Stark Tower...
"Have you a moment, my lady?" Fandral the Dashing gave Miss Able his most winning smile. "I had hoped for your promised tour."
The curvy blond returned his feral grin with one of her own.
"Let me find someone to watch the desk," she purred.
30 minutes later...
Pepper Potts walked into the Reception Hall and scowled. An unfamiliar brunette sat at the primary desk, and Pepper did not like strangers there.
"Who are you? And where is Miss Able? This conference is going to begin soon," she said crisply.
"My apologies, Miss Potts: HR sent me up to relieve Miss Able, as she is escorting Sir Fandral about the building. I assumed you had been informed," the young woman said. "I am Helen Malick," she finished.
"Malick? Are you any relation to the Malick on the World Security Council?" Pepper demanded.
The young woman nodded. "He's my great-uncle."
Thor stepped out of an elevator. "Good morrow, Lady Pepper. Hast seen thy beau, Sir Stark? I would have words with him."
"Tony is out with Happy this morning, Thor. He should be back soon. But your friend Fandral has made off with my new secretary, and I cannot tolerate that. Her place is at her desk, not wandering around the Tower like a tour guide," Pepper groused.
Thor groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I doubt greatly that they wander so, Lady Pepper. Fandral is...in more delicate speech..." Thor hesitated.
"One big gland?" Helen Malick suggested.
Thor winced, but nodded. "Aye, indeed."
Pepper groaned. "JARVIS, what is the current location of Miss Abel?"
"Floor 69, Copy Room 2B," the AI announced.
"The one without security cameras?" Pepper guessed.
"Yes, Miss Potts. I am capable of providing audio monitoring, if you wish," JARVIS offered.
"No, please don't," Pepper responded quickly. "Have Miss Abel report directly to me when she and Fandral are finished."
"As you wish, Miss Potts," JARVIS replied.
She turned back to Thor. "Where is Loki this morning?"
Thor looked troubled.
===========/=========/===========/=========/===============
The Greenhouse...
"Quickly, all of you: we must away," Loki snapped.
Sauer, her eyes returned to normal, nodded mutely. She placed a trembling hand on Triplett's face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"S'alright," he murmured. He whipped off his shirt and handed it to the disheveled woman. "Wipe your face. It'll be ok." He reclaimed his shirt after the young woman had wiped the blood and tears from her face and folded it up. "Go on now: get," he motioned with his head.
She looked, confused, from Triplett to Loki, and the Dark Prince jerked his head towards the door.
"Come now," he commanded.
She nodded and followed him, still silent, as he strode purposely through winding halls and back into the garden. Agent Koenig met them at the door, and when he saw Sauer's face he pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her.
"Ration bars in the pockets," he told her.
Loki nodded his approval.
"Ware the Ward. He is treacherous," Loki said abruptly.
"I will," Koenig nodded.
"Miss Sauer," Loki said in his I'm only going to say this once so pay attention voice, "Do you wish to live?"
"Y-yes," she nodded, still shaking.
He held out one massive, blue hand. "Hold on to me if you wish to live," he commanded.
She darted past his outstretched hand, ducked underneath his chains, and threw her arms around his waist. Loki blinked; it had been a long time since anyone had embraced him, much less with enthusiasm. He favored her with a wan smile.
"Good," he nodded. "Take a deep breath."
Loki gave the wondering Koenig a sly grin.
And disappeared.
=====/=============/===============/============/==========
New York, New York
Ten steps away...
"I appreciate a firm embrace," Loki chuckled, "but you may release me now."
"I can't," she gasped. "My hands won't let go of your armor."
He swatted her-gently-on the backside.
"This is amusing, but unseemly in public. Are you not a grown woman? Stand on your own, little tart!"
Sauer blushed. She loosened the death grip she had on Loki's armor, and then realized that she had somehow managed to wrap her legs around his waist. She released him (and the breath she had been holding) and muttered an apology.
She coughed. "Did I just see deep space?"
He grinned roguishly. "That depends. How deep did you wish to go?"
She groaned. "Mjolnir is beating her way out of my skull, and you're making dirty jokes?"
"My apologies," he placed two very cool hands on either side of her head, and blew gently on her hair. Her pain seemed to evaporate. "Better?"
"Yes," she sighed, "thank you."
"Do you recognize this place?"
Sauer blinked. The Greenhouse arboretum had been replaced by brownstone walls, metal fire escapes, and laundry lines that stretched over her head. Somewhere a cat yowled. She smelled dirt and garbage.
An alley. But where?
She shook her head. "No. There are lots of places just like this."
She stepped away from him, tentatively, towards the street. Curiosity tugged at her even as images from Tripp's mind flashed behind her eyes.
He was a good man...
"Yes, he is. There are many like him," Loki remarked. He sounded bored.
"Not that I've met," Sauer said quietly. "I wish..." she sighed. "Never mind. Why are we here?"
"For the same reason Thrice-son carves into a piece of fruit," Loki answered stiffly. "Allies."
"Allies?" Sauer tottered away further, passed the dumpster and out to the street. Shops were open to the mid-day crowd: mom-and-pop operations, quite unlike the big stores in Manhattan, more like Queens, but different. She smelled garlic and basil and cheese. She looked around some more, and finally spotted the concrete arch and the park fountain. Beyond that was a construction zone: a dilapidated brownstone was being turned into a coffee shop.
Greenwich Village.
"Here?" She pulled off the jacket Agent Koenig had given her, and folded it over her arm.
"Yes."
"Friends of yours?"
"Not precisely," he answered dryly. "I am not popular in this city."
"And you stick out like a large blue thumb," she answered. "Can you at least shrink yourself down to human size, if you're going to walk around like a member of the Blue Man group? Musicians in blue face paint," she explained quickly, "but bald and regular-human sized."
"Why would I wish to be less imposing?" He looked at her as if she were crazy.
"Because, if we're here to search for allies to save the world, that means we're looking for 'good guys'. 'Good guys' don't usually like you at first..."
"I do have that effect."
"And I would like to start a conversation before you start beating the crap out of each other," she finished.
"A sound reason for women to stay out of battle," Loki huffed. "They prattle on and on, and suck all the joy out of tests of strength."
"I triple-dog dare you to say that to Sif's face."
He gave her a look that said stop blathering like an idiot child, and she snorted.
"Build a city before you demolish another one," she snapped. "I thought someone called 'Silver-tongue' would appreciate diplomacy over brute strength. Or are you turning into a large blue version of Thor?"
"I should park you over my knee for that insult, wench," he growled.
"Go ahead," she turned away from the street, and Loki saw the glint in her narrowed eyes. "A woman being beaten in an alley will bring down every superhero within 10 blocks. Is that the attention you want?"
Loki growled in the back of his throat. How was a Midguardian child able to bait him so? He, with nearly 1,000 years of experience in politics and diplomacy? He exhaled, exasperated.
"I can neither reduce my size nor change color," he grated, hating the omission. "We must dispense with such pleasantries for our search."
She looked at him, frowning. "Can you still cast illusions?"
10,000 butterflies flew around her and out into the street, lifting into the air around the crowd, causing many to 'ooooh' and 'ahhhh' at the spectacle.
"Show-off."
"You did ask."
"Can you cast an illusion of yourself, human-sized, dressed in regular clothing?"
"Like this?" A human-size copy of Loki appeared to her right, dressed in tight blue jeans and a plaid shirt. Illusion-Loki looked himself over and tutted. "This outfit is unseemly for someone of my station," it groused.
"Nice," Sauer nodded. "Now can you make your actual self invisible?"
Loki opened his mouth, and then closed it again. How was this spadling coming up with solutions, when he could not?
"You're over-thinking things," she shrugged. "That happens when you have a brain the size of a planet: you forget simple stuff. Mr. Stark has the same problem."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"I'm not the only one thinking loudly today," she pointed out. "Mentally, you're very well endowed." That isn't the only part, she thought to herself, your ass is magnificent.
*I heard that. Thank you,*Loki thought at her, sounding amused.
"Ghaaaa!"
"What about making you invisible?" Illusion-Loki asked. "I do not wish to endanger my little puzzle so soon."
"Ummm, which one of you am I talking to?"
*It is I. You may publicly converse with my image, and not seem prone to madness. Others will see you talking to another person.*
"Oh, right. Well, I don't know how things work in Asgard..."
*Best not to mention the place aloud, lest you alert listening ears.*
"Oh, right. Ok, well, here I am kind of already invisible."
Illusion-Loki raised an eyebrow and gave her figure an embarrassing once-over, then shook his head.
She sighed. "It's a social construct, not a physical one. I'm plain, therefore I don't exist. Men don't want to see me. Cab drivers ignore me. Salespersons in department stores wait on 5 people who came in after I did, and then still can't get rid of me fast enough. Is that invisible enough?"
"Your race is either unobservant or intolerably rude." Illusion-Loki remarked, shaking his head.
"Both, really." She shrugged. "Sometimes worse."
*I have mentioned as much to Thor. He insists that I would work ill in your population by trying to rule it. Your people have abandoned civility and manners. Would not interaction with a monarch engender such again, to everyone's benefit?*
Sauer shook her head as she turned towards the street again. "Politics is not really my 'thing', but that doesn't sound like a good idea. Conquered people have never been treated fairly, and they always resent the conqueror."
"Demonstration could prove differently," Illusion-Loki offered. "Just because things have been done by your people one way, does not mean that another race would act the same."
"True," Sauer admitted, "but the conqueror would be fighting both insurrection and thousands of years of prejudicial expectations. What choice would he have but to suppress it with brute force? That force would just reinforce the pre-suppositions of the conquered people, so nothing would change."
"A fascinating construct," Illusion-Loki mused.
*Turn right,* Loki commanded her mentally. *Go round the fountain park. I sense a Presence.*
She did. Illusion-Loki put himself between her and the street, and then set a stiff pace. She had to stretch her legs to keep up.
"I saw a recording of y...the speech Loki gave in Stuttgart a few years ago, just before the invasion of New York," she began.
"Was it not glorious?"
"I would say 'insulting'," she countered.
"Of course you would," he groused.
"Think about it," she pressed. "How would that speech have been received if Thor had given it in Yoda...Yogurt...how do you say it?"
"Jotunheimr."
"That."
Illusion-Loki stopped walking and looked thoughtful. "The last time we journeyed to Jotunheimr Thor nearly started a war: and that for fun. He lacks the wisdom to conquer, much less rule." The Illusion looked over at her. "But the Jotun are larger than we, and more formidable, so such a gloat would be unseemly before the battle. Does diminutive stature and inferior weaponry not demand automatic surrender?"
"Slap a hornet's nest sometime, and then tell them to stand down. I guarantee you won't forget it," she snorted.
"Ah. I had not considered that. Tell me, how long were you in your Healing Halls?"
"About a week," she admitted. "I swelled up like a sausage roll."
They had reached the other side of the park. The construction area loomed ahead of them; to their left another alley stretched, shadowed and smelling of garbage. A rat skittered down its length, jumping over piles of cardboard and disappearing into a trash can. Sauer's nose twitched and dripped; she put a hand to it and it came away red.
"Great," she muttered.
Illusion-Loki pulled a handkerchief out of an illusory pocket and offered it to her.
"How will that..." she began.
"Just trust me."
She reached for it and found it real. "Thanks," she said, pressing it to her nose. She put one hand onto the nearest brownstone wall and leaned over a little, trying not to bleed on her borrowed shirt. A battered shoe caught her eye as it was drawn, quickly, deeper into a large cardboard box.
Sauer stepped away from Illusion-Loki, into the alley, holding up one finger when he tutted in disapproval.
Sauer moved a piece of cardboard. An emaciated old woman, in a raggedy purple dress, cowered inside a refrigerator box. Filthy shoulder-length hair that should have been white clung to her scalp. One eye did not track with the other, and Sauer noticed several empty pint liquor bottles. A cardboard sign lay near the old woman: MUNEY 4 FOOD PLEEZ. She held up a hand at the sudden light.
"Pleeze," she whined, "I didn' do nuffin'..."
"Miss Sauer," Illusion-Loki cautioned.
"It's ok," the young woman soothed. "Call me Anne. Here. I want you to have this," she held out Agent Koenig's jacket, and the old woman peered at it suspiciously. "It was a gift from...from a friend...but it's really not my style. There's some meal bars in the pockets, too," she added.
The old woman grabbed the jacket with wrinkled, scabby hands, and gave Anne Sauer a weak smile. Watery blue eyes flicked down to the tennis shoes on the younger woman's feet. Sauer saw it and sat down immediately: pulling off the shoes and socks Skye had given her only hours before.
"I can't vouch for the fit," she began, but the old woman grabbed her hands.
"Th...thank you," she wheezed, and reached a withered, dirty hand to Sauer's face, still swollen and a little bloody. The oldster scowled at the man standing behind the young woman. "Did he..."
"No," Anne said quickly. "No, it wasn't him. It was somebody else." She found the pen used to make the sign, and quickly wrote Agent Coulson's number on another piece of cardboard. "If you can, call this man. Tell him his Pistol sent you. He can help."
"Bless ya," the old woman said, and threw her filthy arms around the young woman. The smell made Anne's eyes water, but she returned the embrace before standing and returning to Illusion-Loki.
"What was that about," he demanded? "The fate of your realm hangs in the balance, and you stop to give a few tokens to some wretch?"
"It's called 'mercy'. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
"Mercy is for the weak," he huffed.
"Yes," she nodded, "it's a gift from the strong." Illusion-Loki looked at her, incredulous, and Sauer sensed the expression she could see matched the one she could not.
"Think about it," she pressed. "Only the wise can teach, and only people with power can give mercy! You want to be a king? Take care of the weak: that will show how great of a king you are. Any asshole can command an army."
"And what do you have to show for this? Now you are both unshod and without victuals. Can you walk far, or easily replace what you have surrendered? What do you gain?" he demanded.
"I have eaten today," she answered softly, "and I have on decent clothing: she does not. I will not need such things for long, and you know it. By the time that bastard Thanos gets here I will be long dead," her eyes misted over, and she choked. "It's not fair, but it is what it is. What do I need with energy bars and clothing? I can share what I have with her, and give her a little dignity besides."
Behind them both now, the old woman stood up.
"Again: what does it profit you?" Illusion-Loki demanded. "Your philosophy is endearing, but impractical. We must away. This place reeks of..."
"Free medical care?" the crone cracked.
Illusion-Loki whipped around as the old woman crossed her hands in front of her. Whip, she flung them out again, and the crone dissolved: replaced by a curvaceous young woman with long white hair. A skin-tight purple leotard clung to her curves, and a red cape billowed behind her. The boxes, trash, rat...even the alley and one brownstone building that created it...disappeared.
The air crackled with electricity. Illusion-Loki dissolved, and the real one appeared, pulling Sauer behind him and wrapping her in his cloak. One hand summoned a magical shield bubble: the other formed an energy strike.
"Succubus," Loki snarled.
"Peace, your lordship! Peace, Clea," a strong voice called out from the construction zone, even as it disappeared. "You alarm my guests!"
A well-groomed man with black hair and mustache walked out of nowhere, as the construction zone dissolved into a brownstone building. A bright circle with intersecting wavy lines stood at the apex of the house's tower; it glowed even in mid-day.
"Well spoken, young lady," he said, beaming. "Mercy is indeed something only the strong can give. If only I had learned that years ago! Allow me to introduce myself: I am Dr. Steven Vincent Strange, Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. Welcome, friends, to the Sanctum Sanctorum."