Erikson Sterling

see writing is funny because sometimes you have to google things like “can the human body survive with every rib broken” and other times you have to google things like “is there an ikea in manhattan???”

Despite releasing the dagger and sitting back, he kept his eye on the other. When the man sat up, Loki shimmered out, seemingly to appear a few feet to the right. There was a tic of his jaw upon realizing that Sterling had been near his child, yet he had done anything to her. The briefest flicker of wonder if he indeed had come to the right place. Not that anyone would ever know he thought so.

Loki couldn't help but smirk slightly at the man, raising a brow at the comment about names. The face fading to the stoic neutral like he liked to have. "If you betray me or my child, Little Toy, I shall not let you have a quick death. Is that Understood?"

Hesitating for a moment, searching for the words to give the man enough information, without revealing his own locations. The last comment caught his attention, a tip of his head as he looked to the blade. "Indeed, it is centuries old, it has spilled endless blood over that time......" Pause. "It has sentimental value to you, does it not?"

None of that was an answer. Sterling fumed as the cocky asshole stood over him, asking him for help and then mocking him.

"Give me intel I need to find her... or leave." He tried to keep him voice low and steady but it was clear he was nearing his breaking point. The usually polite agent wasn't going to stay that way for long. Honestly, he didn't think Loki had anything to offer him in terms of information. If Loki knew where his daughter was he wouldn't need Sterling and if he was that desperate to find her he wouldn't be beating around the bush like he was. It'd be far easier just to call Lewis later than to keep dealing with Loki.

And if he called him toy one more goddamn time he might actually consider becoming the heartless version of himself he had been slowly shifting toward since Nero's betrayal.

Still... he'd never knowingly leave a child in danger.

Fuck.

The smugness faded from his features at the comment, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. Loki glanced away, the holier than thou demanor he often carried seemed to crack. "My child....... runs, hides from me....." The last word hissed, he body tensing, before seeming to deflate even more.

Hesitating again, Loki kept his gaze away from the other. His left hand coming from up to curl his fingers into a fist. The digits relaxed after the briefest of moments.

"I track...... it has been no issue to find my child before........ this time...." His face darkened, still unable to look at the man. "Someone took her..........."

Loki was struggling, he knew he had no other choice, whoever had his child, would be waiting for him. Yet giving to much information to the man could be his own downfall as well.

"I fear-" The words were cut short, a haggard breath leaving him. He shifted from one foot to the other, his right had raising to tough his left instinctively. "I've made many enemies, To-" Beat. "Mortal...."

Sterling instinct was to think 'oh no, why would she ever hide from YOU' but the vulnerability in Loki's voice and features made him think... Sterling himself was afraid his daughter would come to fear him. His mental health wasn't the best. He'd been trying so hard to hide it from his toddler but he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and an older version of her saw something was wrong with him. Dangerous and wrong. Scary.

He swallowed hard, watching Loki struggle.

No! He sympathized with Loki's fears, not him!

"How do you track her? Could it be she figured it out and cut the connection somehow?" If it was magic or something, Phoe WAS half Loki. Did she know magic too?

"Do you know for a fact she was taken or are you just assuming that's the only way she could hide from you? Is there any clue as to who in particular did this?"

Fuck, his leg was killing him. It was taking all the energy he had to focus on the case. This wasn't just a knife. This was an Asgardian dagger. Stabbed with anger into his thigh with the strength of a god. He could feel his leg bruising just from the hilt and his fist making impact. Walking was going to be difficult but he would figure it out. He had to. Fuck, why was he sitting here listening to Loki and not getting to medical?

Oh yeah, there wasn't much he could do otherwise.

Phil reached for the crutch and handed it to Sterling.

"You could say that, though admittedly I missed a significant portion of the healing process, as I was...dead," he remarked, his mouth twisted into a wry smile.

He didn't usually talk about the time he died, but this moment was certainly an appropriate time to make an exception.

"Thank you." Sterling said quietly, setting it upright under his arm but still staying seated for the moment. "Well, feel free to take notes, I suppose. Wildly different experiences but still relevant."

He chuckled and finally attempted to get up only for his injured leg to immediately buckle under his weight. He stumbled forward, catching himself with the crutch before falling, and taking a moment hunched over to breathe through the sudden pain and embarrassment. He didn't want to look weak in front of his superiors, despite the situation and the fact that Coulson would never look down on him for it. Feelings of inadequacy haunted Sterling long before Merc but they had only gotten worse since.

He righted himself, leaning heavily on the crutch and clearing his throat.

"It's been a while since I've injured my leg this badly." Unfortunately, it was the same thigh. 90% of his scars were on his left side, oddly enough.