19. The Cat Returns
. . .
May was ready for the lunge, but even she was surprised with the quickness of it. Von Bardas went low, a trained tackle towards May's own legs that, even if it missed, had no chance of unbalancing the attacker. She dodged neatly, guessing the Latverian woman would topple right – and she did, before dropping into an artful roll. May's counterattack swept overhead, despite an attempt to adjust it at the last second. She braced herself, eating the quick jab to her ribs and making sure she barely staggered back from the force of it. No value in losing ground in the first seconds of the brawl.
Von Bardas snarled, then went on the attack again. "This is not what I wanted!" Something appeared in her hands. May saw a light blue electrical snap in the air, her eyes widening. She grabbed Lucia on the upper arm when the modified taser swung in, tugging and spinning the woman as best and as hard as she could.
She had age and experience on the Latverian, and she used it. The weapon dropped out of Lucia's hand when May's impact forced a moment of numbness throughout her fingers. May kicked it away, the toe of her boot knocking the device into the grass on the other side of the steps. Behind them, she heard a few of the tourists up on the hills begin to exclaim to each other. She took the risk, inhaling a breath and pausing in her counter-assault. Getting the civs out of any danger was more important to her than having him as backup. "Koenig, get an evac!"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him begin to move. But she paid for the order, von Bardas coming back with her other arm and getting her high on the cheek. May saw stars, shaking her head sharply once to keep her vision in the game. That wouldn't be enough to stop her. She was on full, controlled adrenaline. Both her hands snapped out to grab at Lucia when she tried again for another assault, grabbing the arm and twisting it down behind her back.
The woman countered the twist and spun out across the ground, grass smearing across her pant leg. She heaved for air and gasped another plea. "I'm trying to save us."
May got into a power stance, using the woman's pause for her own quick recovery of breath. "We can do that just fine, and with a lot less collateral damage."
"You have no idea what's waiting for you in my homeland."
"What if we find out?"
"You can't!" snarled von Bardas. She took another desperate lunge, this one full towards her opponent's body.
The two women toppled back across the grass in front of the national monument, May letting her back hit the ground before wrapping an elbow around Lucia's neck to either get a stranglehold or at the very least haul her out of the advantageous top position she had. May went for a tactical shot, talking fast between gritted teeth. "We've got an agent inside Latveria now. He's gonna tell your king what you're pulling here. What happens then, huh?" Her grasp around the throat slipped.
The arms holding her down got stronger. "Impossible."
"Not impossible. You don't know what we can do. Especially not when you've got us pushed into a corner." May went for a full tumble, shaking von Bardas off. She rolled in the other direction and leapt to her feet, not wanting to find out what else the woman was going to pull out of her pockets without preparation.
It was a knife, just a short, simple knife. May kicked it out of her hand before the lunge even started. "Stop fighting me," she said, putting all the conviction she could muster into her voice and hoping like hell it wasn't a bluff. "By now, our agent's made it to whatever you've got for a capital. It's over, von Bardas. We can look for another way. Work with us instead of thinking of us as a sacrifice play."
It paused her, but only slightly. She snapped back, purely confident. "If whoever your agent is did indeed get into Latveria, then he's dead by now!" She went for another lunge and abruptly fell on her face with a gasp.
From behind where the Latverian fell, Sam Koenig looked at May, and then down at von Bardas's taser-like device in his hand. "Well, that works okay."
May let the tension roll out of her shoulders, jutting her chin at him. She tried to not think about Lucia's flat dismissal of Loki's chances. "Let's get her restrained and out of public view."
. . .
Latveria's king stood at the window of his sanctum to watch the cat rush out of the wide doors of the stable, permitting himself a quiet moment's memory of a childhood amongst warm camps and the smells of half-wild horses and straggling cows and fresh hay. He came out of it as the constructs, each one made in his own gleaming image, hurried after the cat to do his bidding.
The sorcerer would have no time to spare to shift his shape back into whatever one was truly his own, and his energy was all but depleted. At worst, his soldiers would bring back the exhausted, brittle corpse for him to examine at his leisure. Victor von Doom looked forward to seeing what lay inside the veins and bones, what could be divined from the ash of that strange-smelling wild magic. Magic so different from the dusty rituals he'd sought out that it smelled fresh and somehow enticingly alien.
Something new, that dared to whisper itself into his Latveria. Something unknown. Mysteries, judged Doom, were seductive pleasantries. He would enjoy piecing together this one.
Ah, but perhaps... just perhaps the sorcerer would live. Perhaps inside the soul of the cat was a being with just enough drive to reach beyond his own boundaries of capability and strength. It all came down to just how much he wished to survive, no matter the cost. Behind the mask, Doom smiled, the lips twisting within an unimaginable face. That would also be an acceptable outcome, one that left questions for an intriguing future. He knew the scent of that sorcerer now. One way or another, he would find his visitor again.
He would keep a room ready for that return. One of his very special ones, deep below the castle. Where the screams could not trouble the good people under his watchful care.
Behind him, at the racks of the sleek computers he himself designed and built, a single alert chimed. The contents of the message were now organized for him, searched for threats and the highlights gleaned. Perhaps it would give him clues as to the identity of his brief visitor. He turned to scan the new information, and his bemusement turned into immediate, boiling fury.
No, he did not doubt what the message told him.
Not with the effort thrown behind the words, the compiled data, the lingering stink of a wizard's fear. He did not forget the lure of his sorcerer, but this was a far greater heresy against his royal self. It could not be permitted to stand.
"Lucia..." whispered Doom into the air of his domain, his voice thick with betrayal and disapproval.
With a flicker of his hand and a command at his terminals, a few of his servants peeled away from their chase, giving the running cat just a little more mercy. He needed them to search the woman's trails through his castle, to see what else he might have missed in his misbegotten trust. And below the depths of the castle, he sent one of his specialized servants on a particular mission, followed by the roaring sound of its own speed.
. . .
Koenig and May managed to get the still-unconscious Lucia away from the columns without drawing too much more notice. The botanists that actually ran much of the behind-the-scenes business of the Arboretum were at a loss, and accepted the story that some sort of terribly minor civilian incident was going on. They let the pair of D.C. 'detectives' through without complaint.
"Keep an eye on her," said May, throwing herself into the driver's seat of the black sedan she'd arrived in. "Let me know if she wakes up."
"You want that by telling you or by just shocking the crap out of her until she zonks again?" Koenig shook his head. "This could have been smoother. We still just grabbed an international representative out of a public place. Even if we get away with it, it's kind of smelly."
"Yeah, I know. Nothing about this has been optimal." May's hand tightened around the wheel, looking for where to pull out into the street. There was a flash of light in the air and she instinctively looked up at it, knowing planes this low and close to the capital were a rare and usually worrying business.
It wasn't a plane, and it was followed by an enormous rushing of sound – the speed barrier audibly cracking as it approached. The light snapped again and Koenig yelled something unintelligible, pulling himself up into the passenger seat next to May with surprisingly fast grace. The vehicle stopped and May felt the back end bash into and almost through the asphalt below. She spun around in the driver's seat and saw the slim, gleaming metal humanoid curling itself around the Latverian envoy through the stripped-away roof of the vehicle.
Red robotic eyes gleamed at her from under a strip of sickly green. "Latveria recalls its envoy home. There will be no negotiation on this point." The crackling, monotone voice paused before continuing. "His Majesty, the King of Latveria, sends you, SHIELD, our gratitude for your service freely rendered. Hostilities are hereby ceased for the time being."
The vehicle creaked and tore further as the thing lifted away from the ruins of the car, the unconscious von Bardas clutched close to it. There was a shimmer in the air to mark the moment when the construct cloaked itself, and the distant rumble of something leaving at high speeds.
"I quit," said Koenig, in the creaking silence after its departure. He blinked rapidly. "I don't quit, but I want a drink. A really, really big one."
"You gonna drink because we just sat here and watched a robot take our kidnapped diplomat, or because the other plan apparently worked out?" She let go of the wheel of the car, deciding to accept what happened with as much of her usual stoicism as she could muster.
Sam dug around in his pockets for the keys to the car he brought to the Arboretum, since this one was utterly trashed. "Agent May, I don't even freakin' know. You?"
May studied Sam Koenig's face with a serene expression. "I'm gonna go with the worry that maybe she was right after all."
. . .
The cat kept running, running, never looking back to see how close the king's tin soldiers were to his heels. Hard enough to gain necessary distance when he pelted out the doors of the castle. The constructs were quick – but even under duress, he was clever. He used every trick his exhausted mind was still capable of pulling together, flinging himself from shadow to windowsill to tree and eventually finding a single stroke of luck by all but falling into another vehicle that was going east. East, blessed direction that he knew could get him out. Though at this point, he'd take any road, and find his way home through the wilderness some other way.
As the wide truck and its tarp-covered load trundled out of the city, the cat shivered and hunkered under the yellow plastic, wild eyes keeping watch on the sky and the smaller drones that littered it. Loki's cat-sense swore the inhuman soldiers were still right on top of him, no doubt cloaked to not trouble the citizenry, and his tiny heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he waited for some command through the drones to make the vehicle stop. If that came, he didn't know what he was going to do – the constructs would simply peel his exhausted form from the truck.
There was no way he could find the focus to change back, not yet. It was taking all his last scraps of pure, iron will just to keep the tether between his two selves in place. No, better to use his energy willing his animal nature into submission. Until a few moments of real peace. Until he knew the steel beasts were not within range.
His fortune bore out, or perhaps using the drones to stop the truck wasn't fair by the monstrous king's mad rules – perhaps there was to be only the chase, as he'd proclaimed. He couldn't know; the man in the steel suit was both mystery and horror. He only knew in his bones what would be done to him should he be caught.
The vehicle continued to trundle down almost the exact same route he'd taken to arrive and no signal came from the smaller drones above. No kindly-natured little girl this time, only the company of the rushing blood in his ears. But just a little time, just a little more, and he could flee across the border. There, perhaps, he'd be safe.
. . .
Natasha's last contact with the Director told her to keep in range, that there had been some sort of development. Operation successful. Extract Loki, if necessary, said part of his message. There was an undertone of worry in the message, and it made her eyes narrow to read it. They narrowed further at the other implication – that the demigod had done his part. Took SHIELD's side, just as she'd been told all along, and chose to help. Despite everything she'd known about his role in the formation of the Avengers, here was the culmination of what she'd seen since getting May's call. It didn't jibe, and yet, there was the proof. Still, she stayed close and kept careful watch on the border, spending the time sorting her tangle of thoughts.
There was a clamor near dark, just meters away and on the other side of the clearing she hadn't dared cross. She pulled her binoculars out to try and get eyes on it, seeing a gleam of metal rushing after something small. With a curse under her breath and her orders on her mind, she charged across the small field with her hood pulled low across her forehead. Red eyes swept across her and then vanished. Their interest ended at the official border. They would not cross, not for this. But whatever they were chasing had made it through.
She scrounged through the thick, dry grass and finally saw it – saw him.
The cat's regal fur was matted in thick clumps and there was white, dry froth on his lips. His tail was full of dry prickers and broken straw, and he'd torn a few claws to shreds on rough terrain and who knew what else. An eye that was clouded with exhaustion and what she thought could have been fear rolled up to look at her, still locked in a thin ring of green and mostly black. The mouth creaked open, but the cat couldn't even meow. It was one of the most pitiful things she'd ever seen.
Natasha knelt over the animal, studying him, knowing that Loki was still in there. The eyes still had that odd flicker of something else, but she remembered his warnings. He might be teetering on the very edge of some spiritual abyss. "You did it," she said, her voice calm and empty.
Another weak attempt at a meow.
"Haven't gotten the full word, but something happened back home. You did that much. Kept your word, huh?" The eye didn't leave her. She looked into it, then looked down at the tangled mane along the bare throat. "The job's done." Then she smiled gently down at him as the paws kept flexing weakly. "Do you know that, right now, I could kill you and get away with it? You can't even talk, and with you, that was at least half the threat."
The ring of green in his eyes faded even further into dead, staring black.
"I can just reach down and snap your neck, Loki. With one hand. Just one hand for everything you did to us. To me. To Barton. Did you think that's all paid for because you found your way into Coulson's house?"
One paw reached out to pat at the ground, no energy left to pull itself away from her and her threat. She watched him struggle, the old, buried anger draining and replacing itself with the hard-earned mercies of her own second life. "Easiest kill of my career." No. The past wasn't paid for – but this wouldn't cash it out, either. He'd done his part. She would finish hers. That was the fair deal. That was the chance everyone got. She stood up with a sigh, towering over him. "I just wanted you to know that."
Then she reached down and gently picked up the heaving cat around his middle, hauling him up to her shoulder and carrying him down the trail back to the borrowed van.
. . .
Natasha knew he changed back when the stench of fear and ozone and sweat grew to fill the entire van instead of just the old towel she'd placed the cat on. She wrinkled her nose as she kept driving back towards the city. "Ew. Couldn't you have waited to do that until we got to the airport? It's cruddy, but I know from personal experience they've got showers."
The bone-weary voice filtered up from the rear of the van. "I utterly, truly didn't wish to. I'm done with that shape. I risked too much. No more."
She glanced over as he pulled himself forward along the floor of the vehicle, wedging himself against the back of the passenger seat. His half-lidded green eyes met hers. "You need something?" she asked him.
"I need a bottle of water and a meal. I expect I'll vomit both back up promptly." He managed to give her a weak grin. She could see his hands when he pulled a knee up to steady himself. They looked torn, the tips of his fingers bleeding and raw. "Then I'll need a bottle of water, a meal, and to sleep for approximately a week."
She gave a dry snort. "You're going to need a raincheck on most of that sleeping. You get a good look at infamous touristy Latveria?"
"I did. Fair point. I'm going to be in debrief for ages." He tilted his head back, the knotted, tangling hair leaving trails of sweat on his face. He managed a low, rattling laugh. It sounded almost human. "Hah. I'll settle for a short nap on the plane well away from this damned place. Then I sleep for a week after I'm done telling my tale seventeen different ways."
"Are you kidding? Catnap while you can. They'll ship you onto some other odd job within days, guaranteed."
Natasha heard him shift in response to her prediction. "Don't I get vacation time?"
She checked the road for safety before leveling him a wry glance. "Between everything we've got going on globally and getting interested testy customers from across the galaxy partially due to some idiot I could name... no. You're not getting vacation time. Nobody gets vacation time. Your life is now motels and airport lobbies and politicians with bad haircuts and awful morals. Welcome to SHIELD."
The van rumbled across the bumpy asphalt for a few moments. Then, so quiet she almost missed it, he said, "Well. It still beats the hell out of my last career choice."
She almost veered off the road.