"Don't touch that," Magnus clapped Tony's hand as he tried to open a drawer.
"Okay, 'MOM'," he retorted. As soon as Magnus turned around, Tony opened the drawer, rummaging through various passports.
"Over here, Captain," Fenris ordered, waving Steve over to show him their first aid kit. Steve stepped and Fenris began stocking bandages into his arms.
"I'm sorry," Steve exhaled.
"What?" Fenris looked up, meeting his eyes.
"This whole situation - partly my fault," Steve admitted. Fenris scrutinised his facial expression, pressing his lips together.
"I know you thought you were doing something right, Rogers. This was the reason you were chosen to be the first of us."
"First of—us?" Steve frowned. He looked over to his uniform that was draped over a couch. The stars and stripes were stained with dirt and dried blood.
Fenris leaned against a counter and crossed his arms. His eyes flickered over to the kitchen door, checking if somebody was listening. Then, he turned his head back to Steve. "Back in the old days, not only the Americans thought it was a good idea to create human weapons, Rogers. Or let me be more precise, H.Y.D.R.A wasn't only an American institution." Fenris sighed.
"When have you been— changed?" Steve asked
Fenris shortly hesitated. "After 1945, it was the time of the cold war. It was an innovative experiment. H.Y.D.R.A wanted to test different versions of their serum." He pursed his lips. "And who would have been more suitable than a bunch of persons sharing partly the same DNA? That is why Katta is slightly stronger than the rest of us, Magnus's brain is working faster, and Arne can endure more pain. After they'd ended their experiments, we've been frozen and only woken up to occasionally do missions. Pretty much like Barnes."
The silence that followed was heavy. It took Steve a few minutes to answer. "That is unimaginable."
Fenris opened the fridge. "It seemed unimaginable for us to not help our government prepare to arm up. There was a war threatening us. We thought we did the right thing."
"I didn't know that Norway was involved in the cold war like that. I visited history evening classes to keep up," Steve frowned. "I thought I paid attention.
"By now, you should know that most government affairs don't are as they seem, my friend." Fenris placed two small glasses onto a table, unscrewed a bottle and poured a transparent liquid into the glasses. He motioned for Steve to take one and raised his.
"To us soldiers. Skal." Steve hesitantly raised the glass to his nose and smelled onto it, scrunching his face.
"Akvavit. Cleans the mind," Fenris smiled faintly. "Self-made."
"Cheers," Steve said, and both gulped their shots before placing the glasses back onto a table. Tony lurked into the kitchen and scowled.
"Wait. Since when does capsicle drink and why am I not invited?"
"Be my guest," Magnus said, entering the kitchen after him. Fenris pushed away from the counter and walked into the living room. He discovered Clint on a couch, sitting hunched.
"You look bad." Fenris pointed at Clint's dark eyebags.
"Thank you for the compliment," Clint answered, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. Fenris motioned for Erik to make a coffee before he took the seat opposite Clint.
"So, where is this Lang?" he asked.
"Probably at home. I should get him. It would scare him off when we all appear at once," Clint answered, stretching his arms.
"Fine, but Arne will come with you. Meanwhile, I need to make amends with Strange." Fenris got up and clapped his shoulder.
"I think the proper term is 'master of the mystical might'," Clint answered. "How exactly did you get the stone again?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We drugged him," Erik shrugged. He took the coffee from Erik and handed it to Clint. He waited until Fenris looked away and quickly poured the content into a plant pot.
Fenris clapped his hands together. "Then it is set. The rest of you - try to get some sleep. Food is in the kitchen. Don't touch anything. And think about 'when' Loki and Katta might be."
〰〰〰
Arne and Clint stood side-by-side in front of a two-story house. It was located in a calm, suburban area. A small bike leaned onto the letterbox, which was stuffed with old newspapers and ads. Clint went first and rang the doorbell.
Arne remained by the street, glancing around. This wasn't a good place to stay undercover. The neighbours knew each other, old grandmothers were watching from their windows and the neighbourhood talked. This would never be a place he'd choose to settle - far too dangerous.
The door to the house opened and a small girl peered out. She was maybe eleven years old. But what did Arne know? He'd never been good with children. She could as well be fourteen. Her big eyes narrowed as she took in Clint, before settling her gaze on Arne. He sighed and walked next to Clint.
"Hello, young lady," Clint smiled at her. It did nothing to calm her suspicious look. Clint cleared his throat. "We are looking for Scott Lang."
The girl pursed her lips and shrugged. "Mister Scott Lang doesn't live here."
Clint sighed loudly. "What a shame. We wanted to visit an old friend of ours. We've been driving for hours." He looked at Arne and raised an eyebrow.
"Eh, yes," Arne mumbled. "For hours. Man, I'm tired." He awkwardly stretched his arms.
"So you are no cops?" the girl asked. Her voice was laced with doubt. Arne liked that. She was young, but she was no one to fool too easily. Good material to work with.
"Of course not, young lady. We just want to say hello to Scott," Clint assured, smiling nicely.
She thought for a few seconds and then nodded. "Wait here," she commanded, closing the door behind her. Arne looked at Clint, who shrugged.
"Lang keeps having trouble with the law from time to time. But other than that, he's a good guy."
From the inside, they heard voices whispering to each other before the door opened again. A man in a bathrobe stood in the doorframe, his hands opened to shield his eyes against the sun. A slight stubble was on his face. The little girl appeared on his side and tugged on his sleeve.
"See, dad. No cops."
Lang nervously cleared his throat and agreed. "Yes, sweetheart. Thank you. Go get yourself some ice cream." The girl squealed in delight and ran back into the house.
He waited until she was away and then turned back to the visitors."If you have problems with one of our products, you need to file a complaint directly at the company."
Clint curtly smiled and shook his head. "This is not about your products nor your law problems, Mister Lang. I think it would be better to talk about that inside."
"Ehm, alright. What were your names again?" Scott asked, looking between them.
"Clint Barton," Clint said.
Scott grinned and shook his head. "Funny. Like the archer Avengers guy." He then met Clint's expression and the smile faded from his face. "Y-You are not Hawkeye, are you?"
"I'm not in service right now, so Clint is fine. Should we go inside to discuss our matter?" Clint answered. Scott shut his mouth and opened the door wider to let them in. "And you?" he asked, looking at Arne.
"Are you another Avengers? You must normally be wearing a mask because I don't recognize you," he rambled while guiding them into his kitchen. On his way, he unobtrusively kicked pieces of trash and clothing away.
"He's one of our newer members. You could say he's still on probation," Clint said, exchanging a glance with Arne, who rolled his eyes.
"So you are still taking new superheroes," Scott muttered under his breath. He walked towards the coffee machine and pushed a button. The machine began to rattle loudly and Scott pulled a cup from the dishwasher. Now, Arne had time to have a closer look at Lang's pyjama under the bathrobe - with printed ants.
Scott turned back around and placed another two cups in front of Arne and Clint, before rubbing his hands together. "Soooooooo," Scott began, looking at Clint.
"Yes, Scott. Is it okay if I use your first name?" Clint asked. Scott frantically nodded, and Clint proceeded. "Scott, we heard about your theories regarding time travelling, and –"
"It's more like a theory about how the quantum works when — right, you hadn't finished yet. Go on." Scott's words faded out, and he motioned for Clint to carry on.
Clint nodded. "Following problem. We need to travel back in time to get something very valuable in order to protect the earth."
Scott started coughing, his eyes growing wide.
"And someONE very valuable," Arne added, glaring at Clint. "Right," Clint agreed. "And someone very valuable to us."
Scott ran his hand through his hair. "Wow, this is — I don't know what to say. What an honour that you decided to ask me."
"Scott," Arne said. "The question is: can you help us do this?"