A/N

Hi there! I have to admit first hand that I am not a huge Marvel fan and most of the hindsight I get about it comes from my brother.

Anyway I was watching Thor a few evenings ago and yesterday I was calling the University but they left me on hold of about 75 minutes (hysterical laughter) so in the meantime my imagination sparked and I began writing.

It will be very likely a very violent sort of story but I find it always a good exercise to write whatever imagination demands of you. I'm not planning on making this fic particularly long, mainly because it will probably only follow the storyline of The Avengers movie and also because if I'm not particularly invested in the characters I tend to abandon my stories for very looooooong periods of time, so if I make it short I will avoid an endless hiatus.

Any comment on style, typos, anything at all is very welcome.

'Bring me a toy' he ordered lazily, sitting in a corner of disused underground facility they had taken up as base.

'A toy..?' the scientist asked confused.

'Any preference?' the archer inquired. His mind was sharper than the scientist's in a way, more aware of the world around him whereas the scientist's was lost between the physical and the metaphysical wonders of his field of expertise.

'Soft. And warm' he replied, distracted, and the archer nodded to another man to take charge in his place, leaving for his frivolous quest.

Loki would have all the time in the world to find a toy once his plans came to fruition to be sure, but he wanted to indulge himself now, especially after the daunting conversation he had with his 'superior'. He had confined himself in this hideout surrounded by his brainwashed slaves, now he sought some distraction, of sorts. Besides, he was rather curious about the mortals since his brother lost what little reason he had for one of them.

He had no specific taste in any case, appearance or gender wise, though his sense of aesthetic was very refined. Yet right now he didn't feel too picky so he just left the choice to the archer trusting he would find a prise that would not disappoint too much.

Barton walked about the most frequented streets, where nightlife was usually buzzing but now the bars, pubs and cafes were quiet and many were completely empty. No matter how long the night they too had to close business till the following evening at least. His mind was focused on his objective but at the same time is was bizarrely hazy, as if he were drunk but didn't stumble about because under the effect of some enhancing drug that powered him and kept him concentrated on this task.

Indeed the task was much easier than directing the security of their hideout, besides it wouldn't take him long to find someone at this hour since the choice was scarce. There were night time creatures leaning here and there against street lamps or building walls, with cheap short clothes and runny make up, but they were not an option, he was looking for something cleaner and that didn't look like a discarded doll. He wasn't necessarily looking for a woman though. His master did not exactly specify anything at all in fact and he cast his eye on several young men wearing tight jeans and shirts with dark patterns but he was not a good judge in male beauty and it would be easier to subdue a woman than a man, it would be simply more practical for him. Yet the streets were not very busy and despite his nonchalant pace and the hood he raised over his head he didn't wish to attract too much attention aiming for a woman that was already with company, even if it was only other women. He had to find the right prey. One to easily snatch away without anyone noticing, without causing any noise or disturbance. Several women walked past, girlfriends quietly giggling about their night, holding on to one another so as not to stumble on their spiked heels with their impaired balance.

In one such group he spotted a tall young woman with long dark hair and dark eyes. She walked with no hesitation on her knee high boots with a heel so sharp she could've used it to kill a man. Body sinuous and wrapped in a tight dress of black and silver lace. Her arm was gracefully wrapped around her friend's but she shot a glance to Barton, who stopped in his tracks to stare as she walked past.

She would do perfectly.

But as she strode away his attention was caught by the bar in front of him. It was empty save for a woman dragging inside the chairs for the customers that preferred to drink outside smoking or enjoying the evening breeze.

This one fitted the description better. Soft and warm. Shaped like an hourglass, with a pink shirt tucked into a red skirt all puffed up beneath with a petticoat. Her hair was a warm shade of blond, or a very light ginger, wrapped behind her head but with a few loose curls hanging around her face.

Barton walked towards the entrance of the bar. Her most prominent feature were her luscious red lips, sharply defined yet soft, they seemed ready for a kiss, especially now that she was exerted in the tidying up around her. She had a light pout of concentration, almost of displeasure. She looked indeed like a doll, like an actress form one of those old movies, she was only missing a bow on her head. Perhaps she took it off during the evening.

She noticed Barton standing near the entrance so she dismissed him uninterested 'We're closed.' Then she added 'And I'm busy.' It was a classic move by all sorts of customers to hit on the waitresses so he wasn't really surprised by her attitude.

'I'm not busy' he said with a small grin. 'I can wait.'

As she dragged inside the last table she graced him with a rather unimpressed look. Barton leaned on the entrance door and watched her calmly sweeping the floor, he expected her to look a bit more nervous in front of a stranger at this hour in the night. She was probably used to random creeps, most likely she had pepper spray in her bag, maybe even a small knife. To be fair how could she even know the man in the doorway was a secret agent, a trained assassin, a sniper, a professional archer.

The woman approached Barton and he half expected to be shooed away, but she only started switching off the few lights that still remained on without even looking at him.

'What's your name?' he asked her.

As she turned her back to him to disappear in the darkness of the bar she replied.

'Rose'

He had to laugh. Rose. How appropriate.

As he chuckled he asked again 'Are you serious? That is your real name?'

He couldn't see nor hear her anymore. For an instant he thought she ran away from the back door.

But she remerged from the darkness with her bag in one hand and wearing a black cardigan with white buttons and flowers embroidered on it. Her heels were black and so was her bag, from which peaked what looked like a red silk scarf. He kept chuckling but stepped out of the door and watched her lock the place behind her.

As she placed the keys back in her bag she turned to face him.

'Do you think you're intimidating me? Are you planning on stealing my bag?' her hand was still in the bag. Ah, the pepper spray, or the unlikely knife.

'Get lost. Ok?' she continued. She didn't look scared, she looked particularly annoyed though. He wondered how often she had been approached by creeps of all sorts.

But this was already taking too long. He had been wandering around for this toy for over half an hour. The longer he took the more his master would be displeased.

He stepped aside and let her go on her way.

For a while.

Then he began following her quietly, remaining in the shadows. She turned around a few times but apparently she didn't see him. Eventually she stopped near a row of cars parked next to the footpath and began rummaging in her bag once more for the keys of her car, an very old Ford that with rusty green paint. Barton silently approached her from the back, waiting for the right time. When she finally unlocked the door he sprang behind her with a gun pressed to the back of her neck.

She gasped while Barton ripped the keys from her hands and pushed her in the car, first in the driver seat but then her pushed her further to the passenger seat and sat himself behind the steering wheel, pointing the gun to her face with his right hand and turning the car on with his left. Rose was so stunned she couldn't make a noise, she hardly even blinked and stared at the barrel of the gun.

'You don't mind if we go for a ride, do you?' Barton asked casually and he drove off.

'P-Please..' she only whispered.

'Don't worry. I don't want to steal your bag. Or your car, in any case. How old is this thing?'

Rose was scared now. It looked as she wasn't even breathing. Barton knew he didn't really need to threaten her with the gun anymore but he preferred to point it at her face instead of going through the hassle of putting it back in his holster while driving. He never was one much for either guns or cars. That was usually – That was usually – That was –

He shook his head to keep his thoughts clear.