Friendly Fire, 2/6.
Title: Friendly Fire
Series: #16 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Yelena, Natasha/Winter Soldier
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. Read the other stories before this one, because it does refer back to events in them. Additional warning for mindfuckery of various flavors (hello, Red Room!) and detailed descriptions of violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups
Special thanks to phoenixrising06/
romanovasledger for plotting and characterization discussion. :)
Summary: The Red Room has returned.
Prior chapter:
One - Set Up
Two - Freedom of Choice
Yelena took a look through James' scope and grinned. She pulled back from the window of the hotel room they had taken, flashing that bright grin at Natasha. "It worked."
Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course it worked. Jerome Beecham is a misogynist and polygamist. Not to mention batshit crazy and interested in bringing down the entire financial system of the United States." She quirked up a corner of her mouth, not quite smiling. "So if one of his wives got away from his control and is in hiding with the FBI and working at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing..."
"So they have no idea what they're in for," Yelena said, pleased. She looked back through the scope, seeing the Black Spectre agents dressed all in black and nearly swarming over the FBI offices. "I suppose this isn't their entire force?"
"Probably not."
"We'll need to capture one alive to find out where they hold their other prisoners," James pointed out. He was sitting cross legged on the carpeted floor behind them, calm as further intel was gathered. His weapons had already been sharpened, cleaned and primed, ready to be used at a moment's notice. He had even done the same for Natasha's and Yelena's weapons.
"I see one farther to the side. Her expression... it's not as blank as the others' are."
"She must be starting to get self aware," Natasha said, frowning. She was sitting on the queen sized bed, and looked up from the blueprints of the FBI building. "That would be the one to take, then. She won't fight us."
"Maybe we can even get her to join us," Yelena said, straightening and leaving the window. She handed the sniper's rifle back to James. "We could use recruits."
"There you go," Natasha said with a smile. "Should you go get her, or should I?"
Yelena nodded at James. "Tranq her, we'll pick her up as we double check that your message got through to your Avengers."
"They're smart enough to get the hint."
"You think so?"
"There's a Quinjet parked at DFW. What do you think?"
With a sigh, Yelena sat down next to Natasha and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I think you are clever and they are not. I think it's still a mistake to rely on someone else. And I think that we need to move on this quickly. Those women won't die or defect on their own."
Natasha grasped Yelena by the chin, fingers tight. "Defect."
"If they can't be turned, they're a liability," Yelena replied coldly. Something shifted behind her eyes, a darkness that sent chills down Natasha's spine. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone and Yelena smiled at her prettily. Natasha didn't doubt what she had seen, but she didn't know what it meant.
Yelena was unraveling, deteriorating, sliding into someone that Natasha couldn't recognize. Yet she still couldn't choose one over the other. There had to be a way to fix this mess. There had to be a way to pull her back.
Even if it killed her.
***
Last minute, Steve elected to stay behind in New York to assist Sam with the support group. "I'll let you know if any other signals or messages come through," he told them, a regretful expression on his face. "But if something happens and you do need me..."
"We'll call you, Cap," Clint remarked with a nod. He realized that Steve changed his mind the instant Bruce brought up the possibility of Yelena Belova and the Winter Soldier being present along with Natasha.
"I'm sorry," Steve began, true regret in his voice. "It didn't seem to matter before, but after Bucky hurt Sam as badly as he did..."
Clint clapped Steve on the shoulder. "No, I get it. If we can't bring him in, you don't want to put him down. I get it. I'm going for Natasha, but I'll keep an eye out. She'll need some friendly faces. And we'll let you know if your friend is any easier to get along with."
The relief on his face was telling; it was easier to deal with disgruntled vets than a former best friend that no longer remembered him at all.
During the flight from JFK to Dallas Fort Worth airport, Clint was on the phone with his friend Zoe. There were no distinct threats made to any particular location in Fort Worth, but digging deeper into military and FBI records did show a transfer request for agents to the area, especially those from the antiterrorism units with training in brainwashing techniques to undo potential damage. "My guess is? You want the Federal building," Zoe announced cheerfully. "Also, Stark finally came through on that T3 line. It's pretty sweet."
"Glad you like it," Clint told her. He could imagine Zoe flashing him a huge smile as she described the speed and facility she had for her pet programs. Most of it went over his head; he wasn't an idiot by any means, but she was talking about various subtle hacking techniques that he had no understanding of. Natasha would have understood it all, and that just made him miss her more. Well, that and she was a far better copilot than Tony Stark.
"Federal building's the likely target," Clint announced when he terminated the connection, as Tony wouldn't have heard Zoe's end of the conversation. It had been piped into Clint's headset only, and his end of the conversation was fairly nondescript.
"Think Dread Pirate Fury would want to smooth the way for us to get in there?" Tony asked. Aside from the nickname, Tony seemed to be far more serious and subdued.
"It's not exactly a sanctioned op."
"So that would be a no."
"That would be a not very likely. You can try calling."
"He doesn't like hearing from me."
"He doesn't like hearing from me, either."
Tony snorted, shaking his head a little. "So we're at an impasse."
"Unless he'd agree for Thor's sake?" Clint offered. "If Steve was here, we'd have more of a guarantee to get in."
"I thought Coulson was the fanboy?"
"Oh, he is. Big time." Clint grinned but didn't take his eyes off the sky. "He even corrected the Smithsonian exhibit, did you know that? Anyway, Steve's all kinds of gracious about it, but it's kind of hilarious to watch Coulson try to contain that much squee."
"If the Winter Soldier's there..."
"Try to take him alive. But not at the expense of our lives."
Tony sighed. "If it's like Japan was, I don't want to be the one to tell Captain America his ex-best friend is dead."
"Then let's hope it doesn't come to that."
***
Last minute, Pauline requested a mission switch with Gabrielle, and she couldn't think of a good excuse not to accept it. Pauline was more slender and waifish, more like the woman Gabrielle was supposed to impersonate. This was how she found herself shunted into the larger attack force of Agents, who were set to attack the FBI offices. Traitors to the country? Not this many, not that likely, she thought to herself. Discussing her concerns with others wasn't safe, and she had no wish to disappear or become someone else. Whoever Gabrielle Figueroa was, she liked her. She didn't want her accomplishments to be erased.
The other agents we all in skintight black tactical gear, matte black weapons strapped to their bodies. Hair was pulled tightly back from their faces, and every face was ultimately covered with a mask that left only the eyes and forehead visible. The bottom of their masks had rebreather apparatuses built into them; a favorite tactic was to start with tear gas or some kind of knockout gas, then storm the building. Any agent could be a trooper, but usually only specialists were used in the smaller teams. Why was Pauline being shifted? Did they suspect her?
Gabrielle had been so careful, had tried hard not to give any suspicion that she was aware of the inconsistencies. Had she somehow still given herself away?
She attended the briefing, then piled into one of the vans set to attack the FBI offices. There was a separate team to hit the Bureau of Engraving, and a much larger team was set to storm the Federal Reserve. She wasn't supposed to know the details of other missions, but she had working ears and could hear the excited whispers in the barracks the night before. They believed their handlers, thought their orders would ultimately save the country. Hell, they never even asked what the name of the Agency was, what their role was even for.
They had to be Black Spectre. They had to be.
She was a good and capable agent. She knew what she was doing. There was no way she was incompetent, no way she would fail if tested on field knowledge or how to handle herself if the mission was compromised. The problem was, now that she was self-aware and questioning the entire Agency, she wasn't sure if she wanted to go through with the mission. This was why they erased memories, why they wanted their agents to be blank slates. No other Agency in the world did something like this, did they? Not legitimate ones, anyway.
The other agents moved in quickly and confidently according to plan. Gabrielle hung back at first, but that would appear suspicious he dove right in to and get her marked. So she dove right in with the others, mask firmly in place. It was chaos, controlled chaos, the federal agents dropping quickly as the gas overtook them. The ones that were a little quicker on their feet and covered their mouths got some shots off; Gabrielle hadn't thought they would carry sidearms into the office building, but what did she know about their procedures? They hadn't been briefed on that, only the protocols to disrupt their business and destabilize their security, then to shut down their servers.
Out of nowhere came an archer, Iron Man and the tall, blond Asgardian that had been in the news lately. Gabrielle couldn't remember his name, but that hardly mattered. The archer saw her flinch and duck when she caught sight of his bow. Apparently he and another agent could think fast on their feet; they ripped the masks off two of her fellow agents and used them to keep from coughing and passing out. She backed away from them, intending to head to safer ground. Why were the Avengers here? They ratcheted up the danger factor, and they weren't part of any briefing. Her fellow agents didn't seem to care about the changing targets, throwing themselves into the fray with gusto. She recognized Kendra by her cornrows and midnight black skin, and she was being utterly vicious. The archer may not have wanted to kill her, but she had no compunctions about trying to kill him.
And then his companion bellowed, skin rippling and changing color. The Hulk.
Gabrielle wanted to turn tail and run. The archer leaped out of the way of Kendra's gun and knife, then cornered Gabrielle. "What the hell is going on?"
"I think they're called Black Spectre," Gabrielle said, moving quickly to punch him in the solar plexus. As he doubled over, she caught his head and rammed it into her knee. "I won't let them remake me. And I won't die for them. Not now, not ever."
A repulsor blast hit her, sending her flying across a few desks, fetching up into the wall. Gabrielle lay there, stunned, a sharp ringing in her ears. Concussion. She watched as Kendra cut into the Hulk's arm, heedless of the risk. There were four fighting the Asgardian, the three that previously targeted him lying crumpled on the floor after he had swung his hammer. A sweep of the Hulk's arm not only sent Kendra flying into two other Spectre agents, but a few of the FBI agents as well. They were trying, the fools, but a few of their colleagues were collapsed on the floor in ungainly heaps. Gabrielle couldn't tell if they were dead or not.
The Avengers had been trying to keep their attacks nonlethal, while the Spectre agents didn't have the same compunctions. The damage only seemed to enrage the Hulk even more, and his roars were frightening to hear. Her other agents kept piling in, kept trying to shoot and slice and hit their way through the Avengers and FBI agents. Gabrielle tried to push herself to her feet and stumble toward the stairwell, away from the fray.
Near the ground level, a blonde woman of average height with sharp blue eyes saw her. "You're self-aware," she said, the satisfied tone in her voice taking an ugly undertone. It reminded her of that startling look she had seen in Miguel's eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The woman only grinned, her teeth sharp and expression hungry. "You can leave them, come work with the Red Room."
"If I leave, I want to be free," Gabrielle spit, leaning against the wall for balance. "I won't be beholden to anyone. I won't let you touch my mind."
Her gaze didn't waver. "They already broke you, didn't they? I don't have to do it again. They gave you the skills I want, what you need to survive. I want them gone. If you want to live, you want to be free, the only way to get it is through me."
"Or else what?"
The sharp tactical knife in her hand glinted in the stairwell light. "Do I need to spell it out? You seem like a clever enough young woman."
"What do you want from me?"
"For you to join us, of course."
"They won't let me go."
"They'll assume you're dead."
"Not without a body," Gabrielle disagreed. "They'll hunt me down."
"And repurpose you when they catch you, I'm sure," the blonde drawled. She grinned her shark's grin when Gabrielle was frozen in place. "They all work the same, these organizations. Take your mind away, reshape you into something different, take what they want, play, create a siege in your own mind. Oh yes, I know how that works."
She came in closer, halting Gabrielle's progress in trying to stagger away. "I can interrupt that cycle for you," she promised, tracing the curve of her cheek through the mask with the blade's edge. "Help me destroy them. I can set you free."
It was work with her or die. She could see it now. Whether it was Black Spectre, Red Room, whoever else was out there, it didn't matter. Gabrielle would never be free of these kinds of people, never able to figure out who or what she was besides an agent.
"Then set me free."
Gabrielle sharply turned her head, forcing the tactical knife's blade down her chin. The edge sliced across her throat, only a whispery sting as it broke through skin.
The blonde stepped back, keening in anger and frustration. Behind her mask, Gabrielle only smiled. Such a small, futile gesture of defiance, but it was defiance just the same.
And she was finally free of all of them on her own terms.
***
"Yelena!" Natasha cried. "You were supposed to recruit members, not kill them!"
"You came up empty handed," she replied negligently.
"They were incoherent messes once I got past the mission programming. They sent in blank slates. I had nothing to recruit! James was at the Bureau, and none of those three were able to say anything coherent. The job was compartmentalized, it seems."
"Where is he now, then?"
The two were alone in their hotel room, and Natasha was pacing back and forth. Yelena sat on the bed, a serene smile on her face as Natasha replied "The Federal Reserve."
"So we are alone together," Yelena purred. She frowned when Natasha didn't respond as she hoped, continuing to pace. "They aren't important, Natalia," Yelena chided.
"Don't you think someone said that about us as we were training? Don't you think someone in their organization already thinks that of them? You were supposed to recruit one so that we could have intel. They need to be able to choose!"
"And if they choose death? That one chose death. To bleed out in a stairwell."
"Doesn't that tell you anything about how they treat those women? Don't tell me you think they're disposable. Don't tell me you think they should be abused as we were."
Yelena's reply was interrupted by James' return. He didn't remark on the tension between the two women, only tossing a GPS and several sets of ID cards and access keys.
"How did you get those?" Yelena asked, interested.
"I pretended to be the commanding officer. They handed it over and reported that base camp for them was in a compound outside of Austin. There's another base located in San Francisco and one in Atlanta."
"Did they tell you what kind of numbers they have?"
"Hundreds total, but they'll have to recruit heavily to replenish local numbers. The antics at the FBI building made it to local news."
"Dammit," Natasha groaned. "We kept the news off in here."
"All damage is attributed to Black Spectre. Apparently, one of their number confirmed it to an Avenger as they fought."
"Is that going to make it harder for us to take apart one of their bases?" Yelena asked, brows knit in concern. Her features relaxed when James shook his head. "Well, then. We shouldn't have to worry about anything, then."
Natasha took a deep breath, then two. "We're closest to Austin, and that one would most likely be depleted. If that works well, then we can consider San Francisco and Atlanta."
Yelena rolled her eyes. "You worry too much, Natalia."
"It's kept us alive so far."
Unable to negate that truth, Yelena merely sighed and stretched out onto the bed to rest. There would be time enough to argue and assert her authority.
***
Once everyone was back in New York, the Avengers all assembled in the common area to go over the details of the fight. They had to make statements for the FBI, but this was a far less formal debriefing. Tony poured himself and Thor a drink. "So. More female assassins. I'm starting to think I got into the wrong business."
"Can it, Stark," Clint huffed, irritated.
"What? Don't you like the thought of a couple hot ladies getting it on?" Tony asked, expression lighting up. "I mean, I'd never leave Pepper, she knows that, and she'd have my head on a platter if I did anything stupid to fuck it up. But the thought of it..."
"Nope," Clint replied, leaning back in the couch.
"So what does it for you, then? Two dudes?" Tony pressed.
"Friend Stark," Thor began. "This is quite an ignoble line of questioning to your comrade."
"Nothing," Clint answered, waving off Thor's concern. "I have no interest whatsoever in something like that."
Tony actually choked on his drink. "Wait, what? No interest. In sex. As in none?"
"Nope," Clint repeated easily, shrugging. "It's not important to me."
Bruce had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room, visibly tired after the last battle. "It's called asexuality, Tony. Look it up." Normally he tried to stay out of the way of conversations like this, but Thor looked almost upset at Tony's way of needling others.
"I just don't... I mean... No interest. None. That makes no sense to me."
Clint rolled his eyes. "Do you like using a gun, Tony?"
"Well, no."
"Why not? Guns work well. They get the job done. You can take someone out for good, while a repulsor blast lets them get back up again."
Tony seemed to realize where Clint was going with that example. "But... none?" Clint shook his head. "Ever try it?"
"Sure. Didn't like it."
Blinking in surprise at Clint's casual tone, Tony slammed back the rest of his drink. "Oh. Wow. I can't say I ever had that response before."
"You're sexual." Clint shrugged. "I'm not. Doesn't matter to me. It's not a big deal."
"Wow. Okay." Tony poured himself another drink. "Drink?"
"Too tired," Clint replied with a shake of his head. "It'll knock me right out."
Thor sighed and sat down on the couch next to Clint. "I fear for our comrade. Those assassins we fought... They seemed most unnatural. Like a berserker on my world, fueled by rage and not much else, no mind of their own."
Bruce's gaze sharpened. "Wait. That might be what happened. They were Black Spectre, right?"
"One of the ladies did mention the name," Thor agreed.
"Tony, go rifling through SHIELD's database. If the Red Room has mind manipulation, and AIM did it with that doctor in San Marino..."
"Son of a bitch," Tony swore, catching on. "Yeah, I'm on it."
"If they're brainwashing," Bruce began, leaning forward a little in his seat, "It'll be like what Jane said. They have different options to do it. Drugs, sensory deprivation, machinery..."
"Hydra had a lot of random machinery in their labs whenever we raided them," Clint supplied, not feeling tired any longer. "Shit, what if some of that was their attempt to brainwash people into fighting for them? We think that's what happened to Steve's buddy, after all. He had no idea who Steve even was. You can't fake that kind of blank look."
"And Natasha did say it was done to her in the Red Room," Bruce said, looking to Clint for confirmation. At his nod, Bruce sighed. "So we can probably assume the same was done to Yelena during her tenure there."
Thor blew out an uneasy breath. "Are there no bounds to their treachery?"
"Apparently not," Clint replied, shaking his head. "I'm not even high enough clearance to get that kind of info out of Natasha's file. Dunno if I want my friend Zoe to try to hack it..."
"I'll do it!" Tony offered, raising his hand like an errant schoolboy. "I'd love to hack SHIELD, yes, I would. And if I'm looking up Black Spectre, why not Red Room and Natasha, too?"
"It might be under her birth name," Clint replied, rubbing at his jaw tiredly. As quickly as the spike of adrenaline had hit him, it was gone. Stupid fast acting stuff.
"I'll look under every permutation of her name, then," Tony offered as he continued poking at his everpresent Starkpad. "Just for completeness."
He could be a complete asshole, but at other times Tony was a stand up guy, as Steve liked to say. Clint just wished the asshole moments were at a minimum.
Hang tight, Natasha, Clint thought tiredly. We'll dig you out of this mess.
***
When Loki heard about the fighting in Fort Worth, he was livid. "You didn't even think to ask for my help? How did you think you were going to retrieve Natasha from them? This was a prime target for Yelena. Why else would Natasha have provided you fools with coordinates?" he raged, eyes flashing at the entirety of the common room.
Tony bristled at the fools comment. "Look, Horns. You weren't there, and you have no right to go around dissing everyone else for what you think should have happened. It's easy to be an armchair quarterback. But you weren't there. I get it, you were doing healing mojo on Sam and whatever else at the VA. That's good karma, and it'll win you brownie points with Odin. I get it. But you don't have the right to yell at us."
"You didn't even look for her!"
"The place was a maze," Bruce said tiredly, cutting off Tony's inevitable diatribe. "If she was there, she was in hiding. I think it's far more likely, she sent us there to try to stop the Black Spectre assassins before they could do damage. We saved a lot of lives in the FBI offices, but there were still a number of them that those assassins killed."
"What do I care about your mortal agencies?"
"Because they could help us track her down," Bruce replied.
Clint had been very quiet up until now. "My friend hacked their system. Most of the agents were up in the area where the assassins were. She wasn't just setting us up to stop Black Spectre. I think they're trying to recruit agents. That's why Natasha sent us there."
"And you get all this from a dead assassin?" Tony asked in disbelief.
"It could be join or die. The manner of death was too different from that of the others. Too clinical and cold, not like a wound gotten in the heat of battle. And she was too far away from the others, too."
"This still brings us no closer to Natasha."
"If they're recruiting new members, though, this changes their tactics. They're working on Black Spectre right now. C'mon, Tony, I know you hacked MI6 records. What do they say are the locations of their offices?"
"Unconfirmed?" Tony clarified. Clint and Bruce nodded, Loki glared at him. "Somewhere in the south, the western coastline, and maybe somewhere in the middle of Texas. Their guesses are based on triangulation algorhythms from captured agents and attacks confirmed to be done by Black Spectre assassins." He brought up a virtual map projected onto the wall from his StarkPad. He circled all the areas that MI6 had labeled of interest.
"We can always check out those areas," Clint began.
"No offense, Legolas," Tony said, shaking his head, "but it's going to be another Japan if you do it that way. They know where they're going, we don't."
"The only way we'd get the jump on them is if we know where all the locations are and stake them out." Bruce shook his head. "But I doubt we'd have more information than MI6."
"I could scry locations and open portals," Loki offered. He managed to look innocent when the others looked at him incredulously. "Magic has its uses, after all."
"How would you scry something like this?" Tony asked, brows furrowed in concern. "Is it like in movies, with dangling a gaudy crystal on a chain? Because that sounds totally tacky."
Loki looked at him in disdain, and Clint covered his laughter with a cough. "There are ways of using galdr or walking Yggdrasil to find people."
"I thought you didn't have the tie with Natasha anymore?" Bruce asked.
His expression darkened. "I don't. But I know the shape her spá should take. I can find her once I focus on those areas."
Bruce shot Tony a "why not?" expression as he shrugged. "Worth a shot."
Nodding sharply at them, Loki left the common area to prepare. This time, to be sure that he wouldn't get lost in potential realities, he would have to make an anchor.
***
The outer room to Loki's suite was just as empty as the day he was assigned the area. He never bothered to get furniture for it, and now was glad that he had a large enough area to work. The pile of scrolls he was using as reference was in the center of the area, and he had large pillar candles made of pure beeswax, no scent to adulterate the workings. Human mages often used salt or silver to mark the area on the floor that would be used, but Loki didn't need to use that tactic to ground himself.
Taking up one of his favorite knives, Loki remembered fighting with her in an abandoned warehouse, the first time they had fought hand to hand, how he had marked her afterward, how he had first sank into her flesh. Natasha. How had he come to need her so much? It had never been his intention before. Before he could think twice about it, Loki slashed at his forearm, and let his blood drip into a crystal bowl inscribed with runes of focus and memory. When he had enough, he sealed the wound and turned to contemplate the magic he was about to work. He was helping those stupid mortals, but they were Natasha's stupid mortals, her family, those she held dear despite her training to limit emotional attachments. But she had heart, she did love deeply. He saw proof of it every time he begged her to leave Yelena.
Marking each candle's wick with his blood immediately changed the energy in the room. He traced the runes on the sides of each candle, painting them with an eagle feather quill. Some aspects of magic simply worked better the old fashioned way, possibly because it infused more of his intent into the spells.
Locate. Present timeline. Natasha, Yelena, the Winter Soldier. All three would be together, would be hunting for new compatriots. Locate. Locate.
Each candle began to smoke, and it slowly began to circle the open area as if there was wind to direct it. Loki breathed in the smoke, the scent of blood and fire and longing.
Natasha's mother had died in a fire, she had said. She had burned down the Red Room in order to escape it. She had helped to burn down the final site in Japan. Fire cleansed and purified, could release trapped energies, though she had no comprehension of how to tap into them. Natasha, where are you? he thought desperately, still breathing in the scent of blood and fire. "Locate Natasha Romanoff," he said in a firm tone.
The smoke continued to swirl. It was lazy, confused. Loki had to tamp down on his rage, the feeling that he was missing something, that he was incompetent, he was a failure, of course she wouldn't want to come back to him. What was there for her but pain and loss? She had done nothing but lose pieces of herself over the years, giving herself away by inches until by now there had to be almost nothing left.
Oh. That was it. The name he knew her by at this time wasn't the name she had as a child, wouldn't be the name she would be responding to now.
"Locate Natalia Alianovna Romanova."
Now the smoke seemed to move with purpose, shooting around the room in a directed manner, as if sketching out a map around him. It started to settle, and he could feel the essence of her spá if he reached through the magic to try to touch her. He didn't; if she could still feel magic along her skin, it might startle her and alert Yelena that he was coming for her.
"Locate Yelena Belova."
The smoke didn't shift. So they were still together.
"Locate the Winter Soldier."
Again, the smoke didn't shift in the slightest. The trio were still together, their energies linked, still locked on this mission to take out Black Spectre or recruit agents to their cause. They were still going to try to rebuild the Red Room.
Natasha wanted to recruit Yelena rather than kill her. She wanted so hard to save them, and Loki didn't think she could see how much of herself was being lost in the process. He could feel it in their encounters, in the way her spá had shifted. His magic didn't seem to work on her the same way anymore, either.
Loki dissipated the magic angrily. He bared his teeth to the empty room and shouted, roaring with his rage and despair.
He needed her, needed her to be strong. She was his anchor, the one that helped direct him toward this redemption that Odin seemed to value so much. She knew how to make it work, and Loki didn't have that sense for himself. He went through the motions with Sam, still, and the members of the group seemed comfortable enough with Loki now. They were all standoffish, but that seemed to be the nature of their trauma.
His emotions rose high enough to choke him. Sending it out of him in a green wave of anger and ugliness, he was again glad of the empty space. There was nothing to break here, nothing to have to explain to others.
They were in Texas, in that area Tony had projected on the map. He could narrow it down further once he saw the map, but that was where they were. As tempting as it was to open a portal to their location and steal her away, he was going to do this the right way. Her way. Loki could give her that much, though it pained him to do so.
Maybe this could prove to her that he was worthy of her regard. Maybe this could show her that he was better for her than Yelena and the Winter Soldier. He needed her, but he wasn't interested in changing her or breaking her. That had to count for something.
Time to track her down.
***
***
To Chapter Three - Road to Ruin
Series: #16 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Yelena, Natasha/Winter Soldier
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. Read the other stories before this one, because it does refer back to events in them. Additional warning for mindfuckery of various flavors (hello, Red Room!) and detailed descriptions of violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups
Special thanks to phoenixrising06/
romanovasledger for plotting and characterization discussion. :)
Summary: The Red Room has returned.
Prior chapter:
One - Set Up
Two - Freedom of Choice
Yelena took a look through James' scope and grinned. She pulled back from the window of the hotel room they had taken, flashing that bright grin at Natasha. "It worked."
Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course it worked. Jerome Beecham is a misogynist and polygamist. Not to mention batshit crazy and interested in bringing down the entire financial system of the United States." She quirked up a corner of her mouth, not quite smiling. "So if one of his wives got away from his control and is in hiding with the FBI and working at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing..."
"So they have no idea what they're in for," Yelena said, pleased. She looked back through the scope, seeing the Black Spectre agents dressed all in black and nearly swarming over the FBI offices. "I suppose this isn't their entire force?"
"Probably not."
"We'll need to capture one alive to find out where they hold their other prisoners," James pointed out. He was sitting cross legged on the carpeted floor behind them, calm as further intel was gathered. His weapons had already been sharpened, cleaned and primed, ready to be used at a moment's notice. He had even done the same for Natasha's and Yelena's weapons.
"I see one farther to the side. Her expression... it's not as blank as the others' are."
"She must be starting to get self aware," Natasha said, frowning. She was sitting on the queen sized bed, and looked up from the blueprints of the FBI building. "That would be the one to take, then. She won't fight us."
"Maybe we can even get her to join us," Yelena said, straightening and leaving the window. She handed the sniper's rifle back to James. "We could use recruits."
"There you go," Natasha said with a smile. "Should you go get her, or should I?"
Yelena nodded at James. "Tranq her, we'll pick her up as we double check that your message got through to your Avengers."
"They're smart enough to get the hint."
"You think so?"
"There's a Quinjet parked at DFW. What do you think?"
With a sigh, Yelena sat down next to Natasha and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I think you are clever and they are not. I think it's still a mistake to rely on someone else. And I think that we need to move on this quickly. Those women won't die or defect on their own."
Natasha grasped Yelena by the chin, fingers tight. "Defect."
"If they can't be turned, they're a liability," Yelena replied coldly. Something shifted behind her eyes, a darkness that sent chills down Natasha's spine. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone and Yelena smiled at her prettily. Natasha didn't doubt what she had seen, but she didn't know what it meant.
Yelena was unraveling, deteriorating, sliding into someone that Natasha couldn't recognize. Yet she still couldn't choose one over the other. There had to be a way to fix this mess. There had to be a way to pull her back.
Even if it killed her.
***
Last minute, Steve elected to stay behind in New York to assist Sam with the support group. "I'll let you know if any other signals or messages come through," he told them, a regretful expression on his face. "But if something happens and you do need me..."
"We'll call you, Cap," Clint remarked with a nod. He realized that Steve changed his mind the instant Bruce brought up the possibility of Yelena Belova and the Winter Soldier being present along with Natasha.
"I'm sorry," Steve began, true regret in his voice. "It didn't seem to matter before, but after Bucky hurt Sam as badly as he did..."
Clint clapped Steve on the shoulder. "No, I get it. If we can't bring him in, you don't want to put him down. I get it. I'm going for Natasha, but I'll keep an eye out. She'll need some friendly faces. And we'll let you know if your friend is any easier to get along with."
The relief on his face was telling; it was easier to deal with disgruntled vets than a former best friend that no longer remembered him at all.
During the flight from JFK to Dallas Fort Worth airport, Clint was on the phone with his friend Zoe. There were no distinct threats made to any particular location in Fort Worth, but digging deeper into military and FBI records did show a transfer request for agents to the area, especially those from the antiterrorism units with training in brainwashing techniques to undo potential damage. "My guess is? You want the Federal building," Zoe announced cheerfully. "Also, Stark finally came through on that T3 line. It's pretty sweet."
"Glad you like it," Clint told her. He could imagine Zoe flashing him a huge smile as she described the speed and facility she had for her pet programs. Most of it went over his head; he wasn't an idiot by any means, but she was talking about various subtle hacking techniques that he had no understanding of. Natasha would have understood it all, and that just made him miss her more. Well, that and she was a far better copilot than Tony Stark.
"Federal building's the likely target," Clint announced when he terminated the connection, as Tony wouldn't have heard Zoe's end of the conversation. It had been piped into Clint's headset only, and his end of the conversation was fairly nondescript.
"Think Dread Pirate Fury would want to smooth the way for us to get in there?" Tony asked. Aside from the nickname, Tony seemed to be far more serious and subdued.
"It's not exactly a sanctioned op."
"So that would be a no."
"That would be a not very likely. You can try calling."
"He doesn't like hearing from me."
"He doesn't like hearing from me, either."
Tony snorted, shaking his head a little. "So we're at an impasse."
"Unless he'd agree for Thor's sake?" Clint offered. "If Steve was here, we'd have more of a guarantee to get in."
"I thought Coulson was the fanboy?"
"Oh, he is. Big time." Clint grinned but didn't take his eyes off the sky. "He even corrected the Smithsonian exhibit, did you know that? Anyway, Steve's all kinds of gracious about it, but it's kind of hilarious to watch Coulson try to contain that much squee."
"If the Winter Soldier's there..."
"Try to take him alive. But not at the expense of our lives."
Tony sighed. "If it's like Japan was, I don't want to be the one to tell Captain America his ex-best friend is dead."
"Then let's hope it doesn't come to that."
***
Last minute, Pauline requested a mission switch with Gabrielle, and she couldn't think of a good excuse not to accept it. Pauline was more slender and waifish, more like the woman Gabrielle was supposed to impersonate. This was how she found herself shunted into the larger attack force of Agents, who were set to attack the FBI offices. Traitors to the country? Not this many, not that likely, she thought to herself. Discussing her concerns with others wasn't safe, and she had no wish to disappear or become someone else. Whoever Gabrielle Figueroa was, she liked her. She didn't want her accomplishments to be erased.
The other agents we all in skintight black tactical gear, matte black weapons strapped to their bodies. Hair was pulled tightly back from their faces, and every face was ultimately covered with a mask that left only the eyes and forehead visible. The bottom of their masks had rebreather apparatuses built into them; a favorite tactic was to start with tear gas or some kind of knockout gas, then storm the building. Any agent could be a trooper, but usually only specialists were used in the smaller teams. Why was Pauline being shifted? Did they suspect her?
Gabrielle had been so careful, had tried hard not to give any suspicion that she was aware of the inconsistencies. Had she somehow still given herself away?
She attended the briefing, then piled into one of the vans set to attack the FBI offices. There was a separate team to hit the Bureau of Engraving, and a much larger team was set to storm the Federal Reserve. She wasn't supposed to know the details of other missions, but she had working ears and could hear the excited whispers in the barracks the night before. They believed their handlers, thought their orders would ultimately save the country. Hell, they never even asked what the name of the Agency was, what their role was even for.
They had to be Black Spectre. They had to be.
She was a good and capable agent. She knew what she was doing. There was no way she was incompetent, no way she would fail if tested on field knowledge or how to handle herself if the mission was compromised. The problem was, now that she was self-aware and questioning the entire Agency, she wasn't sure if she wanted to go through with the mission. This was why they erased memories, why they wanted their agents to be blank slates. No other Agency in the world did something like this, did they? Not legitimate ones, anyway.
The other agents moved in quickly and confidently according to plan. Gabrielle hung back at first, but that would appear suspicious he dove right in to and get her marked. So she dove right in with the others, mask firmly in place. It was chaos, controlled chaos, the federal agents dropping quickly as the gas overtook them. The ones that were a little quicker on their feet and covered their mouths got some shots off; Gabrielle hadn't thought they would carry sidearms into the office building, but what did she know about their procedures? They hadn't been briefed on that, only the protocols to disrupt their business and destabilize their security, then to shut down their servers.
Out of nowhere came an archer, Iron Man and the tall, blond Asgardian that had been in the news lately. Gabrielle couldn't remember his name, but that hardly mattered. The archer saw her flinch and duck when she caught sight of his bow. Apparently he and another agent could think fast on their feet; they ripped the masks off two of her fellow agents and used them to keep from coughing and passing out. She backed away from them, intending to head to safer ground. Why were the Avengers here? They ratcheted up the danger factor, and they weren't part of any briefing. Her fellow agents didn't seem to care about the changing targets, throwing themselves into the fray with gusto. She recognized Kendra by her cornrows and midnight black skin, and she was being utterly vicious. The archer may not have wanted to kill her, but she had no compunctions about trying to kill him.
And then his companion bellowed, skin rippling and changing color. The Hulk.
Gabrielle wanted to turn tail and run. The archer leaped out of the way of Kendra's gun and knife, then cornered Gabrielle. "What the hell is going on?"
"I think they're called Black Spectre," Gabrielle said, moving quickly to punch him in the solar plexus. As he doubled over, she caught his head and rammed it into her knee. "I won't let them remake me. And I won't die for them. Not now, not ever."
A repulsor blast hit her, sending her flying across a few desks, fetching up into the wall. Gabrielle lay there, stunned, a sharp ringing in her ears. Concussion. She watched as Kendra cut into the Hulk's arm, heedless of the risk. There were four fighting the Asgardian, the three that previously targeted him lying crumpled on the floor after he had swung his hammer. A sweep of the Hulk's arm not only sent Kendra flying into two other Spectre agents, but a few of the FBI agents as well. They were trying, the fools, but a few of their colleagues were collapsed on the floor in ungainly heaps. Gabrielle couldn't tell if they were dead or not.
The Avengers had been trying to keep their attacks nonlethal, while the Spectre agents didn't have the same compunctions. The damage only seemed to enrage the Hulk even more, and his roars were frightening to hear. Her other agents kept piling in, kept trying to shoot and slice and hit their way through the Avengers and FBI agents. Gabrielle tried to push herself to her feet and stumble toward the stairwell, away from the fray.
Near the ground level, a blonde woman of average height with sharp blue eyes saw her. "You're self-aware," she said, the satisfied tone in her voice taking an ugly undertone. It reminded her of that startling look she had seen in Miguel's eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The woman only grinned, her teeth sharp and expression hungry. "You can leave them, come work with the Red Room."
"If I leave, I want to be free," Gabrielle spit, leaning against the wall for balance. "I won't be beholden to anyone. I won't let you touch my mind."
Her gaze didn't waver. "They already broke you, didn't they? I don't have to do it again. They gave you the skills I want, what you need to survive. I want them gone. If you want to live, you want to be free, the only way to get it is through me."
"Or else what?"
The sharp tactical knife in her hand glinted in the stairwell light. "Do I need to spell it out? You seem like a clever enough young woman."
"What do you want from me?"
"For you to join us, of course."
"They won't let me go."
"They'll assume you're dead."
"Not without a body," Gabrielle disagreed. "They'll hunt me down."
"And repurpose you when they catch you, I'm sure," the blonde drawled. She grinned her shark's grin when Gabrielle was frozen in place. "They all work the same, these organizations. Take your mind away, reshape you into something different, take what they want, play, create a siege in your own mind. Oh yes, I know how that works."
She came in closer, halting Gabrielle's progress in trying to stagger away. "I can interrupt that cycle for you," she promised, tracing the curve of her cheek through the mask with the blade's edge. "Help me destroy them. I can set you free."
It was work with her or die. She could see it now. Whether it was Black Spectre, Red Room, whoever else was out there, it didn't matter. Gabrielle would never be free of these kinds of people, never able to figure out who or what she was besides an agent.
"Then set me free."
Gabrielle sharply turned her head, forcing the tactical knife's blade down her chin. The edge sliced across her throat, only a whispery sting as it broke through skin.
The blonde stepped back, keening in anger and frustration. Behind her mask, Gabrielle only smiled. Such a small, futile gesture of defiance, but it was defiance just the same.
And she was finally free of all of them on her own terms.
***
"Yelena!" Natasha cried. "You were supposed to recruit members, not kill them!"
"You came up empty handed," she replied negligently.
"They were incoherent messes once I got past the mission programming. They sent in blank slates. I had nothing to recruit! James was at the Bureau, and none of those three were able to say anything coherent. The job was compartmentalized, it seems."
"Where is he now, then?"
The two were alone in their hotel room, and Natasha was pacing back and forth. Yelena sat on the bed, a serene smile on her face as Natasha replied "The Federal Reserve."
"So we are alone together," Yelena purred. She frowned when Natasha didn't respond as she hoped, continuing to pace. "They aren't important, Natalia," Yelena chided.
"Don't you think someone said that about us as we were training? Don't you think someone in their organization already thinks that of them? You were supposed to recruit one so that we could have intel. They need to be able to choose!"
"And if they choose death? That one chose death. To bleed out in a stairwell."
"Doesn't that tell you anything about how they treat those women? Don't tell me you think they're disposable. Don't tell me you think they should be abused as we were."
Yelena's reply was interrupted by James' return. He didn't remark on the tension between the two women, only tossing a GPS and several sets of ID cards and access keys.
"How did you get those?" Yelena asked, interested.
"I pretended to be the commanding officer. They handed it over and reported that base camp for them was in a compound outside of Austin. There's another base located in San Francisco and one in Atlanta."
"Did they tell you what kind of numbers they have?"
"Hundreds total, but they'll have to recruit heavily to replenish local numbers. The antics at the FBI building made it to local news."
"Dammit," Natasha groaned. "We kept the news off in here."
"All damage is attributed to Black Spectre. Apparently, one of their number confirmed it to an Avenger as they fought."
"Is that going to make it harder for us to take apart one of their bases?" Yelena asked, brows knit in concern. Her features relaxed when James shook his head. "Well, then. We shouldn't have to worry about anything, then."
Natasha took a deep breath, then two. "We're closest to Austin, and that one would most likely be depleted. If that works well, then we can consider San Francisco and Atlanta."
Yelena rolled her eyes. "You worry too much, Natalia."
"It's kept us alive so far."
Unable to negate that truth, Yelena merely sighed and stretched out onto the bed to rest. There would be time enough to argue and assert her authority.
***
Once everyone was back in New York, the Avengers all assembled in the common area to go over the details of the fight. They had to make statements for the FBI, but this was a far less formal debriefing. Tony poured himself and Thor a drink. "So. More female assassins. I'm starting to think I got into the wrong business."
"Can it, Stark," Clint huffed, irritated.
"What? Don't you like the thought of a couple hot ladies getting it on?" Tony asked, expression lighting up. "I mean, I'd never leave Pepper, she knows that, and she'd have my head on a platter if I did anything stupid to fuck it up. But the thought of it..."
"Nope," Clint replied, leaning back in the couch.
"So what does it for you, then? Two dudes?" Tony pressed.
"Friend Stark," Thor began. "This is quite an ignoble line of questioning to your comrade."
"Nothing," Clint answered, waving off Thor's concern. "I have no interest whatsoever in something like that."
Tony actually choked on his drink. "Wait, what? No interest. In sex. As in none?"
"Nope," Clint repeated easily, shrugging. "It's not important to me."
Bruce had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room, visibly tired after the last battle. "It's called asexuality, Tony. Look it up." Normally he tried to stay out of the way of conversations like this, but Thor looked almost upset at Tony's way of needling others.
"I just don't... I mean... No interest. None. That makes no sense to me."
Clint rolled his eyes. "Do you like using a gun, Tony?"
"Well, no."
"Why not? Guns work well. They get the job done. You can take someone out for good, while a repulsor blast lets them get back up again."
Tony seemed to realize where Clint was going with that example. "But... none?" Clint shook his head. "Ever try it?"
"Sure. Didn't like it."
Blinking in surprise at Clint's casual tone, Tony slammed back the rest of his drink. "Oh. Wow. I can't say I ever had that response before."
"You're sexual." Clint shrugged. "I'm not. Doesn't matter to me. It's not a big deal."
"Wow. Okay." Tony poured himself another drink. "Drink?"
"Too tired," Clint replied with a shake of his head. "It'll knock me right out."
Thor sighed and sat down on the couch next to Clint. "I fear for our comrade. Those assassins we fought... They seemed most unnatural. Like a berserker on my world, fueled by rage and not much else, no mind of their own."
Bruce's gaze sharpened. "Wait. That might be what happened. They were Black Spectre, right?"
"One of the ladies did mention the name," Thor agreed.
"Tony, go rifling through SHIELD's database. If the Red Room has mind manipulation, and AIM did it with that doctor in San Marino..."
"Son of a bitch," Tony swore, catching on. "Yeah, I'm on it."
"If they're brainwashing," Bruce began, leaning forward a little in his seat, "It'll be like what Jane said. They have different options to do it. Drugs, sensory deprivation, machinery..."
"Hydra had a lot of random machinery in their labs whenever we raided them," Clint supplied, not feeling tired any longer. "Shit, what if some of that was their attempt to brainwash people into fighting for them? We think that's what happened to Steve's buddy, after all. He had no idea who Steve even was. You can't fake that kind of blank look."
"And Natasha did say it was done to her in the Red Room," Bruce said, looking to Clint for confirmation. At his nod, Bruce sighed. "So we can probably assume the same was done to Yelena during her tenure there."
Thor blew out an uneasy breath. "Are there no bounds to their treachery?"
"Apparently not," Clint replied, shaking his head. "I'm not even high enough clearance to get that kind of info out of Natasha's file. Dunno if I want my friend Zoe to try to hack it..."
"I'll do it!" Tony offered, raising his hand like an errant schoolboy. "I'd love to hack SHIELD, yes, I would. And if I'm looking up Black Spectre, why not Red Room and Natasha, too?"
"It might be under her birth name," Clint replied, rubbing at his jaw tiredly. As quickly as the spike of adrenaline had hit him, it was gone. Stupid fast acting stuff.
"I'll look under every permutation of her name, then," Tony offered as he continued poking at his everpresent Starkpad. "Just for completeness."
He could be a complete asshole, but at other times Tony was a stand up guy, as Steve liked to say. Clint just wished the asshole moments were at a minimum.
Hang tight, Natasha, Clint thought tiredly. We'll dig you out of this mess.
***
When Loki heard about the fighting in Fort Worth, he was livid. "You didn't even think to ask for my help? How did you think you were going to retrieve Natasha from them? This was a prime target for Yelena. Why else would Natasha have provided you fools with coordinates?" he raged, eyes flashing at the entirety of the common room.
Tony bristled at the fools comment. "Look, Horns. You weren't there, and you have no right to go around dissing everyone else for what you think should have happened. It's easy to be an armchair quarterback. But you weren't there. I get it, you were doing healing mojo on Sam and whatever else at the VA. That's good karma, and it'll win you brownie points with Odin. I get it. But you don't have the right to yell at us."
"You didn't even look for her!"
"The place was a maze," Bruce said tiredly, cutting off Tony's inevitable diatribe. "If she was there, she was in hiding. I think it's far more likely, she sent us there to try to stop the Black Spectre assassins before they could do damage. We saved a lot of lives in the FBI offices, but there were still a number of them that those assassins killed."
"What do I care about your mortal agencies?"
"Because they could help us track her down," Bruce replied.
Clint had been very quiet up until now. "My friend hacked their system. Most of the agents were up in the area where the assassins were. She wasn't just setting us up to stop Black Spectre. I think they're trying to recruit agents. That's why Natasha sent us there."
"And you get all this from a dead assassin?" Tony asked in disbelief.
"It could be join or die. The manner of death was too different from that of the others. Too clinical and cold, not like a wound gotten in the heat of battle. And she was too far away from the others, too."
"This still brings us no closer to Natasha."
"If they're recruiting new members, though, this changes their tactics. They're working on Black Spectre right now. C'mon, Tony, I know you hacked MI6 records. What do they say are the locations of their offices?"
"Unconfirmed?" Tony clarified. Clint and Bruce nodded, Loki glared at him. "Somewhere in the south, the western coastline, and maybe somewhere in the middle of Texas. Their guesses are based on triangulation algorhythms from captured agents and attacks confirmed to be done by Black Spectre assassins." He brought up a virtual map projected onto the wall from his StarkPad. He circled all the areas that MI6 had labeled of interest.
"We can always check out those areas," Clint began.
"No offense, Legolas," Tony said, shaking his head, "but it's going to be another Japan if you do it that way. They know where they're going, we don't."
"The only way we'd get the jump on them is if we know where all the locations are and stake them out." Bruce shook his head. "But I doubt we'd have more information than MI6."
"I could scry locations and open portals," Loki offered. He managed to look innocent when the others looked at him incredulously. "Magic has its uses, after all."
"How would you scry something like this?" Tony asked, brows furrowed in concern. "Is it like in movies, with dangling a gaudy crystal on a chain? Because that sounds totally tacky."
Loki looked at him in disdain, and Clint covered his laughter with a cough. "There are ways of using galdr or walking Yggdrasil to find people."
"I thought you didn't have the tie with Natasha anymore?" Bruce asked.
His expression darkened. "I don't. But I know the shape her spá should take. I can find her once I focus on those areas."
Bruce shot Tony a "why not?" expression as he shrugged. "Worth a shot."
Nodding sharply at them, Loki left the common area to prepare. This time, to be sure that he wouldn't get lost in potential realities, he would have to make an anchor.
***
The outer room to Loki's suite was just as empty as the day he was assigned the area. He never bothered to get furniture for it, and now was glad that he had a large enough area to work. The pile of scrolls he was using as reference was in the center of the area, and he had large pillar candles made of pure beeswax, no scent to adulterate the workings. Human mages often used salt or silver to mark the area on the floor that would be used, but Loki didn't need to use that tactic to ground himself.
Taking up one of his favorite knives, Loki remembered fighting with her in an abandoned warehouse, the first time they had fought hand to hand, how he had marked her afterward, how he had first sank into her flesh. Natasha. How had he come to need her so much? It had never been his intention before. Before he could think twice about it, Loki slashed at his forearm, and let his blood drip into a crystal bowl inscribed with runes of focus and memory. When he had enough, he sealed the wound and turned to contemplate the magic he was about to work. He was helping those stupid mortals, but they were Natasha's stupid mortals, her family, those she held dear despite her training to limit emotional attachments. But she had heart, she did love deeply. He saw proof of it every time he begged her to leave Yelena.
Marking each candle's wick with his blood immediately changed the energy in the room. He traced the runes on the sides of each candle, painting them with an eagle feather quill. Some aspects of magic simply worked better the old fashioned way, possibly because it infused more of his intent into the spells.
Locate. Present timeline. Natasha, Yelena, the Winter Soldier. All three would be together, would be hunting for new compatriots. Locate. Locate.
Each candle began to smoke, and it slowly began to circle the open area as if there was wind to direct it. Loki breathed in the smoke, the scent of blood and fire and longing.
Natasha's mother had died in a fire, she had said. She had burned down the Red Room in order to escape it. She had helped to burn down the final site in Japan. Fire cleansed and purified, could release trapped energies, though she had no comprehension of how to tap into them. Natasha, where are you? he thought desperately, still breathing in the scent of blood and fire. "Locate Natasha Romanoff," he said in a firm tone.
The smoke continued to swirl. It was lazy, confused. Loki had to tamp down on his rage, the feeling that he was missing something, that he was incompetent, he was a failure, of course she wouldn't want to come back to him. What was there for her but pain and loss? She had done nothing but lose pieces of herself over the years, giving herself away by inches until by now there had to be almost nothing left.
Oh. That was it. The name he knew her by at this time wasn't the name she had as a child, wouldn't be the name she would be responding to now.
"Locate Natalia Alianovna Romanova."
Now the smoke seemed to move with purpose, shooting around the room in a directed manner, as if sketching out a map around him. It started to settle, and he could feel the essence of her spá if he reached through the magic to try to touch her. He didn't; if she could still feel magic along her skin, it might startle her and alert Yelena that he was coming for her.
"Locate Yelena Belova."
The smoke didn't shift. So they were still together.
"Locate the Winter Soldier."
Again, the smoke didn't shift in the slightest. The trio were still together, their energies linked, still locked on this mission to take out Black Spectre or recruit agents to their cause. They were still going to try to rebuild the Red Room.
Natasha wanted to recruit Yelena rather than kill her. She wanted so hard to save them, and Loki didn't think she could see how much of herself was being lost in the process. He could feel it in their encounters, in the way her spá had shifted. His magic didn't seem to work on her the same way anymore, either.
Loki dissipated the magic angrily. He bared his teeth to the empty room and shouted, roaring with his rage and despair.
He needed her, needed her to be strong. She was his anchor, the one that helped direct him toward this redemption that Odin seemed to value so much. She knew how to make it work, and Loki didn't have that sense for himself. He went through the motions with Sam, still, and the members of the group seemed comfortable enough with Loki now. They were all standoffish, but that seemed to be the nature of their trauma.
His emotions rose high enough to choke him. Sending it out of him in a green wave of anger and ugliness, he was again glad of the empty space. There was nothing to break here, nothing to have to explain to others.
They were in Texas, in that area Tony had projected on the map. He could narrow it down further once he saw the map, but that was where they were. As tempting as it was to open a portal to their location and steal her away, he was going to do this the right way. Her way. Loki could give her that much, though it pained him to do so.
Maybe this could prove to her that he was worthy of her regard. Maybe this could show her that he was better for her than Yelena and the Winter Soldier. He needed her, but he wasn't interested in changing her or breaking her. That had to count for something.
Time to track her down.
***
***
To Chapter Three - Road to Ruin