Avengers - A Series of Explosions - R - Chapter 2
A Series of Explosions
|Chapter 2|
Chapter 2
It goes like this:
You have this company. It makes.. stuff. Important stuff. Not exactly pretty or nice (except when it goes up in a glorious, chemically controlled fireball) but it serves a purpose. Plays a role. Gets the job done (and how). And people want it. It’s in DEMAND. Not cheap, but that’s quality for you and who cares because it gets bought by a select few who A) have the money and B) use it to protect freedom, kittens and apple pie.
No problems there, right? Of course not. This is awesome. -No. This? Is bitchin.
Now imagine if you will that you work for this company. Well, technically you are this company since everything that leaves the factory has the same letters you learned to put together as a child stenciled on the side. The ones that mean you.
And this is appropriate because you make the stuff. Well, you design it (technically, bots make the stuff, but hey-you made them too) and even though the stuff you makes kills people, it’s the bad guys. Bad apples. Eaters of kittens and slighters of Democracy. It may be a case of bad things taking out worse things, but it’s essential and necessary and you never lost an ounce of sleep in your life over it until you woke up in a cave with a car battery attached to your chest.
Until you were asked to make the same stuff. Well, told to. And you finally saw what kind of stuff it could be.
As eye openers go, it was pretty epic. Like… Jurassic Park epic, only the Raptors are smart-missiles and the guys trying to outsmart them collectively have the equivalent of an elementary school education. And guns.
So, once that unpleasantness in the cave was handled in the usual Stark fashion (with new, even more awesome stuff) you realize you can’t make the old stuff anymore. It’s not safe. It doesn’t even work. People aren’t free and kittens are being denied sentient rights and suddenly there’s a huge steaming ugly humble pie that no one want’s a part of (which is sad, because pie should always be, well.. awesome).
But it had to be done. And there’s new stuff to make. Better stuff. Maybe not as popular, but it’s getting there. Problem is, you have a contractual obligation to the legal buyers of your old stuff (who also want some of the stuff you made in the cave, but no one’s getting that) to finish their orders, so you do (mostly because jail sucks).
Which only kind-of explains why you’re here. At a Gun Show. In Arizona.
“Friend Tony, what is this?”
With Thor.
Dutifully, Tony shifts his focus to whatever Thor is looking at (Tony learned very fast that a curious Thor is a dangerous Thor-especially in here) and is surprised to find-
“Ah, that would be a knife.”
Oblivious to his confusion as to why the God of Thunder cannot identify something he uses every day, Thor continues, unheeded.
“Verily. However, I have never seen such a metal. Not in all the realms. Do you not know its make?”
Tony does not frown at the slight that he, Tony Stark might not know what he’s looking at. It’s obviously a cosmetic process and not some other-worldly metal, as Thor believes. Although, now that he’s really looking, it is actually kinda cool. For a glorified kitchen utensil.
He zeros in on something a little less archaic (but not by much) and picks up a revolver. It’s got the same weird, veiny rainbow-like finish along with some nice engraving.
“If you’re looking for Stark arms, I think there’s still a booth over in 12-A that has some.”
Tony looks up from his perusal. The gun doesn’t really do it for him, but the finish is interesting and he wonders what it would look like on a bare metal version of the Iron Man suit. Thor has shifted his attention to a set of small, ornate daggers, so Tony answers. Just to be polite.
“Oh? Flying off the shelf are they?”
The young woman is obviously more interested in talking up what Thor is looking at, because she doesn’t even glance at him when she answers.
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t sell what Stark makes.”
At this, Thor looks up. No doubt sensing that things are about to get nasty and any hopes he had of buying what he’s looking at are about to be shot to Hell-pun intended.
“Oh really? Not buying into the whole ‘hero’ bit? Still carrying the tabloid grudge? -Or maybe you’ve realized that all the pretty colors and etching are a cheap substitute for the fact that what you’re selling doesn’t even come close to what I throw away for flaws?”
Not prepared for his vitriol, she gapes at him for a second, making the connection because hello-he’s not even wearing the token ball cap and sunglasses and Thor‘s outfit (while not his full armor) is pure Asgard bespoke.
She says nothing. Then drags a finger down her neck until it catches on a chain. And pulls up a set of tags.
“Of course you’re Tony Stark. That’s great. That’s just.. -You see this?”
She holds the tags out and Tony feels the anger sort of.. slide out of him-so fast he actually gets a head-rush. He’s so, so stupid. Those soldiers with him in the ‘fun-vee’ (one of them a kid-not even old enough to drink when he’d been torn apart by a patented Stark anti-ground missile) had been the tip of the iceberg. The ones he’d seen cut down. There were so many others. His legal department was still sorting out the body count even after the American Government had stopped trying.
“He was a fan, you know? Defended you, when people talked. He was so honored”- here she chokes a bit, and Tony prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that she doesn’t lose it, because he’s is so not good with the crying, “-when his unit got to test some Stark Tech. -I couldn’t get rid of his service piece fast enough, once I found out it was yours. ”
Tony kind of feels like he might be having a panic-attack. He’s cold to his core-just like when he wakes up screaming to the faces of grieving parents. Children. Loved-ones. As they cry and wail and call him a murderer.
And what do you know? Here he is, living the dream.
“Do you get it now? -Why everything you make is garbage to me?”
Thor looks like he’s about to interject and defend his honor or something and Tony would laugh if he could swallow past the huge lump in his throat because who even does that?
To forestall this, he slaps a card in Thor’s hand. Doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t even try to apologize because really, what would be the point? Dead is forever. There’s no fixing that.
“Buy whatever you want.”
And walks away, leaving Thunder Chief to the tender mercies of the bereaved. It’s a dick-move, but at this point it’s probably for the best. The girl looks seconds away from a scene that would do daytime TV proud and honestly? Tony’s done here. He’s bought all the small-arms JARVIS sniffed out for him and judging by all the non-looks he’s getting, his window of anonymity now rests on the teetering tech-savvy of people over thirty.
Which is just.. depressing. Seriously, he wants to go somewhere and mope. Maybe have a cry over it. Maybe in the bathroom. Where he might have a few more minutes of media-free existence.
He’s less than ten steps away from said haven when Thor appears at his elbow. He is empty-handed, save for Tony’s bit of plastic-an odd look on his face. Tony starts to open his mouth to explain-to apologize, but he’s got nothing. He’s still sort-of a little bit in shock, maybe? Because America is a pretty big place and meeting someone who’s been touched by his products in that special way is rare outside of a press conference or courtroom-public opinion aside.
“Friend Tony. I believe it would be best for all if we returned to our hearth.”
He really, really wants to say something. He should say something. But Thor, who obviously doesn’t need or want his empty platitudes, leads him out into open air where Mjolnir can whisk them away back to the tower. Where he’ll watch the Asgardian put away enough food to support a small country and he’ll stare longingly at his very fine collection of spirits and remember what it feels like to forget.
And probably vomit. Again.
Fun times.
*
Bruce Banner is not pining.
It’s just… He appreciates the lab time without distraction (or innuendo), but Thor has been here for weeks, and Tony has been with him for most of that. Doing.. whatever.
He doesn’t know, because beyond a boisterous greeting from Thor when he first arrived, he has been conspicuously absent. Tony has dutifully popped in to check in and offer vague excuses as to why Thor is carting him around the globe via magic hammer, but for the most part he’s been alone.
He’s not pining, damn it. He’s not.
He’s just worried. Tony seemed like he was having some sort of problems (probably stress related) before Thor came back, and with him being gone so much there’s been no time to make sure those problems are being properly addressed (instead of just forgotten about-or worse, ignored).
While he knows Thor usually has the best intentions at heart, he is not always the most observant of individuals and well… Tony is not exactly forthcoming when things are going south. He is a chronic maintainer, and Bruce can only hope that the God of Thunder will call him on it or at the very least get him help if he collapses again.
Surprisingly, there is a silver lining and her name is Pepper Potts. Unfortunately, while she never fails to lend a sympathetic ear or just a comfortable silence over a quick shared meal, she’s gone nearly as much as Tony-though for far more legitimate reasons.
If anyone can get Tony Stark to see reason, or at the very least do as he’s told, it’s her. Unfortunately he has yet to bring up Tony’s mid-air black out. Pepper is aware of Tony’s Post-Traumatic Stress issues (which have only been acerbated by his trip into the nether), but until he can make Tony sit still long enough for a thorough medical evaluation, there’s little he can really tell her and even less that will put her at ease.
So he stays and tinkers. And keeps a weather eye on the news. And hopes whatever is going on with Thor and Tony has nothing to do with Loki. Although he has a very strong feeling that it does.
Because the two of them weren’t exactly friends when this all started, and only less antagonistic when the Aesir left for home. And now it’s Team Iron Thunder, with Thor carting Tony around seemingly on a whim and did he mention the part about the magic hammer?
He has to take a deep breath as his skin tightens all over. A sign he has come to know as the Big Guy getting restless. He does his breathing exercises and the feeling subsides, but it’s definitely a warning.
It shouldn’t come a surprise really, because Bruce likes Tony-even when he’s being an ass (which is pretty much all the time), but the Hulk has developed… a liking for Tony, too. Though, his affection is something exclusive to his own experience. For all his flippant name calling, Tony is the only person (besides one other, long ago) that treats the Hulk like a person. Not a monster. Not a disease. But.. a person. Part scientific curiosity, sure-but that’s the world for Tony Stark. And well, he has a theory…
(He always has a theory, by the way…)
“So it’s kind of like a fly suddenly becoming.. like a frog or something. -Bad analogy, but look-the fly can handle itself, right? It has a tiny brain, but that brain is proportioned to its body and just big enough to do what it needs to do with that body. But if that fly suddenly grew much, much bigger, but the brain stayed the same size-well it doesn’t necessarily make the fly less intelligent, but it definitely makes the brain less adequate to deal all that new mass.”
At this point, Bruce is staring at Tony agog because no one has ever tried to make sense out of the Hulk-and the answer is so.. simple. He’s been looking for a cure so long, he never bothered to try and deal with the situation. It’s always just been damage control. -And prevention. A hell of a lot of prevention.
“-the whole nervous system, which explains the Green Giant’s reaction to pain. Or you know, lack thereof. I’ve got this room set up. Padded. Reinforced. And filled with fun, breakable stuff-and scanners. All hidden of course. ‘Cause I’m betting I’m right about this, but there’s really only one way to-are you freaking out right now?”
He had been. Freaking out, that is. Two seconds after Tony had expressed his concern, he got an armful of soggy-eyed Doctor (which Tony was quite magnanimous about, considering they both had a touching-people thing). They are.. still in negotiations over controlled Hulk experiments. But the odds are in Tony’s favor.
-Just as soon as he gets back from.. whatever he and Thor are doing.
Bruce Banner is not pining. But someone very close to him might be. And that is so much worse.
*
Loki had been tempted, sorely tempted, to use magic.
It was only the fact that his brother was near and likely would know instantly that he refrained and watched from a distance as a lowly human woman sent both the shameless, irrefutable Tony Stark and the mighty Thor, future King of Asgard cringing away in defeat.
Fascinating.
It was obvious there was a story here. Something the woman was privy to, something in the talisman she had held out before her that held great sway. Such a thing could be quite valuable in his quest to remain free of Asgard’s justice. Loki could sense no great magic from it, but from this distance weak Midgardian magics may not be detectable even to him.
A closer inspection was required.
He waited until his brother was well and truly gone before approaching the woman, who was already packing things away.
“Pardon me..”
Well. It seemed the woman was just barely that. Far too young to stare down the God of Thunder, and look. Still flush with anger when greater men would be gray with fear in the face of his brother’s displeasure.
“Yes. Can I-Can I help you?”
This close to the trinket, he could tell it wasn’t magical at all. Disappointing, but still. Something was here. To stall, he looked at the few items still on display. Thor had been looking at something with interest and... Oh.
“Yes. These knives. I was wondering about their make. They are… exquisite. Might you tell me about them?”
Thor may not have the gift for magic, but he has an eye for weaponry. And not only were these knives unique with their rainbow finish, but they faintly pulsed with magic. It was clumsy and unfocused, but there was a definite, steady throb of earth and moon. Midgard and Cosmos.
It wasn’t what had repelled Stark, and by extension, Thor but it was still a point of interest. He hadn’t expected to find anything of note during his erstwhile internment. Humans had stopped being exciting ages ago.
“Ah. Well. As you can see they are mostly ceremonial. -I mean, they’re sharp. They’ll cut pretty much anything that can be cut by metal, but they’ve got a high silver content. So I wouldn’t recommend heavy use or knife-play.”
She looked at him warily, which was odd. Why would a merchant be wary? Was he not showing interest in her wares?
“I see. And the finish? How do you get such colors out of the metal? I’ve never seen anything of the like.”
Well, that was not completely true. He had seen the fabled gemsteel of Nidavellir, but that was made from ore specific to the realm and was translucent, like gemstone. It too bore multi-hued veins of color, but there the similarity ended. This.. was a very poor interpretation of that.
“I… well. I use a special process to do that. It won’t wear off if that’s what you’re asking. -Listen, I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m packing up. If you want to buy them, I’ll give you a good deal.”
Loki did very much want to buy them. However, he had no money. And nothing of value with which to trade. Certainly, he could fool the mortal with a few scraps of paper or steal them outright, but magic was complicated. If he used deception to acquire them, it would forever alter their power. Perhaps even turn it against him, though he had little to fear from that.
“I would very much like to buy them, however I’m afraid I lack the means to do so. I apologize for wasting your time.”
Still unsure about what had transpired here and genuinely displeased at this turn of events, he stroked a wistful finger over one of the tiny blades and turned to go. Silly to be disappointed over a trifle, but it just drives home the cold blade of truth: where once such a gift would have been offered as tribute, now he must envy all he sees at a distance. He is the beggar. Nameless, with no home that would have him (at least, not have him in chains). A pathetic wretch who’s only care is survival-no matter how distasteful.
“Wait! Wait a minute.. -Just.. can you give me a second?”
He stops, more to keep her from drawing attention than to hear her attempt to haggle over a price he cannot pay. A few beats pass and he wonders what she is doing. He hasn’t turned, hoping the merchant will take his silence as resolve. He hears her approach and steels himself for another rebuttal, but she merely presses a brown rapped package into his hands.
“Here. You have to keep them tied up like this until you leave the building. But you can open them in your car, as long as you stow them in the trunk before you go. ”
He looks at the bundle. Then at the girl, before realizing just exactly what he’s holding in his hands.
“I told you, I have no-”
“-Listen. I don’t know if you saw, but I just insulted Tony Stark and probably his friend too, who I’m almost one-hundred percent sure was Thor. You know, the god? The one we named a day after? He was looking at these too, but not even he touched them like you did. He didn’t say they were... um.”
“Exquisite?”
“-Yes. Look, I’ll be black-listed for life, but even if I’m not, no one is going to pay me what these knives are worth. I mean, I might be ruined, but I just caught the eye of the God of Thunder. I bet no one else can say that.”
Oh they couldn’t. Thor had no interest in the weapons of Midgard and while he had glanced over the assembly with vague disinterest it was only for the company he kept that he did so. And yet, he had shown interest in these.. baubles. Suddenly, his tongue was heavy with truth.
You offer tribute to the God of Lies and Trickery. Ruler of this Realm. Enemy of all. Do you comprehend the enormity of what you do?
But of course he said no such thing. In the end, there was naught to do but..
“I accept these upon your leave, though I cannot repay your generosity.”
No sooner had the words left his lips, then he felt the faint hum of magic warm his hand like a spring day. They were his now. Perhaps they always had been. Magic was very much attracted to him, and he to it; as like called to like.
The girl looked relieved. And sad. Loki could not fathom the reasons for her actions, even with the explanation. In Asgard, you gave gifts to curry favor or to settle debt. Selfless acts of giving were alien to him, and even as he held them to his chest, he still waited for something that would make sense of it.
“That’s ok. Thank you. -Thank you for appreciating them. Um. Remember what I said, about keeping them tied.”
With a wistful look at the small bundle, she turned and left. Back to her stall. Loki stared at her retreating back for a moment, rubbing a finger thoughtfully down the rough paper. He was gone before she was able to glance his way.
What a strange encounter. Perhaps.. a closer look at humanity would not be amiss. Obviously, this was an anomaly; the common rabble was likely worth no such thing, but their Champions…
He had been neglecting his plans for Tony Stark. To find exactly what his brother’s intentions were, regarding his capture. Thor’s traipsing about had distracted him as he struggled to follow and yet remain unseen, still unsure of this place even as he claimed it as his own.
Well, no matter. He owed the Son of Stark some hospitality, did he not? And after this… enlightening experience, he knew exactly how to go about it.
The question was, what to get for the man who thought he had everything?
Hmm. What, indeed…
END