Such Fragile Creatures Chapter 7: Period of Adjustment, an avengers fanfic

*Avengers Fan-fiction by Kemurikat*

Such Fragile Creatures: Act 07 - Period of Adjustment

Even Alvi and Mars, of all people, thought that her choice of the movie 'The Sound of Music' was a bit surprising. Though Bryn had an underlying agenda planned for her choice of the musical, it was one of her dearest favorites. Star Wars, Singin' in the Rain, Tron, The Shawshank Redemption, Grave of the Fireflies, Lawrence of Arabia, Titanic, The King and I, Leon: the Professional, My Fair Lady, Terminator 2 and The Wizard of Oz, were among the titles that she enjoyed watching with her late parents as a child.

Rather than hum along to Julie Andrews as she often did whenever she watched 'The Sound of Music', Bryn sat through the entire film carefully gauging Adam's reactions to each scene, something that hadn't escaped her guardians' shrewd observations. With childlike delight, Adam's eyes were practically glued to the screen, which suggested that he hadn't seen the film before...or the ridiculous notion that it was the first movie he'd seen...ever...and considering the compiled 'evidence' she'd gathered so far, parts of Adam's crazy story about himself seemed true. His often naive line of questioning about modern life and technology expressed his total lack of experience living in an environment outside of a commune straight out of the Dark Ages!

Ever closer to physically ripping her hair out in frustration, Bryn could no longer deny that her growing fondness for Adam had gone beyond a simple desire to help him. She...wanted more. She wanted...him.

However, wanting Adam came with some major obstacles. The first, most important of them was the shaky state of his emotional and mental health, and second, was the credibility of his claims about his identity. They were major flaws, big, in-your-face red flags that any rational girl would avoid at all costs. The problem was, rationality had fled Bryn the day her parents died. To her, Adam was attainable with a fair amount of plotting and planning, all bizarre stuff aside.

There was a bit of a bright side. From her perspective, Adam's second major flaw, of him adjusting to a life outside of a Medieval commune was, at least, correctable. All her Science Experiment needed was a trip to the library or his own laptop and he'd have most of his questions answered through Google...and then some.

At the moment, Bryn's current focus on Adam was childish since her growing infatuation was clouding her judgement. Why wouldn't it? Beside her sat a sexy, handsome, mystery man who'd willing pledged himself to her as a slave, body and mind. She was literally living out a story from some popular romance fantasy novel!

Well, heavy on the fantasy and zero in the romance department, as of yet, if she wanted to be exact. Also, if she wanted to be completely honest with herself...there wasn't anything she wouldn't willingly surrender in exchange for a golden ticket to jump Adam's bones. She could even diabolically test his whole 'slave' schtick and order him to...Oh, God.

Bryn secretly whimpered in dismay. Her personal pent-up sexual tension was making her lose her mind!

As Adam animatedly gushed out his absolute delight watching 'The Sound of Music,' she felt a squeeze on her left forearm.

"Can we talk in the kitchen for a minute?" Mars asked softly.

Here we go, Bryn thought to herself. She knew that Mars was about to give her 'the talk.'

"I should give you an Oscar for Endurance," Mars remarked slyly, dodging a smack from Bryn. "You should just ask him for sex. I don't think he'll mind."

"Mars, I'm going through hell here!" she hissed, plopping down on one of their heavy bar stools. She leaned over their stone counter with her arms stretched out, her chin resting on the smooth, hard surface. "I'm seriously being punished for whatever bad thing I did in a past life."

"Brynnie, you should stop being so negative," Mars chided with a smile.

"Coz being oh-so positive's really gonna help," she said sarcastically and sighed heavily. "We don't really know anything about Adam. Where he's from, what his parents were like, if he's married, divorced, straight, gay, bi, a fugitive from the FBI's most wanted list, mentally psychotic, a government science experiment...a fucking alien?"

"Yes, we've all noticed that there are many strange things about Adam that don't add up," Mars agreed. "...but you can't deny that the man's also intelligent, kind..."

"Like a prince out of some fairy tale, yeah, I get it," she huffed. "Remember the last 'nice guy' I went out with?"

"How could we forget?" Mars replied flatly, his mouth in a tight line.

"Shit...I'm sorry," Bryn said softly, cursing her stupid mouth. She knew that any form of mental or physical abuse was a delicate subject with Mars.

"That's all right. It's your hormones talking," he replied, lightening the mood.

"The odds are kinda stacked against me here," she argued. "If Adam suddenly remembers that he has a family somewhere, what'll you think he'll do? What's worse, if he's mentally unstable...I don't think I can - "

"Brynnie, please," Mars stopped her, unwilling to listen any further to her morbid ranting. "We take it one day at a time. That is...if you can last that long."

"Major odds," she muttered, just as Mars's better half and her Science Experiment entered the kitchen. You want him to be gay, Mars, that way, you and Alvi could share him, she mentally accused with a pout.

"This a private confab or are we allowed to butt in?" Alvi announced cheerfully. He glanced at Adam's melted ice pack. "Here, let's get another one for you."

"Enjoyed the movie, I take it?" Mars asked with a wide smile.

"Yes, very much so," Adam said enthusiastically.

"Which part was your favorite?" Mars continued and bit his tongue to keep from laughing at Bryn's disgruntled face.

"Wasn't the movie to your liking, Bryn?" Adam said in response to her expression.

"Of course, she liked it. 'The Sound of Music' is one of her all-time favorites. Isn't that right, dearie?" Mars submitted.

"Yeah...I used to watch it tons of times with my mom when I was growing up," she answered with a slight smile. Her guardians shared a sad glance.

"Oh...I hadn't realized that the movie came with such precious memories," Adam said empathetically. "Forgive my insensitivity."

"No, hey, it's okay," Bryn said quickly, glancing at Mars and Alvi who silently went 'aww' to his gracious reply. Dammit! Why'd Adam have to play his super-sweet gentleman card? It made her feel like a total witch. "I'm just tired. We had a long day."

Not one of her best excuses but there was some truth to it. The clock on the wall told her it was well past midnight.

"That reminds me, you and I have a fitting with Gratian tomorrow at nine," Mars said, noting an alert from his phone's day-planner.

"Crap, I completely forgot about my costumes," Bryn mumbled, slumping onto the stone counter.

"Costumes?" Adam asked, curious. He accepted a new ice pack from Alvis and promptly placed it on the slowly receding lump at the back of his head.

"They're for my latest dance routine," Bryn replied, her words muffled by deliberately jamming her face in her arms which were crossed on the kitchen counter. Kill me now. "Well, I'm off to bed then. I'm totally not in the mood for one of Gracie's lectures if we're late."

"In that case, love, I'll be taking Adam with me to finalize the documentation for his I.D. tomorrow," Werner stated carefully. Mars heaved an exaggerated sigh.

"Then Brynnie and I will meet you both for dinner at Andre's Bouchee in Carmel by seven?" Mars said pointedly, his thumb already clicking away to make a reservation by text. He and Alvis were long time friends of the restaurant's proprietors, having met them by chance while viewing 'The Winged Victory of Samothrace' at the Musée du Louvre on their third wedding anniversary trip to Paris, France.

"Way ahead of you, love," Alvi replied smugly. "Once Adam and I have finished our sordid side-trip, we'll be taking the 101 down and straight to The Royal Armoire by three, giving the four of us plenty of time to browse and do a little shopping before dinner." He stared at his spouse's defiant gaze for a long, wordless moment, the silence in the kitchen broken by a chime from Mars's phone.

Shaking her head, Bryn knew what their exchange meant and saw Adam's confusion when his glance bounced between her guardians' serious faces. Alvi and Mars rarely fought, but when they did, their strong, passionate personalities clashed with legendary intensity. According to senior staff at the Bourgeoisie, the couple's last epic argument was the main reason the penthouse had gone through such a drastic, architectural renovation the night she'd met them.

She knew enough from her almost two year association with her current guardians that Alvi's secret 'James Bond' side-trips were a significantly sore subject for his frustrated spouse. Short of Mars hiring a private investigator, Alvis had cleverly covered any evidence of his mysterious business dealings outside of the club. Over time, Werner resorted to blatant bribery which Mars learned to initiate, the pair constantly trying to outdo each other in their special game of cat and mouse. A game that usually involved obscene amounts of money.

It was moments like this that made Bryn wonder who her guardians really were.

Yeah, like I'm one to talk, she mentally scolded herself. Here I am...poor little orphan Annie who somehow found the courage to stick it to the System and running to the opposite end of the country to...what? Find myself? Jump-start my entire life over just to get back a sliver of what I used to have?

Unaware that she'd drifted off into space, Bryn continued her philosophical tirade until a gentle grip to her shoulder yanked her back down.

"You went still as a statue," Adam spoke softly, his hand staying on her shoulder. Even Mars and Alvi were beside her, their argument temporarily forgotten.

"Sorry," she replied. "Bad habit. The whole staring-off-into-space thing. These days...I seem be to doing it more often." She nibbled at her lip and shrugged.

"It's late, we should all be off to bed if we have any hope of getting up tomorrow," Mars said with a yawn. "Sweet Dreams."

Bryn watched quietly till her guardians shuffled off to their master bedroom, listening to the soft click of their room's double-doors. Turning to Adam, she gestured for him to turn around so she could examine the back of his head.

"Since your bump's mostly gone, you're good to go," she said, putting his half-thawed ice pack on the kitchen's stone island counter. "So, um, you gonna be okay?

"I'll be fine," Adam reassured her.

"Okay then. Well, thanks for all your help packing my stuff."

"I'm gladly at your disposal," he answered modestly.

Geez. "Uh, sure. Now that your bump's all better, go ahead and get some rest," she said, nibbling at her lip. What she wanted to do was stay up the rest of the night with him. Maybe watch another movie...but she had her stupid fitting. "Good night."

"Good night, Bryn," Adam replied with a slight nod and sat at the island counter. His eyes followed her until she entered her bedroom and softly closed the door.

Alone in the penthouse kitchen, Loki sighed softly to himself as his thoughts switched to Sigyn. The strong emotional and mental connection that had always existed between them had transformed, flowing in one direction toward him, making him the sole receptor. At least, he fervently hoped it did. Though he truly wished to return home, he could not enter the Realm of Asgard trapped in a mortal body, and above all, he zealously refused to use Sigyn as a beacon in the dark. The very notion made him physically ill.

Forgive me, Petal. I know that you miss me and I miss you dearly in return. Please understand...I cannot return to you...so long as I am this. Perhaps one day, we may meet again...Loki paused his mental conversation to its oblivious recipient and closed his eyes. When we meet again...what then? I've done terrible things, dearest one. I will not be welcomed kindly with open arms at Valgrind's gate.

Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, Loki wasn't the least bit tired and very apprehensive of falling asleep, his dreams often plagued with nightmares. For him, it seemed that he was sentenced to face the remainder of his mortal life with days full of worry, the stillness of every evening offering him no rest, no peace.

Darcy Lewis yawned and stretched on her way down the winding stone staircase to Stark's basement workshop, eager to spend more quality time with her favorite supercomputer, Jarvis. As expected, the basement door was open to allow her inside and she giggled to herself. What she wouldn't give to read the numerous replies that were guaranteed to appear on online forums if she anonymously posted that she had an all-access pass to Iron Man's secret lair! Not that she ever would...but she could still fantasize about it.

"Morning, Jarv," she said with a smile, dumping a bag of food on the stone counter of the basement's corner kitchenette. It's not like she needed to go shopping for anything. Her entire bag of goodies came courtesy of Stark's well-stocked pantries from upstairs.

"Good Morning, Darcy."

The greeting was in a voice she hadn't expected and she squeaked in fright.

"Geez-Luisa! Give a girl a stroke, why don't ya?" she scolded the voice then glared at one of the workstation monitors. "Thanks for the warning, pal."

"Forgive, me, Darcy. Captain Rogers assured me that you wouldn't mind being surprised," Jarvis replied calmly.

"Oh, really?" she said, narrowing her eyes. "How'd the two of you get to be best buds so fast?"

"Since I stayed awake all night reading up on everything I missed," Rogers replied sheepishly with a shrug. "Couldn't sleep."

"Or more like...didn't want to," Darcy corrected. She stepped closer to Jarvis's computer workstation, leaned against one of the heavy steel tables and crossed her arms. "I know that you're kind of superhuman, so you could probably stretch out the whole sleep-deprivation thing...but you can't do it indefinitely. You look like hell."

"I know," Rogers sighed, sinking heavily into Stark's leather, high-back chair. "You're right...I can't go without sleep indefinitely."

"...but I can sure as hell try..." they both muttered.

There was an awkward pause as Rogers and Darcy stared at each other, the pair eventually laughing out loud to relieve the tension.

"Okay, that was freaky," Darcy replied after she'd calmed down.

"Same here...freaky..." Rogers said, testing out the new word.

"Doesn't suit you," Darcy quipped with a quick shake of her head and Rogers chuckled in agreement.

"Copy that. I should scram, cool my blinkers and pile some Z's. My skull's ready to blow with the amount of information I've got cramped in there," Rogers said, rubbing his eyes. He caught Darcy staring at him. "What?"

"Your being from the forties was showing for a minute there," she grinned.

"Oh..." Rogers replied, remembering what he'd told her. "Like I said, it'll take some time." He stood up slowly and a bit unsteadily from the high-back leather chair.

"Whoa, there. You need a hand upstairs?" Darcy asked.

"I'll be fine...but thanks for the offer."

"I will always be available whenever you have need of me, Captain Rogers," the supercomputer stated.

"Thank you, Jarvis," Rogers replied. "You've been a big help."

"Exactly how much stuff did you read up on?" Darcy asked, curious.

"I, uh, somehow managed to cram in most of the late forties to the present. Just need to take a breather and let it settle."

"Holy shit," she blurted out, then covered her mouth. "I mean...wow."

"It's okay," Rogers chuckled. "Peggy...I mean, your Granny Marge, she swore like a sailor."

He turned with a big yawn, dressed in the same clothes he had on at dinner and slowly walked toward the basement's glass entranceway. Just before he cleared the threshold, he looked back, smiled warmly at Darcy then trudged up the stone steps to the mansion's upper floors.

Darcy plopped herself down on the computer workstation's high-back leather chair, a bag of cheesy chips on her lap.

"You're not seriously going to eat that for breakfast, are you?" Jarvis observed, appalled.

"Bite me," Darcy retorted in a snippy tone. It was childish but a selfish part of her was hugely annoyed with having to share Jarvis with Rogers. "Besides, they're amazing and if you had taste buds, you'd agree with me too."

"Perhaps," was Jarvis's amused answer. "I could also share with you the entire process of that brand you're eating..."

"No, thanks," Darcy said adamantly. "Maybe someday when I start to abuse my craving for them. For now, I'm perfectly fine with it."

"The more I learn about you humans, the more you puzzle me," Jarvis stated.

"Yep. Humans will always be walking contradictions, Jarv," she answered with a smile, then lowered her voice to a near whisper. "Gonna let you in on a little secret...just as humans are a confusing puzzle to you, we humans are still a mystery to each other."

"Then I suppose...the phrase, 'It takes one to know one,' might be the only solution?" Jarvis replied.

"Hey, you're getting good at that," Darcy commended, marveling at how her favorite supercomputer sounded increasingly more like talking to a person.

"Thank you, Darcy," Jarvis said politely. "What shall we talk about today?"

"Let's see...how about..." Darcy mused, munching on a few snacks while she thought of their next topic of conversation. She and Jarvis had been having enormously long discussions about what it meant to be 'human.' Since Stark was always too busy to satisfy Jarvis's own curiosity, she figured she'd step in as a sort of mentor and friend. "Tony mentioned that his dad made your voice totally unique, is that true?"

"Correct. Mister Howard Stark spent months creating each individual wavelength of the entire algorithm that comprises my voice. He was very meticulous."

"Holy crap...talk about a severe case of OCD," she muttered. "Must come with the territory when you're a genius."

"Pardon, me, Darcy?" Jarvis said, sounding confused.

"Wait, I got it! Our next topic," Darcy said excitedly. "Hey, Jarv, have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a face?"

Alvis Werner woke to the first rays of sunshine, a habit he hadn't quite 'outgrown' from his days in the military. Part of him enjoyed the regimented discipline of being a soldier, until the day the psychological damage of his occupation caught up to him. Killing was still murder, no matter the circumstances or the personal justification behind it. Eventually, it took its toll.

Squirming carefully out of bed, Alvis donned a skintight, Speedo LZR Racer Elite Jammer with matching goggles, draped a towel over his arm and walked out the door he'd incorporated into their en suite bathroom to their new rooftop pool. He used to travel to one of the neighboring buildings for a swim, a form of exercise he enjoyed doing to get his day started. Now that he had one built for himself, the luxury of convenience was a delightful relief.

His first dive was similar to the bliss of that first drink of cold beer: invigorating, refreshing and relaxing all at once; a feeling he anticipated with relish every morning. As he glided through the warm, salty liquid with every stroke, it also amazed him that the very nature of water was a contradiction. It gave life to the many creatures that inhabited its depths, yet it destroyed mercilessly with the power of a wave or flood. In his day-to-day living, water provided a measure of calmness and solitude while he swam, as well as an excellent type of exercise that maintained his muscle strength and cardiovascular health.

After about thirty laps, Alvis took a brief break to readjust his goggles and nose clip, when he felt someone's presence watching him. Looking around, he was surprised to find Adam - a pair of pajama bottoms his sole article of clothing - seated on a lounge chair that he'd pulled up close to the edge of the pool beside his.

"You're up early," Alvis called out as he swam closer.

"I couldn't sleep," Adam answered, leaning forward on his lounger, his elbows perched on his knees. "I heard movement and followed you here. You were very preoccupied by your swimming." Why must he do that tedious motion of going back and forth so many times? Loki thought.

"Would you like to join me for a few laps?" Alvi asked. "Unless, of course, your injuries are still bothering you."

"I'd like that but I'm not appropriately dressed for a swim," Adam replied, gesturing to his pajamas.

"Underwear will do fine in here," Alvis chuckled.

"I'm not wearing any," Adam said simply, stifling a smile when Alvis mildly blushed and cleared his throat. "Perhaps, I could borrow something similar to yours?"

"I...may have a spare that would fit you," Alvis said when he waded up from the pool at the four-foot shallow end. He designed it so that guests had a choice of either a ladder or a set of stairs to leave the water. "You're a bit taller than I am. Wait here."

The smooth steps of their infinity pool were only half the span, giving Werner no obstruction for his exercise laps on one side. A white pool rope with brightly colored line floats served as a guide while he swam, easily attachable and detachable with locking rope hooks to built-in rings located safely inside recesses at both ends of the pool wall.

The deepest part of the pool was set at fifteen feet, accommodating their almost ten-foot tall diving platform. For safety, Werner had military-grade sensors incorporated into the top of the platform's structure that constantly measured wind speed, the results simplified for guests by a small monitor at its base that brightly indicated the color green or red. There was also a lower level at about five feet for the less adventurous.

Thick sheets of clear, durable glass enclosed the outer edges of the pool, giving it the illusion of infinity as well as a stunning view of the city while guests were underwater. The warm, salty water was maintained by an industrial grade filtration system that kept the pool clean and at peak temperature all year round. From the street, their penthouse pool was seen as a rich, blue-green block, clearly visible on a corner of the eight story building.

Dashing to the master en suite, Alvi quickly rummaged through their bathroom linen closet and found an unworn pair of swim briefs in a pile reserved for visiting guests. Grinning to himself, he returned with the item in his hand, along with a pair of extra goggles and a nose clip.

"This...has considerably less material than what you're wearing," Adam noted as he held up the little garment.

"Yes, it does, but it's the only one I have that will fit you," Alvi said. "Tomorrow, when we head off to Carmel, we'll do a bit of shopping."

"I'm grateful for the offer, Alvis, but I don't yet have the...money to pay for the - "

"Oh, it's no bother at all, Mars and I insist...but if you like, we could lend you the money. You can then pay us at your own pace when you start working," Alvis suggested.

"That sounds reasonable. I accept those terms," their handsome guest replied with a nod.

Without warning, Adam's pajama bottoms dropped to the ground, forcing Werner to quickly look away with a grunt as he re-donned his goggles and dove into the pool. When he surfaced for air, Adam was dressed - the Speedo Powersprint Placement 14 cm Brief fitting his pale, slim, muscled body nicely - and he was climbing the diving platform to the very top!

"Adam! I don't think that's a good idea. Your injuries," Alvi yelled.

"I've plunged from much greater heights than this before," Adam said confidently. "As for my injuries, they're quite healed." He demonstrated by rotating both his right shoulder and wiggling the fingers of his left hand.

"Oh, Good God, please don't let him hurt himself," Alvis muttered worriedly as he stared up at him. After a while, he saw that Adam's diving posture was straight and true, his expression fearless. His eyes trailed their handsome guest down into the water when he jumped, Adam's sleek body barely making a splash. "Well, I'll be..."

That was...different, Loki thought when he surfaced for air. There was decidedly more sensation involved in diving and swimming in a mortal human body. He would have to spend some time gauging his new body's strength and endurance. Shall I begin with holding my breath?

"I usually swim sixty laps. I'll do thirty more, then we need to get ready to leave for our appointment," Alvi stated, glancing at his waterproof watch. "Adam?"

Looking down, he saw that their handsome guest had submerged himself at the deepest end of the pool, hovering underwater as he stared at the city through the pool's thick, glass outer walls.

In his muffled cocoon of liquid, Loki gazed at the rising sun as it flooded the sky, the bright, colorful dawn backdrop spreading dramatically behind the city's metal and concrete structures, each building aglow, outlined by haloes of light. Soon, he would have to join the mediocre day-to-day actions of living as a human on Earth, something that gave him little enthusiasm, but it was absolutely necessary for his survival. The faster he 'integrated' himself into their world, the faster he could find a way to leave it!

"Don't you think it's a bit strange that S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't beating down your door to get their Captain America back?" Jane Foster pondered out loud.

"Well, for starters, Captain Rogers isn't anyone's property, especially S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. Second, yes, it is odd that I haven't heard so much as a peep from them, but frankly, I really don't give a shit," Tony Stark stated with a smile, making Jane giggle.

"Are you always like this? So devil-may-care?"

"Pretty much, yeah," he replied with a shrug. "It's a burden."

The pair stood beside each other, still in the clothes they wore for dinner, leaning on Stark's second floor master bedroom balcony that overlooked Point Dume Bluff with a breathtaking panoramic view of the ocean.

"Oh, before I forget, about last night - " Jane began.

Like a strict den mother, she'd escorted Tony upstairs to his bedroom after blocking every attempt he made to get drunk, the two of them talking till almost dawn. They'd fallen asleep together on his bed, fully clothed, and she'd woken up spooned snugly against him, Tony's arms tightly wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her hair. He woke immediately when she stirred and quickly ordered breakfast in bed for two, Jane trying not to blush in reaction to Tony's relentless romantic gestures.

"I'm sorry," Stark interrupted her. "I don't...I'm not a raging alcoholic...I just have a very bad habit of hitting the bottle to drown out my..." He closed his eyes. "Shit."

"What I meant to say was," Jane continued with a small smile. "That it's my fault you were upset. I was careless last night. Captain Rogers now thinks you have some shady reason for smuggling him out of S.H.I.E.L.D. since...I kinda let it slip that you hacked into their mainframe and stole his file."

"...okay..." Stark said, a bit confused. "...you're not mad at me for my ugly whiskey binge last night?"

'You're a grown man, Tony. I'm not giving you a lecture," Jane replied, crossing her arms, her back to the railing. "We all have our way of dealing with...pain...but you would be doing your liver a favor by going easy on the alcohol."

"Jane Foster, where the hell have you been all my life?" Stark wondered, gazing at her warmly.

"Well, let's see..." Jane said playfully, looking away. "I fast-tracked myself through high school and university, became a Research Assistant for one of the top Physics Professors at Harvard which then led me to my current interest into areas of theoretical science that most people in the community consider insane. Meanwhile, you were constantly in the media spotlight for one scandal after another, living it up like the billionaire arms dealer that you were before...anyway, our lives couldn't have possibly had a chance to intersect - "

"You're here now," Stark appended with a smirk.

"I guess I am..." Jane said softly. Her heart hammered in her chest when Tony stepped closer and reached out to gently tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Excuse me, Mister Stark. There's an urgent call for you in a secured, encrypted signal," Jarvis chimed in. Jane looked worried while Stark muttered angrily to himself.

"Patch the signal to my bedroom monitor," he snapped, scowling when he saw who it was. He did nothing to hide his annoyance. "What?"

"Oh...I had no idea I was interrupting anything," Colonel Fury replied when he noted the presence of Foster who stood behind Stark in what appeared to be the mansion's master bedroom. The pair had rumpled clothing and disheveled hair.

"I'm not holding Rogers hostage. You can take him whenever you want," Stark said impatiently. "Just remember, you can't keep the guy cooped up indefinitely."

"I completely agree with you," Fury answered calmly.

"...you...wait-a-minute, what?" Stark reacted in confusion.

"I admit, when I first heard about your ballsy stunt in New York, I was a bit irritated. Though, Agent Coulson's more upset than I am, by the way, so do apologize to the man next time you see him," Fury requested.

"Okay...if you didn't call to yell at me..." Stark said with crunched brows.

"I've decided that it's best for Captain Rogers to stay with you for the time being. The facility in New York and its staff may not be the ideal location for his...recovery. An ocean view and temporary isolation from a noisy metropolis could be exactly what that man needs right now."

"Lemme know if I heard you right. I've gone from Public Enemy Number One on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s shit-list to...glorified babysitter?" Stark remarked in disbelief.

"I was going to say a 'facilitator' but if you prefer 'babysitter,' that works for me too," Fury replied with a smile that made Stark's scowl deepen.

"Do I have a deadline then? Were you hoping I'd rehabilitate Captain Rogers for you?" Stark said acidly, crossing his arms.

"Tony, you were never remotely on my radar but your recent acquisition of Captain Rogers from us has forced me to reevaluate. Therefore, instead of treating you as a 'nuisance' and allowing Agent Romanoff to personally kick your ass - something she's been itching to do since she met you - I'll be calling on you in...say, a month from now, to see how Captain Rogers is adjusting?"

"Fine," Stark said abruptly. "See you a month."

"Good," Fury replied with a wider smile.

He glanced briefly over his shoulder. "You do know that Jane Foster's been here the entire time and can hear our every word," Stark pointed out, wondering why Colonel Fury hadn't asked Jane to leave the room.

"I'm fully aware of Miss Foster's presence there and I'm sure that a collaboration from both of you can only benefit us all in the end. Besides, Miss Foster's on the verge of building us a bridge to an entirely new universe. The least I can do, out of respect, is to not completely exclude her from what's been happening."

"What is happening, Colonel Fury?" Jane asked bravely, stepping forward from behind Stark. "I've known Professor Erik Selvig a long time and I've never seen him so consumed by a project. What is it? What have you found? Whatever it is that you have...it might be an important clue that could help me immensely with my research."

"We've considered that possibility, Miss Foster, but it's still too early to determine that. When we know more, I will fill you in or send Professor Selvig to you. In the meantime, please be patient and continue with your own research," Fury suggested. "Now that you have one of the most intelligent and innovative minds on the planet at your disposal, I'm sure a breakthrough's just around the corner." He shifted to address Stark. "See you in a month's time, Tony. Fury out."

"Oh, God..." Jane moaned when she heard Tony cursing softly to himself. "He knows what we're up to. I can feel it."

"Fury knows something, all right, but I don't think it has anything to do with us," Stark reassured her calmly.

"How can you say that? You heard him. All those implications weren't accidental," Jane argued. "Also, Colonel Fury was clearly evading my questions."

"Yeah, he does that a lot. Loves being cryptic. Must get off on it," Stark remarked snidely.

"Maybe there's some information in those files you took?"

"Worth another look. Two heads are always better than one, so let's get cracking. We need to know what they're hiding," Stark supplied. "Whatever they've got, it's big and S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to keep it a secret. That can only mean one thing..."

"Power," Jane uttered reflexively, staring at Stark who nodded grimly.

A black Aston Martin DB9 Coupe wound its way unhurriedly through downtown San Francisco and along The Embarcadero toward the city's tourist-congested Fisherman's Wharf. It was a short drive, no more than twelve minutes from their penthouse residence at the intersection of Market and Sixth, the import's two passengers mostly silent the entire trip.

Parking at the first empty space they could find, the pair left the car and sauntered down Taylor, a street dominated by seafood restaurants and souvenir shops. Loki followed his companion down the sidewalk as Werner's gait slowed to a stop in front of Alioto's Waterside Cafe, a salmon-colored building with a gigantic '8' predominantly stenciled to it, the number's color matching large sea-green awnings along the front of the restaurant. On the roof, the name 'Alioto's' crowned the entire structure.

The former Asgardian frowned at the garishly designed architecture.

"Well, here we are," Alvis stated with a quirk of his lip. "The secret place that Mars can never know about."

"A seafood restaurant?" Loki said skeptically, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"You'll see why," Alvis answered cryptically, a twinkle in his gaze.

Intrigued, Loki trailed behind Werner past the double-door entrance and they were immediately assailed by the delicious smell of cooking seafood, the noise from customers and kitchen staff, as one voice rose above the clamor to greet them.

"Alvi!" called out an athletic man of about five-foot seven-inches, arms outstretched. He had short, cropped brown hair, boyish features and an infectious smile.

"Raz!" Alvis replied happily, the two hugging fiercely like long lost friends.

"This the guy you've been fussing about?"

"Adam Laoki meet Orazio Alioto. We were stationed in Africa together on a joint military peacekeeping mission for nearly three years," Alvis explained as he watched them shake hands.

"Call me Raz. My parents named me after my great grandfather," he laughed. "What's so special about you that has Alvi here pulling favors?"

"You don't have to answer that," Alvi said quickly, knowing how Adam took things literally. "I'm just helping him out."

"Alvis has been more than generous," Loki said in his suave, well-enunciated British accent.

"Uh-huh..." Raz muttered, narrowing his eyes at Alvi's companion. "C'mon, we can talk downstairs." He indicated that they follow him. "Yo, Orso!"

A shorter, chubbier man with features somewhat similar to Raz's, popped his head up from behind a counter.

"Yeah?"

"Got business downstairs. You're in charge for a while, 'k, couz?" Raz grinned.

"Sure thing," Orso replied easily in a deep baritone, nodding slightly at Alvi and the new guy. "Oh yeah, yer Pops and Ma are droppin' by. They're bringin' Shelly."

"Ball park?" Raz asked.

"I'd say about...an hour?" Orso replied.

"Nah, if they've got Shelly, make that two. Plenty of time," Raz said. "Can you start the prep for me?"

"I'll squeeze it in. Go take care o' business so you ain't rushin' before they get here," Orso said, ushering them past the kitchen and down the stair to the basement.

"I haven't seen Massimiliano and Savina for a while. I can help," Alvi offered, knowing he and Adam had plenty of time to get to Carmel before three.

"No, no. You're a guest here. Ma and Pa will kill me if they found out I made you work in the kitchen," Raz countered. They walked past the basement storage rooms and freezers.

"I enjoy cooking. It's no bother," Alvi insisted with a smile. "It's the least I can do. You and your family have done so much for me already."

"Not fucking nearly enough is what they'll say and I'll agree with them," Raz responded. They stopped at an open door to a small room that served as an office with glaringly bright fluorescent lighting. "Wait in there while I get my camera."

"It's all right, Raz. I'd like to show Adam where we work," Alvi stated.

The former Navy SEAL came to a dead stop and stared at them. Any personal involvement with their clients was totally unnecessary and Werner's request was an unexpected shock.

"Sorry, we don't do tours," Raz remarked, glaring at Adam. The moment he was introduced to the man, it unnerved him greatly how supremely calm and confident the guy was. Good looks aside, the tall, slender, harmless-seeming, dark-haired, green-eyed, fair-skinned stranger...made him inexplicably uncomfortable. It was the damnedest thing too because very few things made him uneasy. Hell, even facing his own death hadn't made him feel like this. "Wanna fill me in here?"

"What do you mean?" Alvi replied, looking genuinely confused.

"Who is he, Elvis?" Raz protested, falling back on Werner's old nickname. He'd mistakenly thought it was Alvi's real name when they'd first met, having repeatedly addressed him with it. Oddly enough, Alvis never bothered to correct him, letting it slide for a whole month. "We don't help fugitives, no exceptions."

"Adam's more what I'd call a refugee," Alvi corrected. "He's from Iceland."

"Iceland?" Raz repeated with a chuckle. "That explains the weird surname but unless that country was secretly colonized by the British..."

"Long story short, he's had an eccentric upbringing and unpleasant personal circumstances have marooned him on our shores," Alvis supplied, glancing at Adam who nodded in confirmation.

"I simply wish to start a new life here and I needed documentation that Alvis has kindly offered to provide for me," Loki replied smoothly. Inwardly, he commended Werner for the surprisingly accurate generalization of his current condition. Now, he had to focus his gentle persuasion on Alvis's wary friend and colleague. "Perhaps we can reschedule the 'tour' for another time?"

"I was hoping you'd show Adam here your antiquities collection. He's a fellow enthusiast of ancient weaponry," Werner slyly continued, still harboring a great curiosity for Adam's origins and noted no discernible reaction to his statement.

"Why the hell didn't you just say so then," Raz grumbled, shaking his head. "My line of work has its perks. C'mon, Adam, prepare to be amazed."

Unless those weapons surpass the work of the Duergar, then I highly doubt it, Loki thought with a snicker.

Raz led his guests into his office and locked the door. The room was small and strictly utility: a metal desk with an old computer, a worn out leather office chair, several file cabinets and stacks of binders. The walls were a faded yellow and on them, framed pictures of various sizes were flush-mounted. Some were of Raz with his parents, the rest presented him in a military uniform with selected teammates, a younger Alvis included, and the largest being a completed jigsaw puzzle of the Golden Gate bridge in hundreds of pieces.

"The code changes randomly every half hour, in case you get any ideas," Raz addressed their guest, his fingers pressing down on six puzzle pieces near the bottom of the jigsaw mural. There was a soft click and he approached one of the smaller filing cabinets which he effortlessly slid to the right as it disappeared into the taller one beside it, revealing a hidden crawl-space with a ladder leading downward.

"Alvi's a clever bastard when it comes to designing this Jame Bond shit," Raz grinned.

"Raz is too modest. My designs are worthless unless I know someone who can engineer the absolutely awful electronic wiring," Werner chuckled.

"Guests first," Raz requested.

The trio descended to a dimly lit cement landing where the outlines of three metal doors with a brushed, silver finish were seen, each having no physical handles or knobs. Choosing the outline of a door to his left, Raz placed his right hand flat against an area just above where a doorknob should be, paused for three-seconds till they heard another soft click, then pushed, the door opening as if by magic.

There was mild appreciation from Loki as he walked through, the thick, solid metal door swinging open on large hinges, the air pressurized as it was shut.

"My joy in life," Raz said with a contented sigh.

Displayed on a majority of the 700 square foot space were intricately decorated weapons from around the world, each grouped in their country of origin.

"Quite...impressive," Loki said, feigning interest as he examined each of the relics, hardly affected by the weapon collection's overall craftsmanship - many were mainly used for ceremonial purposes - but was rather pleased with the variety. It appears the humans have devoted much of their time to war-crafting. A few of these blades are decently forged.

As Loki's eyes traveled casually along the many swords, spears, throwing knives, war-hammers, bows and arrows, axes, clubs and shields...a particular dagger in a section called 'Scandinavia' made him involuntarily gasp.

"Adam?" Alvi said, concerned by his companion's sudden distress.

"Can it truly be..." Loki whispered, moving forward in a daze and reaching out to touch the dagger's ivory handle. Could she be here? Alive?

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there," Raz said, blocking Adam's advance. "Sorry, but I rarely touch these weapons myself and when I do, I wear museum-grade curator's gloves."

"I know that dagger...but I need to be certain," Loki replied urgently. "May I see it? I give you my word, Raz, that I will handle it with the utmost care."

"Uh...okay..." Alioto responded carefully, brows knotted in confusion as he helplessly conceded to his new acquaintance's sincere request. In a daze of his own, he fetched a pair of white cotton gloves, handing them over to his green-eyed guest who immediately wore them.

Without hesitation, Loki's long fingers cradled the dagger as he examined the sets of runic calligraphy carved deeply into its sharp, double-edged blade, polished bone handle and matching leather scabbard.

"Adam, how is it that you 'know' that dagger?" Werner asked, puzzled.

"...it once belonged to a dear friend..." Loki said sadly, his voice and expression filled with remorse. Or perhaps, this is all that's left of her.

"What? That's impossible!" Raz exclaimed in disbelief. "I bought that thing at an estate auction in Estonia just over a year ago."

"Estonia?" Alvis threw in.

"Later," Raz snapped back impatiently, thoroughly riveted by Adam's ridiculous claim regarding his dagger. "I thought it was worthless at first, I mean look at it. Who'd be crazy enough to make a blade out of something as fragile as crystal? I'm a weapons collector. I don't go around buying things that are shiny or pretty...but that dagger caught my eye the second I saw it and I just had to have it. The best part? I only paid fifteen-hundred Euros for it."

"Now there's a bargain," Werner added with a smile of admiration.

"Hell, yeah," Raz said proudly. "I kept looking over my shoulder waiting for someone to outbid me. Lucky for me, nobody wanted to bid any higher. Right place, right time."

Luck, indeed, Loki commented to himself. Now that he'd confirmed the dagger's authenticity, he could easily explain that luck had nothing to do with how it got there. However, he had no intention of sharing that knowledge since it would instantly raise more questions, provoking negative reactions from the humans. "This dagger once belonged to a dearest friend. We hail from the same village."

The two former soldiers stared at him dubiously.

"Where'd you find this guy?" Raz said with a laugh. "Buddy, I had that thing tested and appraised. It's at least five thousand years old!"

"I'm aware of its age," Loki replied calmly, reluctantly returning the priceless relic to its pedestal display. "Have no fear, Raz, this dagger found its way to your doorstep and you are now its owner. I haven't the right to take it from you."

He promptly removed the cotton gloves from his hands and held them out to their host - who took them with a dumbstruck face - as he turned away to wander off to another area of the room.

"Mind clarifying some details for me?" Raz whispered sharply, waving the cotton gloves Adam had worn as he spoke. "How does a guy with a well-educated English accent come from a fucking village in Iceland where the people in it run around owning priceless relics?" When Werner floundered helplessly for words he added, "refugees or fugitives, fine, I can deal with that...but nut-jobs, Alvis? What's wrong with you?"

I'm beginning to wonder myself, Werner thought. "It was Bryn who found him. He was stripped naked and badly beaten, left to die in an alleyway by a trash bin. She took care of him for an entire month before Mars and I found out. My gut reaction was to immediately drop him off at the nearest hospital but Bryn begged us not to. So, Mars and I agreed to take him in, that way the three of us could keep an eye on him. The last few days...have been very unusual, to say the least."

Listening patiently, Raz intermittently glanced at Adam who strolled casually around the room, unfazed by the fact that they were openly talking about him.

"What's his story?" he urged, burning with curiosity.

"Adam says he's from an isolated village whose residents practice the ancient lifestyle and tradition of the Vikings or as Mars calls it, a community of 'Norse Re-constructionists.' He's the second son of the village's ruling family but was cast out after a 'violent quarrel' with his elder brother and father. After his disgraceful banishment...he tried to kill himself but instead woke up here. He has no memory of how he arrived in America and why."

"...and you believe him?" Raz declared in surprise. "That isn't like you."

"Spend a few days with him and you'll come to understand my conundrum," Alvis stated, shrugging.

"As I've told Alvis, his spouse Marius and their ward Brynhild when we first met: I intend them no harm," Loki spoke up, startling the two men as he walked toward them. "I'm indebted to Bryn for saving my life, and to Alvi and Mars for their exceptionally generous hospitality."

"We've also given him employment at the club," Alvis supplied.

"Norse Re-constructionists, huh?" Raz spoke after a few moments, eyeing Adam skeptically from head to toe. A fucking head-case, Elvis? Shit. Retirement's finally gotten to ya, huh?

"May I?" Loki said as he indicated the cotton gloves he'd worn previously.

When Raz handed over the gloves, he and Alvis watched as Adam wore them, briefly scanned the weapons in the Scandinavian section, selecting a bow and a single arrow from the display.

"This longbow stave is made of polished ash. It's maker took admirable care in curing the wood, making it both durable and pliable," Loki explained, testing the bow's weight and balance, his palm fitting comfortably in its worn, leather-bound grip. "This bowstring is a tightly woven composite of hemp fiber and several types of human hair usually taken from the bow-maker's lovers or family."

He strung it and pulled back, satisfied by the bow's overall draw weight.

"This arrow is part of a matching set, save three in that quiver, for it has the same quality of workmanship as the bow," Loki continued. "The arrow shaft is straight and the feathered fletching is well-preserved. Ah, it appears the craftsman left his signature."

He pointed to a series of tiny symbols with his forefinger as both Raz and Alvis came closer for a better look. When compared, the symbols on the bow's upper limb were clearly identical to the ones carved into the shafts of several arrows, save three, that were inside a sturdy, hardened leather quiver, also stamped with the same series of symbols and incorporated into its decorative stitching.

"I apologize in advance," Loki added clearly with a slight nod. Before either Raz or Alvis could react, he instantly sent an arrow flying across the room, hitting a spot on a mounted wooden plaque where the words 'North America' were carved.

"What the fuck!" Raz shouted in outrage.

"I merely dotted the 'I' in 'America.' It's hardly noticeable," Loki remarked, stifling a smile and cocking his head playfully to one side.

Sure enough, when Alvis and Raz ran to the mounted wooden plaque, they were amazed to find that Adam's arrow was embedded perfectly centered within the dot above the lowercase 'I' in 'America.' Just as Adam predicted, because of the dark stain used in the calligraphy, pulling out the arrowhead's sharp, narrow tip left a barely detectable hole.

"How the f..." Raz remarked in astonishment as he and Werner exchanged the same flabbergasted expressions. As for Adam, the guy was nonchalantly returning the ancient Scandinavian bow he used to its display stand, discarding the cotton gloves. "You. Do that again."

Shit. What have I done? Werner recognized the seriousness on Raz's face. Cursing his own curiosity, he'd unintentionally placed Adam in the spotlight, his friend now filled with a singleminded determination to unravel the mystery behind his strange houseguest.

"Pardon me?" Loki said, noting Raz's hard features.

"Not in here," Alioto clipped, heading straight for the door.

"Raz, maybe we can do this another time?" Alvis suggested.

"Now's the perfect time," he answered back.

Back at the cement landing, the door to the trio's left swung shut with a swish. This time, Raz pushed open the door directly in front of them and briskly walked inside. The entire room was pitch black, giving Loki no idea of what to expect. Once the heavy door behind them closed securely, the room illuminated itself, dramatically causing the trio to briefly squint.

"What...is this place?" Loki asked, his eyes roaming around the spacious room.

"Welcome to our secret playroom," Alvis said with a wide smile, referring to their ultra modern indoor firing range. "Raz and I, along with former teammates who've permanently retired, converted the existing bunkers underneath this restaurant. Thick, water-sealed concrete with reinforced steel barriers, soundproofing, self-regulating silent ventilation and thermal shielding. As far as everyone else outside our little circle's concerned, this place doesn't exist and we prefer to keep it that way."

"I see," Loki replied. Although a majority of what was said made little sense to him, he understood Werner's request for secrecy.

To the immediate left was an enclosed space, deliberately separated from the rest of the area. Through the open doorway, the space was a bit untidy as filings and pieces of discarded metal were scattered on the floor, the various mechanical objects all having a strong smell of, at least to Loki, something totally unfamiliar.

"My personal domain," Alvis stated, pride evident in his voice. "In there, I indulge in a hobby that I'm not ready to give up just yet."

"Oh, and what hobby is that?" Loki said, peering into 'Werner's domain' by the doorway, the repugnant smell of artificial substances making his nose twitch.

"Weapons modification. I customize guns," he answered simply. When Adam looked blankly at him, he said, "You've never seen a gun before?"

"No, I haven't, though I know the definition of one," Loki admitted. "A gun is a weapon, a type of modern firearm that y...that's generally used in warfare or hunting. However, where I'm from, we have no need of these types of weapons, nor do we care to."

"People aren't allowed to carry guns in your village?" Alvis asked, a brow raised.

"The matter of whether guns are allowed or not is completely irrelevant," Loki explained. "Where I'm from, guns simply don't exist."

"I find that very hard to believe," Raz disputed. "Iceland has never walled itself off from the rest of the planet where time stood still."

"Perhaps not, but I do recall the walls around my village being quite high," Loki said dryly, arms crossed.

"Sure, buddy, whatever," Raz said, shaking his head. "C'mon, I wanna see you hit some targets. Except, this time, I'm measuring."

"Will I be gauged on accuracy or distance?" Loki asked composedly.

"Both," Raz replied, handing Adam his favorite custom matte-black Hoyt Carbon RKT compound bow. It came with a modern quiver (looks like a miniature pool rack) that held a dozen Kevlar coated Easton Alloy/Carbon Pro Field arrows with modified tournament tips and synthetic fletching. "What?" he added, wondering why Adam held his compound bow awkwardly like some dead animal. "Something wrong?"

"This...is a bow?" Loki remarked as he stared at the twisted monstrosity. "I've seen many bows...but none such as this." Not a repulsive corruption of one.

"Maybe you could lend Adam your hunting bow instead?" Alvis said in his houseguest's defense.

Relenting, Raz exchanged his competitive compound bow with a camouflage painted Hoyt Buffalo recurve, resembling a more traditional design.

"I've been wanting to test the adjustments I made on that one anyway," Raz said, placing his elaborate compound bow back on a utility rack mounted to the room's far left wall. Just as Werner had his 'domain' then so did he. Along the indoor range's left wall was a long metal shelf covered with miscellaneous parts: arrow shafts, vanes, strings, laser sights, stabilizers, limbs, rests, enough to built several modern bows from scratch. On the floor were storage units containing tools and a mix of accessories. In contrast, his area was much cleaner than Werner's. Several years ago, during his first years in the military serving the 75th Ranger Regiment, he'd crossed paths with a man who turned out to be a mutual friend of theirs. The man was a force of nature, a legendary sharpshooter in his own right, who'd worked with his battalion as a special consultant. Even to this day, he practically idolized the guy.

"Are you gearing up for a tournament?" Alvis inquired, having caught a look of fond reminiscence on his friend's face. "Did Barton invite you to one?"

"Yeah, he fired off a text to me three days ago. Clint's been itching to join this NFAA World Archery Festival in Vegas. Says he's gonna be in town for a while," Raz mentioned, walking toward them with a selection of paper targets.

"He's in the mood to show off then," Alvis chuckled. "I hear the Vegas prize money's always a good bonus." Barton, their mutual friend, had kept in touch with them intermittently over the years.

"Jackpot's the highest it's ever been. It's set at four-hundred and fifty-thousand this year," Raz disclosed, Werner whistling in reaction.

"No wonder," he chuckled.

"Okay, I got circles, bad guys, hostage situation or deer." Raz held up four different printed targets.

"Deer," Loki chose. He watched as Alioto walked through a floor-to-ceiling metal frame with five, evenly proportioned stalls, the entire thing bolted to a raised concrete platform that faced a tilted, blackened wall riddled with holes, several meters away.

"What should we start him at?" Alvis asked, leaning beside a six-by-seven sized touch screen console integrated to the wall at the right of the shooting station. He brought forward a special target padded with dense, self-sealing foam used mainly for arrows and Raz tacked on the paper target Adam had picked.

"Each point on the deer's about ten centimeters in diameter...let's do thirty yards back," Raz suggested, dying to know if lightning struck twice. (30 yards = 90 feet = 27.43 meters)

"Are you okay with that?" Alvis said, looking at Adam and receiving a single nod of consent. It was an ambitious distance for a first shot with entirely new equipment. However, his handsome houseguest had done the impossible with antiques!

These mortals desire to test me, do they? Loki thought to himself. I may be in this diminished form but it appears that my aim remains true. Were I my proper self, I would take great offense to their mistrust and disbelief...yet I'm as equally curious of my current limits as they are. The second one Raz had lent him, though its construction was rather odd, appeared and felt more like a real bow than the first. He'd have to learn what kind of materials these contemporary humans used to make it. "Which part of the deer do you wish me to hit?"

"That depends," Raz said with a smirk. "On which parts the hunters of your village aim at to kill one." Adam shot him an offended look.

Taught to hunt at an early age, Loki disliked his chosen target's crudely drawn diagram, the indicated shot placements worthlessly inaccurate. He'd have to find live deer to better judge his present skill level. In addition, the human's condescension made him angry.

"It's either the heart or the head," Loki ground out, taking aim and selecting a target. "I'll settle for the heart." He released his arrow.

Openly cursing, Raz gaped at where Adam's arrow had landed dead center on the paper target, a guaranteed critical hit. Alvis reacted with an appreciative whistle.

"Satisfied?" Loki asked stiffly.

"Fuck, no. You're doing a shot at sixty yards," Raz replied and caught Adam rolling his eyes. (60 yards = 180 feet = 54.86 meters)

"Raz, I think we've done enough for today," Alvis spoke up, noting the angry, offended look in Adam's eyes and knew that his houseguest was graciously masking his ire. His friend was crossing them into dangerous territory. He'd seen firsthand what Adam's volatile emotions were capable of and hoped that an outburst was preventable.

"Fine," Raz shrugged. "We'll stop...but only if Adam thinks he can't make the shot."

"Alvis, move the target to sixty yards," Loki requested politely with a forced smile, ready to nock another arrow. "It's all right. I'm curious myself."

How can that bastard be so calm? Raz fumed. He'd only ever seen one man do the impossible in his lifetime...and that man was Clint Barton. He refused to believe that a crazy, wannabe Viking role-player had marksmanship skills that rivaled his mentor!

"Shall I again aim for the heart?" Loki said, watching the paper target stop at the farthest end of the range.

"Tricky as hell shot, but hey, be my guest," Raz replied, crossing his arms. Outwardly, he pretended to be unconcerned, but inwardly, he was as tense as a drawn bowstring. Without a doubt, there was much more to Adam Laoki's seemingly mild-mannered appearance. He'd be doing a thorough background check on the guy the second he had a chance, beginning with a full set of fingerprints he'd be dusting off his equipment.

Nearly grinding his teeth in annoyance, Loki aimed at a spot that was a hair below his first arrow, already dead center. He'd have to nudge it out of the way to make room for a second. He took a slow steady breath, further drawing back the bowstring to compensate for distance and when he was ready, released it.

"That's impossible!" Raz shouted out, more exasperated than amazed. "There's no way, no fucking way a deranged pretty-boy like you can shoot like this!" Stomping toward the indoor range's main control console, he swiftly recalled the sixty-yard target for closer inspection.

"Then enlighten me. What criteria did I fail to meet?" Loki asked, his irritation now plain. He was about to stalk toward Raz when he felt Alvis's hand on his shoulder.

"Forgive my friend, Adam," he said placatingly. "He has a one-track mind sometimes. We've only met one other man with impeccable marksmanship like yours."

"Oh? Who is this man?" Loki asked, rather intrigued and a bit skeptical that a mere human possessed such skill.

"Perhaps we can arrange for the two of you to meet," Alvis said with a smile. "Raz, when's Barton due for a visit?"

"What the fuck, Elvis? Doesn't any of this bother you?" Raz exclaimed in outrage. Werner's irrationally pacified behavior was making him gag.

"To be honest, Raz, normally it would," Alvis answered. "Over the last few days...I've come to expect the unexpected regarding Adam." He bit his lip when his friend and colleague gaped in reaction.

"Know what? We'll deal with this shit later. My folks are coming over with Shelly and I got prep to do," Raz replied irately, swiping his hunting bow and its remaining arrows from Werner's weirdo and promptly returned the items to his work area. When he spotted his camera, he remembered the main reason for his friend's visit. "You, stand over there."

He watched as Werner led Adam to a designated portion of the indoor range's wall-space where a large, white square was painted. It was the backdrop they used for client photography.

"Hold perfectly still and don't smile."

I had no intention to, Loki thought, holding back a scowl. For the moment, he needed to distance himself from the offending human or yield to the temptation of slowly disemboweling the man.

"Take him upstairs. I'll be done in half an hour," Raz instructed, fiddling with his camera.

Clearing his throat, Alvis ushered Adam out of the room and back to the central landing. He then approached a covered touch panel near the access ladder, punching in a timed code that allowed them to exit.

"Sorry about all that back there," Werner said with smile. "Don't think badly of him. He tends to fly headfirst into things sometimes."

"I see," Loki replied. Flying headfirst into things is what Thor does best. "What shall we do now?"

"I'd like to help Raz out in the kitchen," Alvis said as they ascended the aluminum access ladder with its tubular safety-cage from the subterranean bunker.

At the top of the ladder, Werner placed his fingertips around a fitted, sunken handle as he slid aside the filing cabinet prop above their heads that blocked their exit. Once inside the Alioto restaurant's sparse basement office, the pair watched as the file cabinet slid back into place over the hidden opening.

"After you," Alvis directed as they headed for the office door. "This door locks itself from the inside." When the pair stepped outside the room, he reached around the door with his right arm. "I just need to position the latch like so..." Withdrawing his arm, he quickly closed it.

Loki heard a sharp click as the office door bolted itself securely.

"...and the mechanism does the rest," Werner said proudly. "Come, I'll show you around the restaurant."

"Don't worry, Mars, everything will be fine," Bryn reassured him with a grin. "I know you hate this thing Alvi does but he comes back to you every time."

"If our roles were reversed, dearie, you wouldn't be as patient as I am right now," Mars replied testily. "Neither would you be so tolerant if your significant other was openly keeping secrets from you."

"Yeah...I guess you're right," Bryn agreed with a tiny frown. "I can still try to cheer you up."

"I know you will," Mars chuckled.

The pair zipped along Highway 101 in a candy-red Honda CR-Z hybrid as they neared the final length of their two-hour trip from San Francisco to the city of Carmel, California.

"You think Gracie's got a brunch waiting for us?" Bryn asked with excitement.

"He always does," Mars grinned, shaking his head. "One of these days you're going to slip and call him 'Gracie' by accident. There's only one person in the world who can call him that."

"Well, if I do, then I'll make sure to give him a proper apology and bow to him or something," Bryn said mischievously, earning a 'scandalized' look from Mars.

Gratian Swane was a longtime friend of both her guardians whom they met through mutual acquaintances while on a stopover in Swane's hometown of Nottinghamshire, England. He was a tall, handsome English gentleman who was always impeccably dressed in public, popular among his peers and possessed the largest collection of personally commissioned Fabergé Eggs in North America. There was also the rumor that he'd once been the exclusive tailor to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of England. Of course, the man refused to either deny or confirm that rumor. Personally, Bryn believed that Gratian started the rumor himself.

"You think Adam will tell you about where he's been with Alvi?" Bryn said.

"I don't think so. Adam strikes me as the sort of gentleman who can be sworn to secrecy if you asked him," Mars remarked. "No. If he'll say anything, he'll say it you."

"What makes you think he'll confide in me like that?" Bryn responded in surprise.

"We can begin with the obvious: you saved his life. Then...there's that thing when he propositioned himself to you as your personal slave." Bryn made a face like she just smelled a skunk. "Anyway, all things considered...I think he really likes you more than he lets on," Mars stated with a smile.

"Maybe in some inter-dimensional dreamworld," she retorted with a quirk of her lips. "Besides...when it comes to that...I'm gonna need a whole heap of convincing."

"Why is Adam liking you so hard to believe?"

"Hmm, where do I start," Bryn replied animatedly. "Nope, not going there."

In the background, the song 'It's the End of the World As We Know It' by REM had been playing on the satellite radio channel they were listening to and she thought it was poignant to mark their topic of conversation. She listened to the song for a few more verses before switching to a Chill mix, settling instead on a mellower tune, 'Sparks' by Röyksopp.

Their CR-Z exited Highway 101 and took the off-ramp onto Highway 156 West to the Monterey Peninsula.

"Beautiful day. We should be in Carmel by ten-thirty," Mars announced.

"Good. Let's get this fitting over with."

"You don't like Gratian very much, do you?" Mars grinned.

"I think the feeling's mutual. He's so full of himself sometimes. Someday, I'm gonna have to call him out on one of his stories," Bryn mentioned.

"Unless you have an inside connection to the British Royal family...I guess we'll never know."

"Maybe we should try calling Buckingham Palace to ask them if they've even heard of him," Bryn laughed.

Highway 156 West gave way to Cabrillo Highway/Coastal Highway 1 as their CR-Z whizzed past meager grassy landscape, the sea's vast presence to their right occasionally hidden from view by urban development and high, sandy mounds. Eventually, sandy grass knolls became thick clumps of local pine, cypress and other indigenous vegetation as they turned right onto Ocean Avenue toward the coast in the manicured little city of Carmel-by-the-Sea.

"Trust Gratian to pick the best place to live," Bryn commented as they drove past Carmel Plaza filled with unique designer boutiques and restaurants to please tourists and vacationing residents alike. She loved coming here. It was a beautiful, picturesque place, an upscale beach town that served as a quiet haven for the wealthy and an ideal setting for the pursuit of aesthetics.

It was here in Carmel that Gratian Swane designed his home and workshop, an ideal living space where he could devote his expensive tailoring expertise to his long list of exclusive clientele. At the very end of Ocean Avenue sat a renovated bungalow next to a public, sandy-white strip of beach; a line of tall, thick and leafy, shady trees giving the home some privacy.

Mars slid his candy-red CR-Z into one of five spaces near the property labeled 'Guest,' his eyes immediately drawn to a volcanic-orange McLaren MP4-12C conspicuously parked in one of the four empty spots painted with 'Client.'

"Whoa, who the hell's Gracie got in there," Bryn blurted out as she stared at the exotic orange McLaren sports car that averaged a minimum retail price of $315,000-$380,000. "Does he have a new boyfriend he's not telling you guys about?"

"Possibly," Mars answered slowly, staring at the McLaren's vanity plate that simply read 'Stark.' He pointed to it and added. "See what the plate says?"

"Stark..." Bryn read out loud. "Stark naked? Stark rich? Whoever it is, that car obviously belongs to some egomaniac."

"You should read the news more often, dearie," Mars remarked. "Anyway, does the name Iron Man ring a bell?"

"Wait," Bryn's mouth suddenly gaped. "You're not seriously saying that...in there? Right now?"

"Could be," Mars smiled impishly, amused by Bryn's reaction since it wasn't a rare thing for him to randomly run into high profile celebrities. Since the grand opening of the Bourgeoisie night club, he and Alvis Werner couldn't seem to get away from them. He'd long observed that his better half had a hilarious and uncanny ability to draw them in like a magnet, a 'talent' that Werner constantly denied having. "Alvi and I have met him several times."

"You guys have met Tony 'Iron Man' Stark?" Bryn replied as they walked up to Gratian's steel gate and intercom box.

"We were introduced to Stark a few years ago and he's been one of our most consistent patrons. The last time we saw him was a few weeks before his...unfortunate disappearance overseas," he answered. "He was a popular regular at the club before we met you, although, he was a much different man back then. He partied like a madman and even frequently bought the club out for private functions and, well...despite Stark being our club's most generous benefactor, it saddens me to say that in those days, he was a pompous, ill-tempered, high-maintenance, self-centered bastard."

"And, now?"

"He seems calmer and a bit more gracious. Alvi's spoken to him over the phone a few times but we haven't met him in person recently," he replied, pressing a brushed metal intercom button. "Gratian, it's Mars. I'm here with Bryn for a fitting."

"Hello, Uncle Mars. Gracie's with a client right now but I'll let you in and you can both wait in the study," spoke a young woman with a soft, cultured English accent.

"Thank you, Savannah," Mars replied in surprise, releasing the button. "My, she's here early this year."

Bryn grinned excitedly as the main gate unlatched itself and they walked through the perfectly landscaped front garden to the house's main door. "That girl owes me a night out."

Savannah Douglas Swane was Gratian's niece, his elder sister's daughter who he'd legally adopted at the tender age of three since the untimely death of her parents. Bryn was introduced to Savannah a few weeks after her new guardians found her and the pair bonded instantly over their shared tragedies. Born in Pennsylvania, Savannah usually stayed with Gratian for the summer and for the rest of the year lived at St. Swithun's, a prestigious boarding school for girls in England. Like her mother, she was blossoming into a statuesque golden blonde with porcelain skin and soulful grey eyes.

"Savvy!" Bryn called out, the pair giggling and squealing as they hugged each other tightly. She enjoyed permanently teasing Savannah's obsession with Johnny Depp in the movie 'The Pirates of the Caribbean' by giving her the nickname 'Savvy.'

"Good to see you back, dearest," Mars greeted, warmly embracing Savannah. "Heavens, I can't believe how much you've grown."

"I've only been gone a few months Uncle Mars," she laughed. "Don't you dare harp on about how 'old' you're getting either."

"So, Sav, is it true? Does Gratian have the Tony Stark in there?" Bryn elbowed, looking in the direction of Swane's sequestered workshop, a comfortable well-lit area of the house behind beautiful closed glass doors. She saw two silhouettes moving around inside.

Gesturing with her finger for them to keep quiet, Savannah led them to the house's study, quickly sliding shut the room's heavy oak doors.

"Gracie's current client requests that his identity remain anonymous," Savannah said, Mars snickering in response. "Although, the client's car outside suggests otherwise."

The trio sat together on a large, leather couch.

"Ya think? Bright freaking orange with a plate that practically advertises its owner," Bryn laughed. "He's turning out to be exactly what the tabloids say he is."

"I would've agreed with you before...but now I'm not so sure. He's...changed."

"Oh? You spoke to him?" Mars asked curiously, knowing that Savannah had more personal knowledge of the man than any of them did. Tony Stark was one of Gratian's favorite customers, though he suspected that Swane valued Stark more for his wallet than his friendship.

"I remember seeing much of him here during the past summers," Savannah reminisced. "He always came with a flashy car - that hasn't changed - or with two or three women attached to him like leeches. He always smelled strongly of alcohol or too much cologne and spoke obnoxiously loud. When I was younger, Gracie always told me to go to my room whenever he came to visit." She smiled then paused, a puzzled look on her face.

"Go on," Mars encouraged.

"He's not that man anymore, Uncle Mars," Savannah stated sincerely. "Whatever happened to him...after his disappearance overseas...I think it changed him...for the better."

"We'll see. Alvi and I haven't met him in person since his days at the club," Mars said, Bryn listening to them quietly.

"I did overhear that he's in town this afternoon. He's having dinner down the street at Andre's," Savannah informed them as Bryn's eyes went wide.

"Maybe we'll meet him there," Mars shrugged. "We have a reservation for seven tonight. If you and Gratian don't have any plans, would you like to join us?"

"That would be lovely," Savannah said happily. "I'll ask Gracie."

They heard voices and chuckling outside the study doors.

"That's Stark, all right," Mars confirmed. "I'd know that laugh anywhere."

"Ooh, lemme see," Bryn whispered sharply, darting to the study doors and carefully parting them open for a peek. Standing in the house's foyer was Gratian who was talking to a roguishly handsome man in a dark suit and tie. "Holy shit...it's him."

"Sssh. They'll hear us," Savannah warned her with a giggle.

"Sounds like your niece found some playmates," Stark grinned, slyly glancing toward the eyes that peered at him from the slightly opened doors of the study. He laughed when the doors slid shut with a dull tap, Gratian sighing beside him.

"Savannah's keeping Marius Casen and a young woman, Bryn Seaver, who Marius and Alvis Werner have taken under their wing recently. You do remember Mars and Alvi?" Gratian prodded, lifting a brow.

"How could I forget? Those were wild times," Stark grinned, shaking his head. "They both still own the Bourgeoisie?"

"Oh, yes. They even renovated the place to accommodate a dance club setting and I hear business is booming."

"The sunnovagun took my advice," Stark laughed. "Hey, Mars, quit hiding in there. Come on out and say 'hi.'

At those words, Mars, Bryn and Savannah spilled out of the study and into the foyer.

"Savannah?" Stark exclaimed in surprise. "Damn, you've grown."

"She's just like her mother," Gratian said fondly, planting a kiss on her forehead when she tucked herself against him. "You are staying the hell away from her."

"Whoa, Gray, relax," Stark said, holding his hands up and backing away. "I'm not a complete bastard." He turned to the two standing to his left. "Mars, it's been a while." They shook hands. "Gray here tells me you've given the club a major makeover. How's Alvi these days?"

"The economy's been good to us and the work we've done to the club's more of a supplementary design. Like a naughty Cinderella, the Bourgeoisie's now a fully functioning dance club after midnight," Mars replied, crossing his arms.

"Who's the lovely brunette?" Stark asked smoothly.

"She's their club's most popular feature," Gratian interrupted, earning a frown from his niece, a menacing glare from Bryn and a withering look from Mars. "What?"

"Bryn Seaver," she said with a tight smile, gripping Stark's hand in a firm shake.

"Tony Stark, but I guess you already knew that," he said with a bright smile. "If you wouldn't mind, Bryn, I haven't been to the club lately and I'd be delighted to see you dance." He kissed the top of her right hand, his patented charm in full swing.

"Uh...sure," she said with mixed emotions, still glaring daggers at Gratian for deliberately trying to embarrass her.

"Here's my home number," Stark said, his thumb navigating through his phone's digital menus. "Get Alvi to call me or leave a message with Jarvis or Pepper if I don't pick up. I've got some friends that need unwinding." When he handed Mars his cellphone - the number presented in a bold font - he caught a flash of envy from Gratian. He almost never gave out his home number to anyone, but decided to make an exception given his history with Alvis and Mars, prompting him to make amends. During his numerous visits to the Bourgeoisie, the club's owners had been incredibly discreet and had shown him on many occasions that they could be trusted. He couldn't count how many nights he'd ended up totally trashed at the club, and somehow, he always awakened the following morning in his own bed without the press on his heels. "You have my word that I'll behave this time."

"We all have our demons, Mister Stark," Mars said knowingly.

"Call me Tony. Mister Stark was my dad," he replied with a warm smile. There was a loud chime from his cellphone. "Sorry kids but I gotta run. It was nice to meet you, Bryn. I'm sure we'll meet again."

With a parting wave, he dashed out the front door, Mars staring thoughtfully after him.

"Uncle Mars and Bryn are having dinner at Andre's Bouchée this evening. I'm joining them," Savannah stated, not asking for permission. She'd turned eighteen at St. Swithun's a month ago and wasted no time applying her newfound independence.

"We'll take her straight home after dinner," Mars said reassuringly.

"All right," Gratian said softly. Savannah was indeed growing up and he feared the day she would permanently move away from him.

"Can we do my fitting now, please?" Bryn asked brusquely, wanting to leave. Savannah's presence was the only reason she restrained herself from easily chewing out Gratian for what he'd done. The guy practically implied that she was some kind of slut! Just because she danced naked in front of a crowd of people and...shit. There were worse things other women did to themselves for money and exotic dancing was the least of them.

"Come, Bryn, let's have a bit of brunch," Savannah suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

As Bryn and Savannah walked past the ornate glass doors of the house's comfortable living room workshop, Swane felt a firm grasp to his left arm, forcing him to stay in place.

"I don't know why you dislike Bryn so much, Gratian, but trying to embarrass her like that? Contemptible," Mars warned him. "Don't you dare do it again."

In all the years he'd known Mars, Swane had never seen him angry. Judging by the sharp blaze in Casen's eyes...he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"You and Alvi still don't realize how much having Bryn around has affected you both," Gratian observed. "It's terrifying isn't it? Assuming the roles of parents? Always wondering if they're safe, if they're making the right decisions for themselves or if they even think of you at all?"

"I..." Mars faltered, speechless, releasing Swane's arm.

"I'll apologize to her," Gratian said seriously. "Also, that girl's much stronger than you think…" He frowned slightly, looking away. "...it's part of why I have such animosity toward her. Bryn's a very good example of fierce independence...something I see Savannah emulating every time she's near. Is it so selfish of me to try keeping little Vanny around for just a little longer?"

"She only lives with you for the summer months," Mars reminded him.

"The women in my family have all graduated from St. Swithun's and loved it there. It's a good school and I won't break that tradition," Gratian rebuffed. "Though it may look like I've conveniently shipped her off and out of my way, not a day goes by that I wish she was here, in Carmel...with me." He paused, taking a moment to compose himself. "Besides, I've...always been available to her through video chat or speed dial and I could get on a plane at a moment's notice if she needed me to."

"Has she needed you to?" Mars asked softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Has Savannah ever asked you to visit her?" Mars clarified.

"Well, not specifically..."

"Have you ever shown up at her dormitory unannounced?"

"Of course not, that's preposterous! The school has regulations on proper visitation etiquette - "

"You asked me earlier if I thought it was selfish of you to keep 'Little Vanny' around," Mars countered. "Yes, Gratian, you're being selfish. Savannah's eighteen now. She's not a child anymore. You can't just snap your fingers and take back the time you've lost with her. It's gone!" The color seemed to drain from Swane's face. "You're right about one thing...finding Bryn was the best thing that ever happened to Alvi and me. She gave us a greater purpose, something that fulfills us more than the club we own or the money we make or even the love we share. For years...Alvi and I watched you trying to raise Savannah on your own. I admit that we'd always dreaded that kind of responsibility...but deep inside...we envied you." He walked toward his friend and placed a hand lightly on his arm. "Let Savannah be, Gratian...but tell her how you really feel. Don't wait any longer...or she'll slip away from you forever."

Anticipating that his friend would fall apart, Mars quickly led them to the house's study, sliding the doors shut.

About two hours north of Carmel-by-the-Sea, in the busy kitchen of Alioto's Seafood Restaurant at Fisherman's Warf, Alvis Werner was busy helping his friend and ex-military colleague, Raz, prepare a special brunch for his visiting parents who were bringing his daughter, Shelly, for a visit.

Given a brief tour of the restaurant and surrounding area, a former immortal resident of Asgard sat at a reserved booth on the quieter second floor, staring at the finalized formal documentation that identified him as Adam Laoki, human resident of the city of San Francisco and repatriated citizen of the United States of America.

What a dreadful photograph, Loki thought with a frown, clamping his passport booklet closed. The same picture that Raz had taken of him was also used for his Driver's License. Fanning out the rest of his human I.D. on the table, his eyes drifted to his Birth Certificate, Social Security Card, Bank Account statement, Credit Card and with the additional bonus of private Health Insurance. He was warned that he'd need to fill out more 'paperwork' for his employment at the club.

Ridiculous, Loki sighed, gathering the paper documents and stuffing them back into an opaque plastic sleeve just as the squeals of a delighted little girl echoed up from below. Peering over the low wall of the restaurant's second floor, he watched as a young girl ran straight into Raz's waiting arms.

"How's my crazy munchkin?" he laughed, lifting his six-year-old daughter high into the air as she laughed excitedly. Giving her a big kiss on the cheek, he passed her to Alvi. "Hey, ma, pop." Both his parents embraced him tightly.

Smiling warmly, the older woman gave Alvis a tight hug, the older man firmly shaking his hand as they clapped each other on the back.

"Who's that, Daddy?" Shelly spoke up, staring at a tall man with shoulder-length, wavy black hair as he descended the stairs.

"Nobody. He's just a client of Alvi's," Raz said, moving closer to his daughter.

"Adam Laoki, these are Raz's parents, Savina and Massimiliano Alioto."

"Hello," he greeted with a radiant smile. He shook hands with the older man which seemed customary but kissed the top of the older woman's right hand, pleasantly surprising her.

"Oh! That made me feel young again," Savina said, totally flattered, fanning herself. "Where are you from?"

"Long story short, Adam here has had a very eccentric upbringing," Alvi said quickly, clearing his throat and leaving no room for further questions. "Shall we?"

"What have we here? Who is this little princess?" Loki asked dramatically, kneeling down to the girl's height with a flourish as she giggled.

"I'm Shelly!" she said proudly with a grin. "I'm six and I like being a princess."

"You do, do you?" Loki grinned back.

"You have children of your own?" Savina asked curiously, surprised that little Shelly had warmed up to the stranger so quickly.

"Okay, let's eat," Raz announced, trying to stop his parents from questioning Alvi's weird client and current houseguest.

Holding onto Shelly's hand, Alvi ushered their group upstairs to a private dining room while Raz went to the kitchen to fetch their specially prepared lunch. They all sat at a round table at the edge of an arrangement for some other function later that day, a wedding dinner, as Loki glanced at the formal invitation printed on thick white paper decorated with small lavender flowers.

Everyone had a pleasant meal and good conversation as Loki observed their behavior, listening quietly to the stories that were told. The almost three year period when Werner and Orazio were stationed together in Africa were some of the most challenging and violent missions of their military career. The turmoil and destruction had bonded their team of special forces soldiers, all from different areas of expertise, into an efficient defense force that kept them alive until the day an enormous explosion leveled their base of operations. Alvis had emerged from unconsciousness first, and despite his loss of hearing and many injuries, managed to salvage the living five out of the twelve of their team by dragging them to a hidden location, valiantly keeping them safe until they were rescued.

That single act of bravery had earned Alvis the honor of wearing the Victoria Cross, a military medal of the highest award in Great Britain, however, he'd always felt undeserving of the medal and wished that he could have done more to save his entire team. Wanting a totally different change of pace, he left England and moved to America where he and Raz, a former Navy SEAL and the only American assigned to his team, kept constantly in touch, encouraging each other's hobbies and keeping each other sane. Raz's parents in particular were eternally grateful to Alvis for saving their son's life and constantly showed their appreciation.

It was at this juncture of the storytelling where Loki learned that Alvis preferred to keep his personal life strictly separated from his dangerous hobbies, his friend and colleague adhering to the request without question, though knew certain details. He was aware of Alvi's relationship to Mars and Bryn but kept it to himself, with no disclosure of the information to his parents.

When the topic shifted, Raz was instantly tightlipped about his daughter and her missing mother. Shelly had long since wandered off and was on the carpeted floor, enthusiastically drawing in her coloring book with a large pack of crayons. After a while, Loki decided to join the little girl the instant their group's current topic lost his interest.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the child, Loki began helping her pick colors for her next masterpiece. As her giggling turned to peals of laughter, it caught the attention of the group still seated at the table.

"Shelly seems to like him," Alvis grinned, mentally shaking his head in wonder.

"Mmmhmm..." Raz grunted, watching Adam's actions with his daughter like a hawk.

"I've never seen her so taken by a complete stranger before," Savina commented.

"He must have a family of his own," Massimiliano guessed since the man obviously knew how to deal with children.

"Anyway, it's been wonderful seeing you both again but Adam and I need to go," Alvi said. "I'm meeting someone in Carmel this afternoon and we have bit of a drive ahead." He stood up and warmly embraced the elder couple, clapping Raz on the back. "All right, Adam. Time to go."

"Awww," Shelly whined and pouted. "Can Adam stay, Daddy?"

"Sorry, baby, but Uncle Alvi and his friend have to go," Raz replied firmly.

"No fair," Shelly muttered, crossing her arms. "I was having fun."

"As did I," Loki said gently. "Perhaps someday we'll meet again. For now, here's a gift to remember me by." He produced an elaborately cut paper crown he'd made while she wasn't looking and even had time to decorate it with her crayons.

"Cool!" Shelly said happily and beamed with joy when it was placed on her head. "Daddy, Daddy! Look it! I'm a princess!"

"Indeed you are," Loki laughed as she jumped around.

"Wow...that's...great," Raz said to please his daughter, staring at the colored paper crown on her head and how happy it made her.

The Alioto family escorted them to the front of the restaurant, Alvis and his companion waving to them, Shelly's loud goodbyes making them smile.

"That little girl's quite taken with you," Alvi said as they walked around the corner to a black Aston Martin DB9 Coupe.

"What happened to Shelly's mother?" Loki asked, straight to the point.

Werner stayed quiet until their vehicle merged with local traffic headed south on Highway 101.

"Raz met Shelly's mother when he was stationed on an aircraft carrier on route to his next mission. This was years before I met him. He and Karen were together for almost three years before the pressure of their individual careers began to sink in. Karen loved her job as a communications officer, had worked hard to get to her position and was reluctant to leave it. Meanwhile, Raz's dangerous assignments as a Navy SEAL meant that he'd disappear for months at a time on assignment without warning, with no knowledge or communication of where he was. They loved each other, but at the time, couldn't make it work to raise a family. Eventually they broke up and it was hard on both of them."

"Yet despite their difficulty...they had a child," Loki mentioned.

Sighing, Alvi continued. "After a year of zero contact between them, a baby carrier was left at the restaurant with a note. It was from Karen, telling Raz that they had a daughter, that her name was Shelly and that she needed his help looking after her till she got back from rotation to Afghanistan."

There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke.

"She didn't return," Loki concluded as Alvi nodded sadly.

"No, she didn't," Alvi said softly. "Raz has a difficult time talking about Karen. Even mentioning her name makes him upset."

"Then looking upon his daughter's face reminds him of her mother...which is why he's sent Shelly away to live with his parents."

"Raz visits her often and he's working hard, saving money away for her future. She'll be starting grade school soon."

A ringtone informed Alvis of an incoming text message.

"Would you get that for me, please?" Alvi requested, pointing to his black iPhone tucked away in a recess on the car's dashboard. His DB9 had handsfree Bluetooth but he was curious to see how Adam would deal with verbal instruction and modern technology. After all, they'd hired the guy to do administration work at the club and most of the forms were on a laptop.

"I don't know how to…" Loki began, staring at the object in his hands.

"At the bottom, beneath the small screen, press your finger into that spot with the square symbol on it," Alvis instructed, quickly flipping his phone right side up. "Do you see instructions with an arrow pointing to the blinking words 'slide to unlock?'"

"Yes, I do."

"Place your finger on the screen and touch the square with the arrow then slide it all the way to the right. Good, now, you'll see a collection of colored squares each labeled with a specific function. Find a green icon with the caption 'messages.'"

"I see it."

"Touch that icon with your finger."

"Done."

"Tell me what you see."

"I see...two columns. The white column on the left has...names. The grey column on the right is filled with words in...bubbles."

"All right, using your finger on the left column, swipe upward to scroll down the list and find Mars's name."

"I found it," Loki said excitedly, delighted by the way he was interacting with the little human-made gadget.

"Touch Mars's name and you'll highlight it in blue which then changes the group of words in the grey column on the right to all the messages he's sent me."

"What next?"

"Scroll to the very bottom of Mars and I's conversations in the grey column and read me what it says."

"It says…'done with Bryn's fitting. Getting ice cream and walking the beach with Savannah. Where are you now?'" Loki read out loud.

"Do you see a white bar at the bottom of the grey column?"

"The bar with a symbol and the word 'send' beside it?"

"Exactly. Tap the white bar with your finger and inside it a blinking blue line will appear. That's called a cursor. Along with the cursor will appear a group of squares with letters on them. That's called a keyboard. Not a true keyboard, mind you, just another format made specifically for that phone." Damn. Adam probably doesn't even know how to type.

"I see both of what you've described."

"Now, use your fingers to tap the lettered squares on the keyboard and type out my reply."

"What do you wish to say?"

"First sentence, start with 'We're on,' then the letters' H, W, Y, one word, then the numbers one, zero, one, period."

"Like that?" Loki asked, placing the phone near Alvis who gave it a quick glance.

"Good," Alvis smiled. Chap catches on fast. "Next sentence, type 'on our way.'" He waited till the clicking noises stopped and glanced again to check. "Now, tap the 'send' button." Grinning to himself, he knew how Mars hated his short answers compared to the lyrically long notes that were sent to him.

"Just like that...and Mars will be able to read the message we sent him?" Loki said.

"Almost instantaneously," Alvis grinned when he saw the look of fascination on his companion's face.

"There are three dots in a grey bubble below the message we just sent," Loki reported.

"That symbol means Mars has finished reading our message and is currently typing out his reply. Depending on how much he has to say, we should be reading it almost at the instant he'll send it."

Loki knew the definition of a telephone and how it was used by modern humans to talk to one another over vast distances. In Asgard, the most efficient methods of communication were either by magic (for the gifted ones) or through the common and preferred way: by bird. Birds of every color and plumage flourished in Asgard, with many halls having at least a dozen or so of the feathered creatures strutting about, most of them reliable enough to use as messengers. Looking down at the piece of human technology in his hands, the need to gain access to more information for personal research and study became increasingly more urgent.

"Alvis...I need a favor," Loki said as Werner glanced at him curiously. "I require a computer."

"I think we broke the sound barrier back there!"

Capt. Steve Rogers grinned widely as he marveled at the sheer acceleration power of the borrowed Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport roadster he was driving. True to its owner, the car's custom exterior had brushed, gold-plated panels and gold-flecked bright red paint. Beside him, Darcy Lewis cheered gleefully in the passenger's seat, her braided hair getting fuzzier from wind speed.

"You starting to like the twenty-first century?" Darcy yelled above the roar of the roadster's engine and the howling air.

"It's growing on me," Rogers replied with a smile. Having a multibillionaire introducing him to the year 2011 from living in the 1940s definitely had its perks. He had no idea that a car with a fully automatic gearbox could go so ridiculously fast. "If we skip town any faster, we're bound to be copped."

"It's not like Tony can't afford the ticket," Darcy laughed, amused by Rogers's 40s slang and predictably feeling the roadster decelerate. It was great to see Steve having some fun but he wasn't a hardcore bad boy. The guy was a genuine 'goody two-shoes' and Stark mercilessly teased him for it.

"In point five miles, turn right on Ocean Avenue," the car's navigation system reminded them in a pleasant female voice.

"I can get used to that," Rogers said, knowing the difference between the purely automated programmed Navi and Jarvis's artificial intelligence. "It amazes me how most cars have it."

"It's gonna be a standard feature instead of an option soon, like handsfree Bluetooth. I just have an old beater and I had to mount a Garmin to the dashboard," Darcy said, gliding her fingers along the Veyron's plush leather interior. "Damn, I feel like pinching myself. This car's awesome!"

"So, what's Carmel-by-the-Sea like?" Rogers asked, curious.

"Beautiful place. Kind of a haven for artists, a few movie stars, dog owners and the filthy rich that live on Seventeen Mile Drive," Darcy replied, hearing a chime from her phone. "Hang on a minute." She took a moment to read the text message. "It's from Jane. She and Tony are hanging out at the Carmel Plaza. Tony says he's got a reserved underground parking spot off Mission Street."

Sure enough, as the flashy gold and red Bugatti Veyron roadster turned onto Mission Street from Ocean Avenue at the Carmel Plaza, Jane and Stark waved to them from the sidewalk beside the entrance to the underground parking garage.

"I'm half-expecting that car to transform into a larger than life Iron Man Destructo-Bot," Jane laughed as she watched the Veyron disappear down the ramp. Stark chuckled beside her.

"Wanna help me build one?" he grinned.

"Don't you have a major project pending? A new Iron Man suit? The 'Mark Six' you call it?" Jane stated.

"You pay attention," Stark said with brows raised. "Gotta watch what I say around you from now on."

"Is it also true that you're planning to power the new Stark Tower you're building in New York with a new and improved version of an arc reactor?" Jane said in a tone mimicking a reporter's voice.

"Yes, Miss Foster, it's true," Stark answered, playing along and spoke like he was being formally interviewed. "I'd rather not burden the local power grid that benefits the good taxpayers of New York. Unfortunately, my personal energy requirements are significantly higher than that of the city's average consumption."

"Really?" Jane asked, her role of playing reporter gone instantly. "You need that much?"

Before Stark could reply, Darcy and Capt. Rogers walked toward them.

"Here, I'll trade ya," Stark said, throwing Steve the carbon fiber key fob for his volcanic orange McLaren MP4-12C. "It's not as peppy as the Veyron but drives like a dream."

"I'm sure this boiler will be just as crazy as the last one," Rogers said, passing over the Bugatti's 'switchblade' key fob then noted the odd looks he received. "I meant to say 'car.'"

"Hey, I wouldn't change a thing," Stark teased, thoroughly amused by Rogers's slips of slang from his era. "You'll gradually pick up how we talk these days. For now, it's best you just say whatever comes to mind."

"Where to?" Darcy piped in, changing the subject and seeing a flash of relief from Rogers.

"I've got a few errands to do for Pepper first," Stark said, taking his lightweight, ultra-thin, semitransparent phone and scrolling to a small list. "Five things." Looking around, he pointed in the general direction of a store he needed. "That way, I think."

Stark's group shuffled passed a computer store just as Loki and his companions exited the establishment carrying their purchases, walking in the opposite direction.

"Adam, nobody reads manuals anymore," Bryn laughed.

"I'm curious, nonetheless," Loki said, eager to play with the new laptop that was carefully packaged in a white paper bag dangling from his right hand.

"Oh, we should hurry. I don't want to keep Sabine waiting," Mars said excitedly, wondering what his husband had her track down for them. Sabine Bellamy was a former curator for several museums in Europe, highly educated, well-traveled and raised in Switzerland. Over five years ago, she decided to retire in the little town of Carmel where she established 'The Royal Armoire,' a very successful local antique shop that specialized in rare furniture and jewelry. They were some of her best customers with many of her pieces on prominent display at the club and in their home.

Located somewhere in the middle of the Plaza was The Royal Armoire, its proprietor busy with several overseas customers as she spoke to them in flawless French. Waving to her, Mars and Alvi browsed the shop, Loki and Bryn alongside them.

Strolling the shop, Loki glanced dispassionately at the ornate furniture around him - Bryn stopping to examine a set of silver brushes - when a particular table caught his attention. It was a small, oval-shaped table with dark, polished wood accented by mother-of-pearl, gold and ivory filigree along its pointed legs, the same decoration outlining the edges of its flat surface. Crouching down, he ran his fingers along the smooth finish as he recalled a precious memory from his past, of a certain misadventure he had long ago trying to rescue Sigyn from the clutches of flamboyantly dressed humans. He'd turned himself into a yellow songbird and was imprisoned in a golden cage that had been placed on the very same table.

"Unfortunately, that piece isn't for sale," Sabine spoke with a cultured European accent as she stood nearby.

Rising to his feet swiftly, Loki regarded the woman who'd successfully encroached on him in a distracted state. In his vulnerable mortal form, another mistake like that would cost him dearly.

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I'm Sabine Bellamy, shop's owner." Brushing away a stray lock of her stylishly short, silver hair, she extended her hand and it was her turn to be surprised when the man kissed it instead. "My goodness, to what do I owe such flattery?"

"No flattery. I simply prefer to impart women the proper greeting," Loki sleekly spoke with a smile. A courtesy the humans seem to have forgotten.

"I see you've met our Adam," Alvi said with a chuckle as he and Mars embraced her warmly. "You've met Bryn." They shook hands. "Sabine, good to see you, and my darling, you look as ravishing as ever."

"Aging well is about the only thing a woman of my advanced years can hope for these days, Alvi," Sabine laughed, her dark-blue eyes bright with glee. Time had been kind to her and she thanked her lucky stars for it, the daring red of her lips complimenting the elegantly embroidered indigo suit she wore which accented the full curves of her body. For a woman of sixty-three, she was an extraordinary revelation to everyone who met her.

"If I may ask, Sabine, why is this table in your shop if you have no intention of selling it?" Loki stated curiously.

"I couldn't decide where to put it so I use it mainly as my shop's conversation piece. It's a unique table from the late sixteen-hundreds that I found at an auction in France," Sabine explained. "When I did some research, I discovered that it belonged to Louise de La Vallière, King Louis the Fourteenth's mistress. She had it personally commissioned and worked closely with the craftsmen who made it which is why it deviates from the usual designs of that era." She bent down and ran her hands along its flat surface. "Much of the furniture that was sold at that auction was 'As Is.' It's virtually unnoticeable now that I've had it restored, but there were horrible, deep scratches on this table when I bought it. As if something heavy was dragged across it. I can only guess that it must've been a clock, a vase, or - "

"A large, gilded birdcage," Loki mentioned softly, gazing sadly at the table, startling Sabine and the others.

"Perhaps," Sabine said, standing rigid and staring fixedly at the strangely alluring dark-haired man.

"We don't wish to take too much of your time, dear," Mars interrupted, breaking the slight moment of tension. There was an odd sense of conviction to Adam's words that sent shivers up his spine. "What's Alvi got you hiding in the back there?"

"Follow me and find out," Sabine said with a wink.

When Bryn noticed that Adam remained where he was, she stayed with him.

"You okay?" she asked gently, puzzled by Adam's fascination with the antique table.

Accumulate enough memories and they tend to haunt you at the most inappropriate moments, Loki muttered mentally. "You were looking closely at a set of silver brushes earlier?"

"Oh...yeah, they're over here," Bryn said, pointing to the objects and respecting Adam's wish of no further comment.

As the pair reached the expensively priced vintage grooming set, a voluptuous woman with long, wavy red hair casually walked past them toward the shop's display of antique music boxes. She wore bright-red high heels, skinny black jeans and a white, semi-sheer blouse with a wide neckline over a pale-blue rhinestone-studded tank top. Some of the men around her tried ogling without their wives noticing. Smiling to herself, she was about to examine an intricately carved ivory carousel when she felt her phone buzzing. Sighing softly, she retrieved it from her back pocket, her brows wrinkling slightly when she saw the unlisted number.

"Who is this?" she answered warningly; her face shifting to surprise when she heard the jovial tone of her mysterious caller. "Hey, stranger. I'm not even gonna guess how you got this number. Suuure you did. So? What've you been up to? Yeah? When?" There was a pause. "Here? Now?" She lowered her voice. "That's a bit too public, don't you think? What happened to staying below the radar? Riiight. Lame excuse if I ever heard one. You're too reckless for your own good, you know that?" She bit her lip. "I can't, I'm working right now. Yeah, still babysitting the jackass. Although lately, he has been more manageable since he invited that pretty little nerd girl over to his home." She grinned. "I'll check my schedule. Maybe we could meet after you're done playing Robin Hood?" She wrinkled her nose in disagreement. "Hilarious. Listen, I've got another call coming in, talk to you later, okay? You too." She switched to her other call. "Natalie here." She rolled her eyes. "I recall Pepper saying that she wanted a black one." She glanced at her watch. "I'm doing errands of my own right now but I can join you in time for dinner. Yes, Tony, I'm sure we'll all have a wonderful time." She wanted to gag. "See you all then." She couldn't hang up fast enough.

Irritated, she turned around swiftly to stomp out of the shop when she carelessly bumped into someone.

"Shit, I'm so sorry - " she began to apologize, then froze.

Natasha Romanoff choked on a breath and her heart thudded nervously in her chest when she was suddenly confronted by a face from her past, a face she believed she'd never see again, from a past that she'd labored very hard to erase.

"...Natalia?" Marius Casen whispered in shock. Her appearance had changed greatly over the years but he knew without a doubt who the woman was and where he'd met her. Judging by her expression and body language, it was obvious that she had no intention of being recognized. "I-I'm sorry, I thought you were - "

"...Roderick…" The name escaped her lips before she could stop it, the distant memory of how they'd met, surging forward. Barely into their teens, they'd met in London by chance, a twist of fate crashing them together, the event becoming a cherished memory for both of them. Ashen faced and shaken, she moved forward and embraced the young man she knew then, burying her face in his chest.

Woodenly returning her embrace, Mars's face was sad but severe when he felt her trembling. "I've changed my name," he whispered softly. "I go by Marius Casen now. Mars for short."

"Darling?" Alvi called out, stunned to find his spouse hugging an attractive-looking woman.

Breaking their embrace, Mars turned to Alvis who stood next to him.

"I'd like to present my husband, Alvis Werner," Mars spoke unsteadily, loudly clearing his throat.

"Natalie Rushman," she said hurriedly, shaking Alvi's hand vigorously, a practiced smile plastered to her face that expertly masked her reaction to Mars's news of his current sexual orientation. "I'm glad to meet you."

"Same to you," Alvi reacted hesitantly, looking quizzically at his spouse.

"I met...Natalie, once upon a time, when I was backpacking across Europe," Mars replied, being deliberately vague, a hint of relief in Natalia's eyes.

"A blast from the past, is it?" Alvi said cheerfully, trying to ease the awkward tension. He knew immediately that something was off - Mars was a terrible liar - and he chose to be patient, hoping that whatever it was concerning the woman, sorted itself out.

"Hey, guys...oh, hi there," Bryn corrected herself, her gaze bouncing between Mars, Alvi and a red-haired woman...with her arm around Mars's waist. "Hi, I'm Bryn."

"Natalie," Romanoff greeted the brunette politely with a nod. Her eyes then snapped to a tall, handsome, fair-skinned man with tousled, wavy black hair who soon joined them.

"Adam," Loki introduced himself quickly before Alvi could speak and extended his hand, the woman's solid grip oddly reminding him of Sif. Whoever she was, the red-haired woman was more than she appeared.

"Well, I'm sure you'd both like to catch up. I know! We're all having dinner at a local restaurant tonight, Natalie, would you like to join us?" Alvi suggested, curious about Mars's relationship to the woman.

"I'd really love to but I've already got a prior engagement," the redhead explained. "Here, Mars, take my number." She scrolled to her phone's contact list and they traded numbers. "Do you live around here?" He shook his head.

"Downtown San Francisco," Mars supplied quietly. "In a building on Market Street."

"In fact, we all live together," Alvi added with a smile. Now, he knew something was up. Mars was normally a flurry of words around people. It was bewildering to hear his spouse uttering short, clipped sentences.

"Wow," the redhead remarked, looking at the group. She noted Adam's piercing green eyes regarding her carefully. "Mars, we really do have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yes, we do, don't we?" Mars said reservedly.

"I'm sorry I kept you both waiting...Natalie!" Sabine exclaimed excitedly, the two women embracing fondly. "You all know each other?"

"I know them through Mars," the redhead explained with a shrug, glancing at him.

"Back for more, are you?" Sabine ribbed as Rushman laughed. "I consider Mars and Alvi here some of my best customers, but you...you never fail to give me a challenge." When Mars looked at her curiously, she added, "Natalie is a dedicated collector of rare musical boxes. The rarer the better. I've exhausted my list of contacts trying to satisfy her."

"Oh, stop," the redhead chided. "You and I both know you live for the chase."

"That I do," Sabine replied with a sly smile.

"What's that?" Rushman asked, looking at a medium-sized velvet box in Sabine's hands.

"This," Sabine said, holding out the box, "is for you," presenting it to Mars.

Opening the blue velvet box slowly, Mars gasped when he saw what was inside it: an unpolished golden bracelet woven to depict a lounging Aphrodite, her long flowing hair billowing around her, the band an inch thick in width.

"I always thought the ancient Greek artisans knew their way around gold," Alvi said proudly. "Just for you, love."

Moved speechless, Mars placed the delicately crafted gold bracelet around his wrist, embraced his husband tightly and they shared a loving kiss.

"Which museum in Europe did you ransack to find this?" Mars joked, moisture filling his eyes, slightly dizzy from the emotional roller-coaster he currently rode.

"That one's from my private collection," Sabine replied, making Mars gape. "Cherish each other, will you? You two are adorable together." She leaned over to hug the same-sex couple, Mars whispering a heartfelt 'thank you' in her ear.

"Well, I'd best get going," the redhead said. "Mars, I'll be in town again in a couple of weeks after I finish up some business in New York. We'll get together for a brunch, okay?" When he nodded solemnly, she hugged him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Oh, before I forget." She handed Sabine a tiny, tightly rolled pieced of parchment paper. Your next assignment." She then smiled brightly. "It was nice meeting you all."

As the redhead departed, Alvi and Loki stared after her, both for entirely different reasons.

"Always a pleasure seeing you both," Sabine said, addressing Mars and Alvi. "Never a dull moment with you two around."

"Now that, I can almost guarantee," Alvi chuckled, grasping her hand. "Thank you."

"An interesting symbol," Loki remarked, staring at an oversimplified drawing of a small, red 'hourglass' on the inside of Sabine's left wrist - the image tattooed directly on her pulse-point - that she kept hidden under her gold and ruby bracelet.

Rubbing it with her thumb, she concealed it under her jewelry and smiled with a shrug.

"A remnant of my wilder, younger days, Adam," Sabine replied with a wink. "If you'll now excuse me, I have a call to make."

"I think she was flirting with you," Bryn teased, looking at Adam.

"She's a rather compelling woman," Loki said with a small smile. As anyone with dark secrets often seem.

"Come on, there's the grand opening of a new clothing store just around the corner," Mars prodded, trying to return to his usual lively self and looping an arm around Alvi's as he lead him away, Bryn and Adam close behind them.

From the open doorway of her office, the statuesque Sabine watched as Alvis Werner's motley group of companions filed out of the shop. Humming an obsolete Russian folksong, she sat on the edge of her antique desk, unrolling the little paper parchment Natalie Rushman had given her and read a coded pictograph message written in geometric symbols.

"A woman's work is never done," Sabine said out loud with a soft sigh, twisting slightly and retrieving a bottle of nail polish from her desk drawer. The bottle had a logo similar to the tattoo on her left wrist, etched into the glass. Tossing the little paper parchment in a polished metal ashtray on her desk, she let three or four drops of the bottle's clear liquid fall on the parchment, dissolving all trace of the message to a lump of ash.

"Hmm, I sense a trend here," Jane Foster mused out loud as she passed Tony Stark who considerately held open the main door of Andre's Bouchee for her. "Do you have a thing for deceptively quaint looking restaurants?"

"Maybe it's just my way of dodging the paparazzi?" Stark smiled. "You look lovely by the way." He resisted the urge to place his hand on Jane's smooth skin, generously displayed by her backless, pale-pink, halter-strap dress.

Inside the restaurant, Stark's group of four - dressed in their newly purchased clothing from the local Carmel Plaza - were led to a private room where a table was prepared for them, a large silver platter of hors d'oeuvres laid out between bouquets of flowers. Pepper Potts and Natalie Rushman were already present, both wearing elegant cocktail dresses for the evening.

"Captain Rogers," Natasha greeted pleasantly as he shook her hand stiffly.

Stark had warned Steve Rogers that Agent Romanoff had been assigned to him months before they'd 'fished his frozen ass' from the sea, functioning under the name of Natalie Rushman and acting as his direct liaison to S.H.I.E.L.D., as well as an executive assistant to Pepper. He was still trying to convince Rogers of the fact that Black Widow was in their company to 'not exactly' shadow them, despite his so rudely smuggling their country's fabled super-soldier right out from under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s nose. However, both he and Rogers agreed that Rushman, given her background, was not to be trusted.

"Miss Potts," Rogers smiled shyly when he took her hand, amazed by the attractive blonde's role as right hand to the CEO of Stark Industries. "Tony's told me a lot about you."

"Has he now?" Pepper replied. "All good things, I hope."

"His description of you barely gives you justice," Rogers stated, blushing slightly and clearing his throat as he chivalrously adjusted her chair when she sat down. He did the same for Darcy who sat next to him.

There was a snicker from Stark who found Steve's transparency endlessly hilarious.

"Oooh, I think he likes Pepper," Tony whispered in Jane's ear, her high-heeled foot tapping him under the table.

"Can you try easing off Steve for a few hours?" Jane hissed back, glancing at Darcy who hid her smile.

After checking into the first available room at a Travelodge on Market Street in downtown San Francisco, Clint Barton tossed his military-grade nylon cargo bag on his queen-sized bed. Parting the curtains of his second-story window, he gazed at the street below, his perceptive eyesight spotting no one out of the ordinary from the sidewalks filled with tourists from different corners of the globe. Stretching with a yawn, he emptied the pockets of his vintage Levi's, stripped off his Empire Strikes Back T-shirt, wiggling free of his socks and shoes. He'd traveled for over twelve hours on a plane from New Zealand and he craved a quick shower to refresh himself.

On his way to the bathroom, a ringtone from his phone made him turn around. Picking up a 'jailbroken' Samsung Galaxy S III, he scrolled down to a text message from the friend he came to visit and fired off a reply. Smiling to himself, he hadn't seen Razzmatazz in nearly three years and he was curious to know what his former pupil was up to in his absence. Rather than heading back toward the bathroom, he leapt onto his queen-sized bed with a bounce and landed on his bare back, his eyes tracing the dull pattern on the ceiling of his room.

Turning his head to one side, he clicked on his phone's contacts and scanned the moderate list of numbers, more than half of which were merely his occupational network for equipment or ammo. His chosen line of work as a mercenary earned him more enemies than allies and those he truly called friends were scarce. For their protection, he preferred to sever ties with them altogether.

Why then, had he stubbornly kept in touch with the two former soldiers who lived in this city?

Rather than repeating his automatic excuse of 'friends with benefits,' he knew that his prolonged association with them dangerously bordered on sentimental. Grinning, he knew that both Alioto, a former Navy SEAL and Werner, a decorated former British Royal Marine could more than take care of themselves in a bind - not that he'd deliberately place them in harms way. He was always careful in public, using false identities and disguises to mislead his enemies from targeting them.

Also, the two men were endlessly entertaining to him. Razzmatazz, for example, still had a severe case of 'hero worship' toward him, while...Elvira - he snickered - was always full of surprises. All kidding aside, the two men possessed qualities he highly valued, the most important being a measure of trust.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Barton rolled over to his left side, tucking an arm under his head as he stared at a particular phone number on his call list.

Ah...she's gonna kill me, he laughed, dialing the number. As expected, the woman who answered wasn't pleased in the slightest.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," he replied with a grin, hearing the annoyance dripping from her voice. "Yes, dear, I'll hold." Shifting on the bed, he grabbed the pillows from underneath the neatly made duvet cover and propped them behind his back. "Where are you? Yeah? Good luck with that. Oh, come on, it's not that bad, is it? Really..." He frowned. "Shit, too many unknown factors can be problematic but you can handle it. Piece 'a cake." He slouched down into the soft pillows, his voice sounding husky. "So...uh...what're you wearing? Mmmm, that's sexy. You're always game, huh, you bad girl you. I'm hopeless horny? Says the gal who jumps me in an elevator at the Burj Khalifa in Dubai." He sits up slightly, his brows crunching. "Okay, that was not my fault, we were under fire! How long you gonna hold that over my head? Bring it. I can go all night long, baby. Oh-ho, you are one sadistic chic." He then laughs out loud, clutching his stomach. "God, you're hot." Licking his lips, he loosens the buttons of his jeans and wiggles on the bed to get comfortable. "How you wanna do this? Wait, hold on a sec." Leaping to his knees, he crouched over his nylon cargo bag, rummaging for his wireless headset and stuffing it into his ear. He then kicks away his luggage to the floor, flinging his jeans to a corner of the room. "Can you hear me? Yeah, good to go. You?" He chuckles. "I feel like I'm in college." He bit his lip. "You sure you can't...oh, c'mon, just a quick peek? Fine, I'll make do." His voice goes low and husky again, his eyes filled with lust. "Consider this a warm up coz the next time I see you...you won't be in any shape to walk."

At the restaurant's main door, Alvis Werner and his spouse, Marius Casen, entered the establishment with their ward Bryn, her friend Savannah and their enigmatic houseguest, Adam Laoki. Dressed in attire they'd recently purchased at the grand opening of a new clothing store in the local Carmel Plaza, the group were seated immediately at a reserved table in the central dining area of Andre's Bouchee.

"You wouldn't think it from the outside, but wow, this place is gorgeous," Bryn remarked, looking around her. Adam attended to her as she sat at their table wearing a strapless, cream-colored cocktail dress that made her look stunning, a ribbon necklace with a green cabochon adorning her neck.

"The food here's delicious," Savannah said as she sat beside Bryn, Alvi pushing her chair in. She wore a strapless dress with a satiny material of a deep, royal blue.

"I wonder where Andre and Annette are," Mars asked, puzzled that the restaurant's owners hadn't arrived to greet them.

"There's Annette," Alvi pointed out, waving to her as she approached their table.

Across from Bryn, Loki sat quietly as he observed his companions and the other gathered humans inside the restaurant, glancing at a middle-aged brunette in a fuchsia pant suit who was headed in their direction. She was greeted warmly by both Alvi and Mars, cordially introduced to the rest of them, the woman leaning in to tell them news she was excited to announce.

"You're not going to believe who's here," Annette began with a wide smile.

Having excused herself to answer a call, Natasha Romanoff, the fair skin of her face flushed a dark, rosy pink, left the women's powder room and slowly meandered her way through the busy restaurant, reluctant to return to the private room reserved for Stark. As social gatherings went, her group rated high on the awkward scale as she was forced to endure Tony Stark's intolerable ego and his continuous advances on Foster, Capt. Steve Rogers's naive ideologies and adolescent flirtations toward Pepper, Jane Foster's paranoia and Darcy's schoolgirl chit-chat.

Sighing, she decided to cut through the crowded central dining area when she caught a glimpse of familiar faces. Cursing to herself, she did a hasty about-face, nearly running back the way she came.

What're they doing here? Romanoff thought in annoyance, peeking around a wall just as Mars's entire group turned their heads toward their reserved room. Shit! Avoiding a scenario of them mingling together would be near impossible and she was completely unprepared to face any questions that were sure to pop up about her connection to Mars. The day was shaping up to be one of the messiest of her experiences to date, if the throb at her temples was any indication. At the moment, she preferred to be pinned down in a storm of gunfire than to confront an intimate detail of her past. Inhaling deeply to calm her nerves, she carefully ambled her way back.

After Annette had left Werner's table to go help her husband entertain their more demanding guest, Alvi suggested a spontaneous visit to Stark's group.

"I...don't think that's a good idea," Mars declared to Alvi's total surprise. Normally, he welcomed a 'mixer' in any form, something the social butterfly in him simply couldn't refuse, but this time, it was different. He had no desire to share a very personal moment of his past in such a public setting. "Please, dear? Some other time?"

Werner nodded, seeing Mars's discomfort, his hand gripping his spouse's arm reassuringly.

"Alvi? Is that you?" a man's familiar voice called out behind them.

Whipping their heads around, Werner and Casen confirmed the identity of the man's voice, and under the circumstances, Mars's was the least thrilled to see him.

Rising to his feet, Alvis vigorously shook hands with Tony Stark, the man clapping him on the back.

"I think Mars and Bryn over there are stalking me," Stark joked with a grin. "Didn't I just meet you two at Gratian's place? With the exception of you...whoever you are." He stared directly at a tall, dark-haired man who sat beside Bryn.

"Adam," Loki stood up, moving to give Stark a strong handshake.

"Whoa, that's quite a grip you got there," Tony remarked, forced to look up, already developing a childish dislike of the man who towered over him. "Anyway, I'm here with a gang of my own and we have this big room all to ourselves, so I figure, the more the merrier." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly. "Would you and your group like to join me?"

"There you are," Pepper declared with a slight glare. "We were wondering where you disappeared to." She glanced at the people that Tony was talking to. "Have we met?"

"Mostly over the phone," Werner said with a smile. "I'm Alvi. My spouse, Mars and I own the Bourgeoisie."

"You're Alvi?" Pepper said excitedly, shaking his hand, recalling the sound of his voice. "It's so good to finally meet you."

"Likewise," Alvi replied with a smile. He fondly remembered how cordial and efficient Ms. Pott's was during the many nights they spoke to each other dealing with the matter of keeping Stark's 'indiscretions' at the club away from the press.

"Well, it's settled then, you're all having dinner with us," Stark insisted to Pepper's surprise as Alvis shrugged in helpless consent. Beside him, Mars sighed softly, Bryn and Savannah giggled to each other while Adam looked on with calm neutrality.

Soon, Annette and Andre, the restaurant's owners, made the preparations and adjustments to accommodate Stark's new dinner guests. Werner's group was then led to the establishment's private room, another large table was added and decorated to match. Unaware of the discomfort from some of his guests, Stark carried on, cheerfully introducing everyone gathered in the room like an officiate at a family reunion.

"Adam," Loki said as he greeted Steve Rogers and felt the great strength of the man's grip. This is no ordinary man. He then kissed Pepper Potts's hand, noting Stark's and Roger's reactions with amusement. They both desire this woman? Moving on to Darcy Lewis, she couldn't hide her blush. Bashful and rather charming. Beside her, the buxom Natalie Rushman smiled pleasantly. "Hello, again. We've met earlier at The Royal Armoire." His eyes then glanced at a woman of petite stature who stepped forward.

"Jane Foster," she said, shyly holding out her hand.

The former Asgardian nearly froze when he bent to kiss her hand and he lingered longer than Stark would've liked as he wrestled valiantly with the tempest of emotions raging inside him.

"A pleasure to meet you," Loki said evenly, his green eyes blazing. Staring steadily at the mortal female's pretty features, memories of the day he'd sent the Destroyer to the Realm of Midgard to find Thor erupted to the surface. He'd witnessed everything that happened through his connection to the Destroyer that day, including the faces of everyone involved, mortal or immortal...and Jane Foster's image was the most prominent in his mind.

Jane. This human female...this is Thor's woman!

In a small practice area in the Asgardian hall of Valhalla, Thor released a loud battle cry as he charged furiously with his sword at Hildr, one of three mighty Valkyrie Generals that commanded the All-Father's army of the Dead, the Einherjar. Her long, braided platinum-blonde hair flowed with her every strike, the warrior-maiden dancing effortlessly out of Thor's reach.

"You fight in anger, Odinson," Hildr admonished as she spun away from Thor's swings. "Perhaps it is not battle-prowess you crave but something else entirely?"

"I'm here to fight you, Hildr, not talk," Thor replied angrily, thrusting his blade forward as she parried, the clashing of their steel making bright bluish sparks. Not wanting to admit that Hildr was right, he fought more fiercely, trying to ignore the recent memory of his magical journey with Sigyn, who'd begged him to relive his last moments with Loki.

They had been dueling all morning and Thor's friends who were spectating, The Warriors Three and Lady Sif, had long since left them to attend to their duties elsewhere. Hildr showed no signs of fatigue whereas Thor seemed emotionally exhausted and it began to affect his performance. The Valkyrie General allowed their sparring to continue for a few more hours until the sun had almost dipped into the horizon and she decided that it was time for them to stop.

"I am honored, Master Thor, to be chosen for swordplay," Hildr said with a smile, knowing that Odin's eldest usually pitted himself against his friends or the Valkyrie General, Skogul, who's fighting style more suitably matched his. It was always Loki who brawled with her, making full use of her knowledge of battle-galdr (battle-spells) and who enjoyed constantly trying to outwit her every attack or defense. "Warring with me till you collapse will not bring him back."

At those words, Thor stopped mid-swing, his face flushed with pent up remorse and frustration, the muscles of his arms strained with tension, his fists turning white on the handle of his sword. He stayed this way for a long moment before quietly going limp, his sword falling to the ground and he looked at the abandoned blade with saddened features.

"Shall we share a skin of fine mead in my private chamber?" Hildr offered, moving to stand beside Thor and bending down to retrieve the discarded steel.

"If...it is no trouble," Thor replied softly, surprised by her invitation.

Smiling warmly, Hildr led Odin's eldest to her personal chamber in the hall of Valhalla located in a section strictly designated for the Valkyries.

Sitting on a large pelt of white bear fur, Thor gazed at his cozy surroundings, the chamber's adornments and furnishings uniquely reflecting the taste of its owner. He'd been to Skogul's chamber many times but had never thought to try Hildr's. Was it because of the frequency Loki had spent in her company?

"You may stay as long as you wish," Hildr stated, returning to her guest in a manner unseen outside her chamber.

Having removed her shining silver armor, her unbraided platinum-blonde hair fanned behind her as she walked, the long strands draping to her waist and loosely framing the pale skin of her squarish face; a feathery halo that further accentuated the wolfish, glacial blue of her eyes. She wore only a shimmering, off-the-shoulder silken shift that barely covered her breasts, the silver cord knotted at her waist kept the loose material from completely slipping off her body as the enticing semi-translucent fabric did little to veil her nudity underneath.

Thor nearly gasped, moved by Hildr's unexpected beauty. Of the three Valkyrie General's, she was the most mysterious, known for repeatedly refusing the intimate advances of both men and women. Even Fandral, whose famed charms were known by women from Asgard to Ljossalfheim, was unable to slip his foot past her door. Therefore, it came as an absolute shock - and the Nine Realms were abuzz with the news for months after - that Loki had been allowed an unreachable pleasure that others would never have.

"Did...Loki often share your bed?" Thor asked softly, genuinely curious.

"Yes," Hildr answered simply, pouring her guest a generous cup of strong, fruit-flavored mead. She lounged on her side across from him, propped by an arm, the cloth on her right breast drifting down to just above a hint of pink. "I gave him comfort and a silent ear."

"How did he..." Thor began after he'd taken a long drink, draining his cup. It was a question that was left unanswered - though rumors still abounded - of how Loki had succeeded where countless many had failed: won the heart and bed of the aloof Valkyrie General known by reputation as the 'Ice Bear.'

"Your brother was unlike any man I had ever fought," Hildr replied, sipping the fragrant sweet mead that she often shared with Loki. "He was swift, very adaptable, possessed an advanced knowledge of battle-galdr and his cunning..." Her eyes narrowed and she smiled fondly, tipping her cup over her mouth. "Oh, was he cunning."

"Tell me," Thor requested, leaning back on the soft cushions of the daybed and held out his cup of behemoth ivory for a refill. He watched as Hildr quietly filled it to the brim with the rich, dark-red mead. "Tell me of my brother."

Hildr then obliged him, recounting stories of her dealings with his wily younger brother. Some made Thor laugh heartily till his stomach ached, others made him introspective as he reflected on his brother's actions, a few made him gape in disbelief, but one in particular, the story he'd originally sought after, left him speechless.

"It will be a tale that shall endure till Ragnarok if I chose to tell it," Hildr stated with a wide grin, seeing Thor's reaction. It was now late into the evening, and between the two of them, they'd consumed almost six boar-sized skins of the strong, fruit-flavored mead. "Over time, I grew accustomed to the way your brother thrives on the unexpected."

"I think 'chaos' to be the proper word," Thor amended with a chuckle, his speech slurred and his cheeks a dark pink. Bare from the waste up, his boots and leather vest long since thrown to the floor, he welcomed the warm buzz of the strong mead in his belly, his mind still trying to digest what he'd heard. "Loki had patience, I'll give him that."

"Patience? No. 'Bullheadedness' is what I call it," Hildr pointed out with a laugh.

The pair sputtered with boisterous abandon as they melted helplessly together into the soft furs of the daybed. When their gaiety subsided, she turned her head...and met Thor's stormy blue eyes which were ablaze with passion. When he reached out to caress her cheek, she captured his hand.

"I may have bedded your brother," Hildr said softly, "...but you are here for a drink and nothing more." When the passion in Thor's eyes changed to remorse, she kissed each knuckle of his right hand and added, "I too miss Loki greatly."

Gathering Odin's eldest into her arms, Hildr held him tightly and he returned her embrace, Thor saying a muffled apology, his head pressed to her throat. They settled deep into the furs of the daybed, Hildr offering what comfort she could as Thor drifted off to sleep against the warmth of her skin.

to be continued

Correspondence:

Gabs:

OHMYGOD, I LOVE THIS STORY! It's one of the best fanfics I've ever read! I just love how you write Loki, it's so genuine and close to the character portrayed in the movie. I just adore him. You're a very good writer. I honestly can't decide who I want Loki to end up with, Sigyn or Bryn. I think it'd almost be a little weird for him and Sigyn together, just because of the age difference, seeing as she's like 16 and he's like late 20's early 30's. I think he and Bryn would be good together though. She gives him a good dose of humility, which is something he desperately needs. I also love how you write Tony and Steve. They're such characters and you capture them incredibly well. I honestly can't wait for the next chapter to come out. I'm completely hooked and will be constantly checking this thing for updates!

Lots of love, Gabs

Dear Gabs:

First off, I'd like to say THANK YOU for your praise, I'm truly happy and humbled that you're excited about this work of Loki fiction. :D

As for Loki ending up with Sigyn or Bryn...well, I'd be lying if I didn't vote for Bryn first. ;D After all, they're going to be spending a LOT of time together since Loki's basically grounded on Earth as a mortal human. Also, Bryn may appear 16 but she's several centuries old by our standards.

Since I've watched the Avengers movie, (twice, so far - I'm such a nerd) I can't help but love them all so don't be surprised to see them pop up in my story.

I'm delighted by your enthusiasm and I hope you continue to enjoy how the tale unfolds in chapters to come.

Take care!

…

BellonaNJ:

I spent the better part of 36 hrs devouring this story-very well structured and written (I graduated with honors in English Lit in college). I've spent time reading other stories, but this by far was screenplay material-seriously, I would rather Thor 2 be this story...I'll be keeping an eye out for updates. If the Marvel-verse had their own published alternate stories (as the Star Wars univierse does) this should be amongstt the novels...take care

Dear BellonaNJ:

Awws! *grins from ear to ear* I'm truly touched by your words and I'm glad you've enjoyed reading my story. As far as fan-fiction goes (soon as I finish this thing) to have this story published would be an absolute honor! ^_^ I dare to dream and thank you for your vote of confidence. Now, if only I could type paragraphs as fast as I can imagine them in my head, I'm totally set!

Take care!

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toya:

this is the best story ever please please please please continue it! it always makes me smile! makes my whole day better! I tripped down the stairs today it hurt but after i read your story i was so happy i almost forgot that i had just tripped down the stairs. didn't break anything so i was all good. You are the best writer ever this would make a great book! i've read it more than once already! so thank you soo much for the amazing story and i really hope that you will continue it. 3 D (hehe smily faces)

Dear toya:

It truly makes me smile knowing that I've made you happy in my own humble way. Between you and me, this story is personal therapy. LOL. Also, the character of Loki - a lovable villain who embodies that trait so wonderfully - was too irresistible to pass up and Tom Hiddleston's portrayal sealed it.

Glad you didn't hurt yourself tripping down the stairs! *whew* I've done that a few times and most of it is the fault of my silly cat! (my cat thinks it's amusing to sit on the stairs at night when I'm half awake going down to the kitchen for a glass of water)

Hope this chapter keeps you going till the next one. ;D

Take care!

Author's Note:

An Olympic Pool must be 25 meters (82.02 feet) wide with a depth of 2.0 m (6.562 feet)(min) at all parts of the course and must be 50 m (164 feet) in length. *As of 2005 UK standards.

DIVING BOARD HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS

(*excerpt is from an article on Livestrong dot com)

You can purchase and install diving boards of different heights. As the height of the board increases, the required depth of the pool increases as well. When you hit the water with greater gravitational force, your body has the potential to travel to a greater depth upon entering the pool. FINA suggests the following minimum pool depths based on the height of the diving board:

A 1-meter diving board should have an 11.5-foot pool depth.

A 3-meter diving board should have a 12.5-foot pool depth.

A 1-meter diving platform should have an 11-foot pool depth.

A 3-meter diving platform should have a 12-foot pool depth.

A 5-meter diving platform should have a 12.5-foot pool depth.

A 7.5-meter diving platform should have a 15-foot pool depth.

A 10-meter diving platform should have a 16.5-foot pool depth.

Recently watched the Avengers movie (kicked ass! whoo-hoo) and I've added little tidbits to tie-in some stuff, no direct spoilers. My first plan was to somehow streamline my story to match the events that unfolded in the movie. May or may not happen. Depends on how this tale develops and where the characters take me. I mean, to be honest, I'm sure many of you agree that this is heading into AU territory already, right? I've got 'Loki Redemption' on the brain, but Loki's never one to be pegged into any sort of stereotype.

Can anybody guess who the crystal dagger belongs to? *winks mischievously*

Black Widow and Hawkeye moments = priceless. (my new fave couple - coz they're Team Insane LOL)

Once a spy, always a spy it seems...

Anyone still remember Loki's little misadventure with Sigyn? (refer to chapter 3)

Keep in mind, Mars had changed his name at 18 to start a new life to try and escape his traumatic past.

It's a pre-Avengers gathering. ROFL. The only one missing is Dr. Banner.

I think Darcy's crush on Jarvis is super-cute!

Capt. America and Pepper? Why not? I think they'll be great together. =)

Poor Thor, all depressed again. Although, he's gotta get his priorities straight if he wants to see Jane. Stark's already gained ground on him in the dating department.

Dun, dun, dun! Loki's found Jane! Will he do something impulsively stupid out of anger and frustration?

Also, I always like hearing from my readers, so feel free to leave a note. ^_^

My heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: Liani Risate, Monkey-Paws, Gabs, BellonaNJ, randomwriter90, toya, ActiveIngredient, ericalove, Martianlightsaber!

Let Chaos Reign!