A/N: I've been chewing on this idea for months...not sure whether it will be a full-length or short shot of a few chapters... Here's hoping I've captured Loki's essence? Forgive me, I have no image for this story yet.

EDIT: I've modified this chapter as there was an issue with its continuity. It now works! :D


The Riddler

"Well? I'm waiting," the God of Mischief whispered in a slow drawn-out hiss by my ear. I mustered all of my strength not to tremble. Why be scared, when this scenario had played out so often before?

His tensed fingers were wrapped around my neck, yet again. As they loosened, he brought himself closer and I could feel the warm wisps of his agitated, restrained breathes against my cheek. Those vicious eyes I avoided and shut my own from seeing the furious expression he wore; the last thing I recalled before I did, was his jaw clenching with mounting irritation.

I played along, same as always, holding onto the suspense and using it as leverage. So long as I kept him entertained, he wouldn't harm me. But how long could I keep playing this game with him, week after week? And then, it was as though he read my mind:

"I am a friend to fluke and chance, Miss Foster. Chaos is known for its randomness and has a habit of leaving these in its wake amongst the more unfortunate of outcomes. But I think your luck has now run out." I scrunched my eyes more tightly when I felt his fingers knit firmly into my hair, seizing most of it at the roots, and when a whimper slipped out as he roughly pulled me closer, I cursed myself.

There was no further movement, and it was silent, save the ticking of the clock in the kitchen and the sound of our breathing, the pain of abused scalp and the feathery feel of his breathes against my skin.

Suddenly it all felt different. No, it wasn't just this time, it must have been gradual. I was convinced that this was his deranged way of clouding my brain from thinking clearly. Why else would then run his thumb across my bottom lip with contradicting tenderness, or allow a glimmer of something else to be caught within the depth of those emerald pools a moment before? Something not evil…something completely unlike anything I would have imagined from Loki. A being like him was incapable of…

It was some detached part of me – perhaps the scientist that forced me to open my eyes to assess the sight again. I wanted to prove myself wrong.

No, with each incident, something in his expression seemed to grow harsher. His cruel touches would be closer to the point of no return. Each time I supplied him with the response his challenge expected, he would respond by narrowing his eyes at me in immense impatience. It was as though he predicted that I would fail; in fact, hoped that I would. Each of my solutions just made him all the angrier.

But now my silence disturbingly brought him a most apparent pleasure.

"Do you forfeit your life, then? Does the clever Jane Foster give in? Has her intelligence run out?" He asked, as if eagerly, "Your obstinate ability to exceed my expectations has been astonishing, but now this is more fitting."

I stared up at him blankly with wide eyes, knowing that giving in meant death. But I had failed to find the solution this time and there was only so much stalling I could do.

Please, Thor. Wherever you are…!

The thought must have been written on my face, "And yet you still believe he will return for you? And then what?" He sneered, "Do you know how many faceless, nameless wenches he has beckoned to his bed with that charm? And do you know how many he has abandoned?"

My eyes flew to his, like a knee-jerk reaction to a stinging pain in my chest. I was looking Loki squarely in the eyes, now unable to rally a guise to hide how his words affected me. A brief softness flickered in his emerald gaze, and as quickly as it came it was gone.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Shaking, I declared finally after a heavy silence, "A way to get back at Thor?"

His gaze hardened, and then lit ablaze with dark, burning emotion right before he brutally claimed my lips.


It was no more than three months ago that he appeared in my lab, resplendent in greens and golds, a fiercely sinister and proud expression on his angular, pale face. In the dim light, it was nearly impossible to determine the shade of his dark hair, but I assumed it to be jet black – a blend of bluish-indigo from its sheen quality. The menacing air he carried was only accentuated by a threatening glare, his face turned down, but his eyes focusing on me.

The air about us came alive from his tangible fury. He slowly raised a finger in my direction in accusation; his murky green eyes ablaze with pure and utter hatred and a cold glint of emerald touched them as they narrowed momentarily.

"You!" He snarled.

In a swift, simultaneous movement, his tall frame elegantly yet with purpose, strode with but a few steps to cross the wide expanse of lab space to stand mere inches from where I still sat frozen in my chair. My laptop of data now forgotten, I craned my head while my eyes swept up and over his strange, otherworldly armour with a sense of familiarity. Almost like…

As the realization dawned on my numb and drowsy brain that this was the same being who had been responsible for the havoc that hit New York not so long ago, I slowly rose to my feet. The demigod still towered above me (which was really no big feat), the burning ire in the emerald orbs piercing a hole through my reverie.

"Loki?" I asked weakly, still dazed and very much confused about the purpose behind his sudden appearance into my mundane world.

The prince's eyes lit up with dark mirth, and his brows lifted in mock-surprise, while a menacing grin full of teeth blossomed on his perfect face, "I see my reputation precedes me?"

Without thinking, I responded in a most surly tone, "You attacked a major city, how could it not?"

He didn't miss a beat, either; Loki laid a hand upon his chest and played the act of being wounded, "Do you mean that Thor mentioned nothing of me?"

That's right...The one who told him his father was dead. The one who told him that their mother had forbidden his return. The one who sent the Destroyer to my city to annihilate everything it its path. The one who controlled it to break Thor's neck and broke it. And now Loki was here, in my lab, intending to do no less harm than before.

"Disappointed?" I grated back cheekily through clenched teeth.

Another perfect grin appeared, and then vanished in a flash. In the next split second, I felt his grip around my neck and my vision blurred; the scenery whipped by as in the speed of light I found my head pressed against a wall nearby, his profile but a breath away from my own. The pain that shot through my skull made it feel like it was going to split open from the impact.

"Impudent thing, aren't you?" Here he gave my throat a squeeze, restricting the airflow ever so slightly, "What I want to know is, how, within the span of three of your realm's days, could a mere mortal of insignificant life-span have such a great affect on a vain, self-righteous, childish, reckless Prince of Asgard, hmm?" he said in a low voice, baring his teeth at me like some feral beast, "See, what brings me here is your meddling in affairs that didn't concern you, thus I promised him I would pay his mortal woman a little visit. I think it only fair, under those circumstances, that I keep my promise. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Foster?"

When I said nothing, he continued as though I had expressed my next thought aloud, "If your hopes lie in a rescue, I daresay they will be dashed. Even if Thor cared about a mortal, insignificant speck, he couldn't come. The means of travel are still being rebuilt." He spoke his brother's name like it was poison…

I made no movement to speak. Surely he was bluffing. Surely Thor would be able to get here…and would manage it as before to conquer his wayward brother? Could he not see what was occurring? And if Loki had been conquered, how had he escaped? What could have happened to allow Loki his freedom to come and go as he pleased?