POV: Amora.
Roof of a Building Near the Target.
After Recruiting Amora.
2014.
(Patience, surely, has never been one of my virtues.)
Perched atop one building, gazing at another across the street, I ponder why I agreed to help this group that's likely to end up dead. I'm certain that my reason for helping them stems from all the events that unfolded after my banishment.
Initially, I truly felt lost without a direction to turn. I wandered through New York after the attack, with many mortals still laboring to rescue those trapped underground.
Baldur was right, in a way; this is partially my fault, since I aided the enemy. So, for the first time in many centuries, I carried a heavy conscience.
I began secretly assisting mortals. After ensuring that no mortal was left behind, I continued wandering, this time across the world.
There were some interesting encounters during my travels, but none distracted me enough to alleviate the guilt in my heart. A month later, the Ancient One came to see me. I've never said it aloud, but she's one of the few beings in this realm whom I deeply respect. She's also the only one I can call a friend. The Ancient One traveled with me for a while, and most of the time, we conversed as we always did, about magic and past mistakes.
After spending some more time wandering, it was the Ancient One who gave me a new purpose, something I desperately needed. Actually, she gave me one of those long speeches about life and its purpose, and luckily, it worked, albeit not in the way she intended. Instead of finding inner peace, I sought revenge. Revenge against Death herself.
My actions were my own; Death didn't force me to do anything, but she certainly manipulated me. That alone is enough for her to incur my wrath.
Now with a goal in mind, I only needed a plan. After spending several years with him, I learned a bit about patience, something I never had, but the patience to bring misfortune upon Death energized me once more. So, I settled in a small, rundown bar in a secluded part of the city. It wasn't the most beautiful place in the world, but it served my purpose. The Ancient One told me that I chose this location only to punish myself more, and she was right.
I could have built a palace, or even compelled a mortal to give me one, but this dingy bar was my choice.
With the location set, I focused my attention on studies. Finding a way to make a cosmic entity suffer isn't an easy task, but it gave me some peace. That's how I spent my days, until I received word that Genosha had been invaded by dark elves. I had never been so furious; those cursed vermin from Svartalfheim dared spill the blood of my people.
I was about to join the war, and once again, my friend stopped me. She made me give up actively participating in the war, simply because I wasn't going with the sole intention of helping; I wanted to use it to regain my people's trust and be forgiven. Once again, she was correct. I knew those were my true feelings, and my husband would never forgive me if I used my people's pain to try to gain their trust.
So, I remained in the shadows, only observing. I almost revealed myself in some situations, like when Baldur showed great interest in the Lady of the Angel's Hunt. He was being too careful in their fight.
Then I discovered that she was actually Baldur's lost sister, and I was pleased. When I saw Baldur for the first time after my banishment, he seemed sad and lonely. He always found the idea of living much longer than others terrifying. My presence with him erased that fear, which now resurfaced once again. But Angela is now by his side.
Events continued, and Baldur fell into the Elf King's trap. I knew my husband too well to know that he was plotting something, so I realized that all of this was Baldur's trap, not his enemies'. Genosha's troops invaded Svartalfheim to destroy the Black Bifrost, thus cutting off any means of escape. That's when I realized that the three elf witches were almost moving the Black Bifrost to another location. And even using the Destroyer in battle wouldn't give enough time to stop it, so I had no choice but to intervene by killing the three witches, ensuring no one saw me.
With the Black Bifrost destroyed, I returned to Baldur's fight. My husband did not disappoint me. I never imagined that he and Loki were working together; that made me smile with joy. Baldur always loved Loki more than Thor, aside from his parents; he suffered the most from his estrangement.
The course of the battle changed once again when Malekith used magic to become more powerful. And then it happened; Baldur used two deities to end the fight. At that moment, he almost reached the power level of a Skyfather. I know him well enough to know that he won't keep Thor's power; it's a waste to leave such power in the hands of that idiot in my opinion, but it doesn't matter. I'm sure Baldur will one day surpass that power level on his own.
Finally, the war ended, and I returned to my routine of studying and planning. Planning revenge certainly brings me joy, but research is something that brings boredom. So when my boredom was almost overwhelming me, Black Widow entered my bar with a proposal for me; it would be a good distraction.
I was clearly wrong about this. First, they filled me in on all the details of what happened before. I didn't pay much attention to their story, but I was quite pleased when they told me about the death of the one-eyed spy; I never liked him. After that, they dragged me to a government stronghold where they stole something for the new team member, a black man whose name I didn't bother to remember. Then we arrived here, on top of the building, waiting for one of the enemy's men to get answers.
"I can feel you staring at me, I'm sorry, but I'm not into women," Natasha said to me from beside me.
She was using binoculars to look at the building ahead; Rogers and the Rookie were on the ground waiting to approach him. Clearly, the Widow stayed with me up here to keep me in check. As if she could do that.
"I'm just thinking if my promise to help them was a mistake," I calmly replied to the spy.
"And why would it be a mistake?"
"We're up here in this sun, for a completely useless action."
"Gathering information about the enemy's plan is not a useless action," she countered calmly.
"You already know who the enemy is, so why the details? All you have to do is simply eliminate him, that's your plan."
"It may be. But they may have other useful information, like what happened to the other Avengers."
That shut me up. Not that I care about the others, but I want to know what idiotic and futile plan they have for my husband; whatever the plan is, it must be well-crafted to give them the courage to make such a move.
"He's coming out," Natasha then said over the communicator.
I focus my attention on the entrance of the building across from ours, where a group of security guards surrounds two men who calmly walk out onto the street toward the cars. The two men chat for a moment, then separate. Shortly after, the one left behind receives a phone call that clearly disturbs him, probably Rogers threatening him in some way. A few minutes later, the terrace door explodes, and a man is thrown to the ground. He rolls and stands up, clearly frightened and nervous. Rogers enters the terrace and approaches the man.
"Tell me about the Zola Algorithm," he demands of the suited man, who continues to move away from the soldier.
"I don't know," the other responds.
"What were you doing at the Lemurian Star?"
"I was vomiting because I felt sick."
The suited man plays with his answers until he reaches the edge of the building, where he has nowhere left to retreat. Rogers stands in front of him and grabs his clothes, preventing him from falling.
"Does this mean you're going to throw me off the roof? Because that's not like you, Rogers," the man says, exuding confidence for the first time.
(Let's fast forward this waste of time a bit.)
Before Steve can respond to the man, I pull him toward me and look into his eyes. I've never paid attention to his appearance until now; he's clearly quite ugly, a small, bald man wearing large glasses. I even feel a bit sorry for him.
"Answer his questions," I tell the bald man, using a bit of enchantment.
"Yes, ma'am," he replies mechanically.
"There. You can ask now," I say, releasing him and stepping back. Rogers and Natasha continue to stare at the man until he speaks into his communicator.
"Sam, you can come back. I don't think we'll need the incentive," he says. Shortly after, a man with metal wings lands on the building. His wings retract and fold into a backpack on his back. I must applaud the Rookie's courage; few men would dare to fly with something built with such archaic technology.
"What happened?" the Rookie asks, looking at the enchanted man.
"He seems to be in some sort of trance," Natasha says, waving her hand in front of the bald man's face.
"That's somewhat accurate. You wouldn't understand what I did, so just ask your questions already."
I'm completely uninterested in anything this man might say that isn't about the other Avengers. I don't understand mortals' obsession with getting every detail of a story; they already know who the enemy is, logically, the enemy is plotting something against them. I would simply attack them and thwart any plans they have, but that's just my way of doing things. Something Baldur found quite amusing; to him, my behavior doesn't resemble that of a mage at all.
"Tell me about the Zola algorithm," Steve asks again, this time calmly.
"The Zola Algorithm is a program to select internal targets of the project," the bald man responds without any emotion in his voice.
"Which targets?" Steve continues.
"You, a TV presenter from Cairo, the Deputy Secretary of Defense, a top graduate from Iowa, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange. Any threat to Hydra. Now or in the future."
"In the future? How would they know?" Steve asks, confused.
"The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught Hydra to read, the balance of your bank accounts, medical history, voting patterns, emails, phone calls, exam results. The Zola algorithm assesses people's past to predict their future."
"And then?"
"Do you really have to ask such a stupid question?" I interrupt Steve and his idiotic question.
"How many?" Natasha asks, understanding the enemy's next move.
"The infiltrators on the Helicarrier will cut names from the list. Some millions at a time," the bald man says.
That certainly shocked everyone here. Except me, of course. I predicted that something like this would happen; this damned Hydra escaped our clutches and remained hidden for many years and only began to reveal itself now. It's clear they're ready for endgame.
"What happened to the Avengers Base? Why is no one responding?" Natasha asks.
"They were all confined to their new base in space."
"How?"
"We had a Hydra spy working with Stark on the base's construction. We just made him put a dormant virus in the facility; they'll be confined to that location until the project begins, then they'll be attacked."
"And Genosha, and Baldur?"
Finally, a question from Steve grabs my full attention. Both Steve and Baldur were responsible for Hydra's defeat in World War II; I highly doubt they don't have a plan to deal with Genosha.
"The only reason we're moving now is that in the past year, we've found a way to deal with Genosha and its King. If not for that, we would have delayed the project further."
"What way?"
"I don't know the details. The plan is being kept secret; only the heads of Hydra know it. I just know that this plan was only possible because an enemy of Genosha helped them."
(A plan to deal with Genosha and with my King.)
I don't know if they're fools or if they really have such a big ace up their sleeve. Either way, this little adventure has become more interesting for this queen.
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