by C. Gockel
Steve is barely listening. In front of him, the man’s features are morphing, changing, becoming painfully...perfect. “I will die an elf!” the man says.
Steve’s eyes widen. The man raises a leg, trying to kick Steve’s body away. Steve’s instincts take over quickly. Hands still on the man’s shirt collar, Steve pivots away from the kick and uses his momentum, and his assailant’s imbalance, to slam the man onto the floor face first. He has the elf’s arm behind his back a moment later. It takes all his self-control to keep from breaking it.
He blinks down as the elf lets out a cry of pain. “This man isn’t combat trained,” he says, almost to himself. Also, the guy doesn’t seem to be clawing out his eyes in an effort to get to Cera. The elf Brett shot is whimpering on the ground, knee bent at an impossible angle. An AK-47 that looks heavy and ancient lies just out of reach.
“No, he is not,” Thor rumbles. The big man has two elves, one with skin dark brown, another golden, dead or unconscious, at his feet. “It will make them easier to break.”
The elf beneath Steve shudders. In frustration, Steve yanks up on his arm just a little. The elf makes a wail that’s so plaintive Steve looks down. He wants to say something derisive...but doesn’t. Steve has caught insurgents before, he expects a look of insolence, and maybe pride. The man below him shows neither of these emotions, he just looks terrified.
Over his headset someone says, “They’re retreating from headquarters—fires are receding!”
And then Jameson’s voice comes over the line. “Rogers, I’ll need you for debriefing. Bring Thor.”
Cursing, Steve taps his headset. “Yes, sir. On my way.” Turning to Brett and Bryant he says, “I’ll call for medical. Thor, my superior wants a word with you.”
Thor snorts. “Superior how?”
Steve tilts his head but doesn’t answer. Instead he pulls the elf beneath him up by the back of the collar. “You’re with me, too.” Ducking his head, the elf scrambles to his feet, staying as far away from Thor as possible.
A few minutes later, the three of them step through the security door that leads into ADUO’s office, blinking in the bright light of blown out windows. Outside Steve hears the sound of fire trucks and choppers. Around them cubicles are smoking, but there are no more flames.
Rounding a corner, Hernandez catches Steve’s eyes. His pistol is still drawn, but he looks calm. “Sir! We’re setting up an emergency conference. You’re wanted immediately in the cafeteria.”
“Why not meet in one of the magically shielded rooms?” Steve asks.
Hernandez shakes his head. “The Promethean wire wasn’t affected by the flames, but there was structural damage in the rooms where we had the wire set up. It isn’t working anymore, and the rooms aren’t safe.”
Beside him the elf starts to breathe heavily.
“Gerðr?” says Steve.
“Sedated and being taken to the special aircraft built for Loki.”
A chopper passing low drowns out nearly all the sound in the room. “What’s going on?” Steve asks. In the distance Steve hears the wail of fire engines.
Hernandez’s jaw tightens. “The flames here just all of a sudden snuffed out, but before they did they managed to create real fires in the surrounding block—and panic. People saw the green flames, and CNN speculated it was a chemical attack. The governor called in the National Guard—and somehow the press decided that there was an official pronouncement to evacuate the Loop. The mayor is furious, so is Jameson.”
So is Steve. Grabbing the elf by the collar, he steers him to the window and forces the man to look out with him. People are streaming out of buildings, walking on the sidewalks, and between cars stuck in the middle of the street, honking their horns.
Still...Steve’s head tilts. It is not as bad as he imagined. He sees people helping people; the crowd is a slow-moving river, not a furious torrent. He glances down at his watch. It’s been an hour since the fighting began. He’s read that the longer a crisis goes on, the more likely humans are to be civilized—but he’s never seen it.
The elf beside Steve lets out a sharp breath. Steve looks at him. His eyes are wide and fearful as he stares at the crowd below. His mouth opens as though he might say something, but then Thor grunts and the elf’s mouth closes with a snap.
“Come on,” Steve says, and the four of them, Thor, Hernandez, the elf and Steve head towards the cafeteria. They’re just about to go in when they run into Laura Stodgill, talking hurriedly on her phone. She looks alright, though she’s holding her shoes in her hand. She isn’t combat trained. Steve’s jaw tightens as he meets her eyes. Before he has a chance to ask the question on his mind, Stodgill answers it for him. Putting the phone down, she says, “I can’t find Lewis. I’m trying to see if some of the security footage is still intact.”
Beneath Steve’s hand, he feels the elf tremble. He hasn’t made a move to escape since they’ve dragged him up out of the tunnels. To Hernandez Steve says, “Watch him.” To Stodgill he says, “Find out what you can.”
She nods and Steve turns to Thor. He is watching Stodgill thoughtfully. With a raised eyebrow he meets Steve’s gaze. Together they walk into the cafeteria. Jameson is standing beside a righted table. On it sits a cell phone. Around him are some of the his guys from D.C.
“Steve Rogers reporting, Sir,” Steve says.
“And I am Thor Odinson,” says Thor in deep bellowing tones. “Son of Odin, King of Asgard and official emissary from that realm.”
Steve tilts his head. Didn’t Steve’s two feathered minders, official envoys of Odin, berate Thor for being here? He casts a speculative glance at Thor. The big man pointedly ignores him.
“Agent Steve Rogers and...Thor...Odinson,” says a voice over the phone which Steve recognizes instantly as the Director of the FBI. “We’ve been waiting to speak with you. The president is on the line. As are the joint chiefs of staff.”
Steve freezes.
Someone, voice garbled, says, “I want to cut to the chase. Belarus, Ukraine, and Russia are all pushing us to give these guys the full rights accorded to the Geneva convention. Any idea why?”
“No, sir,” says Jameson.
Steve knows instantly. “They were armed with AK-47s, ancient ones. They’re buying old Soviet tech.”
There is a moment of silence. Steve thinks he hears whispers on the other end. And then someone says, “We’ve known that based on the ballistics reports from the vehicle the girl took to Alfheim. The question is, what are they offering these countries in exchange that’s so valuable?”
Steve tenses at mention of the ballistics report he hadn’t had access to.
Beside him, he hears Jameson shuffle nervously. Jameson had access to the reports and he hadn’t answered the damn question. Steve shifts on his feet, too, and his nails bite into his fists in frustration.
Steve is asked a few more questions. It’s just a dry recitation of what Steve has and has not seen until someone on the other end of the line says, “Agent Rogers, you’ve gone on record publicly saying that attempting to capture Loki was a waste of resources and bound to be unsuccessful.”
Another voice says dryly, “Apparently you were right. Those were resources we could have used to predict this attack.”
Steve restrains a grim smile, but then Jameson steps forward. “Mr. President, we know that Loki has associated with the dark elves before. He told Miss Lewis as much during their trip to Alfheim. He’s behind this attack!”
Steve tilts his head. It isn’t a bad theory. It doesn’t feel quite right, though...
Thor snorts. “Loki wouldn’t have anything to offer them in exchange for their cooperation.”
Steve feels himself straighten.
“But it is possible?” someone else says.
“It’s unlikely,” says Thor.
“But right now it’s the only scenario we have to go on,” someone else says.
A woman’s voice snaps, “Yes, and attitudes like that had us chasing Osama Bi
n Laden in caves!”
There’s a moment of silence so deep it’s obvious they’ve been put on mute, and then the woman’s voice comes over the line again, “I can’t believe I’m asking you this, Mr. Odinson, but are the dark elves from Svartálfaheimr or Alfheim?”
Thor tilts his head. “Svartálfaheimr is the land of the dwarfs. Although, in some of your mythologies I believe you’ve confused dark elves and the dwarfs. It is understandable. Both are dishonorable creatures.”
“Dishonorable? How precisely?” says the woman.
Thor snorts. “The elves of the dark lands are there because they’ve betrayed their queen. They fight among themselves in a perpetual state of war. Svartálfaheimr is practically run by merchants...if it weren’t for Asgard’s protection, the Svartálfaheimr nobility would be overrun.”
Steve can almost hear the questioner sucking in a breath. “I see,” she says, and even over the crackling line Steve can hear the woman’s tightened jaw.
“This line of questioning is taking us nowhere,” says another voice on the line.
There are some more questions directed at Steve. Besides the insight into where the elves are getting weapons, Steve notes they don’t discuss anything Thor could not have picked up from direct observation. The president thanks Thor and says something about “continued cooperation between our realms” and then Thor and Steve are dismissed—Steve’s given no clear direction beyond “get some sleep.”
Steve bristles as he leaves Jameson behind. Is Steve not trusted because he suggested the FBI work with Loki? Is he Thor’s babysitter? He’s glad they’re not trying to arrest Thor—but very curious as to why not. What do they know that Steve doesn’t?
With these thoughts in mind, he heads down the hall towards his office. Steve and Thor round a corner. Just before they reach their destination they nearly plow into Hernandez. The agent has the elf in handcuffs and is guiding him none-too-gently towards the exit.
“Where are you taking him?” Steve asks.
“All captured insurgents not in medical are being rounded up and put on the same flight as Gerðr,” Hernandez says.
At just that moment Stodgill steps out of her office. “Agent Rogers, I got word from the surveillance guys. Lewis headed into the service hallway just as the attack began...there was a fire in the stairwell, she would have been trapped...” She swallows. “There’s nothing on the tapes of her ever coming out.”
“Amy,” says the elf.
All eyes shoot to their captive. “What did you just say?” Steve says.
The elf swallows. “I met her in Alfheim, with my wife. She took pity on us and offered to bring us to earth...”
“And now she’s dead,” says Hernandez.
Steve finds himself taking a step closer to the elf, his hands balling into fists at his side. He isn’t sure who he is angrier at —the elf, or himself. Steve put Amy in the line of fire, didn’t he? His chin dips, and he can feel the side of his lip drawing up....of course it was the elves that fired.
The elf draws back.
A heavy hand falls on Steve’s shoulder. “Easy, Rogers. Do not punish this man for a death that you do not know has happened,” says Thor.
Steve blinks and exhales a breath, his rational mind kicking in.
“What are you talking about?” says Hernandez, eyes on Thor, shaking the elf roughly. “You heard what Agent Stodgill said! There was no way for Amy to escape.”
Steve swears he can see a vein in Thor’s forehead throb. “Loki heard her. And Loki achieves impossible things,” Thor says, his voice between a snarl and a whisper.
At that moment, Steve’s, Stodgill’s and Hernandez’s phones buzz simultaneously. Phone already out, Stodgill taps a button. “It’s an email from Amy.”
Steve holds out a hand; without being asked, Stodgill hands over her phone. He looks down at the email. It says simply, Loki got me out. Am okay. Amy
She sent it to just about everyone in the office she associates with.
Thor’s hand thumps Steve’s shoulders. “See!”
Handing Stodgill’s phone back, Steve says, “Have Brett and Bryant trace the IP address.”
“Yes, sir!” she says.
Steve scowls. In human myths Loki was able to accomplish what even Odin couldn’t pull off—but he wasn’t just the “god of lost causes,” he was the god of treachery as well. He remembers Jameson’s theory about Loki being behind the attacks. Loki’s excellent at computer programming. Hacking Amy’s personal account would probably take him all of a few minutes. But would he make the effort to lie about something like this?
From down the hall come shouts. Steve’s phone starts buzzing.
Picking up, he says, “Rogers here.” His jaw tenses as he listens. “I’m on it.”
Turning to the elf he says, “There are trolls on Lower Wacker Drive. Know anything about it?”
Eyes wide, the elf shakes his head. “We have nothing to do with it!”
Glaring at the elf, Steve says, “We still are going to talk.” But for now Steve has a green killing machine with re-attachable limbs and a bullet proof hide to deal with. ADUOs dealt with plenty of trolls in the past, but never when the city was in such a state of chaos.
Turning, Steve heads down the hallway. Behind him Thor laughs. “Ah, where Loki is there is always fine adventure!”
The glee in the giant man’s laugh makes the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end.
x x x x
“How can you restrict our access to Midgard on pretense that the Aesir do the same? Your own son is there on a regular basis!” The dwarven delegate draws himself up to his full height. He comes to just below Loki’s chest, but his girth is formidable. “I hear he is there even now.” The dwarf looks pointedly at the empty throne beside Frigga and Odin.
There are murmurs through the great hall.
Standing behind the royal family, Loki raises an eyebrow. At last someone says it.
Odin’s voice takes on the distant tone it does when he speaks of Baldur. “My son is there on official business, he hears prayers...”
Loki’s hands tighten into fists. Lately, Baldur’s presence has been requested on Earth more and more. Christianity has been on the rise in the places where the Aesir were once the only gods. Where the religions intersect, Baldur is often summoned. Although Baldur is not the god who turns the other cheek, he is confused with him. Perhaps because the Christ the Christians speak of is also the son of an all-father figure?
Snapping him from his reverie, the dwarf says, “Official business? Is that what you call it?” Loki snorts quietly. Baldur uses his time on Midgard to do other things beyond answer prayers.
Around the room the Aesir tilt their heads. Loki hears someone whisper, “The dwarf king covets Baldur for his daughter’s hand.”
The dwarfs in the retinue behind the delegate bristle. One of the delegate’s eyebrows shoot up. Loki knows there have been no official overtures for a union between the dwarf princess and Asgard’s heir. The dwarfs know an offer would be scorned. They are viewed as lesser beings.
Odin waves a weary hand in Loki’s direction. Odin has been weary a lot of late, and if Loki tries to bring up Niflheim, he just grows wearier. As Loki leans down, Odin says, “Loki, show our distinguished guests to their quarters in the East Wing.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Loki says, delivering the honorific with a smirk. Lately Odin has been insisting on more respect in public. Loki steps off the dais where the throne stands and walks towards the dwarfs still glaring at Odin.
Bowing, Loki says, “Your distinguished—”
And then he hears a feminine voice that is a whisper, and yet carries above all the murmurs in the great hall. “Help me! If any of you have any mercy, help me!” The desperation in the plea is so obvious, Loki feels breathless.
“Are we under attack?” Loki shouts, spinning around.
In the corner of his eye he sees Thor pull out Mjolnir. Voices rise in the great hall. Odin’s voice
rings out, “Silence! Heimdall?”
The gatekeeper steps forward. “We are under no attack, my Lord.”
But the woman’s voice rises again. “I have pledged my heart to Hothur!”
A man’s voice rises with the woman’s. “If there be justice between gods and men, call off your Golden Son or give me the means to fight him honorably!”
Loki looks around the room. Everyone is staring at him, no one appears to hear the voices. And then it hits Loki. “Prayers,” he whispers. “I hear prayers.”
Gasping, Loki’s eyes go wide. His legs fall out from under him. He feels like laughing.
Someone in the great hall shouts. “And what are the prayers requesting, fool?”
“Loki’s so pretty in women’s clothing; maybe someone wants him as their wife!” says someone else in the hall. Normally, Loki would have a witty rejoinder at the tip of his tongue but all he can do is sit on the floor, biting back his smile.
“He is not lying!” says the dwarf, holding a small glowing circular amulet in his hands. The laughter becomes more subdued snickers. “There is magic in the air.” The dwarf lifts his eyes to Odin. “If prayers are the reason you allow your son to go to Midgard, you must send your fool, too.”
“No!” says Frigga.
For a long moment there is silence in the great hall. And then on the throne, Odin sighs heavily. “Loki, you may go.”
As Loki gets shakily to his feet, Heimdall says, “I shall go with him.”
“As shall I,” says Thor.
“No,” says Odin as Loki staggers to the door. “This is Loki’s task. Thor and Heimdall, the good dwarf and I have been discussing instability among Svartheimer’s merchant class. Now would be a good time to turn Heimdall’s eyes and Thor’s strategies to avoiding such an unfortunate development.”
Loki doesn’t question the sudden change in schedule, he just makes a break for the door.
Not an hour later, the Bifrost deposits Loki on one of Midgard’s Northern continents. It is night-time, but the moon is full. As soon as his feet touch earth he hears the woman’s prayers again. “I know my father has promised me to your Golden Son, please forgive me.”
