So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
You can also find this story on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN under the same title and pen name along with a place to post suggestions.
Don't forget to check out the Photobucket album listed on my profile page too.
DAY THREE
CHAPTER FORTY NINE
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0806 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
DUNCAN
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Come on you goddamned Catracho wannabe, check the god damned feed! I've been alternating between Morse code, ASL, and subtle military hand signs to keep anyone from picking up on the pattern my hands are moving in case they are watching me too closely. I've been doing it since I left her alone in that room.
I shouldn't have left her alone. Its the only thing I could do. I know that thought is true but it doesn't make it any more right than the first. I should have stayed in there and talked her back into the calm instead of leaving and bringing the man responsible for her losing her mind right back to her to make her lose it more.
It wasn't the wrong thing to do, but if I stayed and did the right thing I probably would have gotten killed, and then I really couldn't do the right thing. Dammit Jasper come on, put down the snickerdoodle and pick up your fucking phone! The clock needs to change!
This eyepiece is my only means of communicating with the outer world, but its absolutely useless to me if that world doesn't communicate back!
I have orders to protect her and get her out here, but if I don't have men on the outside waiting to cover my ass and pick us up we're never going to get away from this guy, and I really want to.
Its not just because that's the mission they gave me. I wasn't lying when I said I only met her here, and in that elevator, but the other part of that truth is I've been around her a lot more then she is aware. S.H.I.E.L.D is a high-tech ahead of the curve intelligence organization, and we have some really good masks.
My dad wanted someone on the inside to watch her. Sure, she had Hawkeye and the Widow keeping their eyes on her, and she was never actually without at least two agents trailing her. S.H.E.I.S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't stupid enough to really give an unidentified humanoid freedom. But dad wanted someone who knew S.H.I.E.L.D's best kept secret to keep an eye on her too. So I got my own photostatic veil and started cycling through different identities.
Being a civilian in NYC was nice, but I probably would have liked the mission more if the objective wasn't being a creepy stalker. Though the stalking thing did pay off once, for her.
A former boxer with literal brass knuckles who was supposed to be a crossed off Index candidate but was actually John Garrett's pet muscle until he traded him to doctor Whitehall in the hopes Whitehall could prolong his life, ended up in her path and he liked it way too much.
I knew he was in the area, I got told things like that being Pierce Senior's son, just in case things went sour for his mission I was there to help him get off the grid. Somehow his group ended up on the same freaking sidewalk as her while she was doing some late night errands. Long story short Creel must have bumped her just enough as she walked past to realize what she wasn't because the the next thing I see is a ten yard view of him taking out his own backup in an alley, and moving to close the gap between them so he could drag her back to his van.
Because he grabbed her by the purse first, she ended up assuming he meant to mug her, and never found out the guy who grabbed her had a superpower that let him feel that she was different too. She didn't find out because once I saw him being stupid I ran the rest of the way and kicked him in the back of the knee to bring him down before I put him in a headlock, giving her the chance to run away. Not gonna lie, using only my body to fight him hurt, but I wasn't about to hit him with something he would absorb. Not that it mattered too much because he just laid his hands on the brick building next to him.
I may have never been a fan of the Faustus machine, or that Bakshi fellow working under Whitehall, but thank god for that 'compliance will be rewarded' crap, because if his handler hadn't shown up and spoken that trigger phrase to the brainwashed bastard I would have walked away with more than the three broken ribs he gave me if I walked away at all. You can be as skilled as you want, but when your enemy can turn his body to stone, yours isn't going to be able to take his punches for very long.
Its not the only time I kept her safe from trouble, but that one was definitely the worst. When you're somebody's guardian ninja though, it's only a matter of time before you start caring about the person you're protecting.
I got pulled off that mission though because after that 'attempted mugging' Barton kept a closer eye on her, and he would have noticed me watching her eventually which was the opposite goal of my surveillance, and my three broken ribs that needed to be fixed anyways.
I didn't think I'd see her again, at least not for a very long time since after that I got orders to infiltrate MI-6 and strengthen our infection of that organization, but then I ended up here, and she was being carried past me covered in blood!
All I wanted to do since she got here was get her out, and then she drove me out of that room. Three fucking broken ribs, and an endless fucking sea of creeps and assholes who would have liked nothing better then to follow the pretty...
Punching the filing cabinet was really not something I meant to do, but the twang echoing through the room and the slightly compacted pain traveling up from my knuckles is still real enough. Look at me now dad, the kid you adopted to take your place at the top of HYDRA, sitting on a bucket and beating up office furniture over a girl. I hope this makes you real damn proud!
Taking a sniff I try to pinch away the frustration headache forming behind my eyes before I give up. Rising up quickly I actually end up knocking over the plastic bucket, adding more noise of a quieter variety to the list of things making people look at me, but I know longer care. Screw this. She may not want my help, and they may not be giving it anymore, but this has always been my life. I'm not new to the rodeo. I'll figure this one out too.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0810 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
LOKI
When the word blond preceded the word child I immediately knew I was going to be at a loss, and that has remained true. "I'm afraid I have no idea who that child is." I reply, and then wish I hadn't for I do not miss the frustrated spark of pain in her eyes that I can't give her the answers she needs.
So I try taking a different path. "The description is rather vague, and blond is a common color on Asgard. Can you tell me more?"
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0811 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
NORA
At first I was upset, then I was annoyed, but mostly with myself. Asgard, the golden realm, and I am really acting like he would be able to tell me something with just the description 'a blonde boy'.
I barely even flinch when after I let out frustrated huff and close my eyes I feel him thumb away a escaping tear. The dreams with this child have so far been terrifying, but not because of the child himself. I love this child in these dreams, I think because once I really did love this little blond boy, and that's painful in itself.
I can't stand, or I couldn't, the touch of other people's skin. That right there took away the possibility of having my own child some day, both in the natural way, the donor way or the adoption way. Even if it was a small person, it was still a person. What kind of life and pain would I be forcing on a child if I tried to raise one and had to tell him day in and out that he couldn't even touch his 'mother'? I wanted to be a mom so badly, but I could never be that selfish or cruel.
It almost seemed like the universe was playing a vicious trick on me, that the first of these dreams had me holding a child like that in my arms, and while I hate the universe for its cruelty I could never direct that displeasure at the child himself.
"His hair was curly." I start, trying to recall all the details about him I can, and sort out which ones really belong to him. In the first dream after all he grew out of a dressed up version of Jareth after all. "And light, like corn silk. He had sky blue eyes, and a round face with plump cheeks. He..." I pause again because I have to guess the next part. "...couldn't have been more than five or six." And I add the word "physically." because I remember that on Loki's side of the universe they don't age like we do.
"He's in a blue wool over tunic." Its been so long since I used those old fashioned terms for clothes, having been encouraged to say 'shirt' instead, but the terms are still familiar to me. "With green trim at the collar and hems, with some sort of knot work decorating it, and a pair of loose trousers, collected below his knees by some kind of wrappings. He's wearing little leather boots that stop under his ankles, but they look hand made and simple. There also worn and dirty?" The last part doesn't seem right the more I think about it. "No, they're covered in soot. He also has a small cloak, it looks like some kind pelt, from a sheep, and he has things hanging from his belt, a wooden spoon and an animal horn.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0815 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
LOKI
Most of her description truthfully didn't provide me any real clues to this child's origins. While I knew her before it did not mean I knew every other person she ever encountered or cared for. However when she mentioned shoes stained by soot it was the first solid clue.
Asgard, even among the less wealthy, is a clean place. We may enjoy our fires, but the fuel for them leaves no soot behind since it is oil. And even on Vanaheim, which makes use of their trees they also take great care of their footwear to avoid tracking dirt into their homes, they would never let there boots be covered in soot.
It was the mention of the child carrying a horn on his belt that told me exactly what I needed to know. "Was it hollow by chance?" The lifting of her head and eyebrows is all the confirmation I need. "The child you see is very likely one of the Norsemen that once worshiped us."
NOTES FOR THE READERS:
About my interpretation of Carl Creel's abilities, yes, I know that he absorbs the properties of other elements, and its pretty established that these are supposed to be inanimate elements (I.E steel, wood, stone) however according to .COM "Carl "Crusher" Creel is a former boxer turned assassin with the ability to absorb the properties of anything he touches." and later Grant Ward says "but he enjoys the way it feels..." which means he physically can tell the difference. so in my mind, well he cannot or simply doesn't transform into different flesh because flesh is not very dense or protective compared to other things, he is still able to feel that Nora's flesh is different from human flesh and it caught his attention.
About the slang term used in reference to Jasper Sitwell in the beginning of this chapter. Catracho is a name for a male that has family from Honduras, OR born in Honduras. Just as a Catracha (with "a" at the end) is a female born in Honduras or with family from Honduras. For example, how Mexican Americans have their name which is Chicano, Hondurans have Catracho/Catracha. I choose this despite the fact that the MCU WIKIA TIMELINE has him born in Norfolk Virginia, the actor who plays him clearly has ancestry other than Caucasian. So in my interpretation of the MCU Jasper Sitwell is born to Honduran immigrants who settled in Norfolk Virginia.