How to Capture a Space Viking
(Or, what might have happened after the Stuttgart battle in Avengers Assemble.)*
Loki kept his hands slightly raised and held himself very still to reassure the mortals of his surrender. He knew if he made any sudden moves they would attack, and he didn’t want to have to kill them; he needed them alive. He cultivated a docile expression, not saying a word.
Tony lifted his visor, giving Loki a shrewd look. “I suppose there’s no point in cuffing him if he’s one of those super-strong space vikings Coulson wouldn’t shut up about.” He gave Cap a side-eyed look. “Do you even carry handcuffs, Mr. America?”
Cap resisted the urge to roll his eyes and didn’t look away from the enemy for a second. “It’s Captain America. And why would I? I’m a soldier, not a cop.” In his peripheral view, he caught Tony Stark’s shrug, a gesture emphasized by the weighty but stunningly flexible, cherry-red suit of armor encasing him.
Tony smirked, “Well, you never know. It’s always the goody-goody types who secretly keep a pair in the bedside drawer.” He lifted an eyebrow at Loki to see if he could get a rise out of him. Nothing. He couldn’t get a read on this stone-faced alien yet.
Tony cast a quick glance around them. Most of the crowd Loki had terrorized in the Stuttgart city square was dispersing, but the stupidest of the herd had actually begun to converge in an uneven circle around the scene, staring at all three of the combatants.
“Yeah,” he stated, “we gotta get Stonehenge here outta this place before some krautenheimmer tries to take a potshot at him. Natasha, hon, are you listening?”
“I don’t take orders from you, Stark.” Black Widow’s voice rang over the speakers of the quinjet, still hovering high above. “Orders, Cap?”
Steve barely blinked, eyes glued warily on Loki as he replied through his comm. “Can you land safely anywhere near here, Miss?” His mind was racing through the options. He had studied the map of the area on the flight over; of course there was no landing strip in the middle of the city. But wasn’t there a playing field in the vicinity? Would the pilot have enough space to land there?
It would be a tough march though—even if the SHIELD agent could find a landing space within half a click, Steve would have to find some way to contain the threat throughout the journey. He daren’t underestimate this alarmingly strong criminal in this foreign city full of vulnerable citizens. He calculated that Iron Man’s blasters would have killed a normal man. So what would it take to kill Loki?
Well, if the fellow was even hurt, he was doing a good job of hiding it. The black-haired villain wasn’t even breathing hard after their combat, while Cap himself was aching everywhere. Despite his own superpowers, Loki had thrown him around like a ragdoll.
Steve hadn’t been outmatched in a fight since—well, 1943. It made him feel like a scrawny kid again, and that was a feeling he dreaded. Steve forced down those feelings, staring his enemy right in the eyes. This opponent might be stronger than even him, but that had never stopped Cap from fighting the good fight.
The local polizei would be showing up en-masse any second now, interfering in dangerous matters they couldn’t understand and wouldn’t believe. Cap barely believed any of this himself, despite what he’d seen. Fury had insisted this intruder was an alien—the kind from another planet, but he didn’t look like a character in any Saturday matinee serial Steve had seen in the old days. Cap couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that aliens actually existed—but it didn’t matter. Loki had said he was there to conquer the human race, and he actually might have the means to do it. That was all Cap needed to know.
In the time it took Cap to sort through these thoughts, Natasha had initiated a landing sequence right in the middle of the square. When he realized what the red-headed agent was doing, Steve bit back the impulse to warn her off. He’d only just met the Black Widow, but of one thing about her was absolutely certain: she was capable.
Steve grit his teeth and held his tongue while Natasha vertically landed the futuristic craft only a few yards from where they stood, as smoothly as if she were parking a car.
Steve couldn’t help admiring the maneuver. In 1945 (only days ago to him), he could never have guessed this kind of technology was possible, even having witnessed firsthand cutting-edge science in Dr. Erskine and Red Skull’s labs. Steve was adapting quickly to this new age, but there was a first for everything.
Beside him, Loki politely cleared his throat. Steve’s eyes darted to the dubious prisoner. He then realized he’d looked away, at the quinjet, despite his determination to not let down his guard. He raised his shield tighter to his chest, eyeballing the troublemaker.
Had Loki cleared his throat deliberately to call Cap’s attention back to himself? Loki was still standing in the same position, now innocently looking around. Was there a trace of a smirk in his eyes? Steve clenched his razor-sharp jaw. Even if he hadn’t read the file on Loki, he could testify that there was nothing innocent about this character.
A noise from the gathering crowd alerted him to another risk.
“Stark, grab that spear before someone picks it up.” He pointed to Loki’s scepter, discarded on the bricks nearby.
“I don’t take orders from you, Captain Kid.” Tony snarked, but he trotted over to retrieve the thing quickly, hiding his nerves behind a litany of complaints under his breath. He wasn’t thrilled to be working with this anachronism personified, but the captain was right. A scared crowd could turn on a dime into an angry mob. They needed to leave.
“Nothing to see here!” He waved vaguely in the direction of the onlookers. “Go on back to your hausfraus and schnitzel or whatever!”
He gave the scepter a solid look, closing his visor. “Okay Jarvis, what’ve we got.”
The cool British voice of Iron Man’s AI in his earphones was usually calming, even in the midst of a firefight—but then Tony was more comfortable in a firefight than at the center of an angry mob, with an unknown quantity like Loki to contain, and only a relic like Grandpa Spangles for backup.
“It’s an unknown metal, sir, or shall I say, metals.” Jarvis intoned. “The central blade is precisely twenty-six point three centimeters in length, formed in a sickle shape reminiscent of the Soviet symbol or the curved blade of an Ancient Egyptian khopesh, though I cannot speculate as to whether any symbolism is intended, given that the entire construction is of extraterrestrial origin.” Supporting statistics rolled before Tony’s eyes on the display under his visor.
“That’s nice, Jarvis, but right now all I need to know is if it will kill me to touch it.” Tony glanced at a small glowing dot in the upper left of his display and the interactive tech correspondingly enlarged the dot into a rearview image captured by a tiny camera at the back of his suit.
Behind him, the Walking Flag and the Space Goth were staring at each other, both still standing alert, balanced on the balls of their feet. Not even the quinjet’s cargo door, opening nearby, attracted their attention.
“I’m unable to determine that, sir.”
Tony gave the disembodied AI a skeptical look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He demanded.
“The object at the center of the blade array contains an unknown energy signature.” Jarvis calmly responded. “I have never seen data remotely like this. I’m unable to discern what this object is, much less anticipate what it may be capable of.”
Tony felt a cold bead of sweat trickle down his spine.
“Please be careful with that.” Loki piped up behind him, speaking for the first time in Tony’s presence. “It’s quite sharp.”
Tony turned and gave Loki a hard look, as if the alien could see his face.
Loki smiled cooly back at the expressionless metal mask, a thousand years of practiced diplomacy having taught him how to calm agitated primitives like these.
Tony was finding this spaceman more antagonizing every minute. First, he seemed awfully composed for someone who’d been hit with the full power of Iron Man’s blasters just moments ago; second, the dude had just unexpectedly surrendered, without a word; third, he’s dressed like Irish Dracula; and fourth, his voice is way too smooth, soothing, and deep. Based on the guy’s witchy looks, Tony might have expected shrill-voiced threats or evil cackling. Instead, this dude sounded like a therapist asking “how does that make you feel?” It was unnerving.
“What are you guys doing? Come on!” Natasha stood just outside the cargo bay of the quinjet, waving them over. She pointed out the spinning lights of polizei vehicles approaching from three of the streets that opened onto the public square.
Loki leaned back on his heels, hands still up, waiting. He masked a glance at the local law enforcement now arriving on the scene. He didn’t want them. His plan required the Iron Man and Captain America to take him into their custody. If the Man of Iron didn’t make a move soon, Loki would regrettably be forced to commit more violent actions.
Cap was conflicted. Despite his super hearing, he could barely hear anything said over the quinjet’s roaring engine and the police sirens. He was battered and exhausted, but the job wasn’t done. He belatedly realized he’d sent Stark to get the spear without considering whether the alien object might have the same type of power as the Tesseract, which had disintegrated Red Skull on contact.
Cap wouldn’t send his worst soldier out to do something he himself wasn’t willing to do. But Loki still seemed to be the more dangerous of the two threats, despite his polite equanimity. And Stark had about 100 pounds of metal between him and the strange weapon, so what was his problem?
“Pick it up, let’s go, Stark!” He grated, daring to reach out for Loki’s arm, half expecting the dark figure to make a false move.
Loki looked down at Cap’s hand on his arm and said nothing, though his eyes flashed with disdain. Cap shoved down an uncomfortable twinge of alarm.
“Screw it.” Tony muttered. Fortune favors the bold. He grabbed the stick of doom in a firm grip an turned to head for the quinjet. If he felt a strange surge of power roll up his arm and through his body, he ignored it. There would be time to analyze this detail later.
Rushing back to Cap and Loki, Tony jerked his head toward the quinjet. “Hey soldier boy, you and Edward Scissorhands can make goo-goo eyes at each other later. We gotta split.”
Steve was unimpressed with Stark’s cavalier attitude. He gave Loki’s arm a tug, nonetheless. “Let’s go, mister.” Under his palm, Loki’s arm was not exceptionally thick, but it was hard as steel.
Loki paused just for a millisecond; just long enough to demonstrate that Cap’s tug wasn’t enough to move him in the slightest, but that he was cooperating.
Cap got the message, loud and clear. He kept his expression neutral, keeping his grip on Loki’s arm as they approached the quinjet.
Black Widow watched Iron Man and Captain America approach and enter the quinjet, betraying nothing in her expression. She focused on the Asgardian without looking directly at him.
To be honest, this wasn’t her first encounter with an alien. She was a SHIELD agent. She knew of several extraterrestrial species, based on secret encounters she would never speak of outside the chain of command.
This one was different. This one was the kind she had prepared for from her first day with the agency. He didn’t come in peace. He was powerful in ways no one but Coulson had seen before. This one was an alpha-level threat, and she was compelled to seek out his weakness. Everyone had a weakness.
Natasha could tell a lot about a person from their appearance; the way they held themselves, their gait, even their micro-expressions. The impression she got of Loki, Prince of Asgard, was discomfiting—even before he glanced at her and gave her a knowing wink.
Clint’s face flashed before Natasha’s eyes. A sick feeling overtook her.
The Widow turned swiftly on her heel to return to the cockpit, never meeting Loki’s impertinent gaze. So, he’d detected her watching him, despite her subtle trick. She needn’t acknowledge his perception. Tony and the captain seemed to have him well enough in hand for the moment, and, if not, she knew better than to think she could take Loki on herself.
What she could do was get this craft off the ground and 10,000 feet in the air; maybe at that altitude the alien aggressor would think twice before attempting a surprise attack. With a swift gesture, she punched the control to close the cargo door and gracefully slipped into the pilot’s seat, forcing herself not to worry about Hawkeye. Now that they had Loki as their prisoner, she’d find out where to find Clint—one way or another.
Steve pulled (or, rather, led) Loki to a seat in the side of the quinjet, and Loki obediently sat. Wordlessly, Steve began strapping the prisoner in for the flight, his motions more forceful than was necessary, as Loki gave no resistance.
Cap realized the restraints wouldn’t hold the Asgardian, should he choose to attack, but untangling himself would surely slow Loki down, at least long enough to give them warning. Hopefully, between Stark and himself, and with Loki without his weapon, that would be enough to contain him. Cap allowed himself to feel a tiny thread of relief as he pulled the last strap tight.
Loki couldn’t resist showing the slightest curl of his lip as the mortal handled him roughly. The intensity in the captain’s expression, the sharply clenched jaw, and the hint of satisfaction in his cerulean eyes as he pulled the last restraint unnecessarily tight piqued Loki’s interest. Perhaps there was more to this Captain America than the straight-arrow soldier he’d been told to expect. Perhaps the Man of Iron’s teasing comment about restraints earlier was more puissant than he’d realized. Loki held back a laugh, schooling his expression to resigned complacency.
The Man of Iron sauntered past the captain, still holding Loki’s scepter, perfectly balanced in his heavy suit, despite the motion of the now swiftly rising quinjet. He’d lifted his visor, showing his face again, and Loki felt, rather than saw, the scepter’s disruptive influence seeping into the mortal. Loki felt a corresponding ache to hold the scepter again, himself. He contained it.
The captain stepped back from Loki and nearly crashed into Tony.
“Stark, stow that thing somewhere before someone gets poked in the eye.”
Tony was chewing gum now, a sugary banana-strawberry flavored chunk he’d pulled from some imperceptible recess in his suit.
“Are you hard of hearing, old man?” Stark squawked. “I don’t take orders from defrosted science experiments.” His tone was unnecessarily provocative. Cap felt an instantaneous urge to clock the irreverent strongman. He stared Tony down, a biting remark on the tip of his tongue. Tony stared back at him, clearly amused.
“Belay that testosterone, gentlemen.” Natasha sharply called out over the roar of the quinjet engine from the cockpit area. “Tony, there’s a cabinet behind my seat that should fit.”
Tony chewed a few bites of his gum before responding, then seemed almost to wake from a daydream. “Yeah, sure. Not a problem, Nat.” He finally intoned, shuffling over to the metal lockbox. If he felt reluctant to put down the spear it was only because the weapon would certainly be the most effective option if Nosferatu over there got any ideas.
Loki took note of Tony Stark’s hesitation and knew full well from whence it arose. So—despite his hardened exterior, Stark was easily susceptible to the power of the scepter. His vulnerability to weapon’s influence was not surprising; Loki had anticipated this much, knowing how weak these mortals were.
What interested Loki about Stark’s reaction was the contained hostility toward his compatriot that the scepter had revealed. A palpable, deeply rooted resentment had gleamed in Stark’s eyes for that moment, something that went deeper than personal dislike. Loki wondered what that might be about.
Between the Black Widow’s attempts to shadow her heart, the captain’s unexpected inner turmoil, and the Iron Man’s molten interior, Loki was pleased to find these mortal heroes worthy of his interest. Perhaps later, assuming they survived, there would be time to explore all that lay hidden in the minds and hearts of these defenders of Midgard.
—End—
*Yeah, I originally posted this story with a different title a couple of days ago and it got no love. C’mon, my 896 followers/mutuals and Loki’s Army, show me a story doesn’t need to have smut to get your attention!
