AN: STOP! … Avenger-Time! (And, I suppose, hammer-time.) Sorry for the slight filler chapter—but I promise that there will be action in the next chapter. SO much action. More action than your body has room for.
CHAPTER NINE
Jane hurried out of the elevator before the doors were fully opened, dragging Thor by the wrist behind her with some difficulty—he kept glancing around the concrete and steel walls, eying the gadgets and wires with intense curiosity.
"Thor, come on, you can mess with technology later."
He hesitated a moment before following her, turning on the spot to look at each of the retired weapons hanging on the wall. "How you mortals do it without magic," he muttered in awe.
"Is this him?"
Jane turned around abruptly with a sigh. She gave a demanding tug on Thor's arm. "Thor," she said pointedly. He finally stopped ogling the walls and turned to look at her. "This is Nick Fury, leader of SHIELD. They're the ones who, uh…who found the crash site after I did."
Thor bobbed his head by way of polite greeting. Fury returned the gesture solemnly. "Normally upon your arrival here," he said, "you would receive a formal introduction to SHIELD, a tour of the facilities, and an exchange of how do you do's, but under the circumstances I'm afraid we don't have time for such pleasantries. Have you come prepared to go into battle?"
Thor held up his hammer. "I am armed and ready to fight."
"Good. I shall give you your first assignment momentarily. Ms. Foster."
"Yes, sir."
"Given the gravity of the current situation, we require your assistance. Proceed immediately to conference room B on the second floor. There you will receive further instructions on your assignment."
Jane nodded and hurried back towards the elevator. Thor frowned at Fury.
"Surely, you do not intend to send her into combat?"
"Ms. Foster is a research scientist, a leader, and if Coulson is to be believed, one hell of a negotiator," he replied calmly. "Her assignment will be in keeping with her abilities. I doubt that her assignment will place her in any sort of physical danger." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Unlike yours."
"What exactly is my assignment?"
"To protect the people of Earth. To prevent any destruction that may result from this Medea's actions, before anyone gets hurt."
"Defend Midgard single-handedly?" Thor said. "Mr. Fury, I will not feign modesty: I am the strongest warrior there is on Asgard, but even I cannot defend an entire realm alone."
Fury raised an eyebrow with something bordering on amusement. "Who said that you would be working alone?" A clattering sound rang through the room. Fury turned to look at the elevator doors; Thor followed suit.
The doors slid open, revealing two men standing inside—at least, Thor assumed they were both men; one of them seemed to be made entirely of metal. The metal man stepped forward first. He pressed a button on his metal skin and the mask covering his face retreated, revealing that he was, in fact, human, with dark eyes and a brown mustache.
"I thought he was supposed to be a Viking," he said. "Where's his opera helmet?"
"Mr. Odinson," Fury said, ignoring the metal man's comment, "or should I say Thor; meet your new colleagues: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, better known as Iron Man and Captain America."
"Hello." The former stepped out from behind the metal man and extended his hand with a smile to Thor. They shook hands. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise," Thor replied amiably. He turned to the metal man and again held out his hand in what he assumed was a customary greeting.
"I haven't yet decided if it's a pleasure to meet you," Stark said matter-of-factly, ignoring the extended hand. "I shall inform you once I make up my mind."
Thor wasn't sure whether to take offense or to laugh. He smiled uncertainly at the metal man and struggled for a reply.
"I suggest that you make it up fast, Mr. Stark," Fury said coolly. "The three of you will have to work together efficiently and without conflict if you are to fight against what is to come." He looked at the three of them, although his eyes seemed to linger warningly upon Stark a little longer than the other two. "You are no longer Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor. You do not fight for your own ideals, or for personal glory, any longer. You are one unit that must work to defend humanity against destruction. You are the Avengers."
The building shook suddenly with a loud rumbling sound that seemed to come from the ground level over their heads. Fury looked up as a small stream of dust shook loose from the ceiling. "It is beginning," he said. "Go."
Loki peered into the distance as the driftwood board carried him across the landscape at an almost dizzying speed. There was no sign yet of Medea's home. His scowl deepened. He didn't have time for this game of hide-and-go-seek. He needed to find where Medea lived, and he needed to find out quickly, before it was too late.
He closed his eyes and attempted to reach out for some thread of magic in the air, some hint, some fingerprint that might tell him that a sorceress had recently performed magic. But he felt nothing. Medea had wiped away all traces of her presence…if she had ever even been in this place.
He yelled angrily—and then stopped cold, his voice breaking. He couldn't make a sound. Not because of fear, or frustration, or anger: he physically could not produce a sound. No, that couldn't be right, he thought. I can feel my throat vibrating. I am making sound. I just can't hear it.
He stopped the driftwood board immediately and leapt off the edge of it, landing smoothly on his feet and fingertips a few yards away. He stood up, and began walking towards the nearest hillside. Sound couldn't just disappear. Something, or someone, had to be masking it.
He walked methodically around the base of the hill, searching for a sign of disturbance: a broken branch, a shrub that was out of place or unusual, a door…
A door?
A narrow door of black cast iron rested in a tiny crevasse of the hill, hidden from plain sight by a small shrub of yellow flowers that made a web across the doorway.
Loki dashed up the hill towards the door at a sprint. Darcy, please, please, hold on. He struggled with the tangled flowers for a moment in vain; their roots seemed as though they had been welded to the ground, the stems rubbery and refusing to break. His fingertips slipped from the door and lost their grip on the flowers. Letting out a silenced cry of frustration, he slammed his palm against the doorway.
The flowers turned brown and frosty. In the blink of an eye, the shrub turned to icy dust beneath his fingers. Relieved, he tried to pull the door open. He hissed sharply and pulled away. The door was icy cold, even to him; his hand turned faintly blue.
"Not now, not now," he muttered at the door, the sound dying the second it escaped his throat. "I don't have time for this." He scrabbled desperately with the edge of the metal, his fingers slipping on the frost that was forming faster than he could wipe it away. He needed to make the frost go away.
He laid his hand flat against the door and closed his eyes. Within seconds, the metal was heating up beneath his fingers, the frost sending steam shooting into his face as its moisture evaporated into the air. The iron door let out a faint groan. The sound dampening magic was dying with the protective gate. Finally, glowing red with the heat, the door gave way.
The silence shattered with a scream.
Darcy's scream.
His heart racing, Loki kicked aside the curled remains of the door and lunged towards the stairs that waited in the darkness below. Hold on, love.
AN: More to come shortly. I actually wrote this over the weekend, but I couldn't publish it. I'm writing the next chapter right now-should be up within a few hours.