Chapter II
Slowly coming to, Loki was greeted by the unrelenting glare of Nick Fury. A brief glance at his surroundings told Loki he was once again in a Midgardian cage, with a thick wall of glass separating him from the man who very clearly wanted him dead. This time, however, Fury looked far more suspicious than pleased.
"Good, you're awake," he remarked as Loki pushed himself to his feet, a sharp pain coursing through his head. "Now you can tell me what the hell you're doing back here less than two months after we sent you to Asgard to face some of their justice."
"You talk as if you're not afraid of me, but I know you better than that," Loki sneered, unwilling to admit the truth so readily. "You know the extent of my power, you know how easily I could tear the life from you. Why else would you put me in here?"
Fury scowled, his anger and impatience obvious.
"Why. Are. You. Here?" he snarled. "If you're not gonna talk then-"
"You'll get Agent Romanoff to try her tricks on me again?" Loki interjected.
"No, if you're not gonna talk then I can get Dr Banner down here to make you."
"Go ahead," Loki replied, calling Fury's bluff. He feigned nonchalance, but in reality, the thought of encountering the green monster again made him very uneasy.
"Alright, fine, if that's how you wanna play it. But if you try anything funny, you won't be getting 'justice' this time, you'll be getting shot. Understand?"
When he realised Loki wasn't going to respond, Fury turned and strode off, his coat flying out behind him.
Agent Hill was watching the monitor closely when Fury arrived back on the top floor of the SHIELD base.
"He tried anything yet?" he asked.
"No, sir," Agent Hill answered, a deep frown furrowing her brows. "He's done nothing but sit there staring into space since you left. I don't like it sir, it feels like the helicarrier all over again."
"I don't like it either," Fury admitted, leaning forward to stare at the image of Loki on the screen in front of him. "What are you up to?" he muttered.
"Oh, and sir?"
Fury looked up from the monitor.
"Yes?"
"Coulson's requested to be moved to a different facility, for fairly obvious reasons."
Fury sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Normally I'd say no, but given the circumstances… Alright, find him some work elsewhere ASAP. Now, do we have any way of contacting Thor? If anyone has a clue what the hell Loki's doing down here, it'd be him."
Agent Hill quickly turned to a spare computer, typing away, until a file for Dr J. Foster appeared on her screen.
"According to this, Dr Foster's work is still a little way off being ready for prototypes, so unless we can do something to provoke Thor into coming here, I think we're on our own, sir."
"I think provoking another god is the last thing we want to do. Just… make sure someone's keeping an eye on Loki, and let me know if anything changes."
"Yes, sir."
Fury walked away, suppressing a growing urge to punch something. In the wake of the Battle of New York, SHIELD had been pretty busy trying to adjust to the new level of exposure for the Avengers. And now, just as everything had begun to calm down, and Fury had even been considering giving out extra holiday time, this had happened. Fury groaned, and headed to the nearest coffee machine. With this new bundle of stress that had been dropped on SHIELD's doorstep, he was going to need caffeine. And lots of it.
Three Weeks Later
Loki barely registered the pain of his fingernails breaking the skin of his palm. His attention was overridden by the electricity coursing through his body like fire. He gritted his teeth and held back the urge to cry out. He would not let the mortals think they had broken him so easily.
Relief came so sharp and sudden it felt like a blow to the stomach. Loki's muscles gradually ceased in their convulsions, and he drew in heavy, jagged breaths.
"Why are you here?"
Loki didn't know who was asking, but he laughed through his residual pain. It had been four days since Fury had grown impatient with Loki's silence, and ordered his people to get an answer by whatever means necessary. It was always the same question, the one Fury had snapped at him through the glass of his cell when he had first arrived. Why are you here? Loki was determined not to give up the answer.
The 'interrogations' were painful, that much was true, but the mortals were mistaken if they thought Loki had not endured worse before. His pride, if nothing else, was what let him push through it. Loki could not admit his magic was gone, and that he had been banished to Midgard.
"Why are you here?!" came the voice again, furious this time. Loki was vaguely aware of the hum of the machine beside him, the electricity building up for another round.
"You think your little toys frighten me?" Loki spat. "You mortals are even more pathetic than I realised."
Despite his taunts, Loki tensed, bracing himself for the pain. Sure enough, it came like a shockwave, contorting his body against his will and threatening to tear a cry from his lips. He could feel the tension in every limb as the current running through him made his muscles contract, and had to fight to keep his breathing controlled. The spasms began after a few seconds, and Loki's restraints cut into his wrists as his movements pulled them tighter and tighter. It felt as though white-hot blades were being shoved mercilessly into his skull, searing and burning and-
The pain fell away abruptly as Loki blacked out.
It took a few seconds for his interrogators to realise what had happened. They cut the power, and watched the muscles twitch in Loki's otherwise limp body.
"Alright, take him back to the cell, we'll carry on tomorrow," came Fury's voice in the interrogators' earpieces. He was watching the procedure carefully from behind a one-way mirror, growing ever more indignant with each hour that Loki refused to break under the pain. "Next time, cut the charge sooner, we need him awake to answer questions," he ordered, his voice verging on a growl.
Loki's twitching subsided as he was carried back to his cell and left lying on the cold floor. And in his unconsciousness, memories of Asgard flitted through his mind.
Loki is younger, still a boy, sat in one of the palace courtyards. The image he's conjured of himself, already off-coloured and translucent, flickers and is extinguished. Loki curses.
"Don't let your father hear you using that sort of language," Frigga scolds him gently.
"But it won't work!" Loki cries in frustration, his frown deepening. "I can't do it!"
Frigga takes her son's hands in her own, and smiles warmly. "Patience, Loki. It is a difficult trick to master the first time, you just need to focus and practice."
"What if I can't do it though," Loki says quietly, his face falling. He looks up at the sound of laughter, to see Thor and his friends traipsing back into the palace. They look worn out, their faces flushed red, and are dragging sparring sticks along behind them. Thor notices Loki and his mother and waves playfully, smiling ear to ear. Loki waves back, but with a little less enthusiasm.
"I bet Thor could do it. He's better than me at fighting, and I bet he'd be better than me at this too," Loki grumbles in childish frustration.
Frigga laughs at Loki's sulking, and reaches out to stroke his hair.
"Thor's better at fighting because he's spent more time practicing than you, that's all," she tells him. "And just between you and me, you're better at magic than I was at your age, so I know you'll master it soon. You have a wonderful talent for it."
"Really?" Loki asks incredulously.
"Really," Frigga replies, and pulls Loki into a hug. "Come now, I think we've earned a rest. Do you want to try again tomorrow?"
"Yes please!"
Loki can't stop smiling as he and Frigga head back inside. Her praise means the world to him, and he's determined to prove her right about his talent. I'll become a master of magic, he swears to himself, and mother will be so proud of me.
