Chapter 3
Tony
The mission was rough and ragged. My body is one big bruise. Doctor Doom's drone-bots playing whack-a-mole, racking, firing out at me trillion times.
The wet noodle sensation trailing up my worn out bones. Grunting. Peeling the underlayer to the scratchy mental armour off. The stretchy balloon texture squeezing my skin, pinching and pulling like a wet women’s swimming costume. Don't sue me, I’ve watched Pepper getting in and out her costume a couple times. OK, more than a couple times. Not just Pepper, Steve has a fine body. I’m a one-at-a-time type of guy. Well, I am now.
Haven't got the energy to even shower, wash away the grime and sweat.
Loose grey joggers and an ill-fitted t-shirt.
Venturing to the communal kitchen to get a snack. Drain out my hunger, too exhausted to cook or wait for food. Snatching any old thing, plunging it into my mouth. Jarvis would never stock out-of-date food in the pantry.
Falling back on the modern white L-shape sofa, the cuddly feel is luxurious as it looks. Money well spent, the price tag doesn't matter.
Eyes slit close, rem sleep nearly over the finish line. Thor's voice bellows.
“Comrades Loki has escaped on earth.”
Jumping out of my skin. Forty hours without catching up to me.
“What the hell Thor, I was asleep.”
“Sorry, my friend, this is urgent. Loki has escaped on earth.”
Clint's frozen statue fear radiating from him. “What do you mean he has escaped,” Steve walks in the room, rubbing sleep out his eyes.
“Loki had a hearing. We found out Thanos controlled him. Decades ago had a child on earth, he escaped to find her.”
“You never knew that Loki was a flying monkey too,” said Clint.
“Loki has a child. Why now? He had the child decades ago. What do you mean had.” said Tony.
Thor sits down on the love seat, placing mjölnir on the ground between his feet.
“Loki can shape-shift. Body shift into a woman. Loki has had many children; this is his first half-human, in secret gave birth to Claudia, he escaped. Father now knows about Claudia. I need your help to find her. These last few days I have been tracking Loki with no hope. Friends, I need your help.”
Loki can turn into a woman. Able to birth a child. Loki might have been the puppet not the puppeteer, he is still a lunatic. Not to be trusted. He is not father material.
“What is the problem with your father knowing?” said Natasha.
“The Ragnarok Prophecy. One of Loki's offspring will be Asgard's downfall.”
What does that mean? Prophecies. People make their own fate. “What does Odin do with Loki's children? I don’t like the guy but you can’t sin children for their father's sins and personality faults.” said Clint.
“Thor, we won’t help you chase down this girl to send her to a different planet. Avengers help not the opposite.” Steve chimes in.
Thor stands up, “I’m not sending Claudia off. I’m finding Loki. We find her, we find Loki. He is shining a lighting bolt on her. The royal guard is landing any second to find her. The guards are more interested in finding Asgard's downfall than the runaway prince.”
Why is Thor so interested in finding Loki than the women in danger? “What is Claudia’s last name?”
Thor looks clueless. Computers ain’t that clever even Jarvis can’t find someone by one name. No picture, no description, no full name, no date of birth.
“Sir, an interesting activity in Beacon Hills. Sheriff report, someone named Loki defacing a grave site. Ripping the coffin out of the ground, burning the corpse to ashes. The grave, one Claudia Stilinski nee Gajos.”
How do I know that name? A whisper shooting brain waves alight, mother’s journal.
“Sir, the alert you set up years ago you might need to check up on it.”
Shit, the alert, skimming the alert report on my Starkpad, Mieczyslaw Stilinski is my brother.
Steve touches my shoulder, I must have zoned out.
“Stark, Tony, what’s going on?”
“Many years ago my father had a lab-tech. Both of them got frisky. A child was born from the affair. My mother alway writes journals. Her lengthy rants about my father slut and other colourful language went on and on. She missed out, she threatened my father about taking his money and me. So dear old Dad shoved hush money at the lab-tech. Walk away from the newborn. That offended her, and threw the money right back at him. My family never saw the baby again.”
Taking in a large gulp of air, calming my breaths. My brother is Loki's grandson. Hopefully crazy as a bag of cats doesn't run in bloodlines.
“What does that have to do with Loki?” said Steve.
One breath in, one breath out. “Claudia Stilinski is that lab-tech. Her son is my nephew.”
Thor’s eyes light up, enlightening their gaze. “You know where he is, then. Loki will be after him now.”
Damm it. My brother is in danger. I do not know where he is. When I found out about my brother, I was in party heaven. Not about my brother, but my life. Drink. Drink. Drink. The word Brother meant nothing to me. My parents were already dead. What would a Brother bring to my life? I put an alert on Jarvis to make sure I didn’t accidentally sleep with him when my brother came of age.
“I don’t know, my brother. That time of my life was a blur. When Ironman happened I was so busy he was a second thought. I would just put him in danger. Jarvis put a picture of him on the screen.”
Steve's face is hard to decipher. Eyes locked onto me.
“Jarvis, upload a holographic picture of Mie-czy-slaw.”
The butchered name, more butchered than a cut up piece of meat. Who would name a child jumbled letters mixed in a tombola.
The picture must be so out dated, he’s in his late twenties. If I have my facts correct, my facts are normally correct. He is definitely not seventeen.
“Jarvis, recent photo not his high school days.”
“Sir, this is the most recent. No Facebook, Instagram, Twitter in the last ten years. Only other photos are of his army career that's under a firewall. Do you want me to crack it?”
Clint walks up closer to the hologram image. “Oh, my god. Natasha recognizes anything. Jarvis, age the photo by ten years.”
The image ages up. Natasha's resting bitch face lights up to an eureka moment expression. “Red.”
Red what?
“Agent Red. His face is very recognisable. Haven’t seen him in a few years. Before that, occasionally. He detested S.H.I.E.L.D, he was friends with Phil.”
Is this Agent Red my brother?
“Agent Red. Army. My brother can’t have a stick up his ass.”
“Shouldn't you know your brother? Know his personality. His career.” said Steve.
What is his problem? Last couple of months their tense work relationship turned personal. Their flirty banter easing into asking for a date. Five months after a high energy long exhausting battle a shut down brain kiss. They never spoke about the kiss again. The spark is lit.
“I was a different person back then. After Afghanistan, I was too busy saving the world.”
Steve bridges the gap between them, stepping closer. “The world is never too busy to be with family.”
Huh. Steve is angry with me.
“Children, let's get back to the issue. For your information Stiles hasn’t got a stick up his ass. He’s not really the army type, too mouthy and doesn't fit in their box. He works for a secret organisation under a secret organisation. When S.H.I.E.L.D poked the hornet's nest, Agent Red popped his head out. He was friends with Agent Colson.” said Natasha.
Friends with agent agent. His Brother does and doesn't sound like a Stark. What is a Stiles?
Mieczyslaw, Red, Stiles, all these names for one person.
“How does this help find Loki,” said Thor.
“Phil's phone number would have Stiles' number on it. Just ring the guy. Tell him about the Loki issue.” said Clint.
Could it be that easy? Does Stiles even know about me? Know who his biological father is. Can I crush Stiles' world? Is that why I have never reached out? Put no effort into knowing my brother. Or don't give a shit about this person sharing part of my DNA.
Jarvis hacks into Phil's phone, bouncing his number masking mine. Stiles' phone will think it’s Agent Colson's.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“What are you doing with a dead person's number?” The voice screeches out.
Oops didn’t think of that. Just Stile picking it up.
“You don’t sound like Stiles,” said Clint. How well does Clint know Stile? Not well enough to have his number.
“I’m the one asking the question, who are you?”
“I’m Tony Stark, the other voice was Clint. You know Clint.”
“Well, I don’t. I knew Phil Coulson. I’m not Stiles, he's taking a shower.” The male voice replies.
Loki jumps out of thin air. The high cheekbone, the glossy black as ink hair duller than usual.
“Who are you? Why are you on my grandson's phone when he’s in the shower? I'm Loki, you will answer me.”
Loki standing in the centre of the room. Dagger eyeing Thor.
“The grave robber. You destroyed my fiancé's mother's body. Why would I answer you? What do you mean, grandson?” a quiet voice appears on the rustling line. “Peter, we need to pack now, travel to the Nemeton. Who are you speaking to?” That must be Stiles, his brother. “Wrong number darling.” Movement picks up on the line. “Don’t ring this number again, I don’t care who you are.” Peter, whoever he is, hangs up.
We all dagger looks at Loki, the god shrugs it off.
“Loki, you need to come home.” Thor arm reaches out to Loki, he bats the arm away.
“Why would I come home with you? That's not my home, just my glorified prison. You told your apparent friends they just took my children. Not what you and father do to them. Tortured for eternity. One send to hell. For something they have not done yet. You didn’t tell the holy Avengers my trial was pure torture, forcing answers out of my throat. Using my magic as your weapon. Not like they would care. My grandson gave me the answer to where they are heading. Thank you for your help and Stark, you and Thor should start a traitor brother’s club.”
Loki pops out the same way he popped in. Disappearing in thin air. No evidence Loki was even there two seconds ago.
“What happens next? Just let it go,” said Bruce.
“Let Loki and the Peter jackass harm my brother.”
Where is my caring side coming from? Do I care for Stiles?
Steve hands on his hips, “You haven't cared about Stiles before, why now?”
“Why now, he’s in danger now.” I pace the lengthy lounge.
“Nemeton, where have I heard that before,” Thor mumbled under his breath.
“Where has Loki been since being back on earth?” said Natasha.
Rushing to a keyboard “Beacon Hills. We have to go to Beacon Hill.”
Clint piloted the quinjet, Natasha his co-pilot. Bruce on the floor cross-legged listening to music. Thor bird-eye-view over everyone else. Steve not so slyly watching me.
Sieving through Stiles history up to the dipping point ending his military career. How it ended black blob under intense firewalls. It reads trial consequence court martial. Later updated honorary discharge; the saviour should never be the fall guy. After that, no record of Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski. His code name Red had a small trail. A S.H.I.E.L.D record. Fury wanted to recruit Stiles, the file is tiny, only his code name and who he works for; Section 7.
Landing down. Lush green trees surround them. Pink turkish-delight sky sun deceasing. In the distance rooftops, a tall clock tower and rough cliff tops. Wildlife and forest surround the small town.
Wherever this nemeton, the tree of life, whatever Thor said in his scattered brain thought. Only remembering the chopped up sexy tales he flirts to women. Not that I can blame him. In my case, it’s a particular man. Biceps to life for. The American winning smile, that makes all the women swarm.
No deer or rabbits greet them. No, the boring black vehicles all the secret agencies have. The shiny, flashy, polished to an inch of its life. The only difference is the agency's name not plastered on every surface.
A tall, muscly guy with a military haircut, short and fuzzy. Straight posture, military written into his movements. “Avengers no one asks you to be here. Surprise, you didn’t bring your pal Loki with you. If you came to destroy more graves, get back into that jet. I don’t know why you are so interested in one of my guys? According to you he’s Loki's grandson.”
Straightening my posture, “I’m guessing you're the director of Sector 7. Stiles is my brother, through my father. I don’t know what’s been going on. I read about Beacon Hill's death and destruction. Mislead and secrets. Something wacky going on. My brother is right in the middle of it. Too many mysterious names. Including too many fires for a normal town. I read all this in one hour. What’s going on? Don’t cover it up. How did you know we were here so quickly?”
Other people get out of the cars joining their director. A man with a smug asshole grin hands them documents. “Sign first, then we talk. I’m Peter, by the way. Blood is not everything. You were never there for Stile, so don’t call him your brother.”
Oh my god, Stiles is going to marry this asshole. The document is a non-disclosure agreement; lawyer jargon ‘if we talk, we go to prison,’ I’m too handsome for prison.
Avengers sour faces telling the same reaction, not at all pleased about this agreement, apart from Thor puzzled not understanding what he is signing.
“I’m not signing this,” I said.
Steve standing in front and centre, “we are the Avengers; we are trustworthy, these agreements harm us, freedom of speech.”
At least we agree on something, since the great falling out.
“This is not about freedom of speech but safety. These secrets keep everyone safe. No signature. You're back in your high castle, where you rule the place.” said Peter. Making me want to punch his shiny white teeth, disliking him more.
With no other choice, they sign their lives away. Hopefully, they don’t land in hell.
“The supernatural is real: werewolves, fairy, succubus, elves. Fairytales have some truth to them. At the moment, the supernatural is in a civil war. The tellers vs secret keepers. The teller believes everything is going to be fine and tells humans the truth about the supernatural. Scott McCall, a man who understands nothing, is the leader. The secret keepers are us. The world is not ready to know. Example A: mutants the backlash they get daily. Stiles made a haven for the supernatural hidden from the rest of the world. Where people can be their true self without hiding. Most of the supernatural doesn’t want to fight, they want to live normally.”
What the heck is going on? My brother is the creator of a secret society.
He led them to a tree stump. Loki is already there, man mole kisses on his face crouching down, touches the stump, eyes glazed, or he is just drugged up. Seeing something they can’t see. Painfully collapses and seizes up. Mumbling, unheard words.
“Stiles.” Peter runs up to the stranger, clutches onto him. Supporting his head. Stiles’s head.
This is his brother. In pain. Seizing up. Mumbling gibberish. Black lines travel down Peter’s arm and the pain vanishes from Stiles. Loki kneels near Stiles stroking his hair. Am I meant to feel more? Icicles wrapping my heart, literal stranger, they have a piece of you inside them.