EIGHT

Get Some

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Angela detected some kind of noise and refocused her eyes on the hole in the ice. It began to move and churn. She got up hastily and moved back as something sent water over the edges. A hand appeared and she moved to grab it. It lifted and waved a single index finger at her.

She stood back, surprised, as the hand then disappeared. The casket was shoved up and out of the hole, and then two bright blue hands appeared and scrabbled for purchase. A head and a deluge of near-freezing water accompanied Loki's climb out of the gap. He slipped and landed on the ice, and seemed to content to stay spread-eagled on the freezing surface on his back.

"You look like your mother," she remarked.

Loki sat up slowly, breathing hard and lifting a hand to look at it. He realised he was completely blue, slight lines and traces of silver flowing under the surface of his skin as his blood sought to decide how best to regulate temperature. "I… suppose I do."

She pulled her armour straight and glanced at the bank. She found a lump of ice, presumably over a rock, and sat herself down. "Does it bother you?"

"Not as much as it used to." He stood up, shaking his wet hair out and then trying to squeeze water out of the end. She watched, fascinated, as parts of his chest began to appear less blue and more dull white/beige.

"Do you… make it do that? Change colour? How does it work?" she asked.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "For the longest time I didn't know I was doing it," he said. "I suppose that was why it was so easy for Frigga to teach me all kinds of illusions. Until I was touched by a frost giant, in this very land, I had no idea I was even supposed to be blue."

She shook her head. "I do not know what a revelation like that would do to me," she said quietly. She squinted up at him. "You are not what people think you are."

"Evidently," he said, spreading his hands in a mock-bow.

She smiled as a ripple went over his skin and the blue was gone. "But… when you touch frost giants you can receive terrible freeze-burns."

"Yes."

"And yet… I am not burnt."

He tilted his head. "I have wondered about that."

"Perhaps it was will. After all, the ability to inflict pain on someone else is a choice. You said you were young when adopted - you did not know the people who were raising you, as no child does, but on some level you liked it. So you knew not to hurt them."

He frowned at her, from across the ice. "Interesting." Then he shook his head. "I had thought it was why my real parents left me out to die; I was a weakling, a runt, barely worth the blanket they had dumped me in. Perhaps I have always been defective."

"You must not entertain such thoughts," she said sternly. He blinked in surprise. She stood. "You are not defective, Loki. You have overcome many setbacks. And now you will stop a tyrant and save a universe."

"With… your help, of course," he said curiously.

She nodded, some of the anger draining from her face. "Yes."

He smiled, wagging a finger at her. "I never asked you why you're doing this."

"For the fight," she said innocently.

"You could have any fight, anywhere, with anyone," he countered. He picked up the casket and crossed the ice to be back on the bank. "Why this one?"

"If Thanos is not killed, there may be no other fight."

"Point taken."

"Besides, you need me."

"What?" he laughed. "I need no-one."

Her face hardened. "Then do this alone," she said stiffly, turning to go.

He whisked his hands around and the casket disappeared. "Now wait a minute—"

"If you do not need anyone, then do this alone," she snapped.

He grabbed her elbow. She yanked it free but turned on him. He lifted one elbow to block the strike he knew was coming. It didn't - but it was too late. He had already let fly with the other fist.

She was smacked straight in the face. She staggered and put a hand to her jaw. Her head whipped around to glare at him.

He put both hands up in a stopping gesture. His face opened up in an innocent petition for understanding, his eyes large, pleading pools of which a starving cat would have been proud. "Now… Angela… we both know I misjudged that situation." He gave a nervous laugh. "It was all me - all my mistake. But you have to understand, most people punch me first and ask questions lat—"

She leapt at him with a growl. He was struck in the stomach with her shoulder as she tackled him to the bank. Her hand went round his neck.

"We - really don't - have time for - for sport!" he spluttered. He grunted in effort as he shoved her off. She rolled and grabbed his arm as she went; he was slammed face down in the snow.

She straddled his back, locking his arm up his back between them, making him squirm and cry out in pain. "So pretty, so slender," she breathed, bending over him to bring her mouth to his right ear. "But you are no match for me. We have already proven this."

He coughed around an evil grin. "Oh have we." He jerked his shoulder, shoved back with his hip.

She went over sideways. As she attempted to roll on impact he threw himself back. He landed on top of her with his elbow in her gut. She howled in pain. He scrabbled clear and rounded on her.

She punched with all her weight. He was thrown to the ground but rolled; he was up on his feet so fast she misjudged her next punch. He shoulder-rammed her to the bank. They crashed into the snow, Loki sprawled on top of her.

He scrabbled to sit over her. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the snow above her head. She simply lay, trying to get her breath back. He grinned down at her in victory.

It made her buck. His face dropped as he tried to keep hold of her wrists. She fought one free and snatched at his hair, yanking his face down to hers. He coughed in surprise and pain. His eyes, large and on fire with the need to win, forced a grin from her. Her mouth went up and bit at his.

His hands searched for a way to free her of her armour, her chainmail. She wriggled and helped him release it. Then his hands were under her beige top, over her skin, cold and precise and hungry.

She rolled him, flattened him to the snow. He chuckled in a way that heated her just fine in the freezing air. And then his head shot up and butted hers. She was thrown up and back; the battle was joined.

He struggled and grabbed; she had hold of his throat, held him down. As she ripped open the fastening on his trousers he pushed and rammed her shoulder with his. She found herself under him and wheezed out a laugh.

"We have got to - stop - doing this," he grunted. His hand went to her throat and squeezed.

"This is - the last time. I - I promise." She wrapped a leg round him. He coughed out an epithet as he was pulled down.

The snow began to melt beneath them.

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Amora pulled on her top, fastening it up and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "How do I look?"

"Like you haven't just been shagging in the snow," Valkyrie said cheekily.

She smiled. "Would you like some help with that?" She walked over and began to do up the buttons down the side of Valkyrie's top.

"That casket should be ready by now," she mused. "Do you think they're already on their way back?"

"If one of them isn't dead," Amora chuckled. She stood back. "There."

"Thanks." She pulled her hair into a lazy ponytail. "You know… Angela was a little scratched up this morning. And Loki's face—"

"He did look worse for wear, didn't he?" Amora smiled. "I hope whatever it was hurt."

"Don't we all," Valkyrie said. "But… Angela. You don't think her and Loki—?"

Amora blew a scoffing sound through her lips. "Oh please. Not even Angela is that damaged."

"You could be right."

"Besides, I don't think she's his type."

"Yeah - been meaning to ask you… You and Loki ever—?"

"Me? Never. His brother - mmm. Now there's a different story. But Loki? No. Really not my type. I wouldn't touch that with someone else's."

"I can see that," Valkyrie smiled.

Amora went to the mouth of the cave, looking out. "You know, this place isn't that bad. At some point the sun will come up properly, right? And then if the wind died down…"

"And the temperature came up, and the people were a little more welcoming."

"I don't see anyone," Amora said. "I expected people to know we had arrived, to challenge us, maybe. But we haven't seen anyone."

"I assumed Loki brought us to a place no-one would notice us," Valkyrie shrugged. "I mean he wouldn't want to advertise his presence here any more than we do, I guess - especially if he's nicked one of their best weapons and wants to recharge it on the quiet."

"Hmm."

"So when this is all over," Valkyrie said quietly, coming to stand next to her and look out at the flurrying snow, "what are your plans?"

"Why?" Amora mused.

"Just… don't know, really. Thought I'd see if we'd be heading in the right direction."

Amora sighed. "I don't think we will. Once I have an Infinity Stone… I won't be the same person. No-one ever is. They change you - amplify thoughts, feelings. I can only imagine what that stone did to Loki."

"Well it kind of made him try to kill a whole city on Midgard," she said.

"I heard. I believe… it wasn't all him."

Valkyrie shook her head. "Going soft on him?"

"Hardly. But… as I said, stones do things to people. I don't really know this Thanos, but I know he's an incredibly resilient being. It's possible he's leading the stones, not the other way around." She paused. "I will want to do the same, but… I can't guarantee that it won't succeed in overpowering me. And I have a To Do List."

"Like it overpowered Loki?"

"We're not sure it did overpower Loki. But you know what he's like - sometimes he's too eager to accept things are going his way, despite his deeply cynical, suspicious nature."

"Actually I just met him like a few days before Asgard was destroyed," she shrugged. "But he does have an ego the size of the nine realms - maybe that's why he lets himself believe he's winning."

"True," she smiled.

They watched the snow for a while, dealing with individual thoughts.

"Oh look," Amora said quietly. "Here he comes now."

They walked out into the snow and wind to find two figures trudging back up to them, one of them with a dark shape between their hands.

"Well?" Valkyrie called as they got close. "Can we leave now?"

Loki came to a stop in front of her. "My my, we do look flushed. Been busy?" he asked with a sly smile.

Valkyrie frowned. "Not at all." Her eyes made out a fresh cut to his face. "You?"

"Not at all." He sniffed casually. "Why don't we make for Knowhere. Amora?"

"Of course," she said. She strode further out into the snow, the others trailing after her.

They formed a rough semi-circle.

"Now, is everybody ready?" Loki asked. "Once we hit Knowhere Thanos may be right in front of us."

"He won't be," Amora said. "I can feel the two stones he carries - together they overshadow everything else. He's still travelling."

"Good," Angela said. "Then we shall get there first, lie in wait, and cut off his bloated, conceited head."

"And pee in the eye sockets," Valkyrie said firmly, nudging Amora's elbow.

She smiled but Loki looked a little aggrieved. "Disgusting," he tutted. Then his face transformed into the widest, toothiest smile any of them had ever witnessed. "I like it." He nodded at Amora. "Let's go."

She raised her hands.

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The screams and begging caught him by surprise. As he hurried down the corridor he glanced into every dungeon cell hastily, trying to find the source.

Eventually he came upon the right room; he found the Grand Master in an over-tired, giggley, bloody heap in the corner, blankets off the cot tied around him as if he were cold.

"Hey - hey man, you ok?" Korg asked.

The man looked over, calming himself. "Oh. You there - tell him I'm sorry," he said suavely. "I'm sorry I made him do things but he's just so pretty and he's got a streak of naughty, naughty mischief in him as wide as a star system! You'll tell him that, right?"

"Uh… sure," Korg shrugged. "What happened here?"

"He set a snake on me." He dragged himself more upright. His hands went into his hair to try to smooth it out, knowing it must have been in disarray. "A snake that for some reason had a knife."

"Who did?"

"The green one," the Grand Master said, his hand rolling out in some kind of dismissive gesture. "Or blue. Whatever. He was here - he did this to me. Now get me out."

Korg looked left and right up the corridor. Then he looked back at the Grand Master. "Uh… sorry, man. Can't do that. Rules is rules, you know?"

His happy demeanour vanished. "I make the rules."

Korg took a step back. "Well yeah - you did. Now it's my turn."

"You?" The Grand Master laughed hysterically long enough to cause the rocks in Korg's face to band together in a rather unamused frown.

"Yeah - me. He thinks I'm good enough, and I know he's better than you."

"Oh really?" he giggled. "Well he set a snake on me. On purpose. The little weasel is a manipulator, a skeevy, two-faced bargaining mouthpiece."

"But… to manipulate, you have to get to know people, find out what makes them want stuff," Korg said slowly. "He did something you never did. He listened, man. I tell you, sometimes I don't know why he does the things he does, but he's stopped a mad bloke from killing half a spaceship, and he's helped save a lot of people. He even helped stop the barbaric gladiator games here and helped overthrow your little dictatorship. And he had to help his brother kill their sister to save everyone else, so I mean I don't know, maybe he's not so bad."

"He'll screw you over too," the Grand Master said quietly. "Just you wait."

"Then we'll sort it out." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" the Grand Master called. "I killed the snake but I need a doctor. I've got like ten - twenty! - stab wounds here."

Korg hesitated. He looked back at him. "I feel pretty bad for you right now - I do. But I also had to watch loads of friends of mine get killed and mashed up by your champion and all the other gladiators. Doug - a great fighter and a lovely singer - he had a great voice - he's dead too. And as bad as I feel for you right now, I feel worse for Doug." He turned to go. "So no."

"Gah! Get back here you crappy pile of garden rockery!"

Korg hummed loudly to himself, some kind of tune he was making up as he went along.

"You! Don't you ignore me!" the Grand Master shouted.

Korg made it to the bend in the corridor. He walked out and didn't look back.

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"Now… you will be my centrepiece, the shining jewel of my Collection of the Unfathomable…" Taneleer Tivan, known to his customers as The Collector, closed the case slowly. "Mmm. Perhaps one day someone will be able to decipher you. But until then… you are mine." The case, happy to seal up and cause the chosen protocols to inject the enclosed space with embalming gas, simply waited for him to step back.

He did, clasping his hands together and tilting his head to admire the ragged, torn up paper book on its pedestal in the middle of the exhibit.

"Hi, hello," came a voice.

He whirled to see a man of shoulder-length black hair and dark green leather. "Ah. Come to peruse, or to buy? I don't think you have an appointment," he said. He moved to his workbench.

The man smiled. "Please don't touch that button," he said suavely.

Tivan paused. Then he withdrew his hands from their reach to the alarm under the table.

The man raised his hands to show they were empty. "I need you to give me the security protocols to this whole place - controlling the landing alerts, the alarms, the glass cases, your vault - everything."

"Oh but sir," Tivan said smoothly, "I cannot do that. They are fused to me, and me alone. It would be quite impossible for me to hand over anything."

The man walked closer. "Then… you must do something for me. One wrong move, one wrong word, and the universe as we know it could be destroyed. You wouldn't be doing it for me. You'd be doing it for everyone, everywhere."

Tivan rocked on his heels, considering the man. "Who are you, sir? How did you get in here without setting off my alarms?"

He grinned. "I have many skills - and one of them is staying alive. Let me put it to you this way: if you can do what we ask, then in the next few hours you can have a very, very exclusive prize for your collection as payment for your co-operation."

"And if I do not?"

"Then, regrettably," the man said, looking truly sad, "we will have no use for you." He paused meaningfully, his face turning harder than vibranium. "At all."

Tivan swayed to bring one side of his face closer to him. "Just… what is this exclusive prize?"

"How does the corpse of one mad Titan sound?"

Tivan instantly popped a hand up and offered it to him to shake. "Then tell me what my part is in all this, and perhaps we can come to an arrangement."

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