AN: This is the first Avengers fic I've written so, even though I like it, maybe you won't. Well, if you like it, feel free to tell me, if you don't like it, feel free to tell me. Anyway, I hope everyone likes it and yeah. Okay enjoy :)
Chapter One
Someone please tell me how Natasha Romanoff got herself chained to a wall light years away from Midgard? With company that is a bit, ahem, less than desirable.
There was something so unpleasant about waking from a trauma induced slumber-of that, the former Russian spy was confident. Given her immense training and the ghosts of her childhood, the heaviness of her limbs, the throbbing of her head, and the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach, oh yes, these were all the very familiar feelings to the well trained spy.
Quite honestly, the Black Widow was nearly hit with a wave of nostalgia as the black edges around her mind dulled and reality resurfaced. Rather quickly those thoughts were pushed away, for with them came the unhappy memories of a girl she had no desire to ever be again.
Natasha came to with weary eyes and just an ounce of dread. Upon seeing the person sitting opposite her, that ounce of dread became a couple tons of dread.
There across from her, in all his glory was Loki-Champion of the Reindeer Games. Natasha almost laughed at how Stark-like that comment was. Almost. But something about waking up in the same room as the man/god that tried to flatten New York City just made that reaction seem a little crass. Rather, she just closed her eyes and attempted to ignore his presence in lieu of figuring out exactly what had happened.
The absolute last thing that Natasha remembered was the details of her last assignment; her most recent target.
Filip DeTorro was a bastard. Both literally and figuratively. He was the epitome of "crime boss" and the year's recipient for biggest asshole-at least in Natasha's book. Most recently, his exploits had involved kidnapping an American ambassador in Spain.
Now, Natasha knew that Ambassadors, Diplomats, Presidents, Chairmen, they went missing. That was kind of to be expected given the whole power/money craze that took over the leaders of such organizations as DeTorro's little set up. But what didn't usually happen was pieces of the kidnapped representative being sent in boxes with demands every three days.
Considering the ear, eye, and three fingers that had been received so far (all removed while Ambassador Paul was still alive, mind you), thinks were looking grim for the usual groups.
"We don't deal with terrorists." Had been the standard response issued by the CIA, FBI, and Secret Service.
When the bloody parts kept coming, the three defense organizations made an executive decision to ask Fury and SHIELD for a bit of assistance. And boy did he comply.
Within twenty four hours of the request (the delivery of a toe with the morning post speeding things up a bit), Fury had one of his best agents-the one and olny Black Widow-on a jet bound for Pairs-where DeTorro was rumored to have been staying at present. Upon landing and contacting a few old friends, Natasha was soon in possession of DeTorro's most recent confirmed location.
Those few seconds of memory were all Natasha could process before Loki's presence became too much for her to just entirely ignore. She wasn't sure if he knew she was awake yet or not. If Loki was aware, he hadn't made any move to torture her yet, so that was a plus. On the other hand, he hadn't made any move yet, so that wasn't quite good.
Cautiously, the trained assassin made careful note of her current situation. Recently unconscious due to blunt force trauma to the head-possible concussion. Sore arms and back-right wrist possibly broken. Inability to move left arm from current position-most likely bound.
Great. This was just getting better and better.
After all, who wouldn't want to wake up in a room with war criminal Loki Odinson?
With everything she could tell without opening her eyes accounted for, Natasha opened her eyes and plastered a practiced glare to her face. Loki may have taken her this time, but she wasn't about to let the God of Mischief think he won-let alone give him the satisfaction of thinking he had any control over her.
The moment her eyes opened, Natasha realized that wherever they were, it was a basement dungeon of some type. The dirt covered floor was a real step down for Loki, she had to admit, especially after the grandeur of his last attempt to rule Earth. Sorry, Midgard. Her assumption that her hand was bound had ben correct. There was a tight steel like band tied around her wrist that propped it up above her head. It wasn't normal metal, obviously, this was freaking Loki she was dealing with.
Attempting to make a fist with her free hand solidified her thoughts concerning a broken something in her right wrist. She winced only slightly.
Following her grim discoveries, Natasha looked up at the demigod before her.
The Black Widow expected a triumphant smirk, a composed leer, a taunting stance. Instead, she found something that broke her spirits even more.
Seated some four feet across the dirt from her was a man she could hardly recognize. Sure, his black hair, sharp features, and entrancing green eyes were there but there was something so, so lost about him that made it that she almost forgot that he was Loki, the monster who killed Coulson, destroyed New York City, compromised Clint.
Thinking about it, it wasn't so much that Loki looked lost that increased her worry. Truly it was the fact that rather than being her captor with a likely plan to inflict pain and torture on her for her previous actions against him, the God of Mischief was bound in similar fashion to Natasha-only his "free" right hand was trapped in a barbed wire looking cuff that was glowing red.
So what was more terrifying than being abducted by Loki? Simple, being held prisoner with Loki.
AN: So I know this chapter is short but just tell me what you thought… even if you hated it or think I'm dumb, that's okay, I'm pretty alright with that. Anyway, the rest of the chapters should be longer and yeah.
