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jeichanhaka · 4 years

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The Robbed That Smiles

Chapter Thirteen

Rubbing the edges of his forehead, a vein on one side popping out slightly, Mordo staggered a bit. The spell he’d just used had taken its toll, both in the casting of it and in the effort expended to keep its source contained. As though responding to his temporary weakened state, a bunch of chains rattled behind him: the power source of his spell struggling to free itself.

Wrapped in chains of forged metal and magics, and sealed in a space within which a constant binding spell was in effect, was Vision. Barely conscious and warded back with potent magic and beyond human technology, the sentient android who had once been simply an A.I created by Stark, looked up at Mordo. Exhausted and unable to speak after the wizard leeched power from him for his spell, Vision could only scowl.

“I take it, you’re finished?” Came another voice, its owner stepping forward with an air of arrogance. The haughtiness developed over years of believing everyone around you was a fool. “I assume this makes up for the upset I caused your plans?”

Still standing nearby the prison housing Vision, Mordo shifted his gaze from the android to the other man. “Only if you stick to your promise to keep your machinations from ruining my plans again, Dr. Pendrick.”

“Of course.” Pendrick replied, his countenance still smug though his voice sounded contrite. At least briefly. “Are you sure you don’t want to do a tiny thing for me? A favor that’d surely be child’s play for someone with your capabilities.”

Studying the other man, particularly his arrogant posture and demeanor, with a reproachful eye, Mordo said nothing. His attention turned back to the imprisoned Avenger and the binds entrapping the fellow. The power, ingenuity, and tech behind the contraption unnerved the wizard. The mere presence of alien technology being used in it pointed towards Pendrick’s ambitions being more than what the wizard had first assumed. More dangerous. Schooling his unease from showing on his face, Mordo turned away. Not towards Pendrick, but towards a heavily bolted door.

Inscribed with an array of lettering resembling sanskrit in certain ways but completely alien in others, the door drew the sorcerer’s eye. It would attract anyone’s eye - an imposing, heavy metal door sealed in what amounted to a laboratory dungeon would spark curiosity in anyone. Even without the incantation-esque writing drawn around it or the particular microchip-wire design superimposed beneath said lettering.

“...what is it you had in mind?” Mordo turned back to Pendrick and asked, his voice and posture composed. Neutral and noncommittal. Pendrick half-smiled at that, but didn’t answer the other. Instead glancing from the sorcerer back to the imprisoned Vision, but without focusing on the Avenger. It was the binds that got his attention, not the sentient android.

Pendrick continued staring at the binds and muttered. “Nothing this moment. I simply wanted to know if you’d be open to aiding me, if I ever request it. If you have qualms or doubts of any sort or think you will, then our business is concluded.”

“You haven’t mentioned what you wanted. How can I decide if you haven’t even said what….”

“You either agree to help or you leave. Simple as that. With what - that I’ll reveal when you’ve agreed.” Pendrick continued, waiting for Mordo’s answer. “Before you dismiss me outright though, may I suggest you mull over how I captured this marvel of sentience before us,” He gestured towards Vision. “...despite the power it possessed and ask yourself: is your magic on par with an Infinity Stone?”

“Infinity Stone?” Mordo muttered, staring at Pendrick with a wary glint in his gaze. The other man simply returned the stare, the ghost of a smug smile tugging at his lips. A hundred or so seconds passed in silence as neither man spoke, just kept focused on their spur-of-the-moment staring contest. The wizard broke first, briefly glancing away and grimacing at their surroundings before addressing Pendrick. “...when did he contact you?”

Pendrick tilted his head, his arms folded in front of him. His body language feigned bewilderment while his eyes lit up with understanding. “He? Who are you talking about?”

Mordo glowered at the scientist, ready to portal the other man into a worse place than Rogers and the soldiers. “Deny it if you want, I know he contacted you.” The wizard paused, waiting for the other man to reply. When no response was forthcoming aside from a raised eyebrow, he continued. “He’s the only one who could have provided you with all this alien magic and tech.” The wizard muttered almost under his breath and gestured around at their surroundings, a dour expression on his face.

Pendrick eyed the wizard wordlessly and took his time to mull over the other’s words. He turned away from Mordo, his expression losing none of its smugness. “If you know that much, you realize going against me is ill advised. As is not aiding me in my endeavors.” The threat in the scientist’s words hung heavily over the other. Despite that, Mordo scowled and clenched his jaw tighter.

~0~

Sitting in a room that was little larger than an economy-sized walk in freezer, Finley Morfield attempted to calm his racing pulse by taking a few deep breaths. The composure he’d shown during his meeting with Thor and Strange nonexistent. Yesterday he had his government position to protect him and the guaranteed backing of at least a few senior agents and officials to circumvent any fallout. After all, his actions and decisions had all been to secure the country against the mischief god, and any other possible threat.

Now though…

With the attack on the Sanctum having failed to secure Loki while also resulting in some US soldiers going missing, the ‘guaranteed’ backing he had counted on was untenable. Even the senior officials who wouldn’t be bothered by his failure would likely refuse him any support now, considering his past in Hydra was likely now known to the Avengers. His superiors and fellow agents in the Mediation and Evasive Defense department had already known about it when he was brought in, full-disclosure of his past having been a requirement of the deal he struck to avoid being tried with other ex-Hydra. But most others did not.

Something that was certain to change now that the Avengers - especially Stark - knew. And it wouldn’t matter that he was now as anti-Hydra as the billionaire inventor. He was screwed.

-“I see you decided to take advantage of the accommodations.” Said Stark over the speaker system, his voice coming from just under the surveillance camera in the top left corner of the room. “Unfortunate. I actually liked that chair.”-

Morfield clenched his jaw at the comment and its implied meaning, but made no protest. Three years ago or if anyone else had made the comment, he might have and had actually done so a few times, but not now. He understood the Avenger’s irate.

-“No comment? Huh. No protest that since your reasons for working for Hydra were financial that my comment is inappropriate? That you’re not like those who actually believed in its doctrine?”-

“No.” Morfield replied. “You can say and make whatever comments you want. I did work for those bastards once so I deserve it.”

-“Huh.” Muttered Stark and there were a handful of seconds of silence over the speakers, during which Morfield assumed the Avenger was either assessing him or communicating with his fellow Avengers. Judging by the scathing vocal tone the billionaire used, Morfield wouldn’t have been surprised if the other had assumed he’d defend his past. Or denied it mattered. “You’re not like what I expected. You actually sound...”-

“Contrite? Regretful?” Morfield finished the other’s sentence.

-“‘Genuine’ was what I was about to say.” There was another pause, this time with static and ruffling noises coming over the speakers, signs that Stark hadn’t bothered muting his end this time. The silence lasted upwards to two minutes before the Avenger spoke again, and when he did, his demeanor was slightly changed. “Agent Morfield, the current director of SHIELD has already given authority to my team to interrogate you. According to SHIELD and your department’s head, you weren’t authorized to do anything but negotiate with Thor about his brother....”-

“Negotiation was getting nowhere.” Morfield growled, glowering at the camera. “It was clear neither the thunder god nor the wizard were being impartial, despite evidence, to the threat of Loki having the….”

-“Thor’s brother doesn’t have the Tesseract.” The billionaire interrupted gruffly, his voice seeping with displeasure. “Believe me, I’d be the first in line to lock Loki up if he did. He doesn’t have it.”-

“Then the liar god has you fooled and if you can’t see that….”

-“Fucking shut up.” Spat Stark, the anger in his voice striking even over the intercom speakers. “Your buddies’ attack on the Sanctum almost caused fatal injuries to a pregnant guest staying there. And it seems one of your colleagues was a hitman sent specifically to target her.” The Avenger paused and watched through the surveillance camera as Morfield paled.-

“Pregnant? Rains’ target is pregnant?” Morfield’s eyes widened, horror lightening his cheeks. ‘Is that why Mordo deviated? Qualms against harming an innocent?’

-“Curious. You genuinely seem horrified.” Drawled Stark, disbelief coloring his voice along with spite. And an undercurrent of rage, one that quickly flared up as he continued. “Too bad your Hydra buddies two years ago didn’t have the same sympathies. I’d still have a daughter.”-

Morfield started, the horror in his countenance shifting to shock mixed with repugnance. As well as the first real glimmer of regret in his eyes. The topic change was swift, but he understood what the other man alluded to. “My Hydra buddies? I left those bastards several years ago. I testified against and outed many of them. I….” He sucked in a breath, realizing fully what Stark had assumed and what the man didn’t know. “You think I’m working for them again. I...you haven’t read my file, yet. The one kept by SHIELD’s director and Homeland Security.”

-“I plan to after we finish our chat. I admit I am interested in how you hoodwinked….”-

“I haven’t hoodwinked anyone! I hate Hydra the same as you. Similar reason too. That’s why I joined the department of Mediation and Evasive Defenses.” Morfield seethed, the anger in his voice as vehement as Stark’s. “Those cowards kidnapped and killed my nephew two years ago, same as your daughter and so many other children. If you think for one second that I’m working for them now or that….” The agent trailed off, his gray eyes livid. His fists clenched tightly, his nails nearly breaking the skin of his palms. He heard a click as Stark muted his side of the intercom system, allowing a heavy silence to permeate through the room. It lasted a while, long enough for the quiet to become uncomfortable and for Morfield to flinch when static came from the speaker. He settled himself and watched the camera, expectant for the Avenger to resume his interrogation.

An alarm trilled from over the intercom instead, killing the silence and causing Morfield to jump out of his chair.

~0~

“Really?” Loki muttered as the fifth door shut in his face and the deli’s owner locked and bolted the door. Four other places he had tried before this one: one corner store, one grocery, and two restaurants. None of them would serve him or allow him to step inside, not one of the owners even waited for him to explain what he wanted before sealing their entrances.

It would be simple work to break in, of course, his illusion magic alone would provide an easy way to work around the Midgardians’ stubbornness. Or he could strongarm his way in, using his godlike strength to coerce the mortals. But that would lead to the Avengers getting on his case once they found out. While using illusion magic to disguise himself just to shop...enraged him. Over the past year he had cultivated a rapport with these five particular businesses, having gotten fed up with being viewed with fear and suspicion.

Having put in the effort to build rapport with these mortals, being forced to use his illusion magic to trick them was irritating. What point was there to cultivating goodwill if it didn’t benefit him when he needed it? To make things more irritating, until a short while ago, these business owners were open to him. Allowing him unfettered use of their stores and to buy either with Midgardian currency or through ‘quid pro quo’ arrangements.

It was obvious to him what this sudden refusal of theirs to serve him stemmed from: The Statue. Whether his switcheroo or Strange’s was uncertain, but it was the only significant thing that would warrant their ostracisation of the god.

“After I helped….” Loki scowled, backing away from the door after briefly considering magically locking the deli and imprisoning its owner. Instead he glanced at the apartment windows above the deli, a vindictive smirk spreading over his lower face when he saw the window to the deli owner’s apartment was open. “Mrs. Watts, your delightful oaf of a spouse has been seeing that red-headed floozy from the bar again. Just this week. You know the one - thirty years younger than you with the ginormous…”

There was a loud screech as the deli owner’s wife heard him, the sound as harsh and vehement as a harpy and followed by the thump of a door swung violently open. Loki grinned and walked off, paying little mind to the spat his words had triggered. He had already caused similar fusses at each of the other four places after being ignored. Ranging from reporting terrible sanitary conditions to revealing money laundering and cheating - each tidbit having come to his knowledge through his quid pro quo arrangements with the businesses’ owners. (It was curious how little these Midgardians cared to hide things from him, even those whose arrangement with him hadn’t included help concealing their lies.)

‘That’s done. Now where to get Selfie something to eat?’ Loki searched around, strolling down the sidewalk. His smile smaller as his focus switched back to finding his doppelganger sustenance. ‘Something healthy yet tasty….’

Stopping abruptly outside a random storefront, the mischief god frowned. His eyes narrowed and he made no effort to move, a curious sensation running up and down his spine. Similar to what the Midgardians would describe as a chill, he recognized the touch of non-Midgardian magic. More interestingly, he picked up traces of Vanaheim derived seidr along with Jotunheim frost. And hints of something else, more sinister, that made him want to bristle.

He settled instead on deepening his frown and eyeing the storefront window, taking advantage of the glass and lighting to watch the reflection of his surroundings.

“It’d be best not to resist.” Said a voice, one familiar and whose owner stepped close enough into view for Loki to see them reflected in the window. The trickster god’s stare grew livid and wary seeing his interloper, even more so when the other’s partners stepped into view. “Now be a good little god and give us the Tesseract.”

Loki scowled, leering at those approaching him through the reflective glass. The main intruder, the one that had spoken to him, hung back though while his two partners neared the god. Curiosity colored Loki’s gaze, lessening the expression of his anger and his wariness. “...you and your master have been busy.” Said the mischief god, turning around to face those that had approached him. One was adorned in metal armor embellished with rune designs that were rarely seen outside Vanaheim and were rife with seidr energy. The other was a male Jotunn, sparsely armored and towering over them in height, although he was average size for his race. Neither of them were known to Loki, though judging by the clan markings he bore, the Jotunn was one of Laufey’s kin. Loki scowled.

“Of course. Thanos’ vision for the universe is not something to be halted forever. Even by the setback three years ago.” Ebony Maw paused and stood calmly in the middle of the street, completely unfazed by the angry and confused humans shouting at him. A few of the human onlookers scurried off, either through instinct or from recognizing Loki and realizing something dangerous was about to happen. Most did not though.

“Setback? A...oh.” Loki drew his lips into a grin, one subdued and mirthless; the rest of his face bearing a rigid, regal countenance. Identical to the airs he put on while imprisoned in Asgard, and equal in obscuring his actual emotions. ‘The Tesseract.’ His lips pressed into a thinner line, a heavy frown that masked his rising trepidation. ‘Of course. They wanted it and I left it on Asgard to be destroyed…’ He grimaced and pulled his jaw taut. ‘I really should’ve just bloody taken the thing.’

“Hand over the Tesseract. Denial is futile. We know it’s on this planet.” Said the Vanaheim battle mage, brandishing a heavy spiked mace that was laden with seidr. Either an adult female or young male judging by the voice, the armored stranger closed the remaining space between themself and the mischief god. Ebony Maw hung back and watched, as did the unknown Jotunn.

Loki rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Seconds later the battle mage lunged at the god, swinging their magic endowed mace. In those same seconds the mischief god’s illusionary form flickered away and he flung a few daggers at his enemies backs from where he’d reappeared. One for each of them. None of the blades found their mark - two were dodged, and one caught mid-throw. Loki scowled and slipped behind an illusion.

‘Norns, of all the….’ The mischief god seethed in his head, considering his options while the Midgardians that hadn’t already fled now did so. Alarmed by the skirmish, they scurried away or hid inside the buildings and shops lining the street.

~0~

“Fuck.” Hissed Stark inside his Iron suit as he was thrown backwards by a bulky-armored intruder. Similar to the humanoid creature that had attacked yesterday with the maul, this new intruder also said nothing. Just attacked. Swinging its spiked fist at the Avenger within seconds of the tower alarm sounding. The billionaire barely had time to shield himself within his iron suit before the being’s fist contacted his torso.

Despite the protection of his iron suit the punch winded him and threw him against one of his workshop’s tables. There his arm struck the edge, and though the impact was buffered by his suit, a sharp burning pain shot up his arm. He sucked in a breath. Realizing only moments later, after his fellow Avengers in the room drew the intruder’s attention towards them, that his injured arm was the same one that had bothered him since yesterday.

Stark swore. The pain shooting up his arm was paralytic and even through the din of fighting, he heard one of his fellow Avengers asking if he was all right. “I’m fine. Just….” The inventor hissed, his answer cut off by a sharp twinge. Seconds later, he scowled and forced himself to ignore the pain best he could and dive back into the skirmish.

He managed to get a few energy blast hits in on their mute attacker, helping to wound him just as an explosion rushed through the building. Originating close to where the agent Morfield was being held, the explosive shockwave sent him flying into a wall or some other unyielding surface. And he gasped in pain as his arm struck whatever he crashed into with enough force to snap in half if not for the protection of his iron suit. Instead he blacked out, unable to ignore the burning agony pulsing from his hand.

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