Disclaimer: not mine
Bruce's head was beginning to clear. There were fewer patches of black, less fuzzing silences, and he was able to keep a steady grip of lucidity. Which was very bad. Because the more aware he became, the more his heart-rate skipped, and the more and more antsy he became.
As he watched the Doctor skitter around the heavy steel mass, poking and prodding and cursing under his breath, John pacing furiously, muttering something about Sherlock, and Rose standing to the side, her expression schooled and pinched, tapping at the watch on her wrist, the trepidation grew.
The guilt was peaking, the panic and self-loathing expanding within his chest. It was all his fault. Bruce had been awake enough to hear what the others had been saying. His DNA had made more monsters, more people had been mutilated and they were going to kill even more. And now…he should have said no, he should have been taken straight back to the Helicarrier and put somewhere safe until he calmed down.
But he had let them lead him to the middle of the complex, where none of the horrific truths could be hidden from him, and he was getting anxious. He was getting so anxious, and he was terrified that he was going to explode. Explode, and hurt one of them, or someone else in the middle of the city.
And to make it worse – he couldn't leave. Lucid he may have been, but going on the weightiness of his limbs, and the whirling in his gut, Bruce didn't think he was capable of navigating the unfamiliar base, finding the hidden jet, and surviving the flight back on his own without the confusion stressing him to the point of release.
Bruce caught himself jumping, forcing himself to take deep breaths, as the door that had been carefully held shut with a fire extinguisher was thrown open, and the consulting detective practically fell through the gap in his hurry to get in.
Over the sound of John storming across the room, yelling and demanding to know where the hell Sherlock had been, and Sherlock's snipped and gambolling explanations that didn't make much sense from where Bruce was sitting, the scientist was unable to decipher the Doctor's weary remonstrations, and could only just make out Rose asking where Loki had gone with a disappointed yet hopeful façade flooding her features.
Bruce decided that it would be better, and far easier, to stay slumped where he was and listen to the fallout of whatever had obviously gone wrong.
"I've wiped the databases, but we can't block the portal – you need to shut it down from here." Sherlock gasped, gesturing stiltedly towards the humming metal device in the centre of the room. He swept Rose and the Doctor aside as he stepped forward, only glancing sheepishly at John before clearing his throat and clocking eyes with Bruce, nodding in acknowledgement.
"I can't shut it down from here!" The Doctor argued, "and what do you mean we can't block the portal? I've been hearing wonderful things about Miss Foster's device."
Sherlock shook his head, and was visibly trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone for longer than a few seconds.
"The machine opens multiple portals, all across London, and they're sending half of the Hulk-creatures through to Asgard while the other half destroy the city." The detective explained, dragging his bottom lip though his teeth in the only show of nerves that Bruce had seen the man perform. That didn't bode well.
The Doctor's expression became closed off, and without another word he adjusted his hands on his screwdriver and turned his back on the group, marching to the machine, the hum from which had slowly crept up into a rumbling buzz that made the floor underneath Bruce's feet vibrate.
He needed to get out. This wasn't good, and thanks to the drugs still crawling through his system, he didn't think he'd have the power to control the Other Guy should he break free.
John on the other hand didn't appear to be making any effort to keep his temper in check. He was dragging in ragged breaths through his nose, but the pinching of the bridge of his nose that had been taking place minutes before had ceased and he was gesturing angrily in Sherlock's face.
The detective tilted his face down so that the doctor could address him head on, and looked genuinely sorry; not that that made him make any move towards apologising.
"Sherlock, I let you and Loki go on the basis that you'd be smart, you know, be the genius that you make sure we never forget you are – where the hell have you been‽" John demanded, his voice lowering to a growl, "You should have been back ages ago! What if it's too late – oh, but that doesn't matter, because Sherlock's gone and done whatever it was that he deemed so important-"
"I went after Moriarty." Sherlock snapped, glancing upwards as the Doctor let out a shout and the sound of a shoe colliding with steel reverberated within the space; ignoring the look of disbelief that his flatmate wore, he called out to the Doctor, "He said it was Isomorphic!"
The Doctor growled under his breath and muttered something, disappearing behind the machine, but Bruce couldn't make out what he had said.
John gaped for a moment, and shook his head. Rose took that moment to step forward, which was enough to make Sherlock step back, maintaining the space between them.
"Where's Loki?" she repeated, half-way between dangerous and worried. Sherlock shook his head, as if collecting his thoughts, but John cut off his attempt at an answer.
"You know I honestly trusted you to just do the right thing for once, and you go after Moriarty, that madman, and now you've lost the nutter that we've been trying to keep locked up." John yelled, slapping the back of his hand against Sherlock's chest.
"Hey, he's not a nutter!" Rose barked, but John ignored her.
"So what have you been doing while we've been here trying to prevent a catastrophe?"
Sherlock growled under his breath, but met John's glare with a steady, piercing one of his own.
"We found Moriarty, and yes, I'll admit, with hindsight, that wasn't clever, but I did discover that he is the only one that can stop the portals from opening, and that he has complete remote control over the Hulk-creatures, so we shouldn't waste time here." Sherlock hissed, his eyes never leaving John's as he spoke, only lifting to nod sympathetically to Rose before providing an explanation, "Moriarty made him an offer, and Loki accompanied him as he left."
Rose shook her head frantically, even as John huffed and muttered something about 'I told you so', her hair flying as her expression pinched.
"No, I know he's a bit hard to handle but he wouldn't, not while I'm here waiting for him." She insisted.
Sherlock gave a small shrug and a quirk of his eyebrow, before replying sardonically.
"It might comfort you to know that though he abandoned you, he chose not to kill me."
"Great…" Rose sighed, closing her eyes and bringing her hands up to rest her head in.
Bruce had to force himself to take deep breaths, to keep himself as calm as possible. He wanted to storm across the room, demand to know just what they had been thinking, letting Loki loose, giving him the chance to try and take over the world again. But with the sluggishness that still lingered in the back of his mind, and the dull weight in his limbs, Bruce knew that it would be a push too far, and stayed slumped where he was, watching the Doctor reappear and stride over to interrogate the detective.
"Tell me Sherlock, what did Moriarty promise to get Loki to agree to join him?" The Doctor asked coldly, a twisted smirk curling the edge of his cheek. Rose shot him a pained look, but he ignored her in favour of waving a hand in Sherlock's direction.
Sherlock cleared his throat, sparing a momentary glance to John; he avoided meeting Rose's gaze, as if afraid that should he see her face he would be plagued with guilt.
"Moriarty described his plans to destroy the Earth, for…entertainment…and then that he would turn the slaughter of the Asgardians into some kind of sport – and that he would be happy to allow Loki to act as ruler." He explained.
It was as if Bruce's stomach had increased density, dipping and sinking into the pit of his abdomen. Deep breaths. Just deep breaths, and then everything would be fine, and he could hide away on the Helicarrier until it was all over.
He would not allow himself to add to the already inevitable destruction.
Bruce hadn't realised that he had allowed his head to drop, but when he raised his eyes once more, it was to see the Doctor nodding solemnly, John stood back from the detective, hand gripping his chin in frustration, and Rose, arms wrapped tightly around herself, looking lost but turning her head determinedly to follow the strain of conversation.
"I see…" the Doctor said almost to himself; then with an unexpected burst of energy, he clapped his hands together gleefully and made as if to run back to the machine, the noise from which had grown to an almighty whirring, that sent tangible pulses through Bruce's skin. He was certain that it was making everyone else as uncomfortable as it was him.
Rose inhaled deeply, and then, her face set, shoulders squared, interrupted whatever spiel the Doctor was reeling off; Bruce was too tired, to agitated, to everything to pay much heed to the man's ramblings. True, he had been a great comfort when the experiments were taking place, but he was as insane as Loki when he got going.
"Okay…so we can't stop the machine, and the monsters could go at any moment." Rose summed up, extending her hands in a so-so motion, "What's the plan?"
"We need to shut that down!" Sherlock remonstrated, striding towards the machine until the Doctor threw out an arm and halted his progress, "Can't we just blow it up?"
"No…we can't blow it up." the Doctor drew out his answer, as if mulling it over.
"What we need to do is forget about the portals," John interjected; he was still angry, but his ingrained sense of duty seemed enough to make him keep a lid on it and think logically, "We need to call the others and warn them about the monsters – if we release the formula then this is over before it even began."
"We can't just release the formula, it might be too early and we could miss them!" Sherlock replied, biting the inside of his cheek, "We can't do anything until they're transformed, and then the formula will only work if the others can keep them in one area."
The bickering was grating. Subject matter aside, the uselessness, the waste of time was enough to set Bruce's teeth on edge.
"You need to call Rogers and tell him what's happening." Bruce called, and the others fell silent. If he hadn't known any better, he'd have said that they'd forgotten he was there.
"Look," He continued, "They need to know what's going on, they need to be on guard…and you need to get me out of here, because I don't know how much longer I can hold on, and I'm starting to get a headache."
To his relief, Sherlock nodded and hummed in agreement, and Rose tread lightly to his side, hoisting him gently upright to compensate for the slouch that he hadn't realised had occurred.
The Doctor rushed to his other side and helped to lift Bruce to his feet, swinging the scientist's arm over his shoulder. It was awkward given their heights, but Bruce welcomed the solidity, and found that he was just about able to hobble stably with assistance.
"Sherlock, radio Steve and fill him in." The Doctor instructed; Sherlock grimaced at the Timelord's assumption of leadership, but a glare from John shut him up, and he retreated to the edge of the room, pulling a radio from his belt and mumbling incoherently into it, "John, I'm going to need you to radio the jet, let them know we're on our way." John nodded and mirrored Sherlock's actions; the Doctor turned to Rose (making Bruce stumble as he was ungainly turned), and whatever his expression held, it made the woman shake her head.
"No." she said swiftly, "No, whatever you're about to say, I know that look in your eyes, and no."
"Rose, need someone to stay here and keep trying to turn the machine off." The Doctor placated her, unsuccessfully if the pursing of her lips were anything to go by, "I'm not keeping you out of the way, it just needs doing."
"Then have John stay, or Sherlock!" Rose raised her voice, and out of the corner of his eye Bruce saw both Sherlock and John turn towards the sound, and then move together to whisper in each other's ears.
The Doctor huffed, and Bruce feared for a moment that he was going to drop him, but the hands around his waist tightened before he could more than tilt to the left.
"They're armed, you're not – I need you here working on this." The Doctor stressed; his face softened as Rose refused to break eye contact, "I'll make sure they don't hurt Loki."
Rose's shoulders sagged, and she glanced over her shoulder at the whirring machine, a pensive dullness in her eyes. Exhaling loudly, she turned back.
"Fine, I'll stay here."
"Good-o!" the Doctor snapped back into a façade of cheer, and with a jaunty flick of the wrist, flung his screwdriver at her; she caught it in both hands, and looked questioningly back at him, "You'll need this – tear it apart if you have to, just make it stop."
Rose nodded and said nothing more as she strode towards the machine. As the Doctor led him towards John and Sherlock at the door, Bruce watched the way that she eyed up the metal hulk, walking around it, and then back again, sizing it up.
The detective's voice made him focus in on the fact that they were moving, stumbling and hobbling through the barely lit halls, John toting his pistol in the lead while the Doctor shook his head disdainfully and Sherlock talked smoothly.
"Rogers was a little irritable with me," Sherlock was explaining, and Bruce found that he didn't have a hard time imagining why, "They've found the Master's body-"
It took a great amount of effort to stop himself from hurtling forwards as the Doctor froze, but Bruce managed it.
"The Master's…he's not dead? He can't be – it's just us-"
"He's dead Doctor, and there are far more important things to worry about now." Sherlock scolded distastefully, picking up his pace once more with a scowl across his lips.
"I agree…we can all be sad when I'm locked away – alright?" Bruce felt the need to jump in there, and as if the Doctor were just then remembering the man that he was supporting, he began walking, although the way that he dragged the scientist was nowhere near as gentle.
"As I was saying…" Sherlock continued, as if nothing had occurred, "They think that they've discovered the mutated people – the homeless that were taken from the streets, hanging around when everyone else is tucked up indoors. Now Rogers is just waiting for something to happen."
The Doctor didn't answer, and one look at his face showed a grim image.
The four of them walked in silence through the halls; Bruce felt that someone should speak, that the guards were gone, and that something needed to fill the space. He had wanted silence when he had been strapped down and made to listen to his victims' screams as his DNA tortured them, but now it was too much.
It was John that broke the tension, never looking back as he led the way, Sherlock at his side, but the emotion in his voice was enough.
"I'm sorry Doctor…about the Master."
Beside him, Bruce felt more than heard the Doctor exhale exhaustedly.
"So am I."
They had closed the perimeter as much as they could whilst still keeping all the suspect homeless they had identified in their sights. They were all nearer the Thames now, but no further away from the buildings where people were most probably hiding. It was still to large an area, but Steve could just about see Tony in the distance, the sinking sun glinting warmly off of the gold in his suit.
He ensured that the radio channel was kept open, so he could hear Clint and Natasha talking in hushed tones, but nobody commented. They were talking about the Master, discussing between them what might be happening, how their strategy would have to change. Possibly, in their own encrypted way, offering each other words of comfort.
Steve couldn't tell. He could hear Thor and Donna conversing, but the god had clearly had the sense to turn the radio in his ear away from his mouth, so that it didn't cause difficulties. Tony was unusually quiet, definitely shaken by the realisation that the game had changed.
And it was scary. Sherlock's message had been heard by all of them. The portals, portals plural were going to open, and there was no way to stop that. The hulk-mutants could turn at any moment, so Steve was on edge, keeping his eyes on at least four at any given moment; he didn't want to imagine what the others were thinking.
And the intent had changed. The Master's aims were simple – destroy and move on. That was fightable, that was an opposable threat. They could deal with someone whose desires were as flimsy and uncommitted as that.
But Moriarty…he wanted something, and he was dangerous, insane to the point of mental invincibility. And he'd got Loki on side. They had barely managed to defeat Loki once before, but now…Steve didn't know if they could do it again. Not with so much to fight at once.
Thor had railed, insisted that it was not true, half-heartedly bringing himself to a stop, trailing off as he realised that Sherlock wouldn't lie. He was one of the few people that had taken a shine to Loki, if it could be called that.
With everything else that was going on, Steve could have done without mentally berating himself for trusting the God of Mischief. It was just a good thing that Donna was there to offer comforting words to Thor, so that he didn't feel that he had to.
Steve caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head sharply so that he could watch. He had been perched at the edge of the square for a while, and the only movement he had witnessed had been the sluggish and shifty slumming of the homeless people that had remained stubbornly, or suspiciously, behind.
He observed for a few minutes. They people, those that he could see, sort of…stumbling, moving towards the edges of the alleys that they were sheltering in. All of them had raised their hands to their heads, squeezing their faces as if experiencing extreme pain. One had even doubled over.
It was happening.
"Everyone pay attention." Steve said swiftly, hushed into his radio, pressing his hand to his ear to ensure that extraneous noise wouldn't interfere, "I think they're turning – keep an eye on them and be ready to fight – try and push them into the centre of out perimeter!"
"I think you might be right Cap – these hobos are acting like they caught spontaneous cramps." Tony's voice filtered through, and Steve tried not to shake his head.
"It's the same here." Natasha reported.
"And here – I've got quite a lot," Clint noted, "If anyone wants to trade places with me I'd be cool with that."
"It should not be difficult for me to take on many so long as Donna remains hidden." Thor interjected.
"Okay guys, just keep a clear head and watch your backs." Steve rose to his feet, adjusting his shield on his arm as his eyes narrowed in on the still writhing men across from him, "Donna is to stay out of the way – it sounds like they've got Bruce away safely – just…don't let 'em get any further into the city."
Even as Steve spoke, a ripping, tortured scream, tore through the air, and morphed into a furious roar…followed by another.
Sherlock wasn't sure about letting John be the first to kick open the door to the outside. He was certain that there was no longer any threat, that Moriarty's minions had vacated the premises…but the underlying fear was still there.
That, and he was beginning to worry about Bruce, who was panting from exertion. It was too soon after being sedated for so long to expect him to do much physical activity, and the Doctor was doing a lot to support his weight, but the scientist had kept asking questions, as if to reassure himself of his own guilt.
And if that wasn't enough to raise a heart rate Sherlock didn't know what was.
The detective held the door open as the Doctor led Bruce through, wincing as the harsh Thames air whipped at his face. It was getting late into the afternoon, and the weather was punishing them for it.
As the door swung shut, John hadn't moved forward into the open space, instead, standing cautiously a mere foot away. The Doctor had stopped too, but had yet to speak. Sherlock moved in beside his flatmate, examining the area as he did.
It was weeded and sparse, as was usual with these riverside warehouse complexes, but there was something too…clean about it. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was as if Moriarty's men had cleared up after themselves when they had left.
No wonder John's soldier's instinct had told him to stop.
Sherlock bent over so that he could whisper in John's ear. The man shifted his head away a fraction, but didn't flinch.
"I think it's fine, we need to get back to the jet." He breathed, and John, trusting as ever, nodded resolutely.
"It's fine, let's get back to the jet." John said aloud, stepping forwards. Sherlock followed just a step behind him, and turned on his heel as he did to see the Doctor hefting Bruce along beside him. Since he had discovered the Master's death, he had been treating them to a stony silence.
The gravelly soil crunched underfoot, and the wind was whistling slightly as they edged along the riverside. It wasn't enough to mask the sudden roars that tore through the air. Bruce gasped, and stumbled, but the Doctor didn't let him fall, coming to a halt and turning in the direction of the denser city.
Sherlock was brought to a stop as he walked into the back of John, who had turned towards the source of the noise, his mouth open wide.
"We need to go," Sherlock said sharply, taking John's hand to drag him along, "Now!"
The Doctor agreed vehemently, hoisting Bruce back onto his feet, and the four of them hurried towards where they knew the jet would be waiting. It wasn't far.
When they reached about twenty yards from the building complex, there was an almighty bang, the sound and force of it shoving Sherlock to the ground, John atop him as his ears popped and rang, and he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut.
The explosion was brief, and Sherlock managed to raise his head enough to see the line that had been carved into the ground behind them, between the riverbank and the building complex.
Of course, Moriarty had left a trap. Too clean? No…he couldn't have anything disturbing the sensors.
A growl of pain, hissing, screaming almost sounded from feet away. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him. Sherlock's eyes fell on the Doctor, who was backing away, hands extended, leaking a litany of comforting words…and Bruce, who was hunched over, every muscle clenched…his skin tinting, and his clothes growing tighter.
I've finally updated. I'm sorry it's been a while, but I've just today finished all my mock exams!
As always, I hope everyone's enjoying the story, which should be winding to a close soon