Woo New Chapter! So just letting you know, I'll be updating this fic once a week from now on. Most likely on a Saturday.
I'd also like to clarify to people something about the previous chapter; just because Tony/Loki sort-of-kind-of slept together DOES NOT, I repeat does not mean that both characters are now off the market. Loki is a trickster god, and Tony is probably so traumatized he'll run away from him the next time they meet. Furthermore, given the events that outfold in Thor 2 (which if you haven't seen it, I suggest you do now, before I bring out spoilers), it isn't likely that Loki would want to spend much of his time down on Earth. being rather... distracted.
Now, onwards.
Cinna
Part One: Great Expectations
Chapter Three: Misunderstandings
Fury glowers at the bed that refuses to be quiet. It is surrounded by various instruments that let out an assortment of beeps and blips in a seemingly random order.
"I don't understand." Nick Fury is not one to proclaim these words often; they are for the realms of lesser men, but in some cases their utterance is a necessary evil.
Unfortunately for him, his companion seems to comprehend this phenomena even less than he does.
"I-In all my years I've never seen anything like this," stutters Doctor Lapinsas. Fury is hardly surprised by that, "By all rights he should be dead. The blunt force trauma to the head alone…" the man trails off, apparently too lost for words to carry on.
"But he's not."
The doctor looks at him as if he were the idiot, "Clearly not, no. But he has numerous broken bones- many of which are shattered beyond repair. Internal bleeding, ruptured organs… if his brain continues to swell we'll be forced to take him into more surgery, perform a craniotomy-" Fury doesn't know what that is, but he can guess, "-to try and relieve some of the pressure or we risk permanent brain damage." More brain damage, he means. If Fury could be bothered, he would raise his eyebrow at him. Dr Lapinsas carries on oblivious, "We've already done all that we can do to save him…"
"What's his likelihood of survival?"
The man sighs, resigned, "He'll be lucky to make it til morning."
Fury takes a moment to eye the man- more of a boy really- that lies as if he were already dead. Every inch of him is wrapped in gauze or bandages or casts. So much work for a stranger that won't even last the night. He turns back to the doctor.
"Theories." This boy is an impossibility; a human never could have survived. He doesn't have to be a doctor to know that much.
'We're still waiting for his blood results. He could be Asgardian; we know their physiology is more resilient than ours, but it's still unlikely- even with their advanced healing- that they would have survived a fall like that."
"Thor did." Lapinsas gives him that look again. He's half tempted to take him down for insubordination.
"Yes, with Mjolnir. And even he didn't escape the fall from the Helicarrier unscathed."
"Then what else?"
"It's possible the boy fell with some kind of protection- a force field perhaps… something that dispersed the shock of the initial impact. It's the only way he could have escaped being liquefied." The doctor looks away, wringing his hands anxiously in his coat.
"There's something else…"
"What?"
The man sighs, eyeing the motionless body sadly, "The boy had injuries that… that weren't likely to have been acquired by his landing." Fury perks up at this. He watches him expectantly, "He had multiple burn wounds and… and…" Lapinsas looks faintly sick at the remembrance- Fury is rather disconcerted by the man's unease. He would have hoped his medical staff would have had stronger dispositions than this. They were working for SHIELD for Christ's sake. Unpleasant and disturbing were practically in the job description.
"And what?" he asks, unsympathetic, when Lapinsas doesn't carry on. He turns back to Fury, something close to remorse in his eyes.
"Numerous fingernails had been removed- with force. He also had this-" he brings out a tablet from the pocket of his coat and shows him a photograph that makes Fury want to rage and snarl. A forearm, clearly broken, the skin bruised and bloodied. Even so, Fury can make out the disturbing image of a crudely drawn skull, something long and sinuous- a vine, or a snake, perhaps- carved roughly and deeply into his flesh. There was no mistaking it for a fall injury.
"It was not recent either," Lapinsas carries on, sad eyes straying to the boy, "It was seriously infected; we've had to pump him full of antibiotics in the hope it won't turn gangrenous. He possibly had other torture wounds, but it's likely they've been masked by his newer injuries."
No emotion show's on the Director's face. Things just got a whole lot more interesting. A torture victim being disposed of over the Atlantic, hundreds of meters above anything was certainly a new one. That he turned up out of nowhere is a new too- their sensors should have at least picked up something, but his technicians had been over the recordings of the event countless times already. They'd found nothing but a short flare of energy. One moment, the sky above the Helicarrier had been clear of anything but the occasional cloud, the next there was a boy hurtling down right before their very eyes. The best his agents had come up with was some new and unheard of stealth technology or the use of another portal or wormhole.
Either scenario was undesirable. He needed to get to the bottom of this, and quickly.
He nods slowly at the conclusion in his mind, taking one last look at the boy-who-should-be-dead and turns around, making his way to the door.
"Where are you going?" Lapinsas sounds almost indignant at the abrupt dismissal. Fury sends him one of his looks that isn't quite a glare but isn't exactly friendly either.
"To the storeroom. I want to see what possessions he had on him when he fell. Keep me posted on his condition." He calls to the disgruntled doctor from over his shoulder.
The door glides shut behind him, leaving Lapinsas to deal with their newly acquired John Doe, the Falling Man, alone.
Outside and safe from prying eyes, Fury lets out a long and heartfelt sigh. A trickle of sweat runs down his back.
He still hadn't found out what had happened to the thermostat.
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