SHADOW OF DEATH
Chapter 5: Memorial
"We are here today to remember a band of heroes who selflessly gave their lives to protect the safety of our entire world," Nick Fury said from a podium. He wore his nicest suit, the one he only wore to funerals (he really hated funerals…almost as much as he hated this suit). He clutched the sides of the podium harder and looked out over the ballroom of the glittering Newark hotel. A few hundred soggy eyes stared back at him, waiting for him to keep speaking. He swallowed deeply before continuing.
"You are here because you lost more than a hero. You lost a spouse, a parent, a friend. While the rest of the world looked on them for what they could do for them, you looked on them for who they were as people, as individuals. To you, they were not only Captain America or Iron Man, they were Steve or Tony. It is you who has paid the highest price for their sacrifice.
"The world has lost a band of gifted heroes, but their deaths were not in vain. They will always be remembered for their sacrifice and will remain a symbol of hope to all."
A handful of key speakers followed after him, though he didn't hear a word they said. He couldn't. Not when he could hear the Barton children weeping from the corner of the room. He would have to greet every single one of these people and look them in the eye and repeat his deepest apologies and thanks. He'd rather stay locked in the prison cell on the helicarrier with the Hulk.
His assistants proved themselves worthy of their salaries in their exquisite luncheon spread and ample flows of alcohol. Pictures of the deceased lined a table near the back of the room lined with candles and flowers and even a handful of action figures (which Fury found in poor taste, but he thought Stark would have approved).
A few handfuls of uncles and mothers and cousins and neighbors shared stories and tears around the banquet hall. Pepper Potts, Colonel James Rhodes, and Jane Foster sat in solemn silence on a couch next to each other, each with a flute of champagne in their hands. A scattering of teary agents from SHIELD sat with an aged Peggy Carter and her oldest son. Elizabeth Ross made a small appearance on the arm of her fiancé before silently vanishing again.
There should have been more-more family, more friends, but one of the unavoidable repercussions of this kind of work was that there usually wasn't.
The servers had just begun handing out plates of desserts when the hall doors flew open with a resounding bang. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to see the towering figure in a flowing crimson cape march into the room as if entering the scene of another battle. He walked with a glowering, steadfast expression on his face, blonde hair flowing behind him, straight up to where Fury stood.
"I would have words with you, son of Fury," he said in a tone meant to be a whisper but loud enough for the entire room to easily hear.
"Thor, I am glad to see you alive," Fury responded, searching Thor's face for hints on the best way to proceed but not finding any.
"No thanks to your cowardly mortal weaponry," Thor responded, a venomous undertone in his voice.
Fury could tell this would not be a friendly visit. He gestured for Thor to follow and pulled him into the small storage room adjoining the banquet hall.
"Before you speak, I want to apologize for what happened here," Fury began. It was true. He wanted to appease the thunder god before he became too "thunderous," but he also wanted to apologize because it was deserved. "We had some people who got scared and they made the wrong call and a lot of people died because of it. You and the team, they were there doing the right thing and you suffered for it and, for that, I'm sorry. I tried to stop it but I failed you and I failed the rest of the Avengers and I failed the people of New York. I wish I could apologize to the rest, but since you seem to be the only one who managed to survive, I'm just glad I get to say it to you."
Fury could still see the storm clouds brewing in Thor's eyes but Thor only nodded and clenched and unclenched his hands with a nervous tension that Fury had never seem him have before.
"You wanted to speak with me?" Fury prompted after the silence lingered with a gathering intensity.
"I would know who has killed my brother. I will avenge his death."
"You are certain he's dead?"
"Yes."
Fury nodded (once again preferring a tête-à-tête with the Hulk over this moment). "I am sorry for your loss."
"Are you, son of Fury? Were you not one of the ones who wished him ill?" Thor spat.
Fury held both of his hands up in a symbol of surrender. "You are upset. I understand that. You have every right to be. A lot of people are. But more deaths will not bring him back."
"Who killed my brother?"
"There's not one person. It was a council of representatives from different countries and governments around the world. They made the decision together. It was the wrong decision, but it was a joint decision."
"You tire me with your games, Director. Who killed my brother?"
"I am not at liberty to tell you," Fury responded, fully expecting an intimate acquaintance with Thor's fist or hammer to follow. It did but instead of Fury's jaw, it smashed through the wall behind him. Thor spun around and he swept out of the storage room.
Fury followed, wondering just how they could contain the Asgardian in case he felt inclined to stir up problems. He beckoned for Agent Hill and, as she approached, he noticed that Thor had stopped his beeline for the center of the room. The towering man now shrank in on himself as a petite, black-clad woman herded him into a corner.
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From a very young age, Loki had learned to create mischief by masquerading as others, especially his brother. He found he could just as easily get his brother out of trouble as he could get him into trouble. Thor had been the recipient of many a stern lecture after getting "caught" stealing tarts or overturning bottles of ink. He silently received his punishment each time, as Loki watched in glee. He found a special delight when his pretenses were never caught. (To this day, Freya still believes it was Thor who kissed her.)
He also found his illusions to be a useful way of siphoning information out of what would otherwise be unwilling participants. Now, Loki needed information and these mortals trusted Thor. (The one who should still be living…not him.)
His ability to impersonate others was too easily muddled by strong emotion. In past times, he could regulate and control himself, keep is illusions perfect despite harrowing circumstances. But now, he fought to maintain the correct mannerisms as his anger grew and he knew if he could not control himself, he would blast a hole through the banquet hall in the middle of their funeral service. He would not do such a disservice to his brother's allies.
He turned to leave when he found his path blocked by a tiny woman in a black dress.
He knew this one. Thor's woman (and he was currently wearing Thor's visage). He groaned internally and tried to figure out the best escape. He failed.
The woman's brown eyes were red rimmed with heavy sorrow. She looked upon him as if seeing the sun for the first time and before he could anticipate her intentions, she threw her arms around him in an emotional embrace.
"Thor! You're alive! We all thought you had died. I can't believe it! I am just so relieved. I mean, it's all been awful and, well, you know about Erik…but I thought you too and it was just too much and now, I'm just so happy to see you again!"
Loki froze….
At any other time, Loki would have taken full advantage of his current circumstances. Allow the woman to believe him Thor and either encourage her behaviors or behave as such a heartless cur that she spat in Thor's face the next time she saw him. Either way, the look on Thor's face would be well worth the efforts. He'd roar and storm and threaten and they'd tussle and then see Thor behaving liked a whipped slave to regain the favor of his ladylove.
But somehow it seemed wrong to even think of now. He could not jest with a warrior in Valhalla. He could not play with hopes and heart of such a maid.
When the woman began to reach for his face in an attempt to pull his lips to hers, he nearly panicked. He would not kiss Thor's maiden and so dishonor his brother's memory. He tried to gently break free but found her still in pursuit. She didn't acknowledge his retreat at all but instead filled the space between them with words.
A copious amount of words.
"They sent me to Norway when they found out about your brother-SHIELD did, I mean. The university told me I'd been hired for a prestigious research position but then when I got there, I found out it was all an elaborate scheme to 'protect me,' otherwise known as locking me up for my own protection and keeping me out of trouble. They knew I would have come straight for New York first thing. I mean, live wormholes being made right in front of me? Do you know how much data I could have gathered? Oh, then I saw you were here too and I would have come just to see you. But, I guess it's better that I didn't come cause, well, you know."
The woman looked at him again, her brown eyes piercing into his as if she were a skilled surgeon removing secrets from deep within his mind.
"Are you OK?"
Loki looked away from her gaze again, as cowardly as a spineless harrow slug, and stared at the floor.
"Where's your brother?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. She drew closer to him and placed a hand on his arm.
He shook his head. She blew out a long breath and fell silent. She wrapped both her arms around his waist and pulled him into an embrace. He could feel the cracks and fissures within him about the burst and he refused to give way, not here, not like this, not with her. He grew rigid and pulled back.
"I must go," he said shortly.
"When will I see you again?" she asked as he moved to escape.
"I know not."
"Here," she said, pulling a small rectangular object from her purse. "This has my phone number and email address on it. Just in case, you know, if you ever want to talk, I'm here." She gave him a small smile. "I've lost people too and, well, we all need a friend sometimes."
He flung it as quickly as he could into his hiding space and fled.
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