Three
"And so she said: 'I wouldn't mind fighting for my life if I died in the knowledge that I actually touched Captain America!'"
I laughed politely at the elderly Mr Lee's joke, but it soon turned into full on hysterics as Steve's face turned bright red, and he began spluttering. I had just creased up in another fit of giggles when I saw it, and I sobered up immediately.
That shock of black hair. Those burning green eyes.
I shoved through the group of people, not even bothering to toss an apology over my shoulder. I weaved through people, surging towards the place I last saw him.
"Evie!" Steve, called, trying to follow me. The crowd parted eagerly for him, although they didn't pay much attention to him, or me for that matter. I stopped in the centre of the room, looking around wildly. I took a deep breath, and reached out with my magic, sending invisible tendrils of it shooting about the room, trying to track him down.
"Evie."
Steve's voice and hand clamping down on my shoulder snapped me out of it, and I turned, looking up into his concerned blue gaze. I sighed, realising that I was acting dangerously. If he started to worm his way back into my conscious as hallucinations, I wouldn't survive the fallout of coming to reality once again.
"I saw Him, Steve. I swear it..." I said, too low for anyone except him to hear. He narrowed his eyes, and he quickly ran them over the crowd, being a good half a foot taller than the people around us.
"Even if he was alive, Evie, he wouldn't be here. He would be locked up in an Asgardian cell, as we both know. I just think you're tired. I told Nat this was a bad idea. Look, go back to your room, and I'll have Banner..." By this point he had turned back to face me, except I was already moving. "Evie?"
I had slipped away, certain that I had caught the black and white flash of a tux between two dancing bodies. The cheeky grin he tossed my way when the woman twirled away from her partner. I had only made it a few metres, however, when I literally bumped into James Rhodes.
"Baby Stark!" he yelled, loud enough for half the room to hear. Several people whooped and hollered, most of them laughing good-naturedly, and I grinned sheepishly, enthusiastically embracing my dad's best-friend, ergo my uncle-figure.
"Uncle Rhodey!" I grinned, squeezing the man, and rolling my eyes at my dad and Thor, who stood just behind him.
"How are you doing, baby-girl? Your Pops said you weren't holding up well after that guy... yunno... but he said you were getting better! You feelin' well enough to come take a spin in the suits with me and your old man soon?"
"Like I'd need the suit," I scoffed, making a lazy beckoning motion with my hand. A flute filled with champagne floated towards us, and I snagged it out of the air, offering it to him. "Drink?"
"Well, 'scuuuuuse me!" he sassed, ruffling my hair. I scowled, and left the glass hovering in mid-air, while I fixed my curls, much to the amusement of the three men.
Ten minutes later or so, James had decided to launch into one of his 'world-renowned' War Machine stories, with the... ahem... great punch lines...
"Well, you know, the suit can take the weight, right? So I take the tank, fly it right up to the General's palace, drop it at his feet, I'm like: 'Boom! You looking for this?'!"
Thor and my dad stared rather blankly at Rhodey, still waiting for the punch line. I snickered into my Bacardi, before taking a large mouthful.
"'Boom! Are you looking-!' Why do I even talk to you guys? Everywhere else that story kills!" Rhodey complained, taking several large gulps of champagne. I smiled sympathetically, and patted his shoulder.
"That's the whole story?" clarified Thor, looking utterly confused.
"Yeah!" says Rhodey indignantly, and I cut in before one of them got hurt.
"It's a War Machine story," I said giving Thor a significant look.
"Well, it's very good then," Thor laughed, slapping Rhodey on the back. James' drink slopped everywhere, and I tried to hide a snort. "It's impressive!"
"Quality save," Rhodey and I said at the same time: James slightly bitter, while I was dying with barely suppressed laughter. I calmed down enough to wave the men goodbye, and move further into the swell of people, heading for the sliding reinforced glass doors. The room was heating up quickly, and my mind had moved back to less savoury topics, like the 'appearance' of one person who I knew could never come back.
I stepped out onto the balcony, and walked to the metal and glass railings, leaning on the cold bar, and closing my eyes. I let my hair whip in the wind, and my worries fly with it. I completely emptied my head, and stood there, one with the earth and sky, the heat and the cold, thinking about oblivion.
After what felt like mere minutes, my father ushered me back inside, to sit down with the rest of the group, now that the guests had left for the night/early morning.
"But it's a trick!" Clint protested, gesturing wildly at Mjolnir, where it rested on the glass coffee table.
"No no, it's much more than that!" Thor guffawed, grinning around at everyone. I sat down on the arm of his chair, and he smiled to me quickly as Clint continued:
"Oh, whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the POWER! Whatever, man, it's a trick!" he slurred, swatting Thor's honesty away. I sighed, knowing exactly where this was leading.
"Please, be my guest," Thor urged, waving Clint towards the hammer.
"Oh, this is gonna be beautiful," someone snarked, and I rolled my eyes at Clint.
"Now, you've had a tough week, we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up," my dad quipped, smirking at Clint. I groaned, and slumped into Thor. He chuckled, and patted my knee, watching Clint's every move with bright eyes.
Clint grasped Mjolnir's handle, and heaved with all his strength. Veins and tendons stood out in his neck, and his face went red, but the only response the hammer gave was the creaking of stiff leather. Clint gave up, chuckling in bemusement.
"Still don't know how ya do it!" My dad made some sort of wise-crack, and I waved him forward.
"Dad, by all means!" My dad stepped up confidently, and there was a round of mutterings.
"Never was one to shrink from an honest challenge..." he began, standing in front of the table. "It's physics." he reasoned, and a few people repeated him in disbelief. "So if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?"
"Yes, of course," Thor said gravely, and I tried not to laugh.
"I will be reinstituting the right of Prima Noctae," my dad assured, and I choked on the air a little. He heaved on the hammer, and it didn't make a sound, let alone move. "Be right back..."
To his credit, my dad exhausted all available options. He tried to use part of his suit, Rhodey, and even he and Rhodey tag-teaming with the help of their suits couldn't shift the hammer.
Bruce had a turn, pretending to 'Hulk-out' to try and get us to laugh. There was dead silence, and I smiled pityingly at him, shaking my head minutely. Steve was the next to step up. He pulled with all his might, and the hammer twitched every so often. Thor looked rather worried, and when Steve gave up, he smiled, looking almost relieved.
"Widow?" someone asked.
"Oh no," she said quickly, shaking her head. "That's not a question I need answered."
"Baby Stark?" Rhodey called, still puffed out from his attempt. I thought it over for a second, then shrugged, getting to my feet. I had a sudden flash of inspiration as I stood there, hands on Mjolnir's handle. I flexed my fingers, as if getting ready to pull, but secretly sent out a field of magic. Confident that the magic was in place, I pulled my arms up, and seemingly lifted Mjolnir right off the table.
"Huh..." I mused, twirling the hammer about. Everyone gaped at me, and Thor was deathly pale, his face slack. I sent Mjolnir right for his face, only for it to dissolve on contact, the cloaking spell on the real hammer fading away. The look on Thor's face was priceless: I pretty much collapsed, using Mjolnir to hold myself upright. Everyone else started to laugh too, and Thor looked utterly relieved.
"-Like a security code," my father was saying over the laughter, trying in vain to puzzle out how Mjolnir worked. "'Whosoever is carrying Thor's fingerprints' I think, is the literal translation."
"Yes, that's a, uh very, very interesting theory. I however, have a simpler one." Thor stood up, and ambled over, holding Mjolnir lightly in one hand, and lifting it effortlessly off the table. "You're all not worthy!"
Several people started to laugh, but a high-pitched ringing filled the air, and I grimaced, standing up, looking for the source. A creepy, creaking groan replaced the squeal, and a battered endoskeleton staggered towards us from the direction of the elevator.
"No..." it mumbled, seeming disoriented. "How could you be worthy? You're all killers..."
"Stark..?" Steve asked; his eyes locked on the defective bot.
"Jarvis..!" my dad urged, fiddling with a glass remote in his hand, not taking his eyes off of the advancing endoskeleton.
"I'm sorry... I was asleep," the skeleton apologised, taking another lurching step forwards. My hands fell to my sides, and very faint white energy started to gather around my fingers. "Or... I was a dream..."
"Reboot," my dad muttered. "Legionnaire S... Got a buggy suit-!"
"There was a... terrible noise..." it said, looking around with sightless eyes. "I was tangled in... strings... Had to kill the other guy... He was a good guy..."
I suddenly started to get a very bad feeling about this bot. I searched for the familiar hum of Jarvis' energy, but felt nothing, just a... a gap.
"You killed someone?" Steve asked warily, looking around automatically for a casualty.
"Wouldn't have been my first call..." the robot commented casually, as if talking about a soccer match on TV, "But out in the real world we're faced with ugly choices..."
"Who sent you?" Thor inquired, his hand tightening on the handle of his hammer. There was a short mechanical winding sound, and then my dad's voice was echoing in the room.
"I see a suit of armour around the world..."
"Ultron..." Bruce realised, his face contorting into an expression I didn't quite know how to label. Horror? Disgust? Guilt?
"In the flesh..." Ultron confirmed, then seemed to get confused. "Or-? No, not yet... Not this... chrysalis..." it muttered, holding up its ruined arms. "But I'm ready. I'm on a mission..."
"What mission?" Maria Hill asked, her voice tight with mistrust, and carefully hidden fear.
"Peace in our time." It deadpanned, before firing a bolt at us. I was quick to retaliate, sending a white-hot ball of energy at Ultron. That's when everything went to hell. More robots crashed up through the glass, vaulting over the railings, and heading straight for us. I fired quick pulses at them, just enough to freeze them in place while their systems rebooted: magic and tech didn't mix.
I saw Dr Helen Cho get flung away, crashing through a pane of glass, landing on a lower level, and Bruce was quick to dive after her. One of the Legionnaire bots grabbed the sceptre and took to the air. Natasha began firing at it from her place behind the bar, but the bullets were doing nothing.
"Steve!" I yelled, pointing at the bot. Steve didn't waste time: he charged for it, pushing off of the sofa to get better height. He latched his arms round its neck, and clung to its back, trying to bring it down. I was distracted, however, when a beam of energy shot past my right shin, searing the front of it. I buckled, and hit the floor hard.
"Evie!" my dad shouted, before the robot he was hanging onto shorted out, and collapsed, dumping him down the stairs. I shrieked, as the white hot pain flashed through my leg, punching me in the middle of my spine, making my stomach roll sickeningly. There were still the sounds of battle, but it seemed like it was drawing to a close. I was still in too much pain to be able to concentrate enough to heal myself, but I doubted I was skilled enough to heal this calibre of injury.
"I thought you were supposed to be keeping yourself out of trouble..?" a silken voice crooned, and I stilled, the pain shoved to the back of my mind as shock took its place. A large, cold hand tangled with mine, and I tasted that all too familiar magical signature.
"Loki..." I breathed, as the fabric of my leg and heart began to stitch itself back together.
"The very same," he breathed, before his wintry lips were placed on mine.