Madness of the Serpent

Harsh Lessons

An explosion vibrated through the airborne ship, causing the spirit to be thrown from the slumber mat onto the floor from the concussive force. The deep rumble continued throughout the metal substratum, causing the lights to flicker with the threat of extinguishment, a low groan traveling throughout the skeleton of the flying behemoth.

Crawling to its knees, gasping for breath as its heart hammered in fear from being jostled in such a startling manner, it braced its shoulder against the wall, desperately wishing it knew what was happening outside of its windowless cell.

One possibility was obvious and most likely correct – Loki was acting on his purpose for being captured. It could only hope that purpose would not end in its painful death, and given the state of the Jotun-Asgardian's unraveled mind, the end result of this event did not look promising.

It began to hear a blaring alarm sound through the ship, muffled by the thick walls surrounding its small prison. Either Loki had escaped where he was being held, or there was an additional source to the explosion.

After waiting for a minute or two in its frozen position on the ground, a deep, rumbling roar echoed through the metal walls, and its breath caught in its throat as its blood seemed to freeze in its veins. Whatever had made that horrible noise did not seem mechanical or chemical in nature.

It sounded decidedly... organic.

The spirit pulled itself to its feet, leaning against the cold, metallic wall in the event another vibration shook the facility. The spirit rubbed its knee through its thin grey clothing, investigating its surroundings but finding no handholds for it to remain balanced.

Luckily, no more bone-jolting explosions seemed to be forthcoming, but it shivered as it heard a second roar. The sound was full of rage and anguish, and the spirit hoped desperately it would not discover the cause of the noise.

Whatever Loki's plan, it hoped he remembered they were a far distance from the planet's surface.

A third roar echoed through the air structure several minutes later, and the spirit gave a start when its door suddenly slid open, and it could only stare in disbelief at the familiar face which greeted it from the doorway.

"Well, look who I found," Barton said, a smile on his sweaty face. The warmth of his voice was somehow lost as azure eyes stared out from the dark circles around his sockets, the skin covering his cheekbones appearing raw and chafed. It recognized the look of sleep deprivation, as it suspected it had seen it on Loki's own visage.

"Barton-Hawk?" the spirit inquired, speaking the original name it had used for him without realizing it had done so.

"Barton-Hawk. That's cute," he replied, his glowing eyes rapidly covering the interior of the cell in which it was contained, a stringed weapon in one hand while his other hand rested on the entryway.

"Are you well?" it asked, more concerned for his wellbeing than its own, even in the midst of the airborne siege.

"Peachy-keen. His Royal Godliness wants you to pick something up for him, so get to it. One level down, in the main lab." The human disappeared from the doorway, only to reappear a second later, his eerie crystallized eyes focused on the spirit in a serious manner.

"Avoid the big green dude. He's a dick."

And with that mysterious warning, the assassin vanished a second time, already far from sight by the time the spirit exited its cell.

Even without the vague instructions left by the assassin, the spirit would have been able to locate the golden apparatus. In the back of the mind, it could feel the presence of the mind-jewel – drawn to the orb cradled within its blades. The pull had dulled with the separation of distance, and it had forgotten all about the weapon once they had entered the ship.