A/N: Carline Voisin—Kahr-leenVwah-suh. This is a dark fic. M-rated warnings apply.
Agent Voisin was a S.H.I.E.L.D. spy, specially recruited from France. She had been brought to New York upon the request of her mentor to be trained in the art of deceit. Of course, as a spy, Voisin was skilled at fabricating stories and could easily pass a simple lie detector. But S.H.I.E.L.D. had specified that her training was intended for a particular target, classified on all levels as a highly dangerous enemy of international affairs. Little did the agent know that what Fury had actually meant by 'enemy of international affairs' was 'enemy of planet earth.'
S.H.I.E.L.D. had the God of Mischief on their hands.
For several weeks now, Voisin had been undergoing rigorous mental conditioning in order to pass a lie off as a truth to Loki Laufeyson, master of falsehoods. So far in her lessons, Voisin had honed her ability to deceive as well as to protect herself from mental intrusions—because, according to Laufeyson's brother Thor, the man was also slightly perceptive to internal thought. The physical aspect of lying was simple. It was the mental factor of the skill that had her exhausted at the end of all of her classes.
Now, she sat in one of those lessons, hooked up to a machine that measured what Dr. Serafini had told her were her thought frequencies. According to him, the readings calculated whether her thoughts created a wavelength with many or no antinodes—the more antinodes, the faster Laufeyson would be able to tell she was lying. As the young, Italian Dr. Serafini had put it, the tenser a thought, the tenser the string of her consciousness will be, allowing the 'string' to be plucked and produce a higher frequency or 'pitch.' With a higher pitch, the easier it would be for Laufeyson to hear the lie. Voisin had done simple science in school, and putting the concept in layman's terms helped her wrap her mind around it. What Voisin was attempting to master was the ability to control her thought frequencies and completely hide away the thought that she was lying.
"Good," Serafini said, looking at the computer's readings as Voisin lied to him about what she'd eaten that morning for breakfast. "Good. You're getting much better. It's theorized to be difficult for younger people like us, I think, whereas for the older and more experienced…" he trailed off.
"Thank you, doctor," she replied, letting down her mental guard as the test concluded. "I hope my progress is not too slow. This is a difficult idea for me to grasp."
"May I ask something?" he requested. Serafini turned from the computer and looked at the woman. "If you're from France, where's your accent?" She smiled at the young doctor as he spoke. "I mean your name—Carline…" he stumbled over the foreign name. "Carline Voisin. I looked at your records and it says you're French, but your accent is perfect."
"You forget, doctor," she said, putting away her American accent and showing off her French one, "I am a spy. And my American name—" she returned to the polished accent he had commented on "—is Carolyn. Easier for you all to say, I think."
Dr. Serafini barked a laugh as he scribbled on his clipboard for the end of the day. "I suppose, yes." He capped his pen and put it on the small pile of papers with finality. "Well, that's all for today. It's…" Serafini looked at his wristwatch and his eyes widened at the time. "Past ten! I need to go. I'm sure you do, too. See you tomorrow, Carolyn."
Quickly, the doctor gathered his notes, discarded his white lab coat and replaced it with a casual black windbreaker, and held open the door of his office for her. Carolyn stepped out into the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, thanking him kindly.
"Well, sure. Like I said before, it's really only a theory. But you're getting a grasp of it. Have a nice night." Serafini shook her hand and then left her.
Voisin turned the other way and began walking down the long corridor. As she made her way back to her room, she was thinking that all she wanted was to go to bed. That wishful thinking was tossed aside when suddenly the alarm system sounded. This was a Code 3 emergency. S.H.I.E.L.D. was under attack.
She immediately backed into the doorway of an office, the only cover available in the long hallway, and pulled the gun on her belt. Her aim was alternating between corners of one end of the hall to another; enemies could come from either direction and she may be outgunned. This was the best stronghold she could possess.
"Agent Voisin, this is Director Fury," came a crackling voice into the earpiece she wore at all times, "do you copy?"
She lightly touched the button on the small walkie-talkie. "Oui. I copy." Without use for her American accent, it was discarded and her raw French accent took over her voice.
"Get out. I repeat. Get. Out. Find everyone you can rally and evacuate them from the building. You're in charge of the civilians."
"Yes, sir," she said as she heard footsteps approaching. The Director cut out and she kept silent, waiting for someone to round the corner and step into her line of fire.
Someone did, but Voisin had to resist firing the weapon at him, though she knew he was no ordinary man. He wore golden armor and a green cloak. The stark lights of the hall and the dark emerald of the cape brought out the ashy grayness of his complexion. A glowing blue light fell onto his face from the scepter in his hand. Confidently and with a manic grin, he strode towards her and still, she hesitated.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to halt," she said, her American accent falling back into place. He did not. "Sir," she warned.
A second later, she pulled the trigger. Though her aim had been steady, the bullet seemed to have no effect on him. His advance continued and he seemed unbothered. Voisin fired again, but before she could blink the man shimmered and disappeared into thin air.
Suddenly, Voisin sensed a presence behind her and, before she could do anything, an arm snaked around her throat and she felt the blade of his scepter running down her cheek slowly, carefully.
"No one uses petty mortal weapons against a god," he breathed raggedly into her ear. Voisin had to suppress the shudder of fear that wanted to tumble down her spine. "Now," he said as he spun her around and threw her against the opposite wall, hard enough that she heard a crack in her left shoulder. Voisin couldn't help the cry that escaped her lips. "You will get us out of here safely." He pressed the tip of his glowing blue scepter against the center of her chest and she felt a strange sensation overcome her. Suddenly, his will began to bend hers and her eyes clouded, tinting her sight with blue. She tried to fight off his mind, but when she did he doubled his efforts.
"You have mental prowess," she heard him say in restrained fascination as she began to fall unconscious. "You will make an interesting prisoner, I am sure."
As her legs gave way, he caught her in his arms and threw her over his shoulder, much to the objection of her injured shoulder. Darkness began to seep into the corners of her clouded vision, but before she fell completely to its mercy, she said angrily into his green cape swishing as he walked, "Salaud."
Agent Voisin awoke to a great pain in her left shoulder, the throbbing sending waves of discomfort from the top of her arm down to her elbow. She was lying on the floor of a moving van, her captor sitting across from where she lay, staring at her intently.
"She's awake," he said, not removing his eyes from her face. His voice was full of power. "Inject her with the serum."
Suddenly, a needle was stuck into her neck and in the next minute, she was asleep.
Again, it was her wounded shoulder that roused her, but this time she was not on the floor of a vehicle. Voisin was in a simple twin-sized bed that creaked when she sat up to look at her surroundings. A light from another room was flooding hers, and she saw the source of it was a bathroom. The fluorescent bulbs illuminated the wooden floor of her room—the only thing for them to illuminate as the place was completely empty except for the bed she sat on.
Voisin threw her legs over the side of the mattress, groggy and slow from the drugs that had been administered during the car ride. She stood, ignoring the dizziness that resulted, and walked into the bathroom to find it was a clean little thing containing a toilet, bathtub, and sink.
Soon the dizziness took over and Voisin could no longer stand. She leaned against the doorframe, forgetting about her bad shoulder and then fell to the ground in surprise when her nerves were set on fire. The pain that gripped her was unforgiving and sent those flames all through her left side. Her mind acquiesced to the pounding headache and exhaustion and she went limp with unconsciousness.
"Your collarbone is broken," a smooth, deep voice mused.
She felt her brows contract at the intrusion of her sleep, but her eyes opened and saw him. He was sitting next to her bed in a chair, watching her closely.
Immediately, Voisin scrambled away and fell off the edge of the mattress, landing on the floor in a heap. Her left side was a constant hum of pain and her shoulder felt the impact with the ground more than anything. Panting, she steadied herself and raised her head over the side of the bed. He was still staring at her, amusement stretching across his face in the form of a smirk.
"Would you like me to heal you?" he asked as though she had not just fallen off the bed. "You were falling over yourself last night in delirium; you made your injury worse."
"How many civilians did you kidnap?" she asked, her voice coming out hoarse because of her dry throat. Voisin raised herself up and stood, using the bedpost to support herself.
He looked at her strangely, his faux concern fading from his face and being replaced with slight confusion. "Are they your first priority? The 'civilians'?" He spat the word.
"Fury left me in charge of them," she said, slowly covering her words with the American accent. "I am responsible."
He laughed, but answered her question. "None. I have taken only you, Carline Voisin." He said her name perfectly. Voisin froze, but then realized that he could have found this information out easily enough. Probably from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records.
Trying to recompose herself, she asked, "Where am I?"
"Enough questions."
"Do you have the Tesseract?"
He growled, standing from his chair and towering over her. "Do you know who I am?"
"I know exactly who you are, Laufeyson. And judging from your reluctance to answer my question, I'm willing to guess that you failed at retrieving what you probably came to S.H.I.E.L.D. to claim," she said cockily, raising her mental defenses as she met his eyes.
The smile that tugged at his lips and bared his teeth caused her to falter. "Then you have assumed wrong, insolent Midgardian," he sneered. Voisin's stomach dropped, but the only thing that showed her disappointment was the way her jaw clenched. "I have the precious Tesseract and soon Midgard will be rebuilt under my name—structured upon glory and rising above all. You are just here for my entertainment."
"I have nothing you would be interested in."
"Oh, on the contrary, my darling," he laughed, eyes roving over her body. "I think you do."
Voisin's eyes widened and she took a step back from his looming figure, but he caught her around the waist and brought her even closer to him. Pressed against his cold metal armor, she pushed against him slightly, testing his strength. This was a situation she had been prepped for.
In one movement, she had spun around and now had his arm in her right hand. She crouched and pulled with all of her strength, while using his weight against him, and flung him over her head onto the ground behind her. Satisfied when she heard him wheezing after the air had been knocked out of his lungs, she ran to the door and tried to open it.
Locked.
With all of her might, Agent Voisin drove her heel into the door around where she believed the lock to be. The door gave way easily. Voisin ran out into the hall and went as fast as she could towards the end of the corridor. Laufeyson's steps could be heard as he angrily made his way after her, but she didn't look behind her.
An elevator was at the end—if she could make it in there and close the door behind her, she would be safe! Almost as if her internal voice had called up the transportation, the door opened, inviting her into its protective embrace. Voisin wasted no time and sprinted inside, pressing the 'door close' button rapidly. But suddenly, he was there, his bladed staff stopping the doors from closing completely. A shrieking of metal could be heard as the door was pushed back and he stepped inside, an evil smile on his lips.
"You play a dangerous game, agent," he hissed spitefully. Laufeyson stepped forward several times and she was pressed against the wall of the elevator. The doors shut behind him, but the contraption didn't move. They weren't going anywhere soon.
"And the one you play is safer?" she retorted, glaring up at him. "Thor said—"
Her remark was cut off when his hand hit the side of her face, sending her head crashing into the metal wall.
"I do not want to hear what my brother said!" he yelled. She shrank into the back of the elevator. "I never want to hear that name passing from your lips again, is that understood?!" Laufeyson's face was close to hers and she could feel spittle flying from his mouth and landing on her face. "If you are to live," he continued, calming himself slightly, "then you will not so much as mutter his name in my presence."
Voisin's jaw clenched in defiance and she met his eyes again. "I—"
"Silence," he snapped, covering her mouth with his hand.
That contact sent a foreign feeling through her mind, and she swallowed hard. Her brows furrowed as she looked at him helplessly. What is he doing to me?
"Much better," he said, removing his hand. Voisin opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Nothing at all escaped her mouth but a faint whisper of air. His smirk returned. "What a lovely sight this is."
In one lithe motion, her captor had her hands pinned above her head in one of his and she feared for the damage that was being done to her already wounded shoulder; now it was screaming in pain and she could make no sound to advocate this except a rush of air that left her mouth.
With his other hand, Laufeyson pushed her hair off her neck and turned her head to one side, leaning into the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply and made a sound of approval. "You smell divine." Loki lowered his mouth onto her throat and gave it a soft kiss. His mouth opened against her and his tongue tasted her flesh, following with a hard bite. Voisin gasped in surprise and tried to move away, but her objections did no good.
His hand moved to the zipper on her cat suit now, the black fabric peeling away from her chest as he brought it down to expose her to him. Bringing the zipper as low as it could, he turned his attentions to her lace panties, trailing a finger around the waistband of the piece of cloth. Laufeyson's hand was cold and Voisin let out a breathy whine as protest as he eased his way into her underwear.
Tears were falling from her eyes in pain from her shoulder and the thought of what was about to occur. Loki Laufeyson was about to violate her in the most debasing way possible. He was going to taint her—to mark her as his own.
"Is that acceptance I'm sensing from you?" he breathed into her hair as began to stroke her delicate sex. Voisin remembered what S.H.I.E.L.D. had told her about Loki being able to read general emotions.
She shook her head from side to side, desperately wanting to explain that it was understanding, not consent. He didn't seem to understand though, because then he forcefully pushed her to the ground and managed to get her struggling legs out of the cat suit and slip off her lace undergarment. With one knee, he pried open her legs as he unbuckled his pants.
Please, she mouthed silently. Please stop, stop… S'il vous plaît.
"This is your punishment for trying to run away, Carline," he snarled as he rubbed the head of himself against her opening. "You will not find pleasure in this." He thrust into her, hard, and she let out a muffled sob. Loki pulled out and then went back in again, and Voisin could feel a kind of lubrication that was not his arousal wetting her insides. Blood trickled down her thigh and, for a moment, the pain below and in her shoulder were almost equal.
Voisin kicked her legs and he granted her with the roughest thrust he had managed yet, the tip of him pressing uncomfortably against her cervix wall. She stopped struggling then, falling limp beneath his form.
"Good girl," he muttered against her as he began to move faster. "You learn quickly."
His ministrations came quicker and Laufeyson's breath was coming out ragged. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Voisin hoped he would find his end and be done with her. Kill her, maybe.
Laufeyson pressed his mouth onto hers and she felt his tongue try and force her lips open. She grimaced as she sobbed silently and turned her face away.
With a final thrust, he spilled himself and collapsed on top of her, breathing into the crook of her neck again. Voisin gave a weak attempt to push him off, but he didn't move.
Please, she said voicelessly again. My arm—
Laufeyson heard her trying to make words and he soon realized what she was asking. He obliged, interestingly enough, and waved his hand over her shoulder and traced her collarbone with a cool finger. Voisin felt herself being repaired and as the magic flowed through her body, Loki pulled out of her and buckled up his pants again.
He opened the door of the elevator and walked out casually. Before the doors could close behind him, he turned around and said to her as his eyes took in her broken form, "Make yourself presentable for dinner."
