Red on my Ledger ((Avengers FanFiction))

Chapter 6: Another Asgardian

Chapter 6

Greer

The sound of silence was tense and ill-formed at the presence of the dangerous man that sat in the leather chair, his face seeming dimly satisfied in the darkness. No one dared speak through the whirring silence that filled the echoing room of the jet. The only source of light, a small flickering light that hung loosely from many wires just below the ceiling. Greer fixated her gaze--careful and deadly--onto the man who simply stared back at her, a flickering smirk--filled with a hint of hidden satisfaction--flickering through his pale-ridden features, his dark, malicious eyes dancing against the darkness.

Although the air was warm, Greer felt a chill erupt her spine as the elfish man examined her frame--which was covered by nothing more than a hoodie, of which Greer had ordered Steven Rogers to lend her. She forced away the emotion that he so bitterly wanted to expose in her features, forcing away the clawing anger that inched at her insides as the man simply stared unblinkingly at her.

Greer felt her senses begin to buzz as a small spark of energy fell through the left side of her skull. She waited a few moments, her eyes glaring through the darkness as the buzzing continued.

"Did he say anything?" The familiar voice echoed into her ear, bouncing through her skull almost urgently.

"Not a word," Greer grumbled grudgingly, her eyes narrowed against the jet's silvery walls.

"Keep me updated," Phillip Coulson finished as the buzzing continued for a mere moment, his voice not speaking again. After a few tense moments, the buzzing stopped its spread with its infecting virus of white noise, allowing her vision to once again focus on the unmoving man.

"This isn't right," Greer mumbled under her breath and, although it was hardly a ghost of a whisper, it still emptied off of the thin walls.

"What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?" Tony Stark gave a small glace towards Loki, his voice booming confidently off the walls of the enclosed space. Although his torso and body were covered by the red and bronze armor, Greer could sense the chill that surpassed his energy as he examined the man.

"She's right," muttered Steven Rogers who stood besides them now, his back turned against the elfish man, though he took a glance back, his eyes darting back and fourth as though he had been crazed. He leaned against the wall slightly, causing the white star, embroidered on his patriotic-colored uniform, to flare against the dim light. "It shouldn't have been that easy. That guy packs a wallop."

"Still, you are pretty spry for an older fellow," Stark's voice suddenly changed tones, almost a mocking sympathetic tone. "What's your thing, palates?" Tony turned to face him for a moment, his eyebrows raised against his tanned forehead.

"What?" Steve grit his teeth, anger flaring through his features at the sudden change of subject. Though his eyes held a hint of confusion, his tone was that of a warning, carefully daring Stark to make fun of him.

Yet, Stark did not seem fazed by this warning, his smirk only deepening in depth. "It's like calisthenics." He tossed his head from side to side, as if pondering whether or not he wanted to get into this. "You might have missed a couple things. Doing time as a Capsicle."

Greer's glower deepened at the sudden change in subject, her gaze momentarily flickering over towards the two men who seemed to be hiding an almost secretive hatred in their eyes. Her eyes flashed for a few moments as she pondered throwing them off of the jet without parachutes though, in only a moment's time, her mind snapped back towards the man in the chair, simply waiting for a simple escapable moment.