2014.02.14 - The Enemy of My Enemy is My Enemy's Enemy

"Your eyes wouldn't hurt so much if you'd just TRANSLATE! FASTER!' Each yelled word is punctuated by the downward strike of an honest to goodness riding crop. "I didn't pay your way through college so that you could TRANSLATE! SLOWLY!' More strikes from the riding crop.
The man who is being struck in the back of the head with a riding crop appears to be dead set on taking his punishment without offering complaint. Sure, it might sting a bit, but it's pretty mild on the spectrum of possible punishments that could be inflicted. He is hunched over a book that is extremely ancient, looking at the various characters through a magnifying glass. "Yes Herr Skull. I am working as quickly as I can. If you would simply allow me to scan the pages, I could have the Asgardian translated in a matter of hours."
This idea obviously doesn't strike the man with the riding crop as a particularly good one. But then, calling him a 'man' might be a bit inaccurate. He can't be much older than fourteen. The skinny, freckle-faced ginger kid is nonetheless a rather ferocious sight to behold at the moment. With his recently-shorn hair in Hitler Youth fashion, and decked out in tailored Hugo Boss, he looks every bit the caricature of an evil yuppie. "Scan the pages? So that some hacker can download them and find the secrets before I do? That's the WORST! IDEA! EVER!" If he's not careful, the young man might start working up a sweat.
Such are the goings on in the basement of Red Skull's new Italian Safe House. The entire room has been converted into a library/repository room for occult objects. Books and objects line the walls, while a handful of scholarly-looking men study in dank, dimly-lit conditions.
Wasn't it just in the news lately? If one follows such things that the language called 'Jotunvillur code' has finally been decoded. Apparently there was a 'Rosetta Stone' sort of writing found with simply names upon them. But, it seems the Norse truly enjoyed codes... as one they found had the sassy 'Kiss me' written.
Upon hearing the news, Loki's response was simply... a smile. Nothing more.
Now, in Italy, it seems that there are more secrets, more codes to be deciphered, and it's not being done by the 'scholars of the day'. No... it's being done by men seeking greater truths that are buried in Asgardian texts. And it is that one text, oddly enough, that calls to the Prince of Asgard in exile, Loki formerly Odinson. It matters not when or how such a tome surfaced, but Loki's been on the hunt for things that belonged to him yesterday, last year, last century or last millennium.
In the blink of an eye, Loki stands there where he hadn't been before, the God of Chaos and Deception himself. In the flesh. Or rather, it looks as if he's in the flesh anyway. He wears his gold and green leather outfit, seemingly unarmed. Turning about, he makes no remark to anyone until his gaze lands upon the tome in question. There and then, a ghost of a smile appears.
"There it is..."
When you work for the leader of a vast criminal empire, you're used to having large men stand at the doors to keep unwanted visitors away. So it's with some consternation that one of the scholars notices an uninvited guest simply 'appearing' in the heavily-fortified building. "It's SHIELD! We've been found!" The man immediately begins to run for the door, before realizing that this is a sure way to get shot if there are in fact agents surrounding the compound. So he simply lifts his hands and drops to his knees.
"Ach, Christus! Have some dignity! Can't you see that this man has no interest in arresting anyone?" Whatever Red Skull's faults might be, scaring easily has never been counted among them. "From the look of him, he's probably into bondage though, eh Hubert?" Hubert nervously chuckles from his kneeling position on the floor.
"You're probably safe Hubert. Fritz, on the other hand, looks like a little Weihnachtself! More this gentleman's type..." Fritz also laughs, with forced nervousness.
"I'm sure you'll excuse me, sir or madam, just taking the pisse." Johann adds some emphasis to the German 'pisse.' "You obviously assume that you won't be killed immediately, or you would not have wandered into my den like a little lost lamm. So I will allow you to explain your presence very quickly, or I shall strike you very roughly with my riding crop!" The young man's voice becomes quite stern, his blue eyes burning like heavily-cliched cinders.
Loki looks around the room once again, and as the scholar begins a run to the door, in his hand appears a rather large stick. His wrath is stayed, however, with the fact the man is on his knees, hands in the air with supplication. The Asgardian doesn't miss a beat before he steps forward and points towards the book, only to have it rise from its spot on the desk.
"I am Loki."
Looking around the room once again, the book settles into his hand before he commands to those around, "KNEEL before your god as this one does."
Spinning around, the Asgardian advances on the stern young man, his eyes dark and flashing, but there's a smile on his face that is completely devoid of humor. "Will you. Roughly? Oh," and here, he begins to shake his head, "Oh, I don't think so..."
"I am unimpressed."
As introductions go, it could be less descriptive. The young man smacks the palm of his hand with the riding crop, as if to strike home the point. "Still, I suppose you could always prove such an outrageous claim with relative ease. I don't suppose you have a drivers license? Perhaps a passport? Or perhaps you could simply translate that book for me?" He points toward the book with his now-overused riding crop, while still keeping his eyes fixed on the intruder. Much like a shark, he's a boss at staring contests.
About half of the scholars in the room appear to be just about to comply with the fancy wizard's commands, but a disgusted look around the room makes them freeze in mid-kneel. Talk about a quandary, neither of these men are really the sorts you want to piss off.
"Surely such a task would be well within your capabilities, if you are an Asgardian rather than a comically-attired charlatan."
Those poor men, half up and half down. Loki's smile doesn't change, doesn't lift from the lad before those scholars find themselves forced upon their knees without even a glance from the Asgardian. A soft 'heh' exits the man, and he cants his head, brows rising.
Now in hand, Loki looks at his book and shuts it with a firm *thwap* before his gaze moves out to him who dares question. "I could bring this castle down, burying you all within it." With those words, the castle begins to shake from its foundation, but nothing but *pffts* of dust falls as he causes it to cease. "But where is the fun in that. I try not to kill my loyal subjects... immediately." Now, Loki begins to circle, finding those little ways to amuse himself. In the blink of an eye, the tomes on the wall fall out and the pages begin to tear and exchange places with others. It'll take some time for sorting. "You can't read that because it is Aesir. The language of the Gods. And this book is mine." Strolling back, his voice lowers to a whisper as he makes to lean and seemingly impart some grand wisdom that only Red Skull can hear, "And I'm not telling," is enunciated.
"Very well then."
The man drops the riding crop and shrugs away from the the Frost Giant. As he walks away, Johann produces a well-used Walther P38, which no doubt fits much better in his recently-shrunk hands than his old C96. He raises the pistol, and his men begin screaming.
Within a very few seconds, everyone in the room is dead, aside from the Red Skull and his new guest/thief.
"Your antics have cost me several fortunes, Asgardian." Technically, he's the one who just shot all of his very expensive scholars and got their blood all over priceless artifacts, but surely he felt he had good reason. "I will not allow my employees to live after witnessing me tolerate such a brazen display." The smells of gunpowder and blood mingle, saturating the room with copper and sulfur. "Now, you will either offer me remuneration, or you will leave immediately with your effeminate little book of secrets." He's only lashing out because his feelings are hurt.
Loki looks unimpressed with the display of what some would call 'cold blooded murder'. It simply doesn't faze him in the least, other than the lost potential of knowing what they did just before their death. He snorts a soft laugh and shrugs, "The All-Father," the words are a sneer before he continues, "will probably have them welcomed to the Halls. Somehow it'll be my fault they died."
Which, obviously, Red seconds.
"Remuneration. For a book that is mine." Loki chuckles again and shakes his head before he turns his back on the lad to study the shelves. "I will give you one thing," he begins again, his tones sounding conversational. "Your curiosity. And your unflinching resolve."
Now, Loki turns back around and there is his humorless smile once more. "Work with me. In return, you will gain knowledge that you couldn't begin to imagine." And he'll gain Midgard as a stepping stone to Asgard.
"I think you'll find it very difficult to test the limits of my imagination. For example, right now I'm imagining all the pesky details that you've left out. It's a rather exhaustive list, but here is what I imagine you meant."
The Walther is replaced in its holster underneath Skull's jacket, and the youth straigtens his fashion-forward yuppie tie. "You mean that you'll want me, the leader of an empire of no small consequence, to do favors for you. In return, you'll grant me baubles that you've no more use for. You'll forgive me if I don't leap about like a schulmädchen at the prospect of being the errand boy of a god whose legitimacy I heavily question."
"Let us, perhaps, leave the realm of imagination behind us, and discuss facts like adult men. What is it, precisely, that you want from me, and what is it, precisely, that you'll give me in exchange?"
"The leader of an empire, and you can't hire the best minds of your realm for a book." Loki spares a glance at the bodies as the blood pools stop growing and begin to darken. A soft 'heh' sounds and instead of pacing, the God of Chaos strides forward those couple of steps to perch on the edge of study table.
"The leader of an empire of no small consequence to aid the God of Chaos, and of no small consequence."
With a wave of his hand, it appears that the pair are transported a million miles away. All around is dark, and beneath their feet is an expanse of 'road', lit with brilliant hues of all the colors of the rainbow. The Bifrost. Loki is on his feet now, and he appears in his armour, resplendant in green and gold, with his great horn'ed helm upon his head, sword in hand. To look one direction or the other, shows an infinite number of stars. As an aid, with a wave of his hand, Loki brings the worlds to view. Midgard. Vanaheim. Jotunheim...
In the next potentially dizzying second, the basement library is once again in full view, and the Asgardian is back in his green and gold leathers. "I want an army to keep those pesky Avengers away and in return, I will give you one book of mine. Of my choosing."
For a moment, Johann looks like his head might very well explode. However, what he says is "Sehr... psychedelische. Your ability to conjure tricks is not debatable, that much is certain." Once again, he straightens his yuppie tie, and adjusts the hair he still hasn't grown accustomed to having yet. "What you ask for is an expensive proposition. Any army I would send against the Avengers would be certainly destroyed. I hear they have a Hulk. The costs just don't outweigh the potential benefits. But I think a compromise can be reached there."
It's perhaps refreshing to see that even though he's been given an updated look, Red Skull still isn't afraid to indulge his audience (even an audience of one) with an old-school monologue. "You see, I have certain personal reasons for wishing to see the Avengers humbled, if not utterly destroyed. And for that, you don't need an army. An army would just strengthen them, defeating the army would grant them public approval. This is not in my interests."
"Nein. To deal with the Avengers, you don't need an army at all. You just need a Red Skull."
"My brother is in the Avengers," Loki reminds him. "If you don't believe in me, you'll never defeat Thor."
The Prince of Asgard in exile is willing to listen, however. This goal is apparently a shared one. While not stated thusly, The enemy of my enemy is my friend works in this case.
"They have a Hulk." Some... thing that he's personally gone against. "The creature can be manipulated, but only away from its friends." Been there, did that. "Though care must be given as to where and when it is set off."
Sliding off the edge of his perch, Loki begins his pacing, the book not reappearing since their seeming 'return'. "The others.."
He's intrigued, however, by the assured-ness in Red Skull's tones. Loki is willing to hear this ... lad through, and brows rise. "Then we are agreed on a common goal."
"Yes, I believe I can work with you. You'll forgive me if I don't shake hands though, this is a new body and I don't want to get germs on it." His reservations don't appear to extend to blood and gunpowder residue, but human hypocrisy is probably not a shocking revelation to the Asgardian trickster.
"You will, of course, need to leave me some method of contacting you. I'm sure you aren't a twitter subscriber."
Loki has no intention of shaking hands, regardless. He always has a weapon in hand, and the 'peace offering' is laughable at best. "Think nothing of it," is said evenly. Straightening after his brief cross to the bookshelves, the Asgardian rolls his shoulders and coughs in his hand. "I don't carry a .. cell phone. My apprentice does, however. Rain, her name is. She can find me. Or, conversely, all you have to do is shout my name. We're pretty good at hearing that sort of call." Thor hears it, after all. Heimdall too.
With a ghost of a smile, Loki simply vanishes. There is nothing to mark his departure; no sound, no scent, no light even. Nothing. Gone.
A thousand miles away, the silent and still body of Loki Laufeyson suddenly jerks, the recall of his 'spirit' jarring as it re-enters his body. Taking a deep breath, the Prince takes stock of his surroundings before he begins to laugh.
Category:Log