Chapter 6
[New Mexico, three years ago.]
Puente Antiguo in the summer is a swelteringly hot place to be in, even with the blessed comfort of an air-conditioning unit. Jane feels a trickle of sweat wind its way down from the base of her neck to the small of her back, seeping into the already damp material that is her clothes sticking to her body. From the heat or from stress, she cannot tell - but it seems to be the latter, judging from how the man across her is clad in a suit and does not seem remotely close to breaking a sweat.
"Ms. Foster," the man says. "This has been stipulated in the agreement. Please understand that you are bound by legal contract to return the funds we invested into your project."
"More time," Jane finds herself repeating, pleading. "We're close to making a breakthrough, there's been a definite spike in activity recorded. We're this close, please."
He eyes her, remarkably unimpressed. "The Stark Science Foundation has many more new scientists waiting for their breakthrough. We do not make exceptions, Ms. Foster, we give everyone a chance like we have given you yours." He clears his throat, and adopts an apologetic expression. "We are sorry, but fair is fair."
Jane comes to a standstill, her brain racing furiously. Her research has come so far; for her to stop now would be tantamount to giving it all up. She cannot give it up, she can't. Darcy's university credits depend on her; Erik came all the way to New Mexico and stayed; her whole life is dedicated to this project.
She takes a deep breath.
"We have come to an understanding, I presume," Coulson - that's his name - says.
"Is there no other way," she asks. She knows the answer, but hopes for another, nonetheless.
"None foreseeable," Coulson replies calmly. He gets up and gathers the papers, intent on leaving. His work here is (almost) done.
A moment's hesitation, before Jane plays her card. "I know about Stark Industries. What really goes on below."
doesn't even look up at her. "Are you threatening to blackmail us, Ms. Foster."
"It's not blackmail." Jane tries to keep calm - she can see Erik's disappointed face, head shaking a resolute no - but she has already stepped past the point of no return. She cannot back down. "I'm offering you an alternative. I assist Stark Industries with anything you require around this area, and I continue my research with your funds."
"Your research is considerably costly," Coulson points out.
She raises an eyebrow at him, hiding her desperation behind a thin mask of confidence. "Then I'll just have to help you in something of equal magnitude then," she asserts.
It seems to be the right thing to say, as Coulson finally stands up and offers her a small smile. "Well,"he says. "I suppose that it is fortunate that Stark Industries has been looking into opening a new branch in this area." He inclines his head. "You will be hearing from us, Ms. Foster."
He silently leaves the room. Darcy and Erik come in mere moments later.
"Everything okay, boss?" Darcy asks, both earbuds still in her ears. Jane offers Erik a tight-lipped smile.
"Yes," she says. "It will be."
A year later, on the day that the Einsten-Rosen bridge finally opens, Jane finds her own bargaining chip.
Darcy and Selvig have found out through their own means, but chooses to stand by her, for better or for worse. She cannot feel any more grateful to them, but yet each night she sleeps with guilt on her mind. With time, however, she has learnt to ignore the feeling, locking it away into a corner and just focus on research, research and research.
(You might say she might have begun to enjoy some of the assignments - life as a scientist can be terribly stifling at times, all that waiting.)
The first time an official government agent comes by, she almost panics. Darcy covers up for her, rattling off some new discoveries and data that has Jane 'terribly excited, don't mind her, I'm a little scared myself.' She orders Darcy a new iPod cover after that, and Darcy smiles a little grimly at the present.
(The next time another government official drops by, they're prepared.)
She hasn't killed anyone, and for that she is thankful; but she has left others to die when she could have very well saved them. The criminal underworld is a tricky affair, but keeping her head down and not meddling she learns fairly quickly. Coulson comes by every so often, if only to check on her silence and research.
The bridge opens today, and Jane hits a man the size of Ayers Rock with her van.
He is disoriented, and apparently not of this world - both factors that SHIELD immediately take advantage of. The world full of villains and corruption needed no incentive to assault this man for the shirt off his back, and the information on whatever good the world (Midgard, the man calls Earth) has to offer is limited at best by a few buttons pressed by Coulson. Jane is there, to culture him some and to persuade him that 'Midgard' is a dangerous place by the humans' own hands. His presence becomes comforting to her to an extent - with him, she realizes, her value in Stark Industries has risen.
Her first kill is for him, when a hired thug is about to decapitate him - she empties a nearby revolver into the heart and sits back, shaking violently. He comes over to her, taking her hands in his own.
"Lady Jane," he says. "I thank you, but you are a woman of science, not of destruction. Please, do not engage yourself in violence for my sake."
She laughs breathlessly (hysterics) and kisses him on the mouth. Whether she loves him, or is just protecting him out of her own interests, she does not know.
Regardless, she adds Thor Odinson to her list of people to feel guilty about before she sleeps.
[New York, today]
The streets of Manhattan fly swiftly past them as the car speeds down the lane, passing other cars and swerving to avoid collisions at every turn. On the streets, people walk with their heads down, doing their best to not attract attention - the best defense against muggers and the like seems to be either hide from them or fight against them.
(Desperate enough? Become them.)
Stark is on his S-Phone, the very phone he had used in the court. The phone itself brings back a myriad of memories that stay bitter on Loki's tongue - of Stark's technology, which had hacked into Osborn's finest security; of the fight a few days past, defeat curling hard and heavy in his gut; and of Osborn's voice when it should have been his own, a harmless trick turned malevolent in the hands of Anthony Stark. Loki finds himself constantly underestimating the man who controls the crime scene, a mistake he is loathe to repeat.
He returns his attention to the street outside, watching as a man gets backed into an alley by a group of teenagers brandishing knives, shining dully in their hands. The people near them tuck their heads down almost immediately, pretending not to see. Loki's hand twitches once, almost reaching for the door, but he restrains himself and pushes himself back into the seat, the leather upholstery molding itself around his spine. He's in a villain's limousine, for goodness' sake, it's not as if Stark will let him go off anyway.
Then again, Loki did step into the car of his own volition. The scene passes by in a quick flash, and they leave it behind.
"Not going to help the poor sap?" Stark says, and Loki's attention snaps back to him. His eyes are still on his phone, his fingers moving smoothly over its interface. Loki regards him, schooling his features into a blank countenance. Through the window on Stark's side, he sees a too-young girl with patches of yellow and green on her arms and neck, her wrist held tight by an older man with deep-set features and angry eyes.
He thinks of the villains he has fought, the ones with powers at their fingertips or magic at their disposal. They had been a chore to take down, being able to fight back and use hostages against the heroes. He now sees the villains of everyday - the muggers, thieves and murderers, abusers, rapists and conners - a reminder of whatever he has done has been insignificant.
See how they cower, how they lie and fight and kill amongst themselves, Thor had said. Loki sees, and does not wish to believe.
There are good people, Loki tries to remind himself. Frost, mutant but human nonetheless, who fights - no, once fought with him. Victor, his closest friend, fighting to protect the people of this country even if he is of Latveria. Hammer, who had told them of the Stark Science Foundation even after he failed to apply for it, instead of keeping his silence.
(Then again, Hammer is not such a good example. He should have used Selvig instead - he had told them of Foster and of Thor, upset with Foster's actions brought on by the scheme. A friend of yours is a friend of ours, Namor had assured him warmly, and both Selvig and the rest of the team ignored Loki's unflinching gaze on Selvig. Foster's actions were her own decisions, he feels, why should they spare any sympathies for her?)
He blinks briefly and the young girl is gone. Stark is still not looking at him.
"I think not," he says softly.
"Do I get an explanation?" Stark asks, curiosity twisting his lips into a wry smile. He does not look surprised by Loki's decision, and Loki does not know whether to be unsettled by his lack of said emotion, or to find solace that someone has finally begun to not underestimate him. It is an advantage at the best of times, and a hindrance at the worst.
"You don't," he replies, to which Stark simply says, "fair enough." He slips his phone into his pocket and finally looks at Loki. Loki holds his gaze unwaveringly, grinding any attraction he feels down into the ground. Now is not the time for feelings.
"So," Stark begins. Loki keeps his shoulders relaxed, willing any tension away from his muscles. Stark must be curious at the very least, at Loki's blatant willingness (or stupidity, on another nonexistent level) to walk into the wolves' den - a curiosity Loki is torn between indulging and keeping. Likewise, Loki is curious as to Stark's similar willingness to offer one he can consider his enemy to reside in his home. "Basic rules to stick to."
"Do you happen to follow those rules," Loki inquires dryly.
"If I feel like it," Stark says lightly. "Anyway, one. Stick to your floor, and the elevator. You can do your hocus-pocus to sneak about, but I'm pretty sure that Hawkeye and Widow's floors are rigged with traps, and Bruce probably has a nasty acid trap or two hidden somewhere. As for my floor, it has GRAVY, you remember it? The whole anti-magic affair? It's in its fifth prototype now, you want to help me test it out some time?"
"Perhaps when I feel like I want to have a headache," Loki says.
Stark ignores him. "Two. Kitchen's open at all times, but clean up after yourself. You can also call in any delivery service, pizza, whatever. Or make it out of magic, if you can do that." He looks at Loki quizzically. "Can you?"
"I wonder," Loki deflects.
"Huh. Last one, don't interfere."
Here comes, Loki thinks, and closes his eyes briefly. "With?"
"Our dastardly deeds of evil," Stark states rather dramatically. "We do our stuff, and you do yours. You interfere in our stuff, and I'll lock down the whole place with GRAVY and send the Hulk after you. Are we clear?"
"Very clear," Loki says, just as the car turns into the driveway of Stark Tower. The time for regrets is long past.
The moment Stark leaves him alone on his assigned floor without giving him a tour of any sort, Loki gets to work.
He has no doubt that Stark may have set up the whole floor with cameras in every corner, and immediately looks for them. Osborn had been a paranoid man and had similarly bugged his quarters with his own version of security - a version that Loki had quickly disposed of, much to the man's displeasure and Victor's amusement. He doubts that Stark would be similarly inclined to humor him.
Experimentally, he reaches to remove the camera. He might as well test his boundaries before he can cross them at a later point in time.
"Mr. Odinson," a voice suddenly says. "I would like to suggest that you do not damage the surveillance equipment in any way. Mr. Stark has shown much aversion to anyone interfering with his systems, physical parts included."
Loki quickly looks around in surprise. Upon seeing nobody, he takes a step back from the camera and looks straight into its lens. He should have known it was far too easy to find the cameras - they were placed in clear view, and painted white against the pale beige wallpaper. Stark wants him to know that he was being watched, he realizes.
"You," he addresses the camera. He remembers the name of Stark's henchman far too clearly than he would like to. "You are Jarvis, correct?"
"Indeed I am," Jarvis replies smoothly. "I am Mr. Stark's Artificial Intelligence System. A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Odinson."
"Loki," Loki says absently. "I do not wish to be called Odinson. Call me Loki." He had previously thought Jarvis a trusted Stark Industries, his only function being Stark's equivalent of a security system - the prospect of an AI system, however, may be worse. Humans can make mistakes. AI systems are much less likely to do so.
"Very well, Mr. Loki." Jarvis acquiesces, and Loki is reminded of numbers and codes governed by rules, and how rules can be bent to his whims. "You are welcome to call on me for assistance at all times, as per Mr. Stark's instruction. However, if you happen to pass any boundaries previously specified by Mr. Stark, it has been instructed that I have been allowed to, put succinctly, misbehave."
There is an almost dark undertone to the word itself, and both god and machine know exactly what will ensue should Loki step clearly over the line. The memory of cold steel against his face, an unrelenting pressure forcing him against the floor and rendering him unable to breathe comes unbidden to his mind. He smiles, slow and overly sweet, at the camera.
"Noted, thank you." He approaches the bathroom gingerly, almost wary. "Will I be given privacy in the bathroom," he asks.
"To a certain extent," the AI confirms. No visual, Loki guesses, and probably a heat sensor of some degree. His time on Midgard had been used well for assimilating himself within its culture, although pop culture references continue to elude him. If Victor was here, he would have known how to trick all of Stark's technology traps.
Victor is not here. Loki will have to make do with plans kept safe within his mind, and trial and (little) error.
"Jarvis," he calls. "Is Thor within the building?"
"Yes, sir."
"Am I within boundaries to visit his floor?"
"A moment, please." He nods, not entirely sure that the system registers his gesture. "Permission has been given. Shall I alert Mr. Odinson of your plans?"
Loki thinks briefly, decides swiftly. "Yes, please," he says. "I think this reunion is long overdue."
"Very well, sir," Jarvis says, and the elevator door slides open. "Right this way. Mr. Odinson is on the top floor, out on the verandah. Mr. Stark cautions you to not push him over the the glass barriers."
"Thank you for the advice," Loki says politely as he steps into the elevator.
"You're welcome, sir," Jarvis replies as the doors slide shut and the elevator brings him up, up, up and away.