Madness of the Serpent

The spirit remained completely stationary, even after its knees had begun to ache from the constant pressure of skin and bone against the hard ground, its battered suit offering minimal padding.

One pale hand remained against the Jotun-Asgardian's chest, confirming that it still rose and fell with even precision. But the blank, slightly shocked look on his face remained, various injuries marking his features.

Loki did not stir, and the battle outside was growing more frantic and violent. Black smoke covered more regions of the metropolis, and despite its hopes the humans had found a way to seal the portal, it assumed they had failed to do so.

"Jarvis?" it inquired to the air, hoping to hear a response from the disembodied entity which had attempted to guide the spirit earlier.

"I am here, Ms. Frost," he responded cheerfully despite the battle that had taken place within the tower and the wanton destruction beyond its walls.

"Is there anything here that will help… help Loki recover?" the spirit asked, wondering if the creation of Loki's enemy would deny him aid and allow him to suffer. Or worse, call on the human warriors to end his life.

"I have informed Mr. Stark of the criminal's status, but I am afraid he and the others are preoccupied by the Asgardian's invasion forces." Jarvis' voice remained polite, but it sensed a hint of disapproval. "I am sure they will arrive when they are able."

"And then? What will they do to him?" the spirit prodded, wanting to make certain that he would not be further harmed by the humans Loki had referred to as Avengers.

"They will take him into SHIELD custody, most likely. From there, I cannot say, but I imagine he will stand trial for his crimes."

The spirit stared down at Loki's prone figure, dissatisfied with the answer. Its eyes roamed toward the sceptre, and it felt the temptation stir in its thoughts. It could take possession of the golden apparatus and drag Loki away before the human warriors arrived…

But of course, that left the portal wide open, allowing the Chitauri to pour through onto the populace below. And if it could somehow awaken Loki, there was no guarantee he would know how to close the portal, or if he would even be willing to do so. The spirit had no inkling how deep his dislike for the humans ran, or if it was solely a product of his corrupted will.
Its other option was to attempt to close the portal on its own, which was also without guarantee of success.

You must try. You promised the humans you would.

Pressing its lips together, the spirit removed its hand from Loki's chest as it slowly climbed to its feet, swaying precariously as the blood rushed from its head. It took a steadying breath and took one final look down at the Jotun-Asgardian.

I made a promise to you as well, and I intend to keep it.

"Jarvis?" it questioned again as it turned from where Loki lay, beginning its slow, limping journey towards the back portion of the tower.

"Yes, Ms. Frost?" answered the pleasant voice from the air.

"You witnessed the events that took place between Loki and I, correct?" As it spoke, it checked its shoulder wound to find if it was still weeping (it was), and it walked in a curving line towards the back exit to the main room, struggling to move in a straight path.

"Of course."

"Must you speak of it to the others?" it inquired, thinking back to the vicious battle between the spirit and the deranged Loki, along with the murderous threats, disturbing taunts, and violent brutality.

"All occurrences on Stark Industries' premises are automatically recorded and held for a period of eight years. I am required to report all instances of import to Mr. Stark."

"I… see."

"If it eases your worries, the last few minutes of recorded footage may possibly aid in the Asgardian's judgement if it is entered into evidence after his incarceration."

"Incarceration?" It had not cast its thoughts that far ahead, what possible punishment Loki might face. Of course, none of that would matter if the gateway remained open and the Chitauri brought war to the entire planet.

"Yes, Ms. Frost. Loki of Asgard has committed several felonies as well as a dozen misdemeanors, along with numerous war crimes against humanity."

"His actions were not his own," the spirit objected. But how to explain Loki's exploitation by a foul, nightmarish being that could not be described by any words in its vocabulary?

"As you say, Ms. Frost."

It noted the program's slightly mollifying tone and paused before it opened the door to the back balcony, tucked away out of sight.

"And you will tell the Iron Man about my... affliction?" it inquired, unsure as to how to quantify the dark scales covering its right hand and forearm.

"I am unable to omit any information from Mr. Stark." Jarvis paused, and there was something unknown laced within his tone as he spoke. "Even if I wished to do so. It is in my programming."

"I understand." There was no avoiding the inevitable, then. The humans would know, soon, what it was. Or rather, what it was not. It was one thing for Barton to tell them it had been a spirit-made-corporeal. It was quite another to be faced with whatever this was – its foreignness made plain for all to witness. The spirit had no idea as to the cause of the mutation, and if Loki truly did know what was happening, he might never get a chance to explain.

The spirit grit its teeth as it pulled open the glass door, buffeted by the wind which threatened to push it back inside. It looked skyward, screaming Chitauri flying past as they descended from the gaping hole in the atmosphere.

"Is there another route to the machine?" it asked as its eyes fell upon the vertical series of metal rungs that were sealed to the side of the tower. It could not imagine how it was going to be able to climb them with its damaged left shoulder.

"I am afraid not. Mr. Stark has been alerted to the fact that you also require medical assistance, if you should choose to wait," Jarvis' disembodied voice replied, even though it was now outside of the building.

"Too much time has passed – I cannot delay," it confessed. Taking a deep breath and mustering all of the courage and determination that still remained within, it began to climb.

Its left arm was completely useless, and it held the limb curled against its stomach as it began to climb using only its feet and its scaly arm. Grudgingly, it was grateful to the strength which its deformed hand seemed to possess, allowing it to ascend with little difficulty with only half of its upper body strength available.

Between its monstrous arm and the tubular metal cage which surrounded the ladder, it was unconcerned the wind would dislodge it. The true concern came from the Chitauri fliers, as it was incredibly exposed and vulnerable to attack should they glance in its direction.

Fortunately, the aliens took no notice of the spirit, and it arrived at the roof without incident, though it frowned as it saw two other sets of ladders to climb before it could reach the topmost level.

As it climbed the last ladder, its skin pale and cold from exhaustion and pain, it gripped the edge of the roof with its blackened claw and pulled itself upwards, directly into the barrel of a firearm.

It paused, stomach pressed against the edge of the roof as it looked past the black weapon to the female who held it. Agent Romanoff's startled eyes glanced between its face to the blackened gauntlet that now represented its right limb.

"Frost?" she questioned alarmingly, her pale expression watching with growing suspicion.

"Yes," it responded, its face scrunched from the strain of the awkward position and the ever-present bright pain from its wound.

"Uh. Right," the agent responded, holstering her weapon as she reached forward, assisting the spirit onto the roof once she noticed the bleeding gash in its shoulder. "Barton mentioned you were in trouble when Loki attacked and knocked you from the tower. He sent Banner to help."

"The massive… green creature?" it asked as it panted unevenly. "His assistance was not warranted. Loki prevented my fall – he did not attack me."

"That's not the way Barton tells it," Romanoff replied, slightly tilting her head as she gave the spirit an odd look.

"Loki was… confused. But the situation had resolved itself, until this Banner interfered and greatly harmed him," it responded wearily.

"That was kind of the point of sending our guy," Romanoff replied with a shrug, and it narrowed its eyes as protectiveness over Loki expressed itself.

The female SHIELD agent raised an eyebrow, and the spirit looked away before it could turn the conversation into a confrontation. It did not wish to argue with the human, especially since she was the one who had debated on its behalf. But her callous words began to fill its chest with the anger that seemed to appear so readily since its hand had transformed.

Its sight was automatically drawn to the bronze and silver machine which was the source of the azure portal, eyes drinking in the shimmering stream of power flowing into the sky. The incredible sight was enough to cool the teeming heat just below its skin.

The stream of luminous light poured into the sky, creating a disconcerting effect. The skyward portal appeared similar to a massive human eye. The swirling edges of the portal were its throbbing azure iris, the slowly rotating clouds the white of the eye, and the black pupil was splattered with tiny stars in another facet of the universe.

This powerful image held the spirit in its thrall. It was an elegant, beautiful sight, but it did not say this out loud. It doubted the humans would share its viewpoint, and it had given them reason enough to reject the spirit for its oddness.

The machine was connected to several thick cables trailing from various ports in the building, as well as a computing device propped on a stand.

"Frost. What actually happened with Loki? Why is your hand in that condition?"

"I do not know how to elaborate or explain this… anomaly. And as I said, the situation is resolved and Loki should now be purified of foreign influence," it responded vaguely, noting the stoic expression of the female assassin as it skirted around key points of information.

"I have no idea how to interpret that, and I will be asking again later." Agent Romanoff glanced down to the confused and disoriented human who lay on the ground, his glowing azure eyes roaming over the scene with a dazed effect. "Can you help the doctor? His condition is rapidly deteriorating."

The spirit gazed down at the befuddled human, confirming the SHIELD agent was correct in her assumption. It almost did not recognize him as the scientist, Dr. Selvig, from Loki's underground bunker. His azure eyes were red around the edges, the sockets of his eyes chafed and raw, as Barton's had been towards the end of his enslavement.

The severing of Loki's connections to the dark place had apparently done nothing for the other mind-thralls. Guilt flittered through its chest as it realized it could have – and should have – done more for the humans, and not just the Jotun-Asgardian.

"Selvig," the spirit named the dazed human, attempting to block his view of its mutilated right arm with the curve of its body.

The older human shifted his eyes upward with mild surprise and some confusion, before he smiled in a way that was not entirely cogent.

"Trinity! Have you come to partake in the splendor of the Cube? It's glorious, isn't it? So much beauty… We should be honored to even bask in its glow."

"Yes," the spirit responded evenly, pressing one knee against the rough rooftop as it lowered its body to his level. It glanced back at the agent, wordlessly indicating its readiness. She nodded, immediately understanding what the spirit wanted, and she also knelt next to the doctor.

Time was running short in regards to the gateway, but it suspected Selvig would defend the artifact if it attempted to interfere with the machinery. It needed to release him from the chains of the mind-jewel if it was to succeed in closing the portal – which it still had no plan how to do. Perhaps the scientist would know once his mind was his own.

"Just relax, Dr. Selvig. Your work is complete. You can rest now," the agent appeased, surprising warmth and sympathy in her voice.

"Oh. Good. I've been working so hard on the Tesseract… I would like to close my eyes, just for a moment…"

"Of course," Romanoff responded, nodding to the spirit once Dr. Selvig closed his crystallized eyes.

"My best work…" he mumbled softly, his haggard, roughened face going slack.

Taking a deep breath, it winced as its left palm was placed against his forehead, attempting to ignore the screaming in its shoulder. The spirit did not want to touch the human with its clawed hand, unintentionally maiming or frightening him while he was in this confused state.

Concentrating as much as possible with the sounds of alien screeches in the air and the seductive vibrations of the nearby artifact distractedly tantalizing, it mentally prodded for the energy of the orb hidden in his mind.

It could sense the energy easily enough, but it was deeply embedded in the human's psyche, much more so than it had been with Barton. It attempted to tug at the tendrils of energy, and it heard Selvig groan in distress from somewhere far away. It tugged again, and his harsh voice cried out in pain, Agent Romanoff yelling as she attempted to restrain his sudden movements.

I am sorry, it silently apologized as it began to draw the energy forcefully, attempting to vacuum the vestiges of the mind-jewel's power from his consciousness. There was no time to delicately extract the influence. It had to be done as quickly as possible before the energy further embedded itself, like a creature which thrived in the dark, digging in its claws to prevent being dragged into the light.

It internally winced at the cries of distress as the bits of energy came loose, and it absorbed the tingling golden energy into its body, feeding its own depleted biological energy with life-sustaining power.

The spirit opened its eyes, and noticed immediately that the bone-rattling exhaustion was gone, and the pain from the shoulder and the back of its leg were muted.

Dr. Selvig seemed to fare even worse after the traumatic mental extraction. His eyes were no longer clouded with the crystallized signature of the mind-jewel, but they were glassy with malaise.

"What…?" he croaked, his eyes tracing the outlines of their faces unsteadily, as if he recognized nothing. Perhaps he did not.

"I am sorry," it apologized out loud, sweat beading its own forehead. "I took as much care as was permitted, but there may be some damage to his mind."

"Just another entry on the checklist to address after," the red-haired agent remarked, nodding her chin at the stream of uninhibited energy shooting into the sky. "Can you shut it off, Dr. Selvig?"

"I… I don't know," the doctor responded uncertainly, eyeing the machinery as if he found it only vaguely recognizable.

This was not encouraging to see, and their options were dwindling. The spirit rose to its feet and began to approach the machine, pausing when the male human protested. "It has an energy barrier surrounding it! You won't be able to get past!"

It focused its eyes towards the artifact housed in the machine, alluring and enticing with the energy radiating from its depths. Its physical senses tried to interpret its intricate outputs as a humming noise, a shimmer in the air, and an electrifying taste on its tongue. It could only have imagined what the object known as the Tesseract would have looked like through the lenses of a spirit's mind.

The artifact's pull was similar to the orb in the sceptre, yet they were distinct entities, as if they were two members of a similar species. That was the only comparison it could think of with the vocabulary it had of the human English language.

"The barrier – is it powered by the artifact?" it inquired while looking back towards Dr. Selvig, having to raise the volume of its voice over the energetic thrum coming from the machine and the howl of the wind.

"It is. Which is why it is impenetrable," the human scientist answered, his eyes trained on the spirit in a focused way that indicated he was noticing its changes for the first time.

"Would the sceptre be able to break through?" the agent inquired, steadying the doctor as he wobbly climbed to his feet.

"You could try, but I wouldn't recommend it. The last time the sceptre came into contact with the Tesseract…," he trailed off, his statement unfinished but self-evident as he stared at the spirit. It was discomforted with the way his bloodshot eyes peered too closely, and it did not care for the way his mouth hung open at the sight of its mutated arm, noticeable now as he viewed the spirit's form in its entirety.

"There may be another way," the scientist relented, almost too quietly for the spirit to hear. The agent, though, clearly heard his words, as she turned towards him with sharp eyes.

"Tell me."

"The Cube can possibly be removed… It's not being held in place by any physical mechanism. It's powering its own levitation, and shouldn't be difficult to pry loose."

"We just have to get through the barrier," Agent Romanoff finished, looking up at the humming machine with a troubled expression.

"Which is impossible. Although…" Dr. Selvig hesitated, and the agent turned back to him.

"What, doctor?"

"Removing the Cube while it's activated and connected to the machine could also cause the portal to collapse again, creating a massive detonation that destroys half of Manhattan."

"That… could complicate things," the agent replied wearily, slightly tilting her head as she stared at the machine.

Unbeknownst to the humans, this actually simplified matters. They did not know the reason the portal had collapsed to begin with. It did. And if such a thing happened again, the collapsed force could be guided upwards to the expansive curve of the planetary atmosphere, able to expel its energy load without damaging the human city.

Of course, that was only if the spirit could retain some kind of control on the energy pouring from the shimmering artifact. It was no longer a being of incorporeal qualities, and it might very well perish under the strain of attempting to manipulate the gateway's source.

Turning from Selvig and Romanoff, who were distracted in their discussions of how to penetrate the barrier, the spirit placed its hand tentatively forward: the black, armored hand, just in case its hypothesis about the barrier was wrong, and the energy caused damage to its physical body. The dark scales had already proven to act as some kind of protective coating, able to withstand Loki's fiery attack as well as the cutting blades of his sceptre.

It knew when it had reached the barrier because a bluish sphere rippled into existence, sparking against its tapered claws, jolts of sharp, stinging energy vibrating down its scales into its shoulder. The burning sensation was a strange dance between the line of pleasure and pain, nerves tingling in a rush of sensations.

Attempting to steady its breathing, it pushed harder, and its armored hand passed through the barrier, the rest of its arm following smoothly as the circular barrier around the entire machine became fully visible, blue ripples dominating its surface.

Almost immediately, Romanoff shouted in alarm, and the spirit glanced back to the human, pausing with the sizzling barrier encircling its right shoulder.

"What are you doing, Frost?!" The agent stepped forward as the wind tousled the crimson locks which framed her face.

"What was promised," the spirit replied with surprising evenness, jaw set in determination as it turned to face the barrier again, placing its unchanged hand against its rippling surface. The same pleasant but sharp tingling traveled up its palm, almost too much to bear without the protection of its scaly hide. But it pushed through, until both arms were past the barrier. Squinting its eyes shut, it stepped all the way through.

It pressed its lips together to keep from crying out as the energy flooded over its skin and into its muscles and bones, spreading throughout every atom of its body. Just when it believed the sensation was going to rip it apart, it vanished. The electrifying force was gone, and it stood in front of the machine with its glittering artifact. It seemed to sit there, waiting patiently, freely floating between the metal prongs which harnessed and focused its unending power. Electrifying bolts of light drew jagged lines between the Tesseract and the surrounding metal, the upper portion of the cube almost lost to the stream being focused through the machine.

Looking back at Romanoff and Selvig, it saw the barrier had returned to its previous invisible state, the strange expressions on their faces unobstructed. The spirit was fulfilling its part of the bargain to the humans.

So… why did the humans stare at the spirit as if it were a source of potential danger? Why did they seem so apprehensive and disturbed by its actions?

You know why, Loki would have whispered in its ear. It could almost hear the words of doubt in his low, smooth voice. I did warn you, didn't I?

Notes