyone. Slowly, Phoenix rose to her feet and took one last look at Mark, despite attempts to keep her face devoid of emotion, there was an echo of hurt in her eyes.
Before Mark could say anything, Phoenix turned and ran for the stairwell. Mark did not follow, instead he stared after her, and looked down and to his right. The sword was where Phoenix had left it, but now, it was covered in more blood than before.