Part 1 - Chp 8
The problem is while they know he exists, they haven’t been able to figure out where the Winter Soldier is at. Steve gets this set to his jaw which might be the most patriotic thing Tony’s ever seen, but it hasn’t made Bucky just appear either. It’s not any easier with only Tony to sort through things when Natasha and Barton get sent on a mission together in Budapest.
Tony applauds Steve keeping his temper though; Tony sure as hell wouldn’t in his shoes.
***
Someone at SHIELD--well, Hydra--has noticed Steve snooping around on base, or his lack of on-boardness with the missions that SHIELD has been sending him on; Tony isn’t clear on the exact details. What he does know is someone has also realized Steve isn’t the only one snooping around and have decided to nip things in the bud.
Try to nip things in the bud.
Which hey, bonus, that means now Bucky’s here.
Unfortunately, it also means that Bucky is trying to kill them with a crew that Tony sincerely hopes a few of the lurking paparazzi have caught, and that his house is definitely less house and more flaming wreck.
He can hear Steve and Bucky going at it, something about missions and he’s almost glad he can’t see whatever pained eagle look is on Steve’s face right now.
There are possibly too many agents with Bucky. Okay, there are too many of them. They need to get out.
“Steve!” he shouts, fully intending to relay this.
Fuck, they need to get the Tesseract out and these people absolutely cannot be allowed to get their hands on Tony’s toys. Tony has other places he’s kept things stored (he’s not an idiot, just proud), so while this is going to be a loss it won’t be the worst.
“Jarvis, initiate protocol nineteen forty-five, authorization code zero six zero niner.”
“Five minutes, sir,” Jarvis says.
Tony just hopes they can make it out in five minutes.
He jets for the workshop, dodging around missiles--really--and shooting a few blasts back. Enough to get the heat off of him for a while, then he’s in the not supposed to be open-air workshop. He is, he admits, pissed. Half the workshop has slid into the ocean, including the bots, and he wishes he could stay and tear these people apart.
He gets tackled, hits the ground hard, dust and concrete shattering around him, fuck-fuck-fuck—the suit—
“What do you wish?” Loki snarls from where he’s pinned Tony to the ground. Tony blinks the fuzz out of his head, and it’s not so much he resists pushing Loki off as he can’t. Loki’s eyes are wild, swamp fire, and the air around him looks almost like Tony needs to clean off the cameras, smudged and smoke and blur.
“What the fuck?” Tony snaps when he realizes he can’t push Loki off. “We’re in the middle of a crisis, in case you didn’t notice!” He has no time to deal with Loki and Loki’s weird right now, and he gives another go at pushing Loki off.
Loki hisses, grabs Tony by the throat and keeps him pinned with his other hand.
“What,” Loki growls, “do you wish?” He’s nearly spitting the words, face as close as it can be to Tony’s considering the faceplate. “Pray.”
There’s a blast. Tony is ninety-nine percent certain that it just hit them both, everything goes blinding yellow-white hot, the noise is deafening. The suit, though, swings wildly between temperature readings and as he gets his vision back, he realizes Loki is still sitting on top of him, looking just a touch more feral, eyes unmoved from where Tony’s are.
God Tony thinks, and deliriously his eyes take in the open neck of Loki’s shirt--the skin there is raw, burned and he can just make out the chain necklace crackling with… he isn’t sure, but he meets Loki’s eyes, feels the connection jolt through him.
“Pray,” Loki says again, grip tightening.
Tony shouldn’t be able to hear him. He still can’t hear anything else through the ringing in his ears.
“Tesseract. Steve. Out.” Tony blinks, vision getting a little clearer. “Bucky. Please.”
It’s nothing, barely complete sentences, but the ideas are there. He wants out, wants them safe, wants out of this mess, and they’ll figure out what the hell to do with the brain-washed Bucky later, but it’s important that he comes too even if Tony can’t remember why; they need out.
Loki leans back and laughs.
Then he’s gone. There’s no immoveable weight holding Tony down. Tony sits up, notices scattered links falling off of him as he does so--chains, he thinks dully. Chains.
Tony pushes himself to his feet, aware that Jarvis is talking to him in his ear but still not quite able to hear anything. He staggers a bit--the suit is wrecked, no thanks to Loki, but it doesn’t have a single sign of the missile they took.
He tries to head for the Tesseract, but then Loki’s back--it’s the green eyes that give him away, the laughter (Tony knows that laughter in his bones), but the rest, he can’t even process the rest: scale, shadows, glacial green ice, teeth and claws, many heads and none, antlers branching towards the sky, flickerfast twist-shifting, vast and vast and vaster.
Beloved, it--Loki--purrs, wrapping around him, close your eyes.
Tony has a moment before there’s a jerk and he catches a brief glimpse of dark between the stars endless and forev— before he closes his eyes tightly and tries not to vomit.
What the fuck has he unleashed?