Loki: Ice monster

[moonshadows]

“Stark, we need you.”

“I’m a little busy, can’t it wait?”

“No, it can’t. There’s a giant sea…something…made of ice swimming towards Manhattan.” Fury sounded irked that he couldn’t describe it properly.

“You have quinjets and a Hulk.”

“Yeah, and while Hulk smashes that one, the being who created it is making another.”

There was a brief, significant pause before Tony said, “Wait, making? Present tense?”

“Yes. Banner’s already been dispatched, but satellites have located the creator. You’re the only one who can get there before he finishes the second ice monster.”

“What about Thor?”

“Thor’s handling a situation south of the equator at the moment. Even if he left now, he’d still be too late.”

Muffled, in the background, a female voice protested.

“Pepper, honey, I’ve gotta dash. Sorry. I don’t want to go either – you know how painful the suit is when I’m like this? – but duty calls and boy, that’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say.”

More muffled talking.

“Love you too, Pep. Call when I can.”

Minutes later, Tony activated the secure frequency again. “Reindeer Games, you out there?”

“It’s no use, Stark. Loki’s been off the radar for three days now. And anyway-”

“Blah, blah, hypersensitive to cold. Got it. Would it be weird if I said I missed him? He hasn’t been…fun…lately. Something’s off, something’s bothering him.”

Fury was silent for a long moment. “Just get to those coordinates as soon as you can,” he said grimly.

 

Loki was painstakingly sculpting an enormous eye when a familiar whoosh pulled up and Iron Man declared, “Okay, whoever you are, you won first place in the ice sculpture contest. Now knock it off.”

He turned, slow and dramatic, and actually saw the suit recoil.

"Loki?"

“That is the name this body wore,” he rasped. “It belongs to me now.”

“Fury? The hostile is possessing Loki.”

“Do what you have to do, Mr. Stark.”

“Even if that means…”

The words were quiet, solemn. “Do you think he’d want to be used like this?”

“Alright,” Tony said as the repulsors powered up with a whine. “Get the fuck out of my friend.”

The blast took him in the chest, threw him into the side of the glacier he’d been sculpting from. He cried out as the ice forcibly met his back, the impact bringing memories of Stuttgart and having been flung against stone steps. Dark laughter boiled up as pain blossomed. Finally, finally, he would be punished for his sins. And either they would be expunged from him – he raised one hand and formed a spear of ice that shot at Stark, clipped the shoulder of the suit – or he would meet the end he deserved.

“Little high there, buddy.” The next blast took Loki in the upper arm. “Unless you were aiming to do that.”

“You would attack your so-called friend?” he sneered, forming another ice-lance with his other hand.

Tony dodged it. “Wouldn’t be the first time. He’s a sturdy guy.”

Loki smiled toothily. “That is your disadvantage, then.”

Without warning, a dozen shards of ice pelted-

-where Iron Man used to be. He strode away from the side of the ice, forming spikes as he went, only to be flung face-first when the repulsor blast hit him in the back. He looked up in time to close his eyes as the blast took him in the face and sent him flying. When he landed, more dark laughter bubbled up through the pain that had him seeing stars.

“The noble Tony Stark,” he said mockingly, filling the air with his makeshift missiles. “Striking the enemy in the back.”

“Whatever gets the job done,” he retorted. “And I have it on the best authority that I’m just as good from behind as I am from the front.”

A series of blasts worked their way from his ankle up to his thigh, temporarily blinding him. When he’d stopped screaming, he panted, “You hope to drive me out of this body, but it is impossible! Nothing can dislodge me except death!”

“We’ll see about that,” was the grim response.

Before he could fire another series of blasts, a hand made of ice reached up from behind him and grabbed the suit’s right ankle. He thrashed for a minute, tying to get a good angle of attack, only to be grabbed by another hand around the left ankle. That gave Loki time to stand and discover that his leg would bear his weight, but at the cost of pain he hadn’t felt since the Chitauri. Dramatically, he raised both arms and two more hands of ice grew from the surface of the glacier.

The blasts hit his hands, breaking his concentration. The next ones impacted against his good leg, then one to his bad leg, then as he stumbled the chest blast punched him in the gut. Iron Man freed himself effortlessly while his adversary slid to a groaning stop.

“You’ll have to do better than that to kill me,” he ground out, levering himself up with difficulty.

“Oh, I’m not trying to kill you,” Stark said lightly.

Threatening. You don’t want a drink?

“I’m seeing if I can literally beat you out of Loki.”

“You think him worth saving?” Loki laughed bitterly. “I have seen into his mind, mortal. He has done terrible things.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, Grabby Gus.” Dual blasts impacted Loki’s shoulders, like Mjolnir and its twin. “So have I.”

His arms wouldn’t move, but he could still flex his wrists. Tony was watching for that, though, and blasts struck his forearms the instant his hands moved. Loki screamed, the sound turning into broken laughter. “Or perhaps,” he gasped out, “you fear the wrath of his brother.”

The chest beam pressed him into the ice until it cracked, flattening his lungs and leaving him nothing to scream with.

“I don’t think you were listening,” Stark said pleasantly, the slightest edge to the words, “when I said get the fuck out of my friend.”

Close. He was so close. Three words in a hissing, guttural tongue and the half-formed creature creaked as it opened its mouth to roar. Without looking, Iron Man fired a missile that blasted its head off and cuffed Loki with another repulsor blast.

It took significant effort to drag his thoughts back from the swiralk - one of the words he'd invented to describe the indescribable pain of the Chitauri's hospitality - and focus them enough to cover his limbs in armor of magical ice, the substance giving him the stability to stand and stare Iron Man in the faceplate.

"I will never give him back!" he snarled, raising both hands despite the screaming in his shoulders.

"So he's still in there. Loki, can you hear me?" Stark sounded desperately hopeful.

Loki swung at the suit, blades of ice covering his hands.

"Hey, Reindeer Games, I'm sorry for what I'm about to do but if you survive, you can thank me later."

The world exploded into pain, worse than the Chitauri at their most merciful, past swiralk and up into the purest firnuth, and the wordless thought filled Loki that this was enough, this was what he deserved for his deceptions, and if he died he would be at peace - but he did not want to die. His grasp on the Casket faded, the frigid air suddenly burning in his lungs, and then something worse than firnuth devoured him without even letting him wonder if-