Manhattan Island, New York, NY
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. Sauer clutched her work satchel to her chest, barely registering the crowds buffeting her as she walked, zombie-like, down the sidewalk. She repeated the mantra to herself over and over again as she walked, unsure of where she was really going.
It was late afternoon rush hour in New York City, and the sidewalks and roads were jammed with people. For a while she just allowed herself to be led by the crowd that surged and pulsed like schools of fish. The press of flesh was a constant, along with the stink of exhaust and the horn honking, swearing drivers just a hair away. The late afternoon sun was blocked, then revealed, then blocked again by various parts of the Manhattan skyline. She looked up, briefly, at the sharp angles of stone and glass, some of which still bore scars from the last Chitauri invasion Thanos-and Loki-had backed.
So many people had died.
So many more were about to.
A light breeze came up off the river, and she suddenly felt cold. Where was she? She had to get home, and home was across the river, in Flushing.
Or was it? Where did she really belong, anymore? She had grown up in Colorado, and she missed the ranch and the gun shop, but she had left that behind to join S.H.I.E.L.D. and see the world. She missed her father, of course, and most of her brothers and their families, but she just didn't belong there. Her few high-school friends had moved on, moved out, gotten college degrees, husbands, and babies. She had joined a top-secret paramilitary organization that did things she couldn't acknowledge, much less discuss, even in past tense. She had never felt at home with the pedestrian lifestyle her peers expected her to embrace, and there would be no brawny husband and fat little babies to make a home for: not for her, never for her. There was no point in going back to Colorado.
S.H.I.E.L.D was out. Even if she hadn't just told off Director Fury, the threat of the Council finding out she was alive still existed. What was one little soldier in their vast war machine? Nothing, and she knew it. S.H.I.E.L.D recruited the best of the best, and then discarded them like garbage when they were done. Thanks to her S.H.I.E.L.D. history, the American military was out as well. Washouts were not wanted.
"Hey, Lady! In or out, wouldja!"
The man's voice jolted her out of her reverie, and Sauer looked around. She had managed to walk into the Garment District-totally the wrong direction-and was standing in front of an American-themed restaurant named for some woman she had never met. Suddenly her stomach reminded her-LOUDLY-that she hadn't eaten, and it was tired of the neglect. She pushed her way inside and found a booth near the back of the establishment. No way was she putting her back to a door: not now, not ever. She looked at the baby picture in her phone, really fast. Bless that girl-what was her name-Skye.
"Whatelyahave?" the waitress flipped her order pad up expectantly.
Food and lots of it, said her stomach, but she opted for a cup of black coffee and a mug of the soup of the day, for starters. The waitress nodded, and was back a minute later with a large mug of something with noodles and another one of caffeine.
"And hon, take my advice: leave the bum," said the waitress.
"Huh?" she looked up, surprised.
The waitress was an older white woman: plump and 40-something, with wisps of gray showing in the pulled-back black hair and a tired face, but sharp eyes. She pointed at the bridge of Sauer's nose.
"Leave 'im," she insisted. "Ain't no man worth puttin' up with that!" she nodded for emphasis. "I seen it too many times to count, hon. Take it from me: leave the bum!"
Sauer felt the bridge of her nose. She had forgotten about falling over Mjolnir. It didn't feel broken, but her face was probably a sight. There was blood on her blouse as well. How had Stark looked at her in this condition, and still managed to fire her? Suddenly she was mad...
"He already kicked me out," she said, scowling.
The waitress nodded. "You're better off withoutim'." She pointed to the mug of noodles Sauer had already half-finished. "You want sumpin' more than that, hon? You look like you ain't et decent in a while."
Sauer opted for a grilled something-or-other with lots of cheese and fries and a giant chocolate shake. When she was done with that the older woman brought over a triple-layered slice of something dark and chocolaty and sticky and sinful, with nuts and cherries or something like that. She wasn't certain, and she didn't care. It was delicious.
Sauer paid her bill and left a generous tip, gathered her things, and headed back out into the street. She had to go back uptown for a bit and grab the subway to get across the river. She wanted her apartment and her own clothing and a hot bath, preferably with lots of candles and bubbles and no interruptions, thank you. There were gun shops in Flushing-she frequented many of them-and she was certain she could find a job with her credentials. Maybe Thanos was coming, but that didn't mean she had to sit back and watch people be mowed down like sheep. To Hell with Fury and Stark and S.H.I.E.L.D. and the rest of them! It was her planet, too.
"Good luck, Happy," she whispered to the sky, and started walking.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Stark Tower
Stark had a word with his lady-in-waiting (Anne Sauer, Loki reminded himself) dismissed her on some errand, and then injected himself into the reunion with Agent Coulson. Sauer had referred to Stark as royalty, and suddenly Loki understood why: the man was abrupt with his servants, polished with his peers, and slick with his enemies. He would make an adept politician, if he applied himself.
Loki waited until Captain Rogers and Stark finished talking to Coulson before walking over. He saw the man stiffen, but other than that the Agent showed no outward sign of fear.
Secretly, he admired him for that. The man was obviously a disciplined professional, and there were few of them on Midgard. Coulson would fit in well with the warriors of Asgard, with his attitude. In his centuries of training, as both a royal prince and a warrior, Loki had seen Aesir boys 5 times the man's age that did not have his composure. The Dark Prince appreciated a disciplined mind. It had almost been a shame to strike him down.
Almost.
War was war. Killing the enemy was not something worth sentiment or mourning or tears, even if the enemy was an admirable opponent. Aesir children were stripped of such at an early age; emotional weakness was not tolerated. Even with a death-thrust through his chest, Coulson had still managed to shoot Loki with the contraption his people had cobbled together from the Destroyer. That was the mark of a warrior: to strike at the enemy even while dying.
It should have earned him a spot in Valhalla.
Loki looked down at Coulson: green eyes into blue. Coulson was impassive, but Loki's head tilted to the side, just a bit.
"I thought I killed you," he said, matter-of-factly.
Coulson nodded. "You did." He paused for a blink. "I got better."
Loki smiled at the man's cheek. "Obviously."
It was Coulson's turn to look puzzled. "We heard the same about you from Thor, last year."
Loki's face opened just a bit. "He did not deceive you," he nodded. "I was indeed struck down in Svartalfheimr, slaying the monster that killed our mother."
Fury had the temerity to interrupt. "Your mother? Didn't she just message us a few hours ago, through that Heimdall chap?"
Loki turned, stiffly, to the slightly-shorter S.H.I.E.L.D. director, and gave a slight nod. "She did. Thor's father pulled...I believe you call it a 'mulligan'...to retrieve his wife from death. The All-Father does not believe himself bound by the same rules of life and death as the rest of the Universe."
"It's good to be the king," Fitz murmured at Coulson's elbow, and both Loki and Coulson gave the young man an admirable 'shut-up' glare.
"Fury did the same thing to me," Coulson stated flatly. "It is an unpleasant procedure for the one so retrieved."
Fury scowled at him. "You're alive, aren't you? What does it matter how..."
"My own magic pulled me back from death," Loki turned back to Coulson, cutting Fury off mid-sentence. "There are things about my Jotun physiology that I am still exploring."
"I was tortured back to life by Fury's physicians," Coulson said evenly. "It took days." He frowned slightly for a moment, and then an idea struck him. "Dinner is ready. Would you like to have a beer, and talk about Death?"
The smell from the conference room was tantalizing, even if the offer smacked of near-social equality. The Black Prince could never consider a Midgardian a social equal, even if Thor chose to chum around with them. Especially since Thor chose to chum around with them. Still, he mused, perhaps when faced with Death, in that instance they were all 'equals'.
"An amenable offer, Agent Coulson," Loki replied. "What exactly passes for 'beer' in this realm?"
The pair left Fury behind, sputtering, and walked into the conference room.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Stark Tower, Floor 85, Conference Room C
Fandral the Dashing looked around the illusion Sauer and Stark's computer had cast, ashamed. This should have been his job, not hers. And once again, he had defaulted to sharpness, even after the tongue-lashing he had received from Thor.
"I am an ass," he groaned.
"Aye, you are," growled Hogun. "Better to realize that now, while you yet live and may make amends." He looked down at the sheet-draped figure. "Was there aught of import in this woman's death, that she should be displayed for all to see?"
Fandral shook his head. "Nay, not in the manner of her dispatch," he answered carefully. He pointed to the unclean-looking device that hovered over the body. "This is of concern. It is a soul-catcher. E'en if the victim died without speaking, Thanos would yet collect her soul, drink it, and know all that she e'er knew in life. That would be disastrous. This woman knew Asgard well."
"You knew her." Hogun looked at him sharply, and Fandral sighed.
"Not in my usual way, no," he admitted, frowning. Somehow he had to avoid telling his friend all... "This lady was...ambassadorial staff from another realm, and often at the All-Father's court." He frowned even deeper. "She may have known much about our security. The All-Father must be told."
"We must inform Thor..."
"I already have."
There were shouts from the end of the hall, and both Aesir turned towards it. They weren't surprised. Everyone in the Tower was under a lot of stress, and Midgardian tempers were notoriously short, like their life-span. The shouting stopped as quickly as it had begun, and they returned to their examination of the room.
"Have you aught to add to this?" Hogun pressed.
"Nay," Fandral sighed. "The maid has done better than I could, mayhap because she was in the Mad Titan's mind longer." He frowned. "I do pity her for that. Tis like being immersed in sewage, an' she is so young..."
"Art not an old man, Fandral," Hogun reminded him.
"You have the right," Fandral nodded, "but e'en in my few centuries I have seen much of magic, sorcery, and death, much more than the children of this realm should have to endure. This madman," he gestured to the computer-generated mockup around them, "makes Prince Loki look like an innocent child."
"Then the sooner the Realms are rid of him, the better," Hogun nodded stiffly. "Come, old friend. You have a maid to make amends with, and I am commanded to question her. We should be off."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Stark Tower, 93rd Floor
"We should start you on vitamin boosters right away," Dr. Banner said, "as well as generalized antibiotics and antivirals, to ward off infection. When was your last physical?"
"Last month," Happy said, wincing. "I got the full work-up. Been getting them every three months or so since I got blown up last year."
"Blown up?" Volstagg's face showed his shock.
Happy quickly filled Dr. Banner and Volstagg in on the events surrounding the Mandarin threat. "And I spent about three weeks in the hospital, recovering. It was almost a good thing. Turns out I had a blood clot in my leg that was just about to bust loose."
Banner nodded. "From all those years sitting behind a wheel, I bet."
"Will you be doing the...the procedure?"
Happy almost looked desperate, and Banner wondered if the man was having second thoughts. He couldn't really blame him.
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Hogun; this isn't really my field. It isn't that I can't do it, mind you," he hurried to explain, "it's just that I shouldn't. I don't handle life-or-death stress situations very well, and if you need, say, CPR, you won't want the Other Guy doing it."
"Yeah, good point."
"I'm certain Fury has some medical personnel we can use for this. Probably equipment, too. Like Natasha said: they have all the toys," Banner nodded.
"If there is need of ice for the freezing, Prince Loki may be able to produce it," Volstagg suggested.
"Will the party be a problem?" Happy asked.
Banner smiled. "Try not to get too wasted."
"Yeah, right. I don't want to die with a hangover, now, do I?"
Banner chuckled. "Just pace yourself, ok?"
"Are you gentlemen nearly finished?" Pepper walked over from where she had been talking with Natasha and Sif. "Tony just texted me; dinner is being served downstairs."
"Please tell me red meat is still ok," Happy pleaded with Dr. Banner.
"I don't see why not," the physicist shrugged, then grinned. "You don't have to worry about your cholesterol now, do you?"
"I guess not," Happy conceded. He turned to Pepper Potts. "Did he go and leave you behind again? I'll have to talk to him about that." He offered her his arm. "Shall we go downstairs, Miss Potts?"
"Thank you, Happy. That would be lovely," she nodded smiling.
"Miss Romonov?" Happy held out his other arm, and the assassin took it. The three of them headed for the elevator, leaving Dr. Banner with Sif and Volstagg.
"May I escort you to dinner, Princess Sif?" Dr. Banner offered a gentlemanly arm to the Aesir warrior, and she blinked with surprise.
"You may," she said as she took his arm, "but I am not technically a princess."
"Isn't your father one of Prince Thor's brothers, and technically also a prince?"
"She is the Tyredottir, true," Volstagg nodded, "but as he is not a ruling prince, she do not have her father's title."
"I command of several divisions of the Aesir army, and am a companion to our Crown Prince, so you may think of me as a Countess, but we do not...how do you say it?...'hang up' on such formalities," Sif explained.
"I still find it unseemly to leave such a lovely woman without an escort," Banner proclaimed as they walked to the elevator.
Sif only smiled.
"And we call Loki the Silver tongue," Volstagg mused.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Stark Tower, 85th floor
The elevator doors opened, discharging Volstagg, Dr. Banner with Lady Sif, and Happy Hogun with Pepper and Natasha into the corridor just as Hogun the Grim and Fandral the Dashing came up the other end. A petite, curvy blonde sat at the receptionist desk.
"Hello, Miss Able," Pepper said, surprised. "Where is Miss Sauer? I was expecting to see her at this desk."
"We also need to speak to your lady-in-waiting, Lady Potts," Hogun said sternly.
"So long as he," she glared around the large Aesir at Fandral, "behaves himself: that is fine."
"Aye, he will," Hogun grunted. "My word on that, milady."
"Miss Able?" Pepper prompted.
"I don't know Miss Sauer's whereabouts," the young blonde said, adjusting her blouse to show more cleavage than necessary. "I believe Mr. Stark had work for her elsewhere," she added with a breathy sigh.
The actions were not lost on Fandral the Dashing, who returned her flirting with a twinkle of his own eyes. "We have...business...with Mr. Stark's other maid. When such is finished, could you arrange a tour of your castle? We have yet to see the sights," he purred.
Hogun the Grim rolled his eyes in disgust.
"I'm always ready and willing to...assist," she cooed.
"I'll bet she's ready and willing," Natasha murmured in an aside to Pepper.
"And that is why Sauer occupies that desk, and not Abel," Pepper murmured back.
Hogun grabbed his comrade by the arm. "Come on, loverboy," he grunted, "work before play," he insisted, dragging the Dashing into the conference hall/dining room.
Several tables had already been set up. Phillip Coulson sat with Loki, comparing scars on their chests, and several strange S.H.I.E.L.D. agents milled around with other members of the Avengers.
"I think mine is bigger," Coulson said, "percentage-wise, at least. But part of that could be due to surgery..."
Loki shook his head. "Do not feign modesty on my account, Agent Coulson. The Scepter's blade is curved, like unto a scimitar, and makes a larger cut. I was skewered by a straight spear of Elvish make. 'Twis not so deep as a well..."
"Nor so wide as a church-door, but 'twas enough, it did serve!" finished Coulson. "Ask for me tomorrow..."
"And you shall find me a grave man!" Loki finished with a flourish, and took a large swallow of his beer. He coughed and made a face. "If not from the stabbing, then from this swill that passes for a stout. Someone has mulled it, by the Norns!"
Coulson took a swig of his, tasting it carefully. "Hmmm. Coffee, milk, vanilla, and cocoa...must be that New Holland Dragon's Milk. It's a little sweet, I suppose..."
"It is cappuccino with some beer in it, for flavor," Loki snorted. "Dragons produce venom, not this dessert in a glass. And I would not recommend milking one, unless it is already dead!"
"Dragons exist?" Coulson blinked in surprise.
"Aye, they do, friend," said Thor, sitting across from Coulson and next to Loki. "Loki wears the horns o' one on his helmet." He took a large swallow from his beer tankard and coughed. "Ugh. Too sweet," he said, shaking his head. "'Tis foamed tea, and not beer."
"And this they call a stout," Loki remarked.
"Blasphemy," Thor rumbled, shaking his head again.
"So, Fury took you to your surgeon after I stabbed you?" Loki re-directed.
"Not immediately," Coulson shook his head. "I would still be dead if Pistol hadn't shoved the energy cell from my gun into my chest. I was bleeding quite a lot."
"I do not do anything by halves," Loki nodded.
"Energy cell?" Thor prompted.
"We made an energy-rifle out of the Destroyer's remains," Coulson shrugged. "I shot Loki with it after he stabbed me."
Loki chuckled. "It kicked well: knocked me through three walls and down to a hangar."
Thor frowned. "I thought a 'pistol' was a small hand-weapon, not a spear-sized firearm."
Coulson shook his head. "This 'Pistol' is a person. It's my nickname for Miss Sauer."
Loki's eyebrows rose. "Truly? I am surprised. The maid is quite resourceful, though a little reckless. The Destroyer-and your weapon-were both powered with Tesseract energy. It explains the blue glow in your eyes and hers." He frowned. "How then did you die, with your heart repaired by the Tesseract?"
"The burn just cauterized an artery; it didn't heal anything else," Coulson explained. "My heart was still too damaged, so I died in surgery after." He glanced around. "I wonder where Sauer is? She hasn't heard all of this story, either."
"Stark sent her away on an errerrrrk..." Loki choked on the words, suddenly unable to speak. "Odd," he said, frowning.
"What ails you, Loki?" Thor looked at him, wondering.
"I was going to say that Stark had sent Miss Sauer away on an errand, but my bindings prevented me," Loki said, wondering.
"Bindings?" Coulson asked.
"Loki's mouth is magically bound-sewn shut-to prevent him from uttering falsehoods," Thor explained. "That he cannot say Sauer is away on an errand means she is not."
"My assumption was false," Loki said, wondering. "These bindings are strong seidr indeed, if they prevent me from giving information I do not know is inaccurate."
Coulson sat back in his chair, thinking. "JARVIS," he said after a minute's reflection, "what is Miss Sauer's current location?"
Pepper Potts chose that moment to walk over and greet the (hastily shirted) agent. "Phil! So glad to see you!" she exclaimed, and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thor," rumbled Hogun from behind her, "a word, please."
"Miss Sauer has left the building," JARVIS announced.
"JARVIS?" Pepper looked around for Tony. "Why and where has she gone?"
"Miss Sauer is no longer employed by Stark Industries," JARVIS explained. "She has taken her personal effects and left the building. I have no data on her current whereabouts."
"She quit?" Pepper, aghast, started to glow around the eyes. "Now?"
"No, Miss Potts," JARVIS corrected, "Mr. Stark terminated her. I have already deposited her severance pay into her account, and all of her Stark Industry clearances have been revoked."
Pepper whirled around to glare across the room. "TONY!" she shrieked, enraged. "HOW COULD YOU?"
Across the conference room, Tony's eyes widened. "Uh-oh. Pepper's pissed at me for something."
Hogun frowned and turned to Thor. "What does this mean: 'terminated'?"
Thor scowled, rising. "Stark has dismissed the maid from his employ."
"He did what?" Coulson shouted. "Stark, have you lost your mind?"
Loki's face twisted into a snarl, and his face-already deep blue-darkened almost black with rage. "You complete and UTTER FOOL," he bellowed, stalking across the conference room. "Have you any idea what you have DONE?"
Tony's eyes widened at the group bearing down on him. "JARVIS, why...?"
"They seem to be upset over Miss Sauer's dismissal, sir," the AI replied.
Tony scowled and set his bourbon glass down with a thud. "Now see here," he growled at the angry circle. "I have every right to decide who works for me, and I've had enough of Fury's moles! If you are all so worried about your little S.H.I.E.L.D. maiden, go out and get her! But don't ask me to put up with this ERRRRKKK!"
Hogun, not wanting to listen to any more of Stark's tirade, snatched Tony up by the shirt-front. Curling him as easily as he would a tankard of ale, he whirled around and stomped down the hall, where he kicked in the door to Conference Room C. Tony flailed, sputtering, as a general outcry rose behind Hogun, but the stern-faced Aesir ignored both, just as he ignored the pieces of armor that began to assemble themselves on Stark's body. Dark faced, he flung the partially-armored Stark into the middle of the hologram Sauer had constructed.
"Fool," he growled firmly, and with contempt. "Childish, peevish fool. Servant of Stark, who made this illusion: comprehend you my speech?"
"I do, Sir Hogun," JARVIS answered.
"Show your master the victim," Hogun commanded.
"I apologize, Sir Hogun, but I cannot..." JARVIS began, but the Tony Stark cut the AI off mid-sentence. He hovered in mid-air, stunned at the visible imagery created by his own computer.
"JARVIS, what is this?"
"This is the current re-creation of the Mad Titan's control deck, sir, based on Miss Sauer's description," JARVIS replied.
Tony-helmetless but otherwise fully armored- spun in a slow circle. "This is what she saw?"
"Apparently so, sir."
"What victim is Sir Hogun talking about?"
"There is a re-creation of the Mad Titan's latest torture victim on an altar behind you, sir. Miss Sauer requested that the body be hidden, out of respect for the dead."
How bad can it be? Tony thought. I've seen people killed before. He remembered the Afghani war zone he had fought his way out of, and scowled. "JARVIS, show me this victim," he commanded.
"Please confirm the change specified to the program, Mr. Stark."
"Just DO IT, JARVIS!"
"As you wish, sir."
The digitally projected sheet covering the body disappeared...
And Tony Stark shook...
Turned white...
And puked on the floor.
"Are you alright, Mr. Stark?" the AI asked him when he finished emptying his stomach.
"Can you save the image, JARVIS?" Stark rasped.
"I can, sir."
"Do it, then stop projecting and call for janitorial services." Stark was still shaking, clumsily bent over on his knees in his armor.
The victim had moved...MOVED...turned a dying head that was tenuously attached to a burned, skinned, and vivisected body...and looked at him. Pleading eyes in a once-beautiful face closed...
The image reset, and played again. And again.
And again.
"JARVIS, close program." Tony Stark was still shaking.
"This is an extremely large program, sir. I am having trouble finding storage capacity for the over-write," the AI explained apologetically. "Calling for assistance from...ah, that should do it." The images disappeared, and Tony found himself back in Conference Room C.
"Thank you, JARVIS," Stark said tiredly. "Please call Miss Sauer for me."
There was a pause. "The call is unanswered, sir. Apparently this number has been blocked."
"Damn."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Manhattan Island...Stark Tower, Ground Floor
Hogun the Grim stepped out into the dimming streets. The crowd was thick, and the streets were clogged with honking, blaring carriages that had no horses pulling them. Cars, he remembered, Thor said they were called cars.
He tested the air with his nose. The press of flesh and the collective stench of humanity and pollution were an outrage to the senses, but Hogun could still catch the faintest whiff of the girl's scent, as well as a trace of her spirit energy. He turned left.
"Going somewhere, Hogun?" It was Fandral. The swordsman had followed him down to the street.
"Aye," he grunted.
"By yourself?"
"If necessary."
"It is not," Fandral shook his head energetically. "The Warriors Three go on campaigns together, remember?"
"There be but two of us now, Fandral," the large Oriental said abruptly.
"Art not counting me out of the company already, are you?" Volstagg said from 10 feet away. "Pardon my tardiness, lads. I did get hung up in that odd revolving door of Sir Stark's Tower."
"We have a quest, then!" Fandral said enthusiastically, clapping his hands with glee. "A quest to fetch a S.H.I.E.L.D. maiden back to her master's manor!"
"Do not give the lady offense again, Fandral," Hogun warned him. "I'll not stand for it."
"That's why I am here," Volstagg said firmly. "He'll watch his tongue, or deal with me about it."
Hogun sighed. It was going to be a long night.
TBC