#playthings part4

[grandthorkiday]

Mob AU “Playthings” Part 4

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.” No one laughed. “Seriously?! Goodfellas! One of the greatest mob movies of all times! One of the greatest movies of all time!” No one spoke. “I will have you know that was a spot on Ray Liotta impression.”

“Not now, Tony,” Natasha Romanoff said from her position leaning against his desk.

It was midmorning the next day, and they were all packed into ADA’s office. Tony Stark, the ADA in question was leaning back in his office chair, feet on the desk. Since his joke had fallen flat, he had taken to staring at the ceiling. His partner, Natasha, fiddled with the recording device they had been listening to. Strange had recorded Loki’s recounting of the initial kidnapping before the young man had broken down and cut the interview off. Now, protectively, the psychiatrist batted the woman’s hand away from the recording as though it held some essence of the young man that needed to be taken care of. Val and Bruce sat side by side, Val’s old notes on her lap while Bruce had a condensed version of all the notes the department had taken over the years on Gast in his.

“Anyway,” the detective said as she picked through the mess of paper on her lap, “Loki and Thor both worked at Lille Melt.”

“Thought they would be able to go to college and not work.”

“Apparently Odin cut Thor off when he refused to go to live in the dorms. And I think he cut Loki off for refusing to go to Georgetown.”

“Father of the year.”

“Lille Melt is owned by a lieutenant in the Sakaar family. And it was a frequent destination for Gast until well about nine and half years ago.”

“Are you saying he saw the two of them and was like, ‘Yeah, that’s what I want’?” Tony asked.

“Basically, yeah,” Bruce glanced at his notes. “That place was and has always been filled with lower level thugs and their family members trying to make their bones. Boss could have expressed interest and a dozen of their coworkers could have started supplying him with information about them.”

“Why not snatch them from work then?” Natasha adjusted herself on the desk.

“Too many witnesses and sober Thor really could have held his own. So could Loki. They weren’t pushovers.”

[read more cut]

“So he waits until they’re off work and school, then takes them.”

“The technique is pretty common for kidnappings associated with Sakaar. What’s unusual is Gast being personally involved,” Val shufffled through her papers.

“He was in the old days.” Stark took his feet off the desk and pulled his chair up. “Back when it was his stepfather’s operation.”

“I remember hearing that,” the other ADA said. “Stepdaddy married Mommy for her real estate money and gave Gast responsibility for like some delis and restaurants that had bookie operations in the back. He made them legitimately profitable and expanded the nonlegit stuff as well. Drugs, girls, and gambling, get a good meal while you wait. That was the pitch. He basically bought his stepdad out of being the boss.”

“Oh there’s a lot more to him raising to head of the Sakaar family besides that, but yeah. The old guys used to say he performing mob beautification. Nowadays you’d call it mob gentrification.”

“Has anyone verified Loki’s account?”

“Fandral Dashwood. Roommates with both brothers,” Val slid a yellowing copy of her original notes and a more recent copy over the desk. “He says they went out, they got drinks, they went to Gast’s table. The group lost track of them for about an hour or so before they were told they left.”

“Who told them?”

“The bartender. Apparently Gast paid for their tab before he left.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Strange’s phone rang. He put his finger up to silence everyone and answered, professionally saying, “Dr. Stephen Strange, how can I help you?” There was a pause as he listened. He frowned slightly. “How is he reacting?” His frown deepened. “How long?” He looked around at Val and mouthed, ‘Loki.’

“No shit,” she hissed jumping up and pushing her papers toward Stark. Stark shook his head at the papers and Romanoff took them quickly.

“That was my assistant. Apparently Loki found a channel on the cage match in Atlantic City. And he saw Thor. And Gast.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

“Actually, he took it remarkably well. You would think he was watching his favorite television show the way it sounds. They’ve been unable to get him to turn it off is the problem.

Val and Strange got to the facility an hour later. Loki was still in the main ‘common area’, parked on the floor in front of the TV. He reminded her of a child watching a Saturday morning cartoon show: he was still dressed in his pajamas and he was clutching a pillow close to his chest. He wasn’t really smiling, but his face had an enraptured look as he looked at the screen. On the screen, Gast was being interviewed.

“You think it’s going to be a great fight?”

“I sure hope it is for how expensive it was to put on!” Everyone laughed. “But seriously, I do think it will be a good fight. We got the good ol’ crowd favorite, Groot. Love'em to death. Not much of a talker.”

“Not a peep, really,” Thor agreed.

“But he’s a good guy. Then you got ‘The Punisher’ over there. Oooh boy, is this going to be a fight.”

“Nothing nice to say about Castle?”

“He’s hot? If you’re into that kind of thing,” Thor shrugged.

Gast playfully pulled him close. “Naughty thing! He likes to play coy!” He kissed Thor who quickly deepened the kiss, moaning loadly as the Grandmaster’s hand travelled down to his legs and began to slide upward.

Loki whimpered, curling in on himself more.

“Hey now! We’re pay-per-view channel but it ain’t that kind of pay-per-view!” The host laughed, but made no move to physically stop them.

“Loki?” Val sat down on the couch. She glanced at Strange. He was analyzing the younger man’s behavior as well as analyzing as much as he could from Thor’s on the television.

“He’s not so mad anymore,” was the response she received. “He was so mad when he left. He kept saying he was going to make Thor stay in hotel room….and visit with people.”

“'Visit with people’?”

“They wear condoms, so it’s okay.”

She grimaced at that. “Maybe you should turn off the television.”

“I usually get to watch all of his interviews when we’re away from one another. I even get to call in sometimes,” he looked around hopefully. “I think I can remember the number. Can I have a phone?”

“No!” Val grabbed the remote from a side table and turned it off.

Loki gave out a cry as the screen went black, scrambling over to manually turn it on. Strange was faster and blocked his path.

“Nope! No more television for today. At least not until we talk about what just happened here.”

“All that happened was some FUCKING BITCH turned off the television!”

“New rule: no name-calling people are trying to help you.”

“Shut up asshole!”

“Already broke it.”

“Loki, do you remember what you talked about with Dr. Strange yesterday?”

That caused a change. The young man seemed to shrink and became suddenly fascinated with the fabric of the rug. He nodded slowly.

“Do you think maybe it would be wise if we pick up where you left off?”

Loki shrugged, standing up and swaying slightly. “In the office again?”

“Until I get in the habit of carrying around a recorder, afraid so.”

“C-can Val come with us again?”

“Of course. Whatever makes it easier.”

~2009~

They were unsure how long they had been down here, in the dark. The few people who had come by to look at them and replace the bucket that served as their toilet didn’t exactly come on a regular schedule. Nor were they chatty. They usually just threatened them if to not make an escape attempt, brandishing their guns at them. They hadn’t eaten anything in what felt like days. They had been given water, but only just enough it seemed. There was no blanket or material to make anything resembling a bed. There was a patch of the wall that was warmer than the rest, but it was close to the door. And the brutes had a habit of throwing open the door. Thor nearly had his nose broken once.

The door opened once more. The light behind it was so bright compared to the room they were in that they drew back, shielding their eyes.

“Ah, you are behaving today!” The voice was familiar. It sent a shiver down Loki’s spine.

‘Malcolm’ entered the rook followed by four men. He was wearing tailored pants and a ridiculous paisley shirt. He smelled of spiced cologne. His hands were in his pockets and he made a small gesture with his head. A fifth man entered, bringing in a chair before retreating out once more.

As he daintily sat and crossed his legs, he smiled. “My you boys must really be bored. Nothing really to do here. Well, there’s ah ha one thing I guess you can be doing here.” He winked and all four of the men laughed on cue. The brothers kept silent. The man sighed. “To business I sup-”

“You won’t get away with this!” Thor barked, trying to stand. The man nearest him pushed him back down.

“Rule one, sweetheart. No interrupting me. You wait to sp-”

“Our Father knows men in the FBI! And Police Commissioner!” Loki shouted.

'Malcolm’ sighed and rubbed his temple. “I didn’t want the to do this the first day.” He snapped his fingers and all four men withdrew handguns from their belts, pointing them straight at Loki. The young man cried out and Thor immediately threw himself over his brother.

“Hey now, nothing’s going to happen! Not if you both behave. I said, don’t interrupt me. So don’t interrupt me. Very simple. Now, do either of you know who I am?”

Again the brothers were silent.

“It’s okay if you don’t. My name is En Dwi Gast. Though everyone calls me by my title; The Grandmaster.”

Thor swore quietly and Loki’s eyes widened. Everyone in New York knew the Grandmaster.

“See you do know me!” Gast clapped his hands excitedly. “Now, I don’t really need for you to introduce yourselves. Thor Valhalla, oldest son second child of Odin Valhalla the famous attorney who has made his boned in the international diplomacy trade. And you are Loki Valhalla, adopted son of Odin. Your original Father was Laufey Jotunheim, who died as part of a peace delegation. Your birth Mother gave you to her friend Frigga before she took that last bow.”

“You can get all this from a Google search or day at the god damn library with an up to date periodical section,” Thor growled. He had waited until Grandmaster stopped speaking.

The man shrugged. “They said I was a lazy student in school.” He stroked his chin. “You two hungry?”

It was a surreal moment. He had asked like they were in the middle of an interview or had been visiting. It had been asked casually, ignoring the guns and the bucket of human waste in the corner. He stood and nodded. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t fill your bellies.”

They used one another as a crutch as they were forced and follow him out of the room. They were surrounded by men with guns and they were too weak to really break free.

Gast led them to another room that had been set up with a folding table and three chairs. He waved each into a chair. He smiled eagerly at them. Sitting between them, he waved over two women with silver serving trays. In front of Loki they placed a bowl of soup, Minestrone, his favorite. Thor had been given a Monte Cristo. They stared at one another over their plates: the meal was a familiar one. They had had it before. It was the last lunch they had ordered when their Mother had come into the city to visit.

“You know, Frigga is a beautiful woman,” Gast was saying. He had been handed a folder and he was going through it, slowly and with exaggerated care. He took out a photograph and put it in the center of the table. Frigga, Loki, and, Thor were sitting outside a cafe, laughing as Hela moved to sit down with them. “I mean, you tell me she has kids in her twenties and I wouldn’t believe it. Good genes.” His eyes swept over Thor. “Good genes.”

“What do you want from us?”

“Right now, I want you to eat. Your hungry, aren’t you sweetheart? Eat something for me. Please?”

The meal tasted of ash and salt. But they both ate every last bite.