Madness of the Serpent

The spirit surrendered itself peacefully, waiting on the flat top of the gargantuan flying machine which had thankfully stopped tipping precariously to one side.

The small army of uniformed males and females surrounding it with large, black weapons pointed at its head seemed overly cautious given that it was completely defenseless and exposed without the bestowed power of the mind-jewel.

After the humans were finished shouting different variations of “Don’t move!” which it had not done since their arrival, one of them came forward and placed heavy manacles on its wrists. As it was escorted back through the air vessel, it surveyed the impressive damage, and looked with wide eyes at the infrequent corpses. The emergency had finally passed, and the humans were only just beginning to gather their dead.

It was led back to its original cell, which was not surprising.

What was surprising was when the door opened several minutes later, and a very large, very muscled, and very upset blue-clad individual stormed into the room, grabbed it by the shirt, lifted it up, and shoved it against the wall.

______________________________________________________________________

“Whoa, whoa, Cap, slow down. Cap!” Anthony Stark yelled as the blond man built like a brick-house power-walked down the hallway, his steely hands clenched in impressively large fists.

Rogers had gotten this look on his face when they had all been informed of Agent Coulson’s death at the hands of the mad demigod. They had all been devastated of course, but Cap had looked particularly affected. His baby blue eyes had looked like they were about to spill over into tears, which made Tony want to either awkwardly pat his arm or run from the room as quickly as possible.

Instead, Tony had ended up chasing after Rogers, seeing the murderous light in his eyes after Agent Hill had informed Director Fury that they had recaptured the groupie who had been picked up with Loki in Stuttgart.

And apparently, she had helped him escape.

Why Agent Hill had decided to reveal such sensitive information in front of Tony and Rogers after Fury had given them the guilt trip speech of the century, he could only speculate.

And Tony was excellent at speculation. He could swear by his entire Rolling Stones vinyl collection that Fury and Hill pulled this kind of shit on purpose. You didn’t become the head of the intelligence community by playing the game fairly, with all of the players even aware they were taking part in the sport.

Tony had not forgotten Dr. Banner’s revelation just before the ship had almost been taken out by a dude with a bow and arrow – the girl had been giving off gamma radiation similar to the Tesseract. If Rogers strangled the life out of her now, they might not find the Tesseract in time – not when Banner had decided to go green and skydive without a parachute.

Besides, Rogers was supposed to be the responsible, sensible one in this band of lunatics. Their moral center. Or their moral compass. One of those silly metaphors which placed the Captain as the gushy center of their collective Tootsie-Pop.

If he went around strangling helpless prisoners, Tony might lose his spot as the bad-decision-maker in-residence. And the devastatingly traumatic Cap, hovering over the lifeless corpse of said prisoner, would be too nauseating to bear.

So Tony tried his best to hang on to the bicep of the Pissed-Off Boy of America, and he managed to slow him down not even a little.

“Hey, Cap! Remember… that time… I jumped out of the back of the Quinjet… in order to chase down two gods? That was stupid, right? This… is kind of like that,” Tony said through gritted teeth, his words staggered when he could catch his breath, the heels of his ludicrously expensive Louis Vuittons sliding across the metal flooring of the hallway.

“Only in this situation… you’re the god… and she’s the tiny little squishy human.”

It would have been extremely funny if Tony wasn’t genuinely worried Rogers had snapped and decided to go on a homicidal rampage. To be perfectly honest, he hadn’t thought the late agent and supersoldier had been that close.

But in Tony’s experience, it was always the people who seemed to have it the most together who ended up being the quickest to break. They snapped like rubber bands left forgotten in a kitchen drawer for ten dry years.

Personally, he chose to blame Fury. The stuff with the blood-splattered Captain America collector’s cards had felt expertly and ingeniously manipulative. Maybe Fury even coated the cards with blood after the fact, which was highly macabre with a dash of brilliant. Maybe they hadn’t even been in Coulson’s pocket.

Hell, maybe it wasn’t even blood, and Fury had smeared strawberry jelly from the commissary on the cards. Tony wouldn’t put it past him.

The sneaky, conniving one-eyed bastard.

Rogers had bought it though, hook-line-and-sinker. And now he was looking for someone to share his pain with, and not in a healthy let’s-talk-out-our-feelings way.

Well Fury, if your goal was to turn Captain Goody-Two Shoes into Die Hard with a Vengeance, congratulations – you succeeded.

The Captain remained stubbornly single-minded and shook Tony off as if he was a toddler trying to grab hold of his annoyed father’s arm. Not that he still resented the fact his father had done something very similar to that when he was four years old – Tony wasn’t one to hold grudges.

Rogers, now entering detention cell B-5 as he ignored the sole voice of reasonable wisdom, strode quickly across the small room and picked the fragile-looking girl up by her shirt, slamming her into the wall.

Ouch.

Cap held his face an inch away from hers, his expression cold fury as her eyes widened in alarm.

Tony reacted without thinking, grabbing onto the muscly arm which held the girl against the wall, tugging as if he could possibly budge it. Rogers reached over with his other hand, placed his palm against Tony’s face, and shoved.

Tony landed flat on his ass, and he would have begun to shout a colorful assortment of explicit words and phrases, but the color draining from the face of the girl temporarily halted his need to lash out from his injured pride.

After all, his ass was fine – it was his damn ego that had taken a massive hit.

Instead, Tony stealthily reached up to his ear and opened his comms to the one person he knew might be able to calm Rogers down, and he left the comm open while he attempted to soothe the fuming soldier, as if he were talking down a rabid German Shepherd holding a cute little bunny in his jaws.

“Champ, come on. Let’s take a second to think this through,” he said as he slowly pulled himself to his feet, wincing slightly as he rubbed his hindquarters.

“Where… is… he?”

Tony Stark had never seen Steve Rogers this angry, even when Loki had sucker punched him in the stomach and spin-kicked him across the courtyard in Germany. Hell, he hadn’t looked this mad in the old war reels where he was knocking down Hydra soldiers like they were bowling pins. Cap had looked like he was having a grand ol’ time compared to the dark expression on his face now.

And Tony was beginning to realize why. He had read Rogers’ file extensively – as he had done to the others after the tenacious Coulson had left their files at Stark Tower, interrupting his perfect night-in with one deliciously beautiful Virginia Potts (though considering the agent was now dead, Tony supposed he could forgive him for the intrusion).

A close ally being viciously murdered by a supervillain with the Tesseract in his possession was a brutal reminder to the supersoldier of his traumatic past. If Tony was correct, and Rogers was reliving his loss of one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, this situation was going to end only one way.

That was, if the cavalry didn’t arrive soon.

“It… does not know,” the girl replied strangely, her dark eyes staring unblinkingly at the Captain.

“Not good enough!” Cap shouted, pulling her slightly forward and slamming her into the wall again.

“Jesus, Rogers! For Christ’s sake-“

Had the maniac forgotten he was a supersoldier and moves like that could easily kill someone, especially a girl who looked like she was more porcelain doll than human?

“You better tell me something. A good man, a great man, died because of your boss, or your idol, or whatever he is. Coulson’s death is on your head just as much as his,” he glowered, one accusatory finger pointing at her face.

The girl paled even more, and her eyes were wide and unblinking, but she kept her lips firmly pressed together. Smart.

Tony slowly walked forward, moving cautiously and with great care in case he agitated Rogers even more than he already was. He spoke in a hushed, reasonable tone of voice as he said:

“Hey, Steve, come on man. She didn’t do anything to Coulson. You know the person you’re really pissed at is probably a thousand miles away, so you’re taking all of your anger, and grief, and frustration out on whoever is nearby and handy.”

The Captain didn’t release the girl, but he wasn’t throttling her, so that was progress.

“Besides, she gave herself up after Loki’s escape. That has to count for something, right?”

“Right. Because we haven’t seen that little act before,” Rogers responded, never taking his eyes from the girl he had pinned against the wall.

“Fair point. But she isn’t Loki, is she? Just some poor sap who was swept up in his glamour and charm, and probably doesn’t have a clue what’s really going on,” Tony responded softly, praying his words were getting through to the former soldier, reminding him that, unlike Tony, Rogers genuinely was some kind of hero. And this wasn’t how heroes were supposed to react in moments of crisis.

Tony took a risk and gently placed his hand on Rogers’ shoulder, trying not to become distracted by how stupidly buff the supersoldier was, and how he would pester Cap later about his exercise regimen. He had never gotten an answer on the Quinjet, and he would be damned if he wouldn’t find out the old man’s secret. It couldn’t just be the supersoldier serum, unless it was like permanent steroids that gave the man an eternal physique like that of a Greek god-

“You’re right,” Rogers said quietly, forcing Tony’s fickle attention span back to the intense situation. The Captain released his hold on the neckline of the girl’s top, his expression no longer one of uncontrollable rage, only vague disgust and loathing as his blue eyes gave her a glare full of said emotions. “She’s not worth it.”

The girl didn’t sigh in relief, or shake, or cry, or respond as any other normal human being would when faced with an enraged supersoldier. She just stared at Rogers as if she were doing a fairly convincing impression of an owl.

Then again, she had been all cozy with Loki, right? The girl couldn’t be all that rational to begin with.

“I thought you boys were done trying to undermine SHIELD,” a flat voice remarked from the doorway. Rogers and Tony both turned to meet the owner of the voice. The Captain at least had the good graces to look sheepish, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar after attempting to smash it against the counter in a fit of rage.

“Agent Romanoff, my hero. You know, you’re almost as punctual as Pepper on her worst day. Have I told you lately how much I miss having you as my assistant?”

“Yes. And the answer hasn’t changed: you can’t afford me,” the red-headed assassin replied without missing a beat. Her evergreen eyes slid past the men to the girl who hadn’t moved from where Rogers had forced her against the wall.

“Mind stepping out, gentlemen?I think you’ve done more than enough by harassing my prisoner.”

Tony raised his eyebrows at the phrase “my prisoner” while Rogers muttered an apology, eyes downcast. Tony could almost see the Dunce cap on his head as he was reprimanded for being a bad boy. It was a much funnier image than one of Cap sobbing over the body of a girl he had just strangled with his bare hands.

Which actually wasn’t funny at all, now that Tony thought about it.

“Come on, Spangles. It’s hunting season on kooky gods, and I know of one in particular with an impressive rack,” Tony said, attempting his most dashing smile as he led the Captain of Contrition from the prison cell, hoping that Agent Romanoff would do what she did best and get some information from the girl while mitigating whatever damage Rogers had caused.

And, you know, comfort her and stuff. That wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world.

The awkward smile on Rogers’ face from Tony’s innuendo confirmed that he hadn’t gone off the deep end quite yet – the soldier had just decided to bungee jump off the edge and give the inventor an unhealthy dose of panic.

The casual hand Tony left on the man’s shoulder was there to guide him as much as it was to give him a modicum of sympathy. Coulson’s death really had deeply affected them all. Only, some members of the team were more honest with their emotions than others.

For that, Tony Stark had to admit, he was more than a little envious of Steve Rogers.

______________________________________________________________________

The spirit watched the two warriors as they departed, particularly the one in blue who had roughly shoved it against the hard wall of its cell.

Twice.

Either the males of this planet were especially violent, or it inadvertently brought out this reaction in humans despite its passivity. But from the interactions it had seen, as well as the films Loki had forced it to observe, it was going to side with the former.

But the human that Loki had referred to as Captain America had not been entirely incorrect, and his anger was not unfounded. The Jotun-Asgardian was responsible for the death of Coulson of SHIELD, and it could not deny the role it had played in that death.

Had it made a critical error in remaining behind? Would the humans provide aid when it requested their help, or would they dismiss its concerns and imprison it once more?

The red-haired female stared in silence with a blank expression of observation, which the spirit returned as it ignored the throbbing ache in the bones below its neck – a reminder of the angered attentions of the shield-warrior.

After a long minute, the human uncrossed her arms and her lips twitched with amusement.

“Not many people can match me in a stare-off.”

The spirit said nothing, wary after the confrontation with the female’s ally.

“I’m sorry about Rogers,” she apologized, as if knowing the thoughts which had just crossed its mind. “Coulson’s death hit him pretty hard. He was a good man, you know?”

Yes, the shield-warrior said as much after he had implicitly threatened it with bodily harm, it wanted to reply. But it did not.

Instead, it said, “And it is regretful of Coulson of SHIELD’s death.”

The female’s face softened, almost imperceptibly, and she asked, “I can call medical and they can give you a look-over.”

“No,” the spirit interjected immediately, causing the human to slightly tilt her head. “It does not need healing,” it clarified, its aversion to the humans coming into contact with its body outweighing the discomfort the shield-warrior had caused with his aggression.

“All right,” the female replied, nodding her head in acknowledgement. Surprised that this human would respect the spirit’s wishes, it experienced a small amount of courage to ask the question which had been on its mind since the circular cell had plummeted into oblivion.

“Does Thor still live?”

The female’s expression returned to its closed state, but her eyes narrowed just enough to leave the spirit with the impression that she found the question of interest.

“We aren’t sure, but Thor is an Asgardian. If anyone could survive that fall, it would be him.”

The spirit looked down towards the floor, inadvertently revealing its culpability at what had befallen Loki’s brother. It did not know what strife had passed between the two Asgardians to open a gulf so wide, but they were still part of a familial unit. That had to hold some kind of importance. Maybe even act as a tether to pull Loki away from the madness which held him within its grasp.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Agent Natasha Romanoff. Your name is Trinity Frost, right?”

The spirit looked back up to the human, replying with a singular “Yes”, believing the information was safe to confirm. It watched the female as she slowly walked around her half of the room, respectfully keeping her distance so as not to appear threatening.

This human had more tact and poise than most of the others it had met. It would have been curious to see how she would have fared speaking with Loki, who seemed to derive pleasure from mind games and word play.

The female, Agent Romanoff, paused in her pacing and glanced over the spirit’s also-female form, as if determining its worth or character by its outward appearance. Then she nodded and said:

“I could waste time we don’t have, demanding to know why you followed Loki, how he conscripted you into his ranks, why you chose to stay behind. But honestly, I’ve got bigger problems I need to cross off.”

Agent Romanoff held its attention with her dark green eyes, another new shade of color it had not seen on a human.

“There’s only one question I do want answered at this particular moment.”

The spirit waited, knowing what it would be asked. But it did not know where Loki had taken the Tesseract, or even where his underground lair was located.

“How do you free someone from the control of Loki’s sceptre?”

It blinked. That… had not been the question it was expecting.

“You assume the answer is known to it,” the spirit reflected suspiciously, its body unconsciously freezing in the way it did when it felt threatened. Had the humans somehow detected its ability to wield the golden apparatus?

The female watched it for a moment, as if unsure how to respond, her lips pressed tightly together. Finally, she responded, “Not so much an assumption as a desperate shot in the dark. I was hoping you would know something we don’t from your time with Loki.”

The anxiety in its chest slightly uncoiled, and it voiced the next logical inquiry.

“Why do you ask this question?”

The human did not respond immediately, appearing to be caught in some kind of internal struggle as she stared at the floor, her eyes moving back and forth in deliberation.

Finally, she looked up at the spirit and said, “Because we have someone in our custody who is under Loki’s influence. And I need him freed.”

Its eyebrows slightly creased with eyes narrowed as it stared back from across the room.

“One of Loki’s mind-thralls?”

“One of our agents.”

“What is the name of this agent?” it asked, but it knew. The fragments of evidence and its intuition fit the pieces into place.

“Clint Barton. And… he’s been asking for you.”

______________________________________________________________________

Loki’s mood swung from vicious thoughts of rupturing a hole in the aircraft he was currently occupying, to fuming in sullen silence, to gasping for air as a slow, irresistible panic began to grip his throat.

It was gone. The woman was gone. The creature he had summoned from within the orb, trapped, freed because of his genius and his foresight – she had abandoned him.

Loki had given the ungrateful shade a body, and she had the gall to use it to walk away from him! Him!

He had treated her fairly – had given her accommodations, protection, and had even partially mended her wounds after the careless mortals had harmed her. Loki had educated her on the dangers of the Midgardians, and had given her personal insight into Earth’s meager defenders and the folly they presented.

Loki had been nothing but generous and benevolent to the celestial being, giving her every opportunity to proclaim her loyalty to his future Kingship. If she had only done so, he would have been willing to give her anything she wanted… within reason.

No doubt her first request would have been one of freedom. Loki was not stupid – he understood how a phantom that had once traversed the stars would balk at the idea of being contained within his purview.

It was one of the aspects that attracted him to the celestial creature – she had once been truly and unconditionally free before her descent into the orb.

Loki’s words to the humans when he had first stepped foot on Midgard had rang true – freedom was life’s great lie. Every man, woman, and child on this planet was bound by unseen chains, forged by their cumbersome, sentimental bonds, constrained by their foolish belief that love was a source of strength rather than the black hole of cold disappointment that it actually represented.

There was no substance to the concept of freedom. His allies had shown him that truth. Completely. Thoroughly.

But she had been different. Unencumbered by the rules and mandates of the flesh, she had been absolutely pure of essence. Loki had been almost envious of the celestial ghost’s freedom and what she represented. She lacked emotional ties that would make her vulnerable to the temptation of companionship, her very nature immune to the traitorous effects of isolation.

At least… that had been what he had believed, at the time.

It was unfathomable, inconceivable that she would reject Loki. What had caused her defiance? Spirits were not particularly brave creatures – they were generally known for their timidity and borderline cowardice. Had the treacherous humans poisoned her mind against him? They had only been held captive for a few hours. Surely that was not enough time to-

Was her imprisonment not your fault to begin with?

An insignificant, all-but-forgotten voice returned from the depths of his mind, incessantly annoying in its refusal to stay quashed and buried.

“Shut up,” Loki growled to no one, knowing full well it was not the captivity onboard the flying fortress that the voice was referring to.

If you had not fallen into the void, if you had not attempted to win the All-Father’s approval with a scheme even you knew was doomed from the start-

“Shut… up…” he hissed through his teeth, his breath coming in staggered, uneven gasps.

If you had ceased your childish notions of proving your worth by imitating and emulating Thor-

“I am superior to Thor! SHUT! UP!”

The madness of his voice echoed throughout the small space, and the steady thrum of the aircraft’s multiple engines was the only response. Even his mind-slave pilot did not react to his outburst.

Loki panted harshly, his hands curled into claw-like appendages as he tried to control their trembling, which was a failed endeavor. The strain of his recent efforts were taking too much of a toll on his mind and body when they should not have been.

His confidence had been shaken ever since his display of dominance in the Germanic city. Loki’s multiple illusions – normally a simple cast and a limited drain on his magic – had barely remained cohesive, flickering in response to his tenuous hold.

This had become a problem of late, especially after his return from the blackest reaches of space where Thanos’ hidden realm resided. Loki had found he had difficulty grasping and wielding his more complicated spells with any sort of stability. His ability to influence and cast illusions, the simplest and least draining of his magics, remained the most reliable – but even those spells had their costs.

Loki had, unsurprisingly, lied to Trinity when he had appeared in her cell. There had been nothing “easy” about projecting his mind from his body, even at that short distance. The energy called forth to allow them to watch the proceedings aboard the flying fortress had drained him more than he had predicted, leaving him unnervingly vulnerable in the hands of the humans and forcing him to call upon the aid of his creation to help free him from his prison.

If the mortals had chosen to extract information from Loki using torture, he would have been able to resist (of course), but it would have been impossible to shield his body from the pain that would come.

And it greatly irked him that the mortals had believed they had outsmarted the god – that their scarlet-haired harlot had gleaned any sort of valuable information from his words of malice.

They believed Loki had tipped his hand, when in actuality, they had revealed their criminal ignorance. When he had referred to the monster they had brought forth, they had believed he had spoken of Banner.

Banner! Yes, the hulking beast was a sight to behold when he fully unleashed his primal fury, but he was nothing compared to the shadow that would soon be cast over this world. Nothing compared to the darkness that would consume the rest of the Nine Realms thereafter.

The Midgardians had no inkling of what was to come, though in that regard, the Realm Eternal was just as ignorant and would fall just as easily.

But not by his hand. That pleasure was reserved for one who would make Loki appear as a merciful, saintly ruler in comparison.

There were none who contained the knowledge that Loki held within his grasp. None more worthy than he to rule over Midgard. Loki was born to rule. He was born to be a king. He needed the aid of none, let alone a wisp that was foolish enough to try to save him from-

No. That had never happened. He was misremembering what had occurred after his fall into the abyss, something he was told would happen after the ordeal he had experienced in that desolate place.

Loki had been shown the vast expanse of the universe, and he had seen his rightful place within it, lording over Midgard. His allies had been strict, but they had known and recognized his value – something which was never afforded him on Asgard. It was not his fault a little sprite had annoyed the Other, trapping it in the eye of the sceptre.

None of the blame rested on his shoulders.

Then how did you escape the void?

Loki did not react to the voice again. He simply crushed it into the back of his skull, driving it into dust until it was buried deeply once more. He took a steadying breath and smoothed back his untamed hair, wondering how the locks had become so awry.

Ah, yes. Loki remembered. He had been decimated by a Destroyer blast the humans had weaponized for their own designs. Tricky, greedy little creatures.

Well, their shrewdness would be tested within the day if his plans came to fruition. Even their mean, petty intellect would not spare them from his vast army of Chitauri marauders. When they finally descended through the portal of his making, then the humans would see just how clever they truly were.

And his creation would see how greatly she had sinned against him. And when she did, Loki would make her suffer for daring to defy her god.

Notes