fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

"You don't want to hurt me. Really." This was the second time that Steve referred to him as looking like someone he saw as a brother. That didn’t sit right with Tony, but he didn’t say anything snarky about it since, again, he wanted to survive this little ordeal and then feed this guy his repulsor. That also required letting him touch the reactor. “We don’t have healers. We have doctors. There’s metal lodged in my heart and this keeps those fragments from killing me. Pretty sure you’d die from a few good pieces of metal in your heart too.” Or so he hoped. He really, really hoped.

Tony averted his eyes as the metal was brushed at and manipulated. If Steve decided to crack it open, to turn it, to tug at it-- Well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do other than yell a lot, but you’d better believe that there would be quite a bit of that.

His voice lowered. “I know you’re brainwashed, Rogers, but this is pretty much the worst thing that one person can do to another. So I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but you’re pretty damned disgusting to me right now. So step back and don’t touch me,” he growled in the blond’s ear as he leaned in close to inspect the circle of light. Tony held his breath in annoyance and a little bit of fear.

All of those who had been chosen to come to the training grounds and deal with the newest crop of slaves had been taught what to expect from this first generation. They had been told that there would be resistance, tears, violence, recriminations-- but it was one thing to know objectively that it would happen, and another to see such naked hatred directed towards him.

He sat back on his heels, brow furrowed in that very earnest concern that all Steves shared, so sincere.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm not even touching you much, and I have no interest in forcing you to my furs. What is it that I've done to you that's so much the worst? We're taking you to a life of purpose, Ant-- Tony, we're saving you."

“Saving-- Okay, didn’t need to be saved. Actually, still don’t. I can save myself thanks,” he said, full of gloating because he’d come out on top before. Being captured by the bad guys only to grind their noses into the sand was sort of the way he worked best. It was part of his MO and anything less would be so far beneath Iron Man that it would just eat his dust. “And only my mom got to call me Anthony. Not you, not Pepper…not anyone. Got it?” He needed access to some scrap metal. He needed access to running water and a little fire and then he would find a way to make something that could pluck out each one of those probably steel-clad eye balls. He didn’t want to be looked at this way. He definitely didn’t want Steve Rogers of all people, no matter what weird universe he was from, to look at him that way.

At least Tony more or less knew how to play his emotions down. It was a good tactic in the board room and a better tactic when kidnapped by crazy people.

“I would really love to pick your brain about what it’s like to be Patty Hearst but I don’t have time for you. Thanks but no thanks for the food. You can take it with you. I have my purpose to live up to and I need a little quiet for that.” He could feel the floor under him shifting and he had no idea how long this transport would take…or what he might find. But if any of the weird people Fury collected together made it… Well, he’d try to get the band back together.

"I won't force you to eat this time, but if you attempt to starve yourself when we reach the training grounds then you will find that you are fed in much less pleasant ways. I don't want you to get hurt, Tony, but you have to remember that any pain that comes your way is your doing."

That was one of the first lessons they learned in the slave village. If they were punished, it would be for a failing of what they had done or failed to do. A master was always right, and they did not have the authority to argue against any punishment or decision that was made.

He stood up, small plate in hand, and retreated for the door.

"Sleep well, for tomorrow we reach the training grounds."

Anthony had kept Steven up a good portion of the night whispering questions about ‘Tony.’ They were sharing a small space on the floor outside of Loki’s room and while Anthony usually slept in bed with the prince, there was a propriety issue to counter at the moment considering Steven’s addition to their lives. So, out in the corridor with him, which was certainly all right. In the years that they had spent serving separate princes, despite being together much of the time, they had grown apart. The year without Loki and the year that Steven spent with Thor had further rifted them. So Anthony took this time to make up for much of that.

Morning would come with his head against Steven’s shoulder and Loki having to step over the pair. Both were on their feet immediately after that to follow the prince to the small interior bridge where they could look out with the rest of the injured but healed warriors that had returned to Asgard with them. There was a lot of activity on the moon but it was hard to tell what actually was happening and who was who. That didn’t stop Anthony from being fascinated by it.

He bid his farewell to Loki for the day as he went to rejoin Bruce, saying nothing of his injuries, and expected no word either. He was in a long, small building where rows and rows of cages were kept, making notes on the individuals inside each one and putting markers on some. This group he was working on now were all physically beautiful and without outward deformity and so were being scanned for any genetic defects, men and women alike.

“What do we have here? Are these to be bred to the slave warriors or are they going to be bred to each other?" Anthony had no desire to father children himself. He wanted only Loki. But watching coupling always interested him.

Bruce really enjoyed this sort of work. He loved helping people, he loved knowing that he would be instrumental in making the lives of many future generations of Midgardians better, and that he would help in ensuring good service for Aesir until the next culling needed to take place. It was a use of his skills that didn't involve his berserk blood, and that was a gift.

He smiled to see Anthony, enthusiasm lighting up normally passive features, hands gesturing as he spoke to encompass the various pens that the cages were stood before, tuning out the noises of the slaves crying out.

"These ones on the left will be bred to each other for beauty, their muscular structure is weak and unlikely to blend well with the warriors. These in the right will be bred to the warriors exclusively, and these in the centre will be bred to both in the hope that some children will breed true."

He walked onwards towards cages at the back.

"Bring your counterpart, he needs to be put in a pen alongside the others that we know have a double here in our universe so that we can examine them properly."

Already caged in that area were Steve and Clint (who Anthony likely wouldn't recognise, but who Bruce knew had been a slave out in the border patrols). In a little pen next to them was a masked man, chained separate from everyone else.

"We don't know what this one is, but he killed two Aesir already when they tried to take his mask and goggles."

Hearing that his double would be the one with the burden to carry on his line and he, for the moment, would be free of the duty, Anthony’s step became all the more bouncy. Technically, he was put in charge of this operation but he had and would always defer to Bruce when it came to anything that they worked on together. The older man knew tricks of the trade better than Anthony thought he ever would. And so he rushed down to fetch an unruly, somehow shirtless and weirdly pierced older version of himself that called himself Tony and asked one of the Midgardian warriors to carry him for him. Anthony was strong but he didn’t want to be bruised up if the man decided to fight.

And it made him feel more important to lead the way from the skiff to the new pens where Tony would be deposited. The warrior dropped him on his shoulder with the other version of Steven and Tony grunted before trying to pull himself to his feet properly. It was hard when your arms and legs were chained.

“Oh. Great. Barton and Rogers. Fancy meeting you here,” Tony frowned, gazing back through the bars at Anthony and, of all people, Bruce Banner. “E tu Bruce?” he called, using the bars to finally get upright. “Help a bro out with the key will you? Or better yet, stop tip toeing and strut, big guy.” He could only hope that this was their Bruce and not some crazy space clone.

Anthony wrinkled his nose. "Wow. You really want that guy to breed my legacy? He's mouthier than I am."

That surprised Bruce and his eyebrows shot up. It should be fairly obvious that he wasn't the Bruce that this Tony knew, for he was wearing a tunic like all other Asgardian slaves and had no glasses, his weakening eyesight bolstered by the apples long ago. He had not seen another version of hum, but clearly he must exist. Maybe he had been culled as unworthy of breeding? Or perhaps simply killed in battle?

"Impossible," retorted Bruce, though it was with an affectionate smile, before he turned his attention back to the little cage. "Breeding will begin in the morning, I suggest you all get some rest."

He turned to lead Anthony out to where other slaves were penned, hundreds upon thousands of them, to tell him how they were separated, right through to the children of four and under who could possibly be trained well enough to serve initially.

Steve helped Tony sit back, a slightly glazed look in his eye suggesting that he was slightly concussed still from the battle. "Good to see you, Tony, we worried you hadn't made it. Where've you been?"

Tony didn't know Bruce well. He didn't know any of the people he had tried to fight along side of over the last few hours that they had spent on Earth. He wasn't sure how tied Bruce was to his glasses, or why this one might be wearing a tunic. He just had a lot of hope even if the situation was so very, very bleak. He had no idea that the Hulk had already been rampaging. Or that he was likely one of the only people who did not go immediately into hiding left alive during the last fire bombing of the planet. He knew very little of what had happened, and he didn't try to embellish it at all as he explained that he had been stuck in his armor and was only just fished out two days ago.

He didn't want to talk about this whole breeding procedure. He didn't want to talk at all. He was too busy scouring the cell for things to use to help them escape.

Not that they could. And even if they made it out of the cage, they were stuck on a moon. There was no way out of this.

Anthony was happy once again to be with Bruce too and he couldn't help but grin at him as they wandered through the pens of those already sorted towards a massive building filled with the smell of fear and huddled people. "I... Sort of expected this to be like the village," he said, young and so impressionable. He almost felt badly for these people, not because of their situation now but because they had grown up so badly. "They're like hurt animals. Has no one at all cared for them? Odin's beard-- I'm angry. I'm angry that people had to live like that. It's not fair. None of them had a shot before we came. How many other Midgards are there like this?" He had paused to watched a group of young teenagers huddled together. Fearful. They should be laughing and talking excitedly about training or their future masters and mistresses. Not like this.

Of course Bruce had never seen a culling before, the last one had been many millennia ago before he had even been born, but he had done a lot of research into Midgard and how it worked over the years when he had earned his right to pursue academic studies as well as his duties. He looked solemn as he glanced over at Anthony stood before those cowering children.

"It's worse than you can imagine. Midgard has many millions that die from lack of food, or shelter to sleep in. When other parts of their realm gorge themselves, or live in palaces big enough to house whole communities."

Asgard didn't have that. Some of the poorest farmers may sometimes eat lean, but none went without home or food. All Midgardians knew that they were guaranteed to be taken care of, even if unclaimed, because they were a life. A slave, perhaps, but still alive and part of the protection of Aesir.

"They fear us, because they have never been ruled. They live in small factions and think themselves the mightiest, and yet they cannot even care for their own weak. Be angry for the others, I am, but channel that into helping the ones that we have here."

Anthony nodded a few times as if resolved to do as tasked. Their job here was important. Most of the people on this moon would never leave it. Especially the males. They would be bred and then culled because they could not be tamed but their children would reap their rewards. Their line would carry on. In a few centuries, they would find purpose unlike what they thought they had in their Realm and it would be good to see those children grow to serve.

A few of the sick or infirm that had either not been noticed on the trip or hurt themselves during it were taken out to another building and kindly sent to Hel were their souls would know eternal rest and happiness. Their bodies would be buried, not by slaves, but by the Aesir warriors that had come with them as guards and trainers since it was part of their thanks for the good harvest of slaves.

Everyone here had a job. And the Asgardians that served during this year long period of training and first round breeding would be treated well to first pick of the new stock.

It was their honor, therefore, to conduct such menial tasks as the slaves prepared themselves to help create a new generation of slaves for Asgard. They ate and drank, warriors and laborers alike, in the massive feasting hall. After all, this moon and training ground was for them and for their species.

It was a good time to be alive.

Morning came after a hard night's work and Anthony accompanied Loki to his duty as commander to allow the breeding rites and rituals to begin. He couldn't help but touch the corner of Loki's sleeve as they moved from the blessing dais to the selection forum. The slave warriors would get their first pick and chief of them was Steven, standing in his gleaming armor.

Anthony was so proud of him.

The night before the breeding rites were set to take place, there might be some commotion from the small pens where the 'duplicate' slaves had been kept, claimed by Bruce in order to examine them further and see if he could find a link between the realms and find what might have made that particular branch of Yggdrasil rot.

The pen next to the three ex-Avengers, where the masked man had been put, began to screech as he, impossibly, began to bend back the bars very slowly with his left arm. It took a lot of effort, straining the arm to the maximum capability, but he would not be caged. He had his orders, and those did not involve being a prisoner here.

Clint was the only one awake at the time, and he immediately nudged both Steve and Tony awake, voice low.

"Look. Tall, dark, and creepy is getting out. Think we can get him to take us?"

Getting the Soldier to do anything outside of his orders was impossible. Currently those orders were to kill Loki and since neither of the three were actually Loki, they would see the shadow pass without even a glance towards their cage. It didn't matter how much Tony yelled either, though Barton put the kibosh on that and put a half choke hold on the engineer. His cries might rouse the others and that was a very bad thing if they wanted a distraction or at least someone to make it out.

"How's he so strong," Clint asked, ignoring Tony as he tried to tap out of his arms. He frowned at Steve. "Are you're supposed to be incredibly strong? Pepperoni pizza says you've got the muscles," he grinned, but that grin was mostly a mask.

Clint wasn't thinking about his family. Not yet. He assumed that they survived being in the middle of no where. The cities hadnt but surely they were fine.

A concussed Captain American would likely be able to bend the bars. But not before the alarm was sounded and the Soldier thrown back into his cage with double reinforced bars and a reverent sort of whisper about his abilities. Loki would be told of this incident the moment he stepped down to allow the slave warrior to do their choosing. Anthony wouldn't get to watch Steven's glor, or the beautiful and deadly redhead be selected who had been given a potion to reverse the work done to her in her youth, not when he had to follow after Loki as he was brought to the pens to question the escapee.

Anthony wasn't exactly that interested in this portion. They should just breed the man and cull him. Easy.

Edited 2017-06-14 01:43 (UTC)

Steven was proud to do his duty and know that his lineage would serve the Aesir for many years to come. He chose his partner and took a large draught of the mead brewed specifically for this purpose. It would make any who drank it exceptionally fertile, and the honey acted as a powerful aphrodisiac. The men chosen for breeding would become little more than mindless rutting animals, desperate to spill their seed inside the women, and the women would become just as desperate, their slickness allowing an easier breeding.

The Aesir were not cruel, they did not wish their slaves to be discomforted during this long year of expanding the herds.

Loki stopped in front of the cages and flicked his fingers, green light tearing away the mask and goggles that had been kept in place until then. Even he could not help but gasp, for this was a face he had not expected to see again. Yet it was harder, not the smile that James always had.

"His mind has been lost, it is as if he is half of Hel and half of Midgard."

A sad fate for one so noble and loyal as James had been.

That was heartbreaking for Anthony, more than anything else had been. He watched James stare blankly at him and then return his gaze to Loki as if he wanted nothing more than the strangle him to death. "James," he whispered, prompting one person in the neighboring cage to move closer to the bars. He said nothing to this version of Steven, but he could see the pain in his eyes as he realized who had been beside them all night.

"Buck?"

The word didn't translate to Anthony as anything in particular so he more or less ignored it and instead glanced towards Loki. "I know it would be kinder to send him the rest of the way to Hel, but Prince Thor--"

He'd never have to know. It still seemed so cruel. And it was a way of helping his own Steven out to get back to his Master if he had a way to absorb some of the intense Aesir's attention.

"Can't we help him? Bruce wanted to experiment with our doubles....maybe he can bring James back."

The Soldier didn't even glance over at the cage where Steve was looking at him with such heartbreaking hope and sorrow all mingled together with confusion. Nothing existed for him now except his target standing right there, Loki in the flesh. He analysed the conversation and considered where best might get him out of the cage and to a position where he could fulfil his mission.

"I want to be helped."

He doesn't. He doesn't even know who James is or the context they're using it for, but he does know how to act where necessary. An assassin has to be able to blend in and adapt to any situation.

Loki's eyebrows raise slightly, but he's well practised in hearing lies and so he shakes his head almost at once.

"Bruce may attempt to experiment on him if he wishes, I give permission, but no others are to enter this cage. He is not to be used for breeding or work, and should the experiments fail within the year in the training grounds, we will send him to Hel."

"More than fair, my prince," Anthony chirped, knowing his master was kinder than most others. James would have been dead already had any other been in charge. There was little room for more love than Anthony already had for Loki but somehow it kept growing anyway.

A cheer from outside likely meant that Steven was finished with his initial task, opening up the round for all others that came behind him and indeed, when Anthony and Loki returned outside, Steven was toweling off and his conquest was being taken to recover in the maternity building where she would stay until it was known if the breeding took.

He fell into line with Loki, thanking him for the opportunity to serve, and together, the three left without letting Steven know of James inside.

That didn't stop Steve, however, from trying to get through to his friend. "Buck. Buck do you know me?" How was it possible that he was still alive?

The Soldier watched until Loki had fully disappeared from view, before his entire body language changed from tense and alert, to a predator resting. Not quite relaxed, more in a state of rest until he had to charge and move once more. Only then did he tilt his face towards the other cage and the incessant call of the blond haired man, his own eyes completely blank.

"No."

He could tell by context clues that 'Buck' was supposed to be him, though he had never heard that designation before. The question wasn't a hard one to answer, he had never seen this man and he had no interest in him.

"It's not him, Steve," said Clint, gently. "That's impossible. You saw him die in the forties, right? And it's not like he's a superguy like you, he's just someone that looks like your friend."

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that you tried to kill me," Tony spat out, rubbing his neck in a way that caused the blue light in his chest to bob in the darkness. "Because that wasn't cool, Legolas. That wasn't cool." No one was really paying attention to him at the moment anyway, their conversation about the man next to them, and so in his perpetual need to be the center of attention, he offered: "And uh? He is super powered? He bent the cage. That's stronger than Captain Kool-Aid here."

Steve ignored them both, clinging to the cross beams as he pressed his face close to the metal.

"Bucky, it's me. It's Steve. Steve Rogers." It didn't matter what Clint said. This was Bucky. He would know him anywhere. "We grew up in Brooklyn together. We served in the Army together."

This would go on for some time, Steve wasting his breath trying to coax recognition from the other.

Tony groaned somewhere at the hour mark and kicked out at Barton. "Signature move him. I can't listen to this any more."

Steve talked well past the point his throat began hurting, his head pressed to the bars of his cage and his eyes burning. It was Bucky, God, it was really him. Why didn't he know Steve? Why wouldn't he speak beyond that one no? What had happened to him in the last seventy years? He felt sick with it, with knowing he must have failed his best friend in worse ways than he ever imagined.

He only stopped when their cage was approached by the one who looked like Bruce. He smiled in at them, making a small note on a parchment he carried with him.

"My name is Bruce, I'm going to be your supervisor for the next year. I hope we can work well together, I'll ask for your cooperation in all aspects of testing. Please don't fight me on this, I-- do not deal well with being angry."

It was a genuine warning, but he had no idea how much more sinister it might sound to these three. Not the Soldier, he didn't know or care about the Hulk.

Tony was taking it hard. He had met Bruce and worked with him in the span of five hours but he was the sort of man that hated and loved easily. Bruce Banner was his soulmate. He had known it since the other thanked him for the first words he said on the bridge of the hellicarrier. Any person that could be such a terror internally and take ribbing with a grain of salt all while being the second smartest man in the world made people like Tony Stark salivate. The older version of the kid that Bruce had mentored for years moved to the front of his enclosure and wrapped his hands around the bars. If Steve was allowed to spend a few hours whining at Bucky, he could suck it up and listen to Tony made impassioned pleas too.

"I know you. You're Bruce Banner. You're the world's leading theoretical and experimental physicist. I've read your entire body of work-- skimmed. I've skimmed your entire body or work. Mostly. I looked at all of the diagrams." Clint rolled his eyes at Stark. He was hard to like and hard to hate. How did a person get to be like that? "And you know me too, right? Just like this blond idiot here has a twin that knows me...? If you guys know us than why aren't you helping us?"

Tony fell into the stereotypical culling candidate. He pleaded. He negotiated. He had no idea that he was fighting against progress.

"And don't say that experimenting on us like animals is going to help. But if you have to take anyone first, can I suggest Barton? He's violent and smells like pizza."

Steve and Clint just stared at Tony for that.

"Perhaps the Bruce "Banner" you know from your world is a physicist, but I am a slave, and happy in my position."

Banner. What an odd name, not even a family name that gave the designation of his father as sire. Slaves did not take a family name, of course, as such a thing was not for property and they very rarely lived with their parents for any length of time. But surely if a family name existed, it should be passed from father to son, mother to daughter.

"You will likely not come to realise the benefits of this life, and for that I'm sorry. But you can be assured that your children, and children's children, will have a better life than Midgard could ever provide to them."

It was unusual, but he had heard tales of the last culling where some small minority of adults taken had become successfully integrated, but these were often already the most downtrodden and poor. They were so grateful to be offered food, security, and shelter that they embraced their new masters with open arms.

"I would like you to, one by one, step into the centre of your cell and hold your arms out to the sides, please."

“So…gonna pass,” Tony said immediately and Clint, who was now lounging in the back of the cell, knees up and one arm thrown across it, nodded.

“Me too, I’m good here, thanks.” His children’s children were going to be just fine where they were. When they decided to have them. Clint trusted his wife to raise those kids right and not rush into anything. He turned his face away from those gathered and looked through the grating at Bucky, face stoic and eyes facing front. That dude had the right idea.

Steve wasn’t going to listen either. He was not a POW, he was a kidnapping victim. That did not mean that he had to follow protocol. He did not have to comply and so he wouldn’t. That was going to make Bruce’s job harder, which was fine, right up until the point where he was joined by two Aesir, both women, but incredibly strong. Bruce had been right about the force. He would use it if he had it. And with this group, too wild and high strung, he was going to have to.

It wasn’t a great situation.

Of course, Tony ended up ‘going first.’ He was the closest and easiest to grab. There was some muttering from the rest of the group but they would all learn soon enough that they could not outmatch these people in strength.

Edited 2017-06-14 12:43 (UTC)

It wasn't even much to fight against, Bruce simply took a scan from them when they were in position to be examined later. There had to be something in their base genetic level that different from the mortals of the proper Midgard, something that indicated why the branch had rotted. Only when they found that would they be able to adequately guard against the same thing happening in the future to them.

Each of them would be scanned and released, though one of the ones who held James' counterpart would end up with a broken arm in the process.

In fact, not much terrible would happen for weeks. They would be kept in their little cage, taken out once a day at sunset for exercise, and examined by Bruce. Steve kept trying to talk to Bucky and got nothing, and they never saw any of the other slaves. In fact, it was nine weeks before something new happened, a portal opening and Thor finally allowed to leave his position as All-Father to return to being a prince, arrived.

With over three hundred women already showing the initial signs of additional life within them and celebrations happening every evening, the feeling for those belonging to the invasion party was light and airy. Aesir and Midgardians alike broke bread for only here were they closest to equal. The year would be a fine one, all told Loki of this as they were plied with delicious foods and kept their duties top notch and on point.

It had just reached sunset when Thor Odinson stepped foot on the moon and a rallying cry greeted him. He’d kept in constant contact with Loki and so his arrival was not entirely unexpected once Odin and Frigga had returned with stories and the spoils of a secret war conducted in retribution for the pains bestowed upon their youngest son. Jotunheim would fall in line and had already pledged, in two hundred years, to send vassals to Vanaheim and Asgard once their world healed. It was a fine time to be Asgardian or to be ruled by the Asgardians and all celebrated.

Thor was dressed down in trousers and a hunting tunic, happily striding through the outlier camps set up around the permanent structures on the look out for his brother. And he would find him too, having dinner in the company of Sif and Fandral with Anthony beside him. Steven was with the other warriors who had completed their round of duties for the day and was resting at the moment, to join Loki in the morning for his period of respite from the magic-laced mead he had been heavily imbibing.

There were already four pregnancies attributed to him, well into their first trimester of gestation.

"Brother! I am free once more! Embrace me for I have missed you!"

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