//------------------------------// // Best Laid Plans, Part 2 // Story: A Tale of Two Worlds // by The King of Gingers //------------------------------// Four heroes stood in the same room near the apex of Stark Tower. Bruce Banner sat in a chair, his arms held tight around his chest. Tony Stark stood behind his bar, pouring himself a drink. Steve Rogers listened attentively some feet away from Thor of Asgard as the demigod related his findings. "We have discovered Loki's location." Thor looked at each friend in turn, trying to gauge their reactions. "He is far outside of the Nine Realms, on a world no Asgardian has encountered." "There's something that's been bothering me," Steve said. He pulled his helmet off, brushing a hand through his blonde hair. "Loki was rotting away in your prison for almost a year before he broke out. From how quickly it happened, it's clear he could have done it at any time." Steve pointed at Thor. "He's your brother, and you know he never does anything without a reason. So why right then? What happened?" Thor shifted uncomfortably. "I do not know. Loki's mind has become a mystery to all of us." "The only mystery here," Tony snarked, "is why we're still here and not halfway across the universe already." He downed the last of his drink. "I mean, who knows what kind of trouble he's causing." Steve reset his helmet. Tony reached into his pocket to fetch the remote control for his suit. Bruce was the only one of the quartet who had nothing interrogative or flippant to say. He hunched forward in his chair, his face pale and drawn. "There is a problem with that," Thor said. He crossed his arms and leaned back, avoiding eye contact with his fellow warriors. "What the problem?" Banner's smile was pained. His voice sounded hoarse and phlegmy. "Run out of gas?" "You've been hanging around Tony too much, Dr. Banner." Steve shook his head as he unhooked the safety strap on his pistol holster. He pulled out his 9mm sidearm and checked the safety before dropping the magazine from the grip to see if it was full. "There is a problem with the Bifrost." Thor's words stopped everyone in their tracks. Tony stood next to his armor to stare back at the Asgardian. Steve holstered his sidearm. "I am a warrior," Thor continued. "Not a craftsman. However, the only two who can use the tool needed to rebuild the Bifrost are myself and my father. He has been taken by the Odinsleep, so I was the only one who could build it." "Yeah," Tony volunteered. He activated his armor and stepped into it as it blossomed open like a flower. "We understand, it's not your fault. So what's the problem?" His faceplate slapped shut and the HUD for his suit turned on. "The Bifrost does not have the capabilities needed to get us directly to Loki." Thor sighed, shaking his head. "Heimdall is not even sure the old Bifrost would be able to make a leap of this distance. However Loki got there himself, we have not yet been able to figure it out." "So what," Banner spat through coughs. "So you come all the way here to tell us Loki's gotten away?" "Glad I didn't polish this thing." Tony chuckled. He walked into the circle of friends clad in his armor, the servos of his suit whirring rhythmically. Thor smirked. "I think I liked things better when humans had more faith in their gods." "God. Singular." Steve set his hands on his belt and looked at his two human compatriots. "I do agree with Thor, though. He wouldn't have come down here without a plan." Tony's faceplate lifted up. "So what is the plan, big man?" "Before we get too far into this," Banner interjected, "I need to say this: I can't come." Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him as he sat hunched in his chair. Holding his arms close to his body, he looked frigid despite the pall of sweat covering his pale forehead. "Come on, big guy," Tony challenged in a light, breezy manner. He walked over to his friend and leaned down to put a hand on his shoulder. "We need you in on this. We're already down two members with Romanov and Barton out." "Tony, I have to agree with Banner on this." Steve pursed his lips in contemplation. "He doesn't look in a good way." "I also must agree," Thor added. "The Bifrost is a trying mode of transportation for mortals, even in the best of times." "Steve, Thor, c'mon." Tony stood up. His metal boots clanked heavily as he made his way over to the Asgardian and the soldier. Sparing a glance for Bruce, he lowered his voice and spoke. "We need him on this. For insurance." "Insurance?" Steve crossed his arms. "Look, I'm just a man in a can." Tony pressed a hand to his breastplate before reaching out to give Steve's shoulder a good slap. "And you, well, you're the pinnacle of human achievement. But you're still human." "Am I not standing here?" Thor's face bore the suggestion of a smirk. "You're his brother," Tony countered. "I'm sorry, but if worse comes to worse, we can't trust you to do what needs to be done. Come on guys, it hasn't been that long. Don't you remember?" Tony tapped a finger against his temple. "Both of you went toe-to-toe with Loki the last time. He walked away from each fight. The only one to take him out of the game was the Hulk." Tony turned and pointed at Bruce. "He's our insurance." Bruce had bent over, hands on his head, trying to rub away a migraine that was threatening to shut out everything. "You're right, Tony," he whispered. "Except for one thing: I had some control over the other guy last time." Tilting his head back, he looked up at his three friends. His throat clenched as guilt and fear fought a bloody battle deep inside him. "If he gets out again, I'm not sure I'll have any control." Tony reached up and wiped a hand down his face in barely-disguised frustration. He walked the short distance over to his friend and went down to one knee, grabbing Bruce's shoulder. "Look, I know I'm not asking you to go on a stroll in Central Park here, but we don't know what we're walking into here." Bruce brushed that hand off. "You don't understand, Tony. I still don't get a suit of armor." He sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow. "You never understood. Every night I go to sleep hoping I don't wake up in a strange place with the realization that I may have killed hundreds of people." Bruce stuck an accusatory finger onto the arc reactor humming in Tony's chest. "When you know that feeling, then you can ask me to take a risk like this." Steve and Thor exchanged a quick glance. For once, Tony found himself without a quick line or rebuttal. After a few seconds' time, he sighed and stood. "All right, then. Come see us off, at least?" His faceplate slapped down and his voice came out in a flat, modulated tone. "I might have a bottle of champagne you could smash against my head if it will make you feel better." The tension that had been building between the four men fizzled and evaporated with that one line. In spite of his condition, Bruce laughed. In a brief respite, his laughter didn't descend into a coughing fit. Tony offered him a hand and Bruce accepted, rising from his chair to follow the other three Avengers out onto the balcony. "Heimdall!" Thor ordered into the sky. "Ready yourself!" Steve and Tony followed Thor into the intricate scrying circle burned into the metallic balcony. Bruce stood a few feet apart, his arms crossed against the chill wind that whipped through the New York City skyline. "We must remain perfectly still," Thor explained. He turned around in the circle, facing his two traveling companions. "The Bifrost will lock onto our bodies here on Earth and then send us towards Loki's hiding place. But, again, we must remain still." His face was set as stone, trying his best to communicate the gravitas of the situation. "Any movement could cause disastrous results." "Disastrous?" Steve took his place in the circle, setting his thumbs in his belt. "Define 'disastrous'." "You might end up going beyond the world and into its star, or ending up fused with the foliage of the world itself." Thor spread his hands, as if to apologize for the possibility. "I love this plan. I'm excited to be a part of it." Tony looked between his friends, then back at Bruce. He turned around again and set his suit in place, artificial muscles tightening to keep his body as motionless as a statue. "Let's do it." "You know, I finally watched that movie," Steve revealed. "Oh good," Tony responded. "It would just kill me to think these references were flying over your head." All of the men in the circle shared a laugh in the face of danger. None of them felt a pair of eyes on them from a building due north. ----------------------------- Batroc cursed. He set his binoculars down, reaching a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow. Resetting the binoculars in front of his squinted eyes he cursed again. There Banner stood, along with three other members of the Avengers. Damn it all, he thought. Why couldn't it have been the rich boy and the two assassins? Batroc sat back on his haunches, the percentages and chances playing around in his head. He didn't have long to mull over his options before the clouds above coalesced into a dark, coiling mass. Lightning and thunder preceded an opening of the heavens through which a slender column of light descended. It struck Stark's balcony and held there, obscuring the four men from Batroc's side. More curses followed. The decision taken out of his hand, he jerked equipment from his bag and began a hasty, haphazard assembly process. He strapped the finished pack firmly to his shoulders where it hummed to life on engines powered by the same Arc technology that ran through all of Stark's machines. He slung another pack around his chest, tying it down and giving it a tug to make sure it was secure. In a flourish Batroc produced a tube-shaped launcher. He hefted it onto shoulder and aimed upwards in a five degree arc. The tube's pressurized air produced a hard, low rush as it violently ejected its cargo. Thick, black cabling hurtled across the gap at hundreds of miles an hour, the tip attached to a wicked spiked spear. As the line began to pull taut, Batroc swiftly attached the hook of his back-mounted jet pack to it. ----------------------------- The speartip sailed over the four Avengers, the sound of its passing lost to the whistling high-altitude winds. Standing just outside the column was Bruce, who kept his arms around himself both for comfort as well as that nervous habit that had developed in months past. His three friends stood in the transportation circle, stock still and awaiting their teleportation to that distant world. The sound of metal breaking glass barely cut through the bone-chilling wind and the electric ululations of the Bifrost's column. The spear tip sailed through an office several stories above the balcony, slamming into the wall opposite and embedding itself several feet deep. The hair on Bruce's back stood on end, and from deep within he could hear the other cry screaming. His pulse quickened, and for a second he heard a note in the Hulk's screams that was seldom there: it was trying to warn him of something. Bruce looked left, then right. Nothing seemed amiss, and yet that fundamental sense of wrongness remained. The pit of his stomach crawled around in on itself, twisting in fleshy knots as the other guy smashed through the walls of his mind; bellowing, hollering, screaming, and making a general nuisance of himself. Something sharp hit his head. He hissed a breath through his teeth and slapped a hand down over his scalp as the missile clattered a few feet in front of him. It was a piece of glass, about half the size of his fist and trailing blood in its wake. His own hand returned with some of that same red liquid. More glass followed, inciting him to duck and step back into the relative safety of the small overhang behind him. The screams of the Hulk intensified and a cold sweat oozed its way across his body, like the touch of an unwanted lover. Bruce craned his neck back to look straight up and his eyes came to focus on a thick, black cable running through a broken window several stories up. Tony's HUD lit up. "Sir," Jarvis warned, "perimeter breach due north." The shooting started an instant afterwards. Bruce shifted his gaze north, his vision assaulted by something that shouldn't have been. A figure flew through the air with a backpack that spewed blue fire, riding that zipline and putting down a withering hail of gunfire on his three friends. The other guy pressed at the barriers of Bruce's mind, screaming to get out. For a long, tense, shameful moment, he was tempted to let him out. The figure targeted Thor and Captain America almost exclusively. The Asgardian's thick skin deflected every bullet that his spinning hammer did not. Steve rolled out of the way of the first fusillade, bringing his shield to bear and crouching behind it. Bullets pranged off that Vibranium sanctuary, making his body shiver with every impact. "Remain still!" Thor called out, even as he worked to throw those bullets off their intended course. "Bit late for that," Tony quipped. His suit whined to life and he raised an arm at the invader. The repulsor in his palm spun up, targeting sensors capturing Batroc in an instant. A second before he fire, his HUD caught a bogey flying from the assailant. It was tiny, almost the size of a half-dollar, and before Tony could react it impacted on his breastplate. Electricity raced across his bionic muscles, locking them up and shorting out the power feeds running from his Arc reactor to the suit's computer. His HUD died along with his suit, leaving him to stare out at the world from two flat, rectangular slits. Batroc detached from the zipline, flying through the air and rolling as he hit the balcony. The knock-out pistol with its powerful cargo was attached to his belt and he wasted no time in bringing it to bear. Pulling it from its holster, he spun and fired several of the hypodermic darts right at the tall, blonde alien. Thor knocked the majority of the darts away with his hammer. Despite his experience and aplomb, one lucky shot struck his chest. He grabbed it and pulled it out in disgust, tossing the dart away before advancing on the small, human attacker. Two steps into his march, his legs gave out from underneath him as his vision swam. He fell forward, supporting his weight on his great hammer. The noises around him faded to a dim, dull roar. His Asgardian heritage worked to filter out the poisons flowing through his veins, but for the time being he was left in that dizzy, strange half-sleep. Batroc was already turning even before Thor was brought to his knee. He slapped the pistol back onto his belt and readied his assault rifle at Captain America, keeping the super soldier at bay with several controlled bursts. After every pull of the trigger, he edged closer and closer to the frozen armor of Tony Stark. Behind his shield, Steve grimaced. He tried to edge forward to cut the shooter off of his intended path, but as soon as he did he felt bullets whizzing past his vulnerable feet. Steve ducked down behind his shield, angling his sidearm around the edge to let loose what he hoped were some effective shots. Several inches from Tony, Batroc lowered his weapon and turned. He raised one of his legs into a curled position, ready to strike out and send that tin-man right off the edge of his own building. He could hear the man protesting inside, cold and distant inside his suit. "Get away from him!" Banner bellowed as he raced across the balcony and leaped for Tony's attacker. Batroc struck out just as he felt the impact of another body slam into him from his blind spot. His foot missed Tony's center of mass, ramming up into his shoulder. The Iron Man suit twisted around on one leg, balancing for a moment on the heel before rocking back and careening off the edge. "Jarvis! Restart!" Tony yelled. The suit, his metal tomb, dragged him down towards the sidewalk below. "Jarvis!" A second later, his descent was suddenly and painfully arrested. His repulsors still silent, Tony had only moments to contemplate before he realized the truth: the Bifrost had him. "Wait, wait!" was all he got to say. His image stretched and pinched, fading out before it was consumed by a flash of bright light. There was a sound like a bomb going off in a long tunnel and Tony Stark disappeared from New York City, sent careening across the universe at a speed far beyond light. Back on the balcony, Banner slammed down atop Batroc, his arms wrapped around the assassin's waist in a perfect football tackle. Bruce straddled the attacker's chest and rammed his fist down into Batroc's grizzled face. "What do you want, you son of a bitch?" Bruce shouted, spittle frothing at the edges of his mouth. His voice had deepened, and the edges of his eyes were tinged green. Batroc coughed up a few flecks of blood. A tooth felt loose inside his head, and stars exploded in his sight. Despite this, he grinned up at the short, stocky American. "Vous," was all he said before ripping the pistol from his belt and unloading three rounds right into Bruce's abdomen. Banner gasped, blinking in the stupid, slow way of a man struggling against the twelve pints in his system. He looked down at the three tiny darts sticking out of his stomach and slowly, almost gracefully, rolled off Batroc. Fighting through the punch-drunk stupor the damned American had bludgeoned into him, Batroc rose to see Banner twitching and frothing at the mouth. Keep fighting, he thought to himself. Not even the Hulk can withstand that toxin. He cut his reverie short as he yanked the parachute off his chest and forcefully attached it to Banner's back. The angry man yelled and took a weak swing at him, which Batroc batted away easily. He twisted a timer on the pack and pressed a thick boot to his target's side. "Rendez-vous sur le sol, Banner." Batroc sneered as he leaned forward, putting his weight down through his leg. Bruce struggled to maintain his balance as he slipped dangerously close to the edge. Batroc felt the bullet impacts before he heard them. Two in the back, up near his right shoulder. He spun around, his boot slipping off Banner. For a dizzying moment reminiscent of Tony's descent, he felt as if he might fall off. At the last second he lunged his upper body around and brought his own weapon to bear. He pressed the butt against his shoulder, the A on the Captain's forehead right in his sights. "Get away from him," Steve Rogers leveled his weapon at Batroc's head. "Je prends l'homme vert colère, capitaine." Batroc put himself between Banner and the Captain. His finger slipped into its comfortable place around the trigger. He could hear his own heartbeat, amplified through the haze of adrenaline. It reminded him of the crashing of surf against rocks. "Pas tant que je suis ici." Steve squeezed the trigger. As he did so, the world around him seemed to telescope. The foreground rushed at him as the background peeled away. Batroc grew larger and smaller at the same time. In Steve's stomach, it felt as if something was wrapping tight around his guts. Batroc heard the rapport of something like a bomb. He ducked away reflexively as his vision was blasted with radiant light. The shock wave hit him in the chest and drove him back on his rear foot. For the second time the assassin was almost driven off the balcony without his target. Slamming his feet back to the ground, he looked with blinking, bewildered eyes at the spot Steve Rodgers used to occupy. "Help me..." Banner's voice turned Batroc's eyes down towards the prone, shaking man. Bruce looked pulled between two different places, as if someone had been adjusting two different images of him and had not quite gotten them to overlap. He blurred and shook, though none of the interference could hide the green tinge creeping into his skin. He jerked his head up swift as a wolf. His eyes were glowing green. Batroc's instincts kicked in several seconds too late. He grabbed the syringe pistol on his belt and fired off three shots. Banner roared as the needles passed right through him, as if he were nothing more than smoke and mirrors. His roar was swallowed up in another ear-piercing conflagration of light. Batroc cursed and pressed the inner curve of his elbow to his face. Thor blinked away the last few cobwebs and rose, drunkenly, to both feet. Seeing that he was the last one left, he growled and gripped his hammer tight. "Heimdall!" He called as he stomped towards his prey. "Close the Bifro – " His voice was swallowed up by light and noise as he, too, was sent hurtling towards Loki's hideaway. The pillar of light surrounding Stark Tower's main balcony dissipated within seconds. The Algerian assassin found himself alone, his target and the three adversaries having vanished into the aether. Batroc stared around dumbly for a few seconds, his pounding heart and fading adrenaline rush leaving him disoriented and irritable. Realization slowly sank in and his lip curled in a snarl. Curses and invective spilled from his mouth as he stomped alone around the balcony. Something buzzed in his pocket. He pulled out his disposable cell phone and stared at the Calls Received screen. Ross, was all it said. "J'ai entendu Paris est belle cette époque de l'année." He opened the phone and then pulled it apart, tossing the broken pieces off the side of the balcony. ----------------------------- The great gulf between stars stretched like the maw of a giant, hungry beast. The galaxy seemed to taunt any intelligent species with its vast distances. It dared them to try to make contact, to explore, to do anything beyond their birth systems. Heimdall stood in the raised dais in the center of the Bifrost. He held tight to his sword, staring out through the coil of energy to watch Thor and his human comrades hurtle through the cosmos. He saw them frozen in position as time within the Bifrost's energy slowed in comparison to the rest of the universe. He looked up. The Bifrost spun and hummed as the previous model had done. Every nuance of the old Bifrost had been captured, even the intricate decorations. It still felt off. Despite every part fitting together perfectly, this new Bifrost seemed young and rushed. The power that coursed through it felt a mere shadow of its old potential. This is the furthest distance the Bifrost has ever attempted, Heimdall mused as he returned his gaze to the four Avengers. How long shall they take? His gaze fell squarely on the twisted, snarling image of Bruce Banner, locked for now in a halfway point between being himself and becoming that raging beast. A pang of guilt, unfamiliar and alien, stabbed into Heimdall's gut. His one small hope was that whatever native life form that he'd now put in the Hulk's path could defend itself better than Thor's beloved humans. ----------------------------- One week later, on a sunny day in Equestria... ----------------------------- The first thing Tony Stark heard when he awoke was the tinny rushing of wind. Falling. He was falling. He could see blue sky and clouds rushing by his eye slits in a vomit-inducing blur. "Jarvis!" He groaned. "Restart." Nothing. "Activate!" Again, there was nothing. He tumbled over and over. With every tumble, he caught sight of something. He could have sworn it was some kind of floating white city. "Move already!" His suit buzzed to life seconds before he impacted. The repulsors snapped to life and slowed his descent enough that his spine didn't telescope when he slammed through a large, white roof. He crashed through something that was soft and hard at the same time. He careened through an open factory space and smashed through several barrels before skidding to a stop just before ramming right into a wall. He felt like the he'd just come out of the other end of a weekend block party. His head spun, and he could feel his vision beginning to tunnel. His suit was covered in what looked like liquid rainbows. Lifting his head, he saw white marshmallow-like material all around. "Jarvis," he said, his voice breathy and without impact. "Analyze." Jarvis did not respond. His suit, however, read out a chemical composition consisting mostly of frozen water, oxygen, and other trace gasses. He gripped the substance, pulling off a tuft and staring at it in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Clouds?" Darkness swallowed him, taking with it all sensation. ----------------------------- Steve pulled himself into a tight ball as he fell through thick, unyielding brush. He crashed down towards earth, his arms shielding his face from thick branches on the way down. When he finally hit solid ground, he grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. He felt his ribs and back shudder. That was going to sting later. He rolled onto his back, reaching up and pressing a hand to his ear. "Stark, this is Rogers. Come in." Static answered him. "Repeat, this is Rogers. Come in." Again he was met with the hash of empty interference. Steve shoved himself into a sitting position. He had landed in a forest of some kind. Glancing around, he found his sidearm lying next to him. His shield lay concave side up a few feet further, spinning around slowly. Something slammed down against his head. He gasped in pain and ducked right, looking up. He couldn't see an enemy in the tree above him. Looking down, he caught sight of the offending missile. It was small and red, round and juicy; one of the most American things in the world. He picked it up and stared at it. Glancing up, he took another look at the woods around him. The thick trees were spaced evenly, far enough to give each other room and not too close to drink each others' water. It's not a forest, he realized. It's a farm. ----------------------------- Thor could hear screams and cries of fright. Lightning burned across his flesh and crept down into the brickwork of the mall. Opening his eyes, he found himself crouched in the midst of a gigantic city. High brick buildings rose around in every direction. Off in the distance, a massive palace cut through the skyline. Thor was reminded of the protective palaces humans used to build. Gathering his wits, he stood up. The smells of the city hit him moments after the sights; sweat, food, and that subtle hint of sewer that no large city could ever escape. He blinked the fog of transportation away. His memory kicked in seconds later. In his mind's eye he saw Banner seconds before he disappeared, roaring out his anger to the heavens. Loki, he told himself. Banner can take care of himself. Loki is the priority. Thor looked into the crowd. They gasped and shrieked. One of them fainted. Small horses. Hundreds of them. They stood and gawped openly at the Prince of Asgard, dressed in a mixture of high society and merchant garb. Their coloring was garish and horribly mismatched, and yet the look of fear on their face was all too recognizable. His mind finally clicked into gear. There was something else wrong with the crowd. One out of perhaps every five of them were dressed up like Loki. ----------------------------- Pain. It was a sensation with which Bruce Banner had become intimately acquainted. In the long years since his accident, his life had been one constant quest to manage that pain. But now he'd failed. How the hell had he been found? Questions bled away from his mind as soon as they were formed. He felt a familiar tugging at the edges of his consciousness. The screaming, the eternal screaming. The Other Guy wasn't going to go away. He was going to scream and thrash and bite and claw his way from the pit of Bruce's psyche. Bruce yelled, spittle flying from his lips. His jaw hurt; his entire body hurt. Every muscle seemed electrified, pulled taut enough to rip away from his bones. His eyes snapped open, bulging and tinged green. The world warped and twisted in front of him. It was as if someone had taken a smudge tool and just gone wild. He could only see the faint impressions of color at this point. Green. Everywhere. For a moment he thought he had just gone over the edge and the Other Guy was finally wreaking havoc. The smell of grass tickled his nose. No. He was still in control. He was still himself. Something spoke off to his left. It sounded like a trumpet being played at the bottom of a well. With an immense force of will, he turned. All he could see was a gash of yellow and pink; something small and frail. Something easily crushable. Crush. Kill. Stomp. Smash! "Get away!" He tried to yell. He never knew if he said anything remotely human. Something ripped. His shirt? That parachute? His muscles? Those words were meaningless now. Everything was meaningless. Except the anger. The eternal, screaming, raw anger. The last of Bruce pulled apart at the seams and disappeared. His last coherent thought was regret for what he'd said to Tony; it didn't matter that he didn't remember who Tony was. The Hulk tilted its head back and roared its eternal, undying anger at the pristine blue skies of Equestria.