"You have very interesting credentials Miss…"

"Evans, sir." I replied. "Cressida Evans."

"Miss Evans, the patient has not responded to any other forms of treatment. Furthermore it is unadvisable that anyone even have contact with-"

"Sir, if it's all the same to you, I know the risks I understood them when S.H.I.E.L.D recruited me. I don't need to hear them again."

This old man looked at me over the top of his glasses. Then he raised his hand and took them off.

"I am not completely certain that you understand."

I stared at him, my eyes burning through the short distance between us.

"I understand." I stated, "I understood three years ago."

Three years ago my hometown burned.

I was sixteen. One of those kids who worked hard to get through their education. I finished high school at fourteen. I had two years of college under my belt when it happened….

The attack.

Loki and the aliens swarmed Manhattan, killing both of my parents and many more friends. It left me with nothing more than tatters of a former life. That was when I abandoned the life which held nothing for me, and started a new one. I vowed not to be helpless like that again. Two years later I finished my degree. Straight away after college I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I deliberately and quickly moved through the psychologist's ranks. Once he had been recaptured I got the assignment I had been yearning for.

Loki.

S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me the mission to rehabilitate him. It was my personal mission to make him realize what he had done. How he had ruined so many lives. My life.

I'd gotten briefed so many times on this mission, I knew exactly what I was doing.

At least, I thought I did in the beginning.

They led me through a series of strong looking metal doors. Each one with more security measures than the last, which was why I was surprised when the last door was just plain wood with a deadbolt.

"This is it?" I asked.

The agent guarding the door tilted his head. His black suit contrasted with the plain beige walls. His face was non-descript, he would probably be good for undercover operations.

"Yes, sir." he replied.

"I'd like to enter now." I told him as I made sure my glasses were straight and made sure my hair was still in my nice, neat bun.

The agent easily unlocked the door and pulled it opened. He stood on the on the outside of the door so I could easily get in. I could feel my nervousness increase as I stepped into the door. I turned back to the agent.

"Thanks."

He nodded in response.

The room was sleek and clean. Most of the furniture was bolted to the ground and they were all composed of glass and stainless steel. The room was lit by extremely bright electric lights. I blinked a couple of light. A laugh came from all around me. It was cold, condescending and reminded me of my parents death.

"Another one?" a steely voice stated. "I assumed you would've given up by now. But you humans, you're just so adorably persistent."

"Some people would read into that persistence as being annoying."

"Yes, I certainly do."

"Is that why you killed all of them?"

"And there it is." He responded, "I've talked to so many of your kind."

"My kind… Humans?"

"No." He paused "therapists."

I finally located him, lying on a cot in the annexed room. It was funny, actually, seeing this man who was once so powerful, and really was still powerful, lying dejectedly on a cot, complaining about therapists. I approached him and sat in a chair, turning it to face his bed. He sat up. His black hair ran down his back and stopped just past his shoulders. His shirt was a black button down and he was wearing blue jeans. He was clean shaven, though, why they would let him near a razor was beyond me. He regarded me with a chill in his green eyes before he put his hands on the edge of the bed and looked to the left.

"I'm not like the others who have visited you before. I'll guarantee that."

"May I ask why that is?" he cocked his head to the side as he looked at me again. "You are a child, unknowledgable. What sorrow have you been through to make you so determined?"

I closed my eyes for a second as my mind flashed back to awful things I didn't want to think about.

"I will not fail."

He laughed, a quiet chuckle.

"Don't you see?" he yelled, "You will never succeed. No one will. I am Loki, of Asgard and I am a god."

"Well, my goals are a bit different than those who came before me."

I stood up and walked toward the door.

"What is your goal?"

I jumped at least two feet. Loki had followed me and had whispered in my ear from behind me. I spun around, smacking him in the face with the back of my hand. Afterward my hand stung for a moment from the cold of his skin.

"Don't. Don't even try that."

He laughed again, I was starting to resent his laugh.

"You will apologize. That is my goal." It sounded childish but that was all I wanted from him.

I wanted him to admit he had destroyed lives, ruined them. I swiped my card which activated a signal on the outside of the door. This signal let the agents know that I was ready to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Loki." I said, as I stepped through the wood door.