Fickleness of Fate | Loki Laufeyson

Chapter Eight

The churning of the aircraft's blades drowned out any residual worry or doubt that Harry could have mustered.

Facial recognition had detected Loki in Stuttgart, Germany. She would have been thrilled that the technology had found the man so swiftly if it weren't for how easily the task had been. Loki was the God of mischief, known in history and legend for his flare in with trickery. Fred and George had, on more than one occasion, mentioned their inspiration came from the magic wielder, crediting him for their inventive pranks through school and into their later careers.

And now Loki appeared to be exposing himself, his position, for reasons unknown to them. The whole situation made Harry's hair stand on edge with apprehension. She believed the situation to be specious, that Loki was constructing specific circumstances and happenings as if they were spells.

Loki wanted them to know where he was, but why?

"Does the President's secret service detail know about your. . . magic?" Natasha asked whilst continuing to fly the quinjet to the specified location. This was the first direct sentence the assassin had spoke to the witch, though the suspiciousness was not a surprise to Harry.

"My powers have been known by the highest ranking in the white house by the time I was eighteen," Harry enlightened the assassin, noting how her facial expressions didn't change with the new information. "The President, as those in office before him, knew that I would be of help in certain circumstances."

Romanoff hummed her assent. Harry thought the conversation over, the woman not providing any response. Only as she turned away did Natasha add, "Barton mentioned you when he returned from New Mexico."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the comment. "Well, I suppose I must have made an impression."

"You did," the agent replied with a slight iciness to her tone. "Which is unusual in itself."

The witch leant forwards, putting herself eye level with the assassin. "If you're implying something, Agent Romanoff, I suggest you get to the point."

The woman's eyes swivelled towards Harry's position but did not twist her head. "Mind manipulation seems to be a common theme these last few days."

"And you think that I somehow manipulated Barton's thoughts in my favour?" Harry tried to ask seriously but came out as more of a laugh. "To what end, may I ask? I already have the confidence of the world's highest-ranking leaders, Agent Romanoff. If you think that I influenced Agent Barton in the hope of boosting my status within S.H.I.E.L.D, you're sorely mistaken. The only option is that Barton genuinely thought I was worth mentioning."

Romanoff was silent for a few seconds, before changing the subject. "You fought against Thor?"

"I did," Harry responded, standing straighter. "Had the bruises to prove it."

"Let's hope that Loki is easier to catch," she replied, though it was clear that even she didn't have much faith in her words.

"Ready?" Steve questioned from his position near the aircraft's lowering ramp.

The strong winds filtered through, billowing and ricocheting against the inner walls. The aircraft was still twenty metres above the ground as they passed over the city below. "To fight a god?" The witch joked in return, striding to join Steve's side. Her hands diligently checked her weapon stores on her body, both armed with guns and daggers. "Now is a good a time as any, I suppose."

The captain nodded his head, his face one of seriousness. He was kitted out in his signature blue, white and red uniform, but his shield remained readied within his grasp. He did not respond, instead manoeuvred his position to view the situation on the ground.