As promised, Loki-the-d-bag!
I took to watching more of Tom's interviews on youtube. He as a rather nice grasp of the character's internal motivations. Some of his thoughts on it are different than mine, but it is nice to see that he's thought these things through. Actors should know their characters.
Thank you to all of my reviewers, especially the regs and the guest. Some of the guest review I would love to respond too! Y'all need to get accounts...or not be too lazy to not sign in?
-XXX-
SHIELD would never forget Loki Laufeyson.
As the God of Mischief he has to live up to his name. He is rather lucky, then, to have such a title. God of the Hearth, or God of Thunder just doesn't sound…fun.
He observes the Helicarrier through a scrying spell. Such a fragile thing…up in the air. Where anything might happen.
Prior to this little planning session, the god had taken over one SHIELD worker (they all had training in mind-control prevention, poor creatures, but they were never trained enough to face a sorcerer god) to do a once-over of the ship. Tatiana wasn't there - mercifully, for he would've torn the blasted thing apart. Though, he isn't likely to be any kinder now that it has been confirmed she isn't present.
He maintained control over the agent. Their rank was low, but they are helpful enough. At the moment, the young man was on deck. Maria Hill was piloting. Well.
"Time for a little…turbulence…."
He may not be a weather god as his brother, but with the Vinter pendant, he is a force to be reckoned with. Wind is no issue. Concentrating, focusing on what will make the vessel weakest, the god summons a storm big enough to rock the vessel. In a few minutes, the air has accumulated enough for an impact.
From his agent, he can feel the swell of fear on deck. Hill begins directing the crew, issuing sharp orders. There is a brief moment of chaos, then order resumes; they have been trained for things of this nature. With no hesitation, Maria Hill commands her people to circumvent the hardest part of the storm.
"Ah-ah-ah. I've not even begun playing with you yet…can't back out when the game hasn't even started…."
The Helicarrier rocks violently in his thrust of wind. The god laughs merrily at the vision of mortals tripping and tumbling on the command central. Maria herself clings to the pipe railing, still shouting above the creaks and clunks. The people scramble to fill her orders. But the ship trembles again, the opposite direction than before. Several tumble from their seats this time.
Somehow, Maria masters her vessel enough to navigate them from the eye of the storm. Loki isn't quite ready to give up his plaything yet. He flexes his fingers, hissing in anticipation. The god focuses his energies. Soon, the power rests at his very fingertips.
Another gust crashes into the ship. He can hear screams through his agent's ears. Perhaps one or two may be suffering broken limbs. The screams quiet to low moans and Hill's yelling. Loki, gleeful, sends them another quick burst, just to hear the cries again.
They had declared war. He was merely taking them up on their challenge.
Let the Avengers rue the day.
-XXX-
He'd thought to take some time to browse SHIELD's French unit for a brief period-it is, after all, Continental Europe's headquarters, sharing the duty with the Cardiff-London branch. Tati could fit in the European atmosphere. The god could easily envision her gracing the theaters of Stuttgart, or wandering aimlessly around the great museums of Paris. Of course, her handlers would not be at all likely to allow her to do such things. But it was a nicer thought.
On this instance, he decides to come in with a bang and glory. Once the smoke clears, he allows his more godly visage to surge forth. The helmet and armor gleams in the hazy light of the office. Sparks fly as he descends upon one agent - all electronics, computers, and wired devices are internally disintegrated as he passes - and the god halts, lips curled into a feral smile.
"Qui est votre chef?"
The man quakes like a leaf on a breezy autumn day. Autumn - the colour of Tati's eyes. Loki's eyes narrow, and when the fellow isn't quick enough in his answer, the god stoops to lift him by the throat. Panic surges in the Frenchman's eyes, and his makes a gargled moan.
"Where is your commander? Which one?" Loki demands again.
The sputtering man points as his eyes roll back in terror. The stout man he has singled out, dark-haired with a lean face and one long scar running temple-to-jaw, looks at Loki with hard eyes. He might've once been a field agent. His biceps are rocks, but there is a carefully gained flab about his waist. The god drops (or rather flings) the Frenchman to turn to his new prey.
"Ah. I'homme en charge." The smile increases dangerously. "Where might I find…her?"
With a flick of his wrist, an image appears in the air to his right. Tati, staring forlornly out of a window. The commander's eye flicker over the portrait. Then they return to Loki's cool face.
"Je ne sais pas."
The god shakes his head. "No. That would very much be a lie. You see, as a SHIELD commander, you would be privy to that sort of information."
"I do not know," the man insists in his native tongue.
Loki lunges forward, his nosetip mere centimeters from the commander's. "But you can look it up. Passar a l'action. I grow impatient."
The mortal doesn't move, merely looks at the god with dark, stone-like eyes. All in the office are hushed. He knows security has been called, but it will take them sometime to get through the barricaded doors - he had, after all, thought to summon a good deal of heavy furniture against the room's only entrance. Loki is relaxed. He will get what he desires, or people will pay for not helping him do so. It is a simple equation. One he shall relish.
Oh, let SHIELD burn….
"I do not have access… it is not from my division."
Loki snarls. He turns to whirl upon the group huddling against a cubical wall. Selecting a weeping blond, he looks to the commander. "Then what will it take to find the information? Her life? His? All of them…?"
The man is impassive. "It is impossible."
Loki's hand finds the roots of the woman's scalp and pulls, hard. She screams, faintly slumping. Against him, she shivers like a trapped rabbit. He can hear her heart. Pounding out a loud rhythm.
"Why don't we make ourselves a traiter? You attempt to find me what I want, and I shall not kill every last one of you?"
This last part is said in his deadly-calm voice, the one Tati straightens for. The one that has a hidden storm beneath the silken tones.
Slowly, the commander nods. He approaches the nearest computer. With the slightest tremor, his fingers pluck out the key words at Loki's instruction. Several seconds pass, files are shifted through, before the inevitable red seal appears - Classè Secretè. Classified.
Loki's hands clench. Baring his teeth in frustration, he places his hands on either side of the man's head, nearly a loving act, and gives a sharp twist. The snap it yields fills him with reassurance. Without a word, he is on his way, ignoring the cries and pleads of the other office workers. They are useless now.
-XXX-
When he succeeds in entering Stark Tower, Loki thinks he may have his break. He can feel her - barely. The Tower is muddled. She may very well be there.
He idly injures a few of the SHIELD agents milling about the tower's spacious floors. Cloak whipping about his ankles, the god rises to the top level, full in his power. He surveys the remodeled room coldly. That's when he encounters Pepper.
She's holding a full, unopened wine bottle by the neck over her head. A primitive weapon. The sight delights him so much, he spends several long seconds laughing at her. Pepper pauses, confused, but battle-ready. When Loki calms enough to speak, he sweeps into a bow.
"My lady," he says. "Do not strain those lovely wrists any further. I am seeking Stark, but seeing as he is not present, I wish only to impart a message on you."
Pepper Potts did not get to her position in life by stupid moves. Therefore, she wisely keeps her grip on the bottle. "Then impart."
Delicately, he circles the room, examining the developments since he personally tore apart this space. "Your Tony and his fellows hurt me very dearly by removing Tatiana from my care." He looks back to Ms. Potts from under his lashes. "I worry about her well-being."
Pepper is unsympathetic. "Then you should have taken the truce. Or never gotten involved with her at all. I find it hard to believe you could really care for her, and not open communication with us."
"Focusing on my own welfare should not suggest I pretend to hold her in my regards."
She is unmoved. However, she sets the bottle on the bar, leaning her slim frame against the counter. Loki shakes his head.
"I need not prove anything to you. But know that I will continue to tear SHIELD to bits until I find her. Take my actions as you will - I see them for what they truly are worth, and I know she shall. It may be a message, of sorts, a stand against your people, however, that does not mean I will hold back in the least."
Seeing a still-unconvinced face, the god tosses up his hands in agrivation. "She will not be happy with me, to know I am doing this. You can tell your Avengers she did urge me to accept their bargains. She tried. They were mistaken in believing her words would make any differences - I am, as she would say, stubborn as a Sacs salesgirl. They were foolish. Just as I was a fool to think she would be able to properly listen to me." His smile is bitter. "She can't help not. And she may very well be happier away from my influence. But I cannot sleep, nor find any rest until I know she is…safe."
His admission is genuine. Heart-felt. "I've not come this close to tears since Odin told me of my true blood," he observes. "Since I realized my Jotun kinship."
This succeeds in stunning her slightly. Pepper's perfectly painted mouth parts slightly. "Oh…um, was that your message?"
The god grins. "If you would prefer something shorter…I merely wish to have what is mine returned."
Without another word, he sweeps around, shoulders set, cloak whipping about his ankles. "One…two…three." But he takes pause when he hears a breath. Pepper has wandered forward slightly, uncertain.
"You…love her."
He looks back. "I do not know. Perhaps. But I should not think it matters, in the scheme of events."
"No, no, it makes all the difference. You love her," Ms. Potts says firmly. "Even if you don't want to realize it. Tony…." She hesitates, drifting off. Snapping back into shape like a rubber band, however, she smoothes the fabric of her skirt, speaking slowly. "Tony would do the same for me."
Loki inclines his head. "If that is your conclusion, madam. I'm afraid I must depart - Midgardian to hunt down, you see."
"Wait!" Pepper bites her lip. "They took her to one of Tony's safe houses. In Florida. If that narrows it down for you."
The look on his face is magnificent. To Pepper, it's as though someone told a kid the key to never having to go to school again. A vivid combination of relief and exhilaration. Then, confusion.
"You will do the right thing," she explains, answering the un-asked question. "For her. And if not, I'm sure Bruce will have the pleasure of kicking your sorry ass again. Tony still talks about how he wishes he might've seen it."
"Thank you," he says softly.
"Prove me right," Pepper responds. "And then you can thank me."
-XXX-
It's pretty clear when Nick Fury dismounts the elevator that he is very, very unhappy. Waves of anger roll off of him like humidity on a fourth of July parade. He stalks forward, stopping short of queen of Stark Tower.
"You let him in," the director seethes. "You let him in, and you failed to call any of us."
She bats unconcerned eyes. "We had an interesting chat."
"Chat?" Fury's glare is immeasurable. "You don't chat with the God of Mischief. You either are manipulated by him or you shoot him. Those are your options."
"No," she says calmly. "We spoke. And I didn't think I would need to request support if I was feeling comfortable in my own office. But he's gone now, anyways."
"Did he say anything of where he was going?"
"It's lucky," Pepper thought off-handedly, "That he's missing an eye. Because this glare is already quite intense with one. I couldn't imagine it with two…that would be deadly."
"Florida," she answers shortly, turning back to her paperwork. A giant fist slams the stack, impeding her ability to read over the environmental impact of jet constructions in New Mexico.
The SHIELD director roars. "FLORDIA? YOU SENT HIM-"
"I didn't send anyone," Pepper snaps. "I just think it isn't incredibly polite to kidnap significant others simply because their boyfriends are misbehaving. I never agreed to go along with this, and I don't know how anyone could. Forgive me, Director, but I am not one of your agents."
"That man is a danger to society as we-"
"That man," she informs him. "Is a guy just trying to get himself straightened out. She'll make him come around. You'll see."
"Potts, you have potentially unleashed our units to massive amounts of damage. Lives lost." He means to go on, but her raised brows halt him.
"As if you didn't open yourselves up to that when you took Tatiana." She shook her head. "Pin this on who you want, Director. But you were getting hit up long before he ever stormed my tower. Now, if you will excuse me, I've got a lot of paperwork to review."
Her short dismissal is further backed with a dark-eyed Tony Stark's comment that Fury ought not be distracting his CEO. The Iron Man appears through the open doors of the lift, which has arrived silently, allowing Tony to see the last part of the proceedings between the furious SHIELD director and his girlfriend. Amused, he had not yet intervened, knowing good and well that Pepper Potts can take care of her self ; handle an anger secret government services director, file paperwork, sign away stocks, and monitor three news outlets all at once.
"I've heard you misplaced a god, Director…."
-XXX-
I enjoy showing the vastly different sides of Loki - the cray-cray, let-us-kill-a-Frenchman vs. putting-an-elderly-woman-out-of-her-misery. Personally, I felt like this chapter kicked-ass, and I mean that not in a way that strokes my ego. Loki kicked ass. *Sigh.
Questions, comments, critiques, I take 'em all!