AN: So I'm back again.
Hope you enjoy the chapter and please do leave a review or comment, and let me know what you think!
If you have any specific questions or suggestions, please feel free to PM me.
Also as a tag on when I have the time I am going to be dipping into some of my older chapters cleaning up the grammar and typos that I missed in the past.
Nothing major will change, just a bit of polished and minor editing.
Following a number of very kind DMs, I have a ko-fi page, please feel free to support if you want: Ko-fi dot com/Greed 720
Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Ghoul or the MCU.
( - )
(Last Time)
He didn't like thinking of the person he had once been.
Both out of shame of who he was now and disappointment of who he was then.
"Well, that's cryptic," Yelena said rolling her eyes.
"Would you go back to living in ignorance, knowing that everything would be easier? Or are you happier now you're free, despite life being much harder now you're aware?" Kaneki frowned.
The smile slipped off Yelena's face in an instant. "It's better to die free than spend your life as a prisoner."
Kaneki grimaced and took a sip of his bitter, bitter coffee.
No truer words had ever been said.
( - )
Chapter 18
( - )
(With Kaneki)
Paris.
The French Capital was old, and full of history.
Once upon a time, the city had been one of the most important centres of art, commerce, culture, and enlightenment in the world, so much so that it had been known to many as the City of Light.
But, as with all things, time had taken its inevitable toll on the city, and as the rest of the world adapted and developed, Paris, like many other great cities of yesteryear, stagnated.
Everything that had once made Paris special was now diluted as many of the other cities across the world grew, developed, and rose to prominence, even as they usurped many of the city's most popular attributes by doing it bigger, better or more extravagantly.
However, it was not all bad. Unlike some cities which simply accepted their fall from grace and continued their gradual decline into irrelevance – like many of the old, industrial American cities had. Paris had instead rebranded itself as a popular tourist destination for overly loved-up couples to go to spew their feelings for one another. That or a place for wide-eyed idiots to wander around gawking at all the overly commercialised tourist sites.
This, while no doubt disappointing for a city as old and storied as Paris, was very convenient for both Kaneki and Yelena. After all, it was very easy for the two of them to blend in with the rest of the random, faceless tourists who continually traipsed in and out of the city using overpriced rentals or inefficient public transport.
Which was exactly what they had done as they both dressed up in stolen clothing – with yet more clothing, purloined equipment and cash stowed away in similarly illegally appropriated backpacks – and took the train from Rouen to Paris.
Yelena had decided to don a simple pair of blue jeans with a colourful blouse and a trendy jacket over the top. Her slightly curled, golden blonde hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail and had been threaded through the back of her baseball cap. Her eyes, meanwhile, were covered by a pair of designer sunglasses. Altogether she just came across as a well-to-do tourist. Just one among the many tens of thousands that infested the city's public transport network and thronged its streets.
Kaneki, meanwhile, had gone even simpler, by wearing bright white trainers, black shorts, and an equally black t-shirt. Around his waist, he had tied a purple hoodie, while on his head he also wore a baseball cap, only unlike Yelena's plain cap, his clearly spelt out the words 'I 3 Paris'. It was suitably trite and cringey. Enough so that it would barely garner more than an eye roll and some light mocking by the denizens of the city. To add to the image Yelena had meticulously crafted for him, he also wore a pair of mirrored sunglasses, hiding his distinctly monstrous eyes from sight, even as it provoked a few more snide sniggers from the locals.
Ignoring the mockery from the surrounding Parisians, and the faint smell of stale smoke and urine that lingered just beneath the normal stench of humanity, Kaneki kept his gaze on the outside world as it whipped past the window in a blur of grey.
To a casual outside observer, the two of them just looked like a young couple out on an adventure. It was an act Yelena easily sold with some top-quality acting as she nestled into his side and gently laid her head on his shoulder. Her golden blonde hair trickled down his chest like a waterfall.
She was good at what she did. So much so that he might've even been fooled himself, had he not been able to feel how tense she was as she nestled against his side. She felt like a coiled spring, her muscles tense and her mind focused as she readied herself to react at any moment.
With the two of them sitting so close, he could almost taste her nervousness.
She had calmed down a lot from when they had first crash-landed and didn't seem to be as cautious around him as she originally had been. But she was still obviously nervous around him. She clearly didn't trust him for a moment. And honestly, he couldn't blame her. Considering the things, he had done, he wouldn't trust himself on his best day.
Thankfully however the other occupants of the trains were oblivious to his true nature. Instead, they just continued chattering and going about their lives, barely paying attention to those around them.
In many ways, it reminded him of his old café job. Back when he was a server, none of those around him paid him any mind. Aside from some minor small talk, and an occasional thank you, they barely even acknowledged his existence.
A slight smile played across his lips.
He missed those days. Back before Natasha, Fury and SHIELD had entered his life and turned it on its head. Back when he was constantly being overlooked, and considered as just being average, uninteresting run-of-the-mill guy.
Ignoring those around him and their mindless chatter, he watched as the train slowly chugged to a halt.
They'd finally made it into the centre of Paris.
Looking out of the window his smile widened a fraction.
He had been born and raised in Tokyo, a city far larger and far more densely packed than Paris. And as much as he had hated the towering city blocks, the bustling streets and the ever-present rumble of cars and stench of humanity back then, it still reminded him of home. In fact, the only thing Paris was missing was the underlying fear and tension that had always been present back in Tokyo.
"Come on," Yelena said abruptly as those around him surged to their feet and headed for the nearby sliding doors.
Reading a sign that said 'Saint Lazare', Kaneki nodded his head and pushed himself to his feet. Shouldering his rucksack, he followed Yelena as they joined the mass of humanity jostling and pushing to be the first ones off the train.
Stepping onto the platform a few minutes later he breathed in a sigh of relief.
He hadn't been a fan of crowds when he was still human. Back then he'd been far too introverted and awkward to ever feel comfortable in such a social situation.
As a Ghoul he had hated crowds for different reasons. His senses were far too heightened to cope with so many smells and sounds in such close proximity.
It had always given him a headache.
Basking in the space he now had as the crowds of tourists and irritated commuters quickly filtered off the platform and headed to either their next train or into the wider city, he let out a sigh of relief.
"So, what now?" He asked his companion. Looking around the platform, he idly took note of the myriad of cameras around him.
They needed to be careful and remain inconspicuous.
Taking his hand, Yelena pulled him along behind her as she headed for the clearly signposted 'way out'.
"We'll find a youth hostel to stay at this evening," she replied easily, smiling brightly as she didn't add on the fact that they would be looking for one that was circumspect and didn't ask too many questions.
"Sounds good," he nodded, quickening his pace so he was now walking alongside her, their clasped hands swinging back and forth between them as they left the station and joined the rest of the crowds outside.
It was busy, but thankfully not as cramped as the train had been.
Allowing Yelena to guide him, the two of them quickly slipped off the main road and headed down some side streets.
Unlike him, Yelena had visited Paris several times before back when she had still been a brainwashed member of the Black Widows, and as such she had at least a working knowledge of the city, and of who the big names were.
Following her lead, Kaneki couldn't help but smile as they entered a new busy thoroughfare, and she started pointing out the various points of interest to him.
He was glad to have the younger girl along.
Without her, he would have been stuck in an unfamiliar, foreign country, unable to speak or understand the language, and without a clue of what to do next.
His smile turned slightly bitter.
Thinking on it now, he was pretty sure he would have been able to sort himself out eventually. Though just how long it would take him and just how messy it would have ended up being he wasn't sure. He would have certainly been able to navigate the country once he had stolen a map, a phone, and some money.
But that was probably about it.
He wouldn't have known where to get fake travel papers nor how to leave the country legally without said papers. Which in turn would have left him at the mercy of people smugglers as he tried to leave illegally using tried and tested routes. That, or he would have had to go alone and potentially get caught by the police as he tried to cross multiple borders on foot.
Fortunately, he had managed to avoid any of that as he had Yelena with him.
As they continued down the street and towards Yelena's chosen accommodations, they passed an electronics store.
Taking a moment to glance at some of the active television screens as he passed, Kaneki once again spotted the moustachioed face of General Thaddeus Ross transposed onto several of the large, plasma TVs.
From what he could see the aged general was in the middle of a rant. His face was red and his moustache twitched with annoyance as he angrily answered the questions from several frazzled-looking reporters.
Pausing for a moment to watch, the image on the screen then switched to show the familiar face of Tony Stark.
The older man didn't look good. There were dark bags under his eyes, his skin was pale, and his face looked gaunt.
Grimacing, Kaneki looked down at the French words running along the bottom of the screen.
He couldn't hear what Tony was saying, nor could he read the French subtitles below. But at the same time, he didn't need to. After all, all it took was a single glance to see that he looked like he was on the verge of a complete breakdown.
"Kenny?" Yelena said behind him.
Kaneki glanced back at her.
"What is happening?" He asked.
Frowning, Yelena – or Elena as he was supposed to call her in public – joined him at the shopfront.
"They're just talking about the superhuman registration act again," Yelena said dismissively. "Looks like Stark has been put under a lot of pressure to register himself. I guess it's the downsides of being an open and publicly well-known 'superhero'."
"But Stark doesn't have powers?" Kaneki frowned.
Stark, just like Clint and Natasha didn't have any superpowers.
Instead, they relied on a combination of skill, natural talent, and advanced technology.
"Intelligence can be a power of its own," Yelena shrugged. "It doesn't help that Ross is riling everyone up and basically turning the registration act into a witch hunt. Anyone who's different or talented will probably end up being accused of having powers. After all, people are jealous fuckwits by nature and tend to hate and fear those that are different or better than them."
"Do you think he'll do as they say?" Kaneki asked. "Stark has a big ego. I don't see him backing down and giving in to anyone."
"He might not have a choice," Yelena said. "He decided to out himself for attention and now he's gotta live with the consequences. Money and wealth will take you a long way in America, but when weighed against politics and public opinion… well the country was founded on rebellion for a reason. All those politicians and rich social elites he's been cosying up to all his life. They will all turn on him in an instant if it means either saving themselves or benefitting themselves. And without allies, not even someone as rich as Tony Stark is immune to the demands of the masses. I don't think the question is 'if he'll do as they say' so much as 'when he'll do as they say'."
Kaneki nodded.
Now that he had seen the full aftermath of the invasion in New York, he was pretty glad he had gone AWOL.
Not only New York was still a quarantine zone with its remaining populace either being bused to other cities or still living in refugee camps. But now that the dust had settled, and the immediate danger was over, people were now turning on those that had saved them too.
From what he could see SHIELD was no longer able to hide in the shadows and was instead getting publicly investigated.
The remaining members of the Avenger's initiative were under immense scrutiny, and now all the superpowered people on SHIELD's database were probably in danger of being tracked down by the United States government and forcibly registered.
After all, it was probably only a matter of time until Fury's superiors – whoever they were – buckled under the pressure and gave up the names on the database to save themselves.
Biting his lip, Kaneki's hands clenched into fists at his side.
Things in the US had gone from bad to worse, especially for people with powers.
But it wasn't just the Americans that were in trouble.
No, from what he could see on some of the other news screens. A lot of other countries had decided to follow America's lead as the different governments started pushing for superpowered people to come forward and register themselves.
There were apparently riots in Africa.
Giant protests in Germany.
Angry, red-faced politicians in Poland shouting, and no doubt calling for those with powers to 'do their duty'.
He grimaced as he continued to shift his gaze between the different screens.
No doubt the same conversations were happening in every other country, as the world not only woke up to the realisation that aliens were in fact real and hostile, but that superpowered people walked among them.
He wet his lips.
It was probably only a matter of time until they started drafting those with powers into different militaries and started hunting down those who didn't register or who tried to dodge the mandatory draft, and when they did start hunting them, those with powers would no doubt react.
He really couldn't see groups of powered beings like the Morlocks reacting well to forced conscription.
There would definitely be violence, and with that violence, there would be yet more deaths and even greater fear.
His hands clenched into fists at his side, as he saw the screen in front of him switch to an aerial photo of the remains of Manhattan.
"Come on," Yelena tugged at his shirt.
Glancing over at her, he nodded.
They needed to get moving.
After all, not only was SHIELD and the American government probably hunting him. But also now probably had both the Red Room and the Russian Government after him as well.
Tugging his cap down he turned away from the electronics store and followed Yelena as she continued down the street and deeper into the labyrinthine backstreets of Paris.
The sooner they got themselves new travel papers and made it to an English-speaking country – where he could at least understand the language - the better.
Continuing through the backstreets the two of them soon made it to their chosen accommodation for the next few days.
It was a small, dingy, cramped townhouse that had been squished between two other much nicer buildings.
The windows to the townhouse were small and shuttered, and the façade was equally depressing. The only sign it was a form of accommodation was the red neon sign in the window which said 'vacancies' in English.
Frowning at the building, he eyed it warily.
It looked like a cheap, poorly maintained shithole.
Giving Yelena the side-eye, he cocked an eyebrow.
"What were you expecting, a five-star hotel?" She asked, her eyes narrowing. "It has a roof and a bed, and the owners don't ask questions. What more do you want?"
Kaneki shrugged. "It's fine, I've slept in worse."
The most two recent examples he could think of were a mausoleum in Rouen and the sewers beneath New York.
"Good," Yelena nodded as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Following her, his nose wrinkled as he was immediately assaulted by the stench of stale smoke, sweat and cheap perfume. The foyer was small, dingy, and lit with obnoxious red neon lights, and the walls he noticed were lined with blurry photographs – mainly of strung-out-looking couples.
"This is a love hotel," Kaneki stated, his tone flat.
He'd never frequented a love hotel before, but he'd heard of them from others who had, and as such he knew that they tended to come in one of two ways. They were either luxurious and ostentatious suites that were frequented by the rich and usually involved in marital affairs or high-class escorts. Or they were sleazy and gross dumps that were used by streetwalkers, and for even shadier purposes. Looking at the place Yelena had taken him to, he immediately suspected that the place was more of the latter than the former.
"I doubt there is much love involved," Yelena replied dryly her gaze surveying the surrounding reception disinterestedly. "But yes, most of its business probably comes from desperate guys and hookers. But it also acts as a regular hotel too. A trashy one, yes. But also, one that doesn't ask questions, doesn't take bankcards, and doesn't require any identification."
He gave her an unimpressed look.
"Don't worry, if you're nervous I'll protect your virtue," Yelena drawled.
His eye twitched.
Before he could retort he was interrupted by the arrival of a dark-haired man with slicked back, greasy hair, and a bad case of BO.
Sending Kaneki, a last smirk, Yelena shifted her attention to the leering Frenchman and started talking to him in rapid French.
Ignoring the byplay, Kaneki continued looking around.
There was a defunct camera in the corner which had a wire hanging loosely beneath it. There was also a set of black leather couches in the corner with a number of leaflets littered across the coffee table in front of it; all of the leaflets looked mildly pornographic in nature.
Ignoring Yelena as she continued her conversation, he strained his senses and, ignoring the underlying smells of sex, urine, tobacco smoke and alcohol that emanated from his surroundings, he instead focused on listening to his surroundings.
Distantly he could hear some faint moaning and some repetitive creaking in a room somewhere overhead. He also could hear the whir of what might be a refrigerator and make out the sound of a television playing some kind of action film. Beneath the sound of the film, he could just about hear some heavy breathing. And, in the far distance – outside of the love hotel – he could hear the rumble of traffic and the sound of chattering voices. It was difficult to pick them all out and isolate them, but with enough concentration, he could at least get an idea of who or what else was in the building.
"Right."
He flicked minutely as Yelena turned to address him.
"We've got one of the nicer rooms for the next three days. It's on the top floor which is apparently where all the long-term stay rooms are. It's probably not going to be fancy. But it has an ensuite and a lock. Though according to Marco, the hotel won't take any responsibility for anything that is damaged or stolen, " Yelena continued, as she handed over some Euros to the greasy hotel owner and took a set of keys in return.
"Noted," Kaneki nodded, taking one of the proffered keys and rearranging the bag on his back.
( - )
(Elsewhere)
Gently lowering his bottle of beer onto the polished surface of the bar, he once again cursed his inability to get drunk.
Sighing mournfully, he idly started to play around with the now empty bottle of Budweiser, rolling it about in his hands as he thought back to happier days.
He had never been much of a drinker when he was younger. The few times he had actually imbibed a bit too much alcohol in his youth he had ended up being violently ill and had woken up the next day with a dry throat and a horrible hangover.
He ran a hand through his groomed hair, mussing it up a bit before he leant back and let out another tired sigh.
He missed those more innocent times, back when he had been just a normal guy.
He didn't regret the person he had become, but at the same time, he did miss the feeling of being just a normal everyday guy. In his darker moments, he missed the life he had once known and the person he had once been.
A wistful look spread across his face.
Things had been simpler back then, when things had felt far blacker and whiter, and when superpowers and aliens were thought of as nothing more than fictitious nonsense.
He continued to twirl the bottle around in his hands as he let his mind wander.
A faint smile spread across his lips, as he thought back to the training camp, and that first time he had met the woman he would one day come to love.
Peggy, he thought.
She was never far from his thoughts.
He continued to play around with the empty bottle in front of him.
Peggy was still alive.
Phil Coulson had told him as much when he pressed him about it.
She was also in her nineties and had lived a full life, had a successful career, and had ended up married and with kids.
A momentary feeling of bitterness welled up within him at that thought, only for it to fade just as fast as it had arrived.
He couldn't begrudge her moving on. As for one, they had never officially been together, and for another, he had gone missing after his last mission and had spent the last sixty years entombed in ice.
He grimaced.
How had it all turned out this way?
He had undergone the supersoldier procedure to do good, to be a hero, to save people and to serve his country, and for a while, he had done just that.
During the last few years of World War Two, he and the rest of his team, the Howling Commandos, had done a lot of good. They had tracked down and destroyed dozens of Hydra bases. They'd liberated hundreds of prisoners and test subjects from Hydra's laboratories and camps. And, near the end of the war, they had finally defeated the Red Skull and annihilated what remained of his organisations.
He smiled softly as he submerged himself in his memories and allowed his mind to drift back to how things had once been.
He missed the comradery he'd had with the other commandos.
After every victory they had celebrated like there was no tomorrow, and after every loss they had raised a glass in commiseration.
They had fought together and grieved together.
They had been like a band of brothers.
He smiled wistfully.
Working with the other Avengers, and with SHIELD had not been like that.
Instead, things had been tense and uncomfortable, egos had clashed, and people had kept secrets and pursued their own interests. The only time they had actually come together like a proper team, had been during the early stages of the Battle of New York.
For just a single moment as they fought together as a team, he had thought they had the makings of a real team.
Only for everything to go to hell.
He rubbed his forehead tiredly.
Despite the horrors of the war and all that it entailed; those couple of years he had served, had still probably been the best years of his life.
He had fallen in love with Peggy, a woman like no other. He had found true friends who had stood by him through thick and thin, and above all he had had his best friend at his side, Bucky.
He looked around at the crowded bar and let out another sigh.
How things changed.
Looking around now he could barely recognise the world he was living in.
The world's population had practically tripled during his years on ice, and society had become a lot messier and somehow far more divided than ever before.
One only had to look at what had happened over the last few weeks to see that much.
He raised his hand and gestured to the barkeep.
"Another one?" The man behind the bar asked.
"Keep them coming," Steve forced a smile.
Pulling another bottle out of the fridge the barman popped the cap and handed it over.
"Cheers," Steve said raising the bottle.
"How you've not passed out, I don't know," the barman chuckled, shaking his head.
"I've got a strong constitution," Steve shrugged.
"Clearly," the barman replied as he grabbed the empty bottle and put it with all the others. "So, I've gotta ask, what's got you so down son?"
"What makes you think I'm down?" Steve asked.
"Well, the fact you've been sat by yourself for the last hour and have just sunk nine beers in a row is a bit telling," the barman said blandly.
"Point taken," Steve said, before sighing. "It's been a rough couple of weeks, and I'm just tired is all. Tired of everything that's been happening recently."
"You mean the attack on New York?" The barman asked, grimacing. "That was pretty messed up. I had some mates out that way. Luckily, they managed to escape the worst of it. But well, from the way they've described it the entire place is on the verge of being completely condemned."
"I doubt it," Steve shook his head tiredly – just thinking of the Battle of New York and all that had transpired since then made him even more tired and depressed than he already was. "Condemning the city after the attack would just be admitting to the rest of the world that we lost."
"True," the barman nodded. "But if they do rebuild it, then it's gonna cost billions if not trillions of dollars, and where exactly are they gonna get that money?"
Steve shrugged.
He honestly didn't know.
"Probably our taxes," another man next to Steve at the bar butted. "Which is a load of shit if you ask me. Why are our tax dollars going to be used to rebuild New York? It's not our fault the place was blown up!"
"Well, I don't think the President can just turn around and get the aliens to pay for it can he Clive?" The barman replied rolling his eyes.
"It would be funny to see him try," the now-named Clive grinned. "But nah, what he should do is call in all those debts the rest of the world owes us and use that money to rebuild the city instead!"
"I doubt the rest of the world would appreciate that," Steve replied dryly. He wasn't sure exactly what debts the man next to him was talking about. But considering how much money the US had provided to the Allies during both World War One and World War Two, he at least had a good idea as to what he was referring to.
"And why should we care? Those were loans not gifts, and as any loan shark will tell you, the debt always comes due. The way I see it, the government should call in those debts and use that money to rebuild New York and house all the refugees, instead of taxing the rest of us for their misfortune." Clive retorted.
"Well, the White House is only a mile away, why don't you head over and tell the President that in person," the barman suggested cheerfully, sending Steve a wink.
Clive grumbled in response but didn't otherwise say anything of note.
"So anyway, what brings you to town?" The barman continued, turning his attention back to Steve.
"Work," Steve shrugged, taking another sip of beer.
He and the rest of the Avengers, or at least those that weren't dead, missing or absent like Kaneki, Banner and Thor, had all been 'invited' to the Capital to answer questions about what had happened in New York. Fury, SHIELD, and a whole host of other people, many of whom he had never met or even heard of, were currently facing an inquiry about their actions, and Stark, Natasha, Clint and himself were all expected to testify on what had happened. With all that had happened, the public wanted answers, and with Thaddeus Ross beating his war drum and riling everyone up, the sooner they had their answers, the better.
The barman frowned at the answer and eyed him up and down. No doubt he was taking in his expensive suit and making assumptions about just why he had come to town.
"Your work wouldn't have anything to do with what is happening up at Capitol Hill later, would it?" The barman asked curiously.
It was a pretty valid question considering the media circus currently going on in Washington D.C., as both the inquiry on what happened in New York began, and as Thaddeus Ross tried to push forward his anti-superhuman agenda. An agenda that was becoming more and more popular in the past as the media continued whipping the public up into a frenzy so they could profit from the very furore and outrage that they caused.
Taking another sip of his beer, Steve didn't reply immediately.
He could lie or ignore the question entirely. But honestly, he was too tired to do that and besides lying never came easily to him. As Bucky liked to say, 'he had a terrible poker face'.
"Yes," Steve shrugged, taking another swig.
"Huh, what you are you doin' at Capitol Hill?" Clive butted in once more. "You involved in that registration thing that Thunderbolt Ross is banging on about? You know, the one where they round up all those freaks and mutants and make them register?"
Steve levelled a hard stare at the other man. "Those are fellow Americans you're talking about."
"They're barely even human if you ask me, let alone American," Clive shot back snidely. "The way I see it they should all be rounded up and registered so the government can keep an eye on them and make sure they don't cause any trouble."
His heart clenched.
He could hear the bottle in his hand starting to crack under the pressure of his grip.
"You know," Steve said with forced calm. "The last time I heard people talking like that was back in Germany during the 1940s."
Clive scowled.
The barman however let out a sharp intake of breath.
"I didn't like that kind of talk back then, and I certainly don't like hearing it now. Especially when we're supposed to be living in a more enlightened time," Steve said, forcing his temper down as he abruptly stood up.
The last few weeks had already put him on edge, the last thing he needed was to lose his temper at some ignorant bigot, especially with everything else that was currently going on.
"You're Captain America, aren't you?" The barman gasped as he took in his blonde hair and blue eyes, and very recognisable features – he'd never really had a secret identity.
A few weeks ago, he would have smiled at the recognition and rattled off a banal response. But right now, he was too tired to do any more than give him a curt nod before he threw some dollars on the bar and stiffly started walking away.
Behind him, he could hear the barman speaking up again, along with Clive and a couple of others who had heard what the barman had said.
Despite their calls though, he didn't turn around or acknowledge their words as he instead exited the bar and started heading back towards his hotel.
The first day of the inquiry was now at an end and he'd done barely more than observe or the politicking and double talk.
Tomorrow it would be his turn on the stand.
Rubbing his forehead as he stepped outside and into the rain, he looked around at the still-crowded streets.
Fury had already briefed him on what he should say when it was his turn to give his deposition, as had Stark.
But despite their suggestions and coaching, he already knew what he would be saying when it was finally his turn to take the stand.
It was not in him to lie when he had given his oath not to.
The rest of the world might have become grimier and more corrupt in the years that he had been asleep.
However, he had not, and as such he would hold true to the tenants that he and all those men he had fought and died with during the war had lived.
He would be telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Even if that truth was ugly and would leave some of his friends in a precarious situation.
He grimaced at that thought and at the thought of what the next day of the inquiry would bring – he would soon be expected to take the stand.
With one last sigh, he looked around at the busy streets his gaze roving over the faces of those around him and their surroundings. The twenty-first century still felt very alien compared to the world he was born and raised in. Forcing a smile, he merged with the crowd and headed back to his hotel.
( - )
(The Eternal City of Asgard)
Standing on one of the many balconies that overlooked the eternal city of Asgard, Thor paid no mind to the spectacular view in front of him as he instead looked down at his arm with morbid curiosity and wiggled the sleek, metallic fingers on his newly fitted prosthetic.
It still felt a little odd.
In his mind he knew he was still missing his arm – it was difficult to ignore the ever-present ache he could feel emanating from the now healed stump – and yet even as he knew that, he could also feel his prosthetic reacting as if it were a living thing.
His new arm was forged from Asgardian steel and was substantially stronger than any terrestrial metal that could be found on Earth. Yet at the same time, it was still weaker than his actual arm had been.
He raised his hand and flexed his fingers for a moment, before clenching it into a tight fist.
The design of his prosthetic was based on the Destroyer armour.
His lips twitched upwards at the thought of the powerful automaton that had once guarded Asgard's vault.
He had not thought of the Destroyer in a long while.
The last time he had seen it was back on Earth, right after he had finished destroying it.
He rested both his hands on the balustrade and looked out at the shimmering golden city, a wistful smile now on his face as he reminisced about better times.
He had been a cocky ass back then. Little more than an arrogant fool who had thought himself ready for kingship.
He shook his head at the thought of who he had once been.
His father had been right to punish him for his hubris, as he much preferred the person he was now.
When one was born into power they became arrogant, narcissistic and narrow-minded. But after being stripped of that power and being forced to live a humbler life, even if only for a short while, it could quickly reorientate a person's sense of self.
The bonus was that he had also met Jane Foster.
His smile turned slightly melancholic at the thought of the beautiful, feisty human he had grown close to while living as a human.
Growing up as the Crown Prince of Asgard he'd got used to people genuflecting and kissing his ass. Even the Warriors Three for all that they were his firm friends and companions had treated him more like a prince than an equal.
But Jane had not cared.
She had seen him and judged him for who he was, not what he was or what he was capable of.
There had been no awe, fear, or immediate, unearned respect.
Instead, she had judged him almost completely by his actions.
His smile widened slightly.
Though she had also judged him by his ass and abs too, or at least in the physical sense, not that she would ever admit it.
"Thor," a soft voice behind him called out.
"Mother," he replied not looking back as he felt his mother come to stand at his side.
Glancing sideways, what little good cheer his memories of Jane had brought him plummeted at the sight of her black dress.
His mother had always been a being of light and warmth. She had always been a summer maiden who wore colours of gold and russet reds. Her choice of apparel had always reflected her personality.
Yet now, she wore nothing but black, and her warmth was little more than a distant memory.
Ever since he had returned from New York missing an arm and a brother she'd all but shut down.
Loki's death had hit her hard.
Especially the manner in which he had died.
His expression hardened.
His brother for all his faults had not deserved death. He was not blind to his brother's many crimes. Loki had done wrong and had been manipulated into invading the earth and causing many thousands of deaths. He definitely deserved Asgardian justice and a long stint in prison. But he didn't deserve to be eaten alive by some eldritch monstrosity.
He wet his lips as he thought back on the beast that had murdered his brother and maimed him.
It was an abomination of twisted flesh, pulsating red, green and blue energy and gnashing gnawing teeth and writhing tendrils.
He gritted his teeth and forced down the sudden surge of fear he could feel welling up in the depths of his gut.
"You look tired," his mother continued softly, her dull gaze locking with his as she raised her hand and cupped his cheek.
"I am," Thor allowed, lowering his head. "My dreams have been dark of late."
"As have mine," Frigga replied, her gaze leaving his as she looked out over the city. It was evening, and the golden city was lit up with the lights of thousands of lanterns and flaming torches.
"I miss him," Thor said.
It felt like a punch to the face as he finally admitted it out loud.
"He was rude, manipulative, and sarcastic, but even so, I… I always thought he would be at my side ever annoying me and challenging me… pushing me to be a better person and someone more worthy of being king."
Loki's rivalry with him was not as one-sided as he had allowed his brother to believe. After all, he had taken every scheme his brother hatched as a challenge, one that he needed to overcome one way or another, either through force or guile.
But at the same time, he had never taken his brother's actions personally. He had never hated Loki. Nor had Loki hated him. It was just the way their relationship worked. They had been brothers above everything, and so had bickered like brothers. They had fought and argued, but throughout it all they had always loved one another.
Only now his smart, witty brother was no more.
By the time the monster had had its fill, his brother was all but unrecognisable. Just a lump of savaged flesh and gnawed bones.
The stone under his hands cracked.
And worst of all, his mother had seen the state his brother had been left in.
"I miss him too," his mother replied. "As does your father. He might not have always shown it, but he loved Loki. He loved him just as much as he still loves you."
He didn't reply.
When he had brought Loki's body back, his father had barely batted an eye.
Instead, Odin had just looked down at Loki's remains for a few seconds with a dispassionate expression stamped across his face before turning away.
That had been the last time he had seen his father.
"I will be leaving on the morrow," his mother said after a few moments of silence.
Thor turned to look at her.
"I need space and time to heal," she continued.
"I see," Thor nodded.
He already had a pretty good idea of where she would be going. Whenever she felt overwhelmed, his mother left Asgard and stayed with her sister, Gullveig.
"You should do the same," his mother pushed. "Don't wallow in your grief. For if you do it will destroy you."
"I had already intended to do so." Thor wet his lips and nodded. "With the destruction of the Bifrost, the rest of the Nine Realms have been thrown into chaos. Father has already sent orders that I am to take the Warriors Three and bring peace to the Nine Realms."
"Be careful," Frigga said, resting her hand gently on his prosthetic. "I don't think I could survive losing another son."
"I will," Thor said shortly his mind already shifting as he thought over all he had to do. The fighting would be a good distraction, and the battles to come would help him acclimatise to his new prosthetic. "I think I will also return to Earth. It is about time I reconnect with some old friends."
"These Avengers you spoke of?" His mother tilted her head to one side.
He shook his head.
He had fought by the other Avengers, but he had not felt much comradery with them. There had been little time to get to know them before the Battle of Manhattan, and after the battle there had been nothing to celebrate.
No, the other Avengers were not his friends.
He had fought alongside them, but nothing more than that.
"No, I speak of those I met during father's punishment."
"You mean the girl, Jane Foster?" His mother asked, raising an imperious eyebrow.
Thor looked away. "Maybe."
His mother for the first time since he returned had a tiny smile on her face. "Just remember to be careful and protect your heart, Thor. Mortal lives burn very brightly but are all the shorter for it."
He didn't reply and instead continued to look out over Asgard.
He didn't need to be reminded of just how fragile life was.
( - )
(In the deepest depths of unknown space)
Within the cold emptiness of space, in a void bereft of both light and life at the very edge of the known universe, a dark, blade-like spaceship came to life.
For the first time in an age, a multitude of glimmering lights danced across the ship's control panels as its ancient warp engines roared back to life.
At the same time as the ship's systems came back online, yet more glimmering lights danced across the vessel's empty corridors.
The ship was awake.
Deep within the bowels of the ship, an ornate pod lifted out of the ground.
Within the pod, an ancient being took a sudden, sharp breath and opened his pitch-black eyes.
( - )
(In Paris)
Pushing open the door to their temporary accommodation Kaneki and Yelena both stopped dead as they took in the cramped living quarters.
The room was small, barely three metres squared, with a small, pokey window on one side which sat just above a recently painted iron radiator. In one corner there was a small television, and in the other, there was a simple pine wardrobe. To the side of the room, there was a door which no doubt led to the adjoining bathroom.
The most noticeable thing in the room, however, was that it only had a single double bed in it. One that was shoved against the far corner of the room, giving barely enough room to navigate around it in order to access both the bathroom and window.
Looking around the room, Kaneki grimaced as his heightened senses picked up the slightly musty smell coming from the walls and bedding.
Yelena, however, after taking a moment to take stock of her current situation, just shrugged and strode into the room before dumping her bag on the bed. "I've stayed in worse."
Kaneki nodded in agreement.
"I can sleep on the floor," he offered.
"You are small, but not that small," Yelena shot back as she eyed the carpet suspiciously and gestured at just how little available space there was in the room. "We'll share the bed."
"You sure?" Kaneki asked.
Yelena gave him a contemplative look, her hazel eyes running up and down his body.
"Da, why not," she shrugged. "I've slept with worse."
Kaneki almost choked on his next words at the implications of what she had just said.
"Besides, even if I am still… cautious… around you," she continued, her tone becoming slightly flatter. "A few feet will hardly make any difference. If you wish to do me harm, then there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop you. You could eat me at any time, and not just in the fun way."
Kaneki mastered his swirling thoughts as he digested her words and tried not to react. She was deliberately baiting him and trying to rile him up. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Good, let's keep it that way," Yelena gave him a curt nod. "Because I'm not sure about you, but I like living. Especially now I am no longer enslaved by that fucking, shitheel, Dreykov."
"I…," Kaneki began, his gaze shifting to the darkening window. In its reflection, he could see Rize smiling coyly back at him. "I also want to live."
Yelena paused and cocked her head to one side. "Well, good for you. The best way to do that though is to follow my lead and disappear. The less attention we bring to ourselves, the better."
Kaneki nodded.
"And then, when the time is right, I'm going to find Dreykov and rip his heart out through his fat ass," Yelena tagged on cheerfully.
"Graphic," Kaneki acknowledged.
"Yeah," Yelena hummed and nodded, a smirk sliding across her face. "Now which side of the bed do you want, right or left?"
( - )
AN: So there we go, this chapter is pretty character-based and is putting the finishing touches on some setup. The next chapters will be kicking back into a higher gear as things start happening. I am not entirely happy with the pacing and want to speed things up a bit, so as the next arc begins next chapters the pace will start to escalate. That said there will still be important character interaction, introspection and multiple POVs.
The next Arc will be pretty big with multiple things happening across the world in response to the changes Kaneki's presence has wrought, some will be positive and some will be negative. Things aren't all bad though, as there has been some pretty positive stuff setup, so it won't all be grim and bleak. Just balanced.
But yep hope you all stay tuned and enjoy.
If you are hankering for more Tokyo Ghoul though, please do check out my Tokyo Ghoul/ My Hero Academia story, 'What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger'.
Either way, thanks for reading and if you have any suggestions or questions feel free to PM me or find me on Discord.
Catch you later.
Greed720.