"Where's the hammer?"

"Where do you think?"

"Um, not here?"

"Well, you are not wrong…," Loki admitted a little exasperatedly, glancing toward the dusty warehouse ceiling with little interest as he felt Cora step away from his side, which caused her to become entirely visible once more. He'd used his seithr to get them back undetected and still wore it until a moment later when he allowed the magic to drop from his form.

Cora frowned up at him with a bit of an apprehensive expression. "Did it get called back up?" she asked.

Loki flashed back to the hammer blasting through the wall and glanced at the hole he'd been dragged through, which Cora had yet to turn around and notice. "Quite."

She followed his gaze and her eyes widened. "Holy sh—"

"Indeed," he murmured indifferently.

Cora frowned as she pondered the development, remembering the fact that she could wield Mjolnir was the only reason he'd taken her with him in the first place, and was also the only reason he had kept her from SHIELD's grasp. She hesitantly worked up the nerve to ask, "So, now what?"

Loki blinked down at her, as if it hadn't already occurred to him that her usefulness had waned. He was about to say something when his attention was redirected toward the garage door down the aisle, his eyes narrowing at it.

He raised his hand to silently shush Cora—who was on the verge of asking what was wrong—as he walked slowly toward the end of the room, murmuring for her to stay put while he investigated. She stayed where she was, not knowing what had spurred on his little prowl in the first place. It was only when a shadow appeared through the hole in the wall that she realized what might've caught his interest.

"Hello again." Cora jolted in surprise and looked over, seeing the thin-haired, smiling man from weeks prior, Phil Coulson, stepping through the gap with his hands in the pockets of his steel-colored dress pants.

She instinctively started to bolt, but two of the armored agents accompanying him raised their assault rifles, aiming the barrels at her. The lasers flickered red at certain angles from the scopes, their disjointed beams dancing over her heart and head.

She froze and looked to Phil, who appeared apologetic. "We've been put in a tough spot, Cora. If you don't come with us this time, things might turn ugly."

"I guessed that from the guns," she quipped softly, pursing her lips. She felt dazed from the shock of the ambush, not snapping out of it until she was being grabbed by two more agents in black armored SWAT suits, one on each side. Her visibility became a bit unstable for a few seconds and it was only then that she glanced toward Loki, who she saw standing precisely where he'd been moments ago, unmoving.

She would never admit it, but she was hoping beyond hope that he'd help her. For the first time in the longest time and without her permission, she felt vulnerable and hated how her expression crumpled when he remained where he was, his features as indifferent as ever as he watched them drag her off and then disappeared beneath his magic's shield.

The plainest form of what Cora felt was betrayal. It made little sense for her to feel that way, but she'd let herself get in too deep with this would-be king. Her jaw clenched a bit as the agents hauled her out, past Coulson and the archer-agent she'd seen days ago. She hid the weird myriad of things she was feeling rather well as someone tucked her head under the doorframe of a Humvee outside, the blistering heat managing to make its way inside the military vehicle despite the blasts of air conditioning from the front.

Cora watched reservedly as the agents filed into the back with her, the bowman finally introducing himself. "Agent Clint Barton," he said brusquely without much explanation except a look of approval from Phil. When she arched a brow at them, Clint elaborated, "Agent Coulson thought it was rude that I didn't introduce myself last time."

"I said it wasn't exactly helpful," Phil corrected kindly. "Familiarization and all that—"

"What do you want from me?" Cora gritted, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Phil sighed, his smile faltering a little. "To help. That's what we've been trying to explain to you all along. It's just become more…crucial that we talk things out now."

"Why?" she asked warily. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain everything when we get to headquarters."

"No way, you can't pull that kind of ambiguity on me and then say we'll talk about it later," she snapped before frowning and backing down a little. "At least a hint?"

"It's a matter of life and death," Clint said bluntly.

Cora's brow furrowed. "Mine?"

"Yes," Phil relinquished with an apologetic frown.

"Well… Fuck," Cora muttered.

The Humvee rolled to a stop several hours later, cuing Phil and Clint to get up from their seats. Phil got out first, followed by Cora, and then Clint, then the other two agents who had been riding along in the back with them. She glanced around the underground garage briefly as she followed the SHIELD agents, the lot of them making a bit of a ring around her. Did they really think she intended to strike up a fight? She wouldn't stand a chance. The only true defense she might've had to her name had already bailed on her in seconds flat.

Logically, she shouldn't have been surprised. He was from another world, endeavoring to gain a throne on said world, was openly intending to use her for her talents from the get-go, and had not once referred to her by name. All signs pointed to extreme ostracism of her while the rest simply didn't make sense now, apart from perhaps it all being a ploy to earn her favor and trust. That was what the emotional side of her was holding onto. She'd honestly thought they were getting somewhere; as allies at the very least.

Wrong, she thought simply with a frown. It bothered her more than she would've liked, but he wasn't her concern anymore. She was the one who was in danger. A lab rat at last.

The pair led her into what looked to be a conference room made mostly of glass and black leather, giving it a very modern look. She noticed that the backup agents had left their company, narrowing it down to just the three of them apart from the man already in the room, looking out the enormous glass windows.

Before he even turned around, she knew who he was, recognized him from a few news stories and public announcements she'd seen around the time of the New Mexico incident. Tall, sturdily built, wearing a long black trench coat, with an eyepatch over his left eye: Director of SHIELD, Nick Fury.

He nodded to her, glancing toward the window panes warily before walking toward the long conference table and pressing a button before he sat down, which caused shaded panels to slowly descend over the window. "Too sunny for you, sir?" Coulson smiled, seeming to take a jab at Fury's dark demeanor as he pulled Cora's chair out for her and then sat down, himself, Clint doing the same.

"I'm not so much worried about the view as I am about being viewed," he replied informatively, his voice deep and matter-of-fact.

Phil and Clint seemed to understand, but Cora was left as the odd one out, which she didn't take well to under normal circumstances. "Viewed by who? No one could possibly—"

"These windows double as communication screens, Miss Dempsey," he explained and while he did give her an answer, she didn't appreciate the interruption. "It wouldn't be the first time the system was overrode and we were put on surveillance."

"Then again, Stark did that as a power play to get up our asses," Clint admitted with a very subtle smirk on his usually stoic features. "Not sure even the higher-ups know how to do that."

Fury's attention was still on Cora. "You know why you're here by now, I assume?" he asked directly.

"Because I'm a freak," Cora murmured with a biting tone. Phil frowned at her words, but she didn't divert her dark gaze from Fury.

"Because our superiors see you as a threat, actually," Fury corrected her calmly, leaning forward a little in his chair. "Before it was because we wanted you in our ranks, but that ship has sailed."

"I'm so torn up about it," she retorted bravely and there was a heavy pause before Fury actually cracked a smile, Phil and Clint soon to follow.

"I can tell," Fury volleyed back before saying with his businesslike tone restored, "First thing's first, your grandmother is just fine. Still at your uncle—"

"What?" Cora blurted out, her eyes wide with shock. "What do you mean, he told me she—"

"That was an effort to bring you out of hiding. It was easy to hack his phone and send you a message about a funeral that was happening that day. We would've intervened immediately had you gone in and discovered the truth, but you didn't, which gave us more time to ease into this."

"Well, glad I could be a fucking help," she muttered very fast and very sarcastically before demanding, "Do you realize what you put me through? Are you all even human?!"

"We did," Phil sighed, looking over at her. "It was a last resort and we were getting desperate."

"Why were you getting desperate, it's not like I was doing anything horrible or even illegal!"

"Because there is a death warrant on your head," Fury said pointedly, which caused her to stop and listen. "I'm supposed to have eliminated you already, but we're instead trying to come up with a compromise that won't bring the World Security Council down on all our heads."

"World Sec—why are they involved? I flashed out of sight at a park and a subway station, there are people in those parts who flash in other much more traumatizing manners, shouldn't that be more of a concern?"

"It wasn't the disappearing act you pulled, it was the thing with the hammer. It scared them and now they don't want to deal with someone apart from the Asgardian god we already have as our ally being able to use an invincible weapon. Who was the man you were seen with at the church?"

"Old friend from the area who stopped by to comfort me about a lie you used just to put me in a position that would get me killed," she lied reflexively, doing so seamlessly.

"If we hadn't resorted to that, you'd already be dead," Clint said firmly, bringing an end to the debate. It did the job because Cora backed down, raking a hand through her hair and consequentially pulling out her hair tie, just putting it on her wrist instead as she shook her head slowly. "What?"

"This is just…insane," she said and her voice sounded tired now, sapped of her usual ferocity.

"It is," Phil agreed thoughtfully. "But we're working to fix it. Just, please, cooperate. For all our sakes."

Cora glanced at him and smirked though the expression was weak. "Me being here is me cooperating. Where else would I go?"

"Good," Director Fury declared with finality as he stood up, Phil and Clint following suit. "Agent Barton, would you escort Miss Dempsey to where she will be staying until we reach a final plan of action? Agent Coulson, I'd like to speak to you privately."

"Yes, sir," both agents said at once. Cora stood up and walked out of the conference room with Clint, glancing briefly over her shoulder just before the door shut behind her.

Phil turned to Fury questioningly as the director stared down at the call box on the table. "Sir?"

Fury frowned a little as he turned to look at Phil. "You've done some extensive research on the crash of the Valkyrie. Correct?" he asked slowly, knowing he was going out on a limb with this backup plan if the World Security Council didn't sway the way he wanted them to on Cora's "sentence."

"Silly question," Phil noted, considering the tie the superbomber had to his childhood idol, Captain America. "Yes, I have, mostly on whim. The field agents and biochemists on Level 5 mostly dealt with all that after it was discovered in the Arctic. But… Why do you ask?"

"Because our options are few and far between," Fury admitted, looking weary. She wasn't the only "issue" he was dealing with at present; the world had been turning gradually more volatile as of late, with news of extraterrestrials and the like spreading through the proverbial grapevines.

"I don't understand."

Fury was prepared to elaborate when the communication pad began to beep in low tones, the windows glassing over with loading icons. Taking a deep breath and glancing toward Phil, Fury raised the shades and answered the call.

Cora stood under the hot cascade of the shower, fiercely scrubbing product into her hair with reckless abandon. As soon as Clint had pointed out the adjoining bathroom to her small living quarters, her mood had been lifted, if only a smidgen. Her only regret was not finger-combing through her locks before rubbing in the shampoo; it was a disastrous mess of tangles now, but she still couldn't care less. She was clean, dammit.

She smirked a little at the joy she found in the simple indulgence, the expression fading slowly when she raised her hand to run through her hair as she rinsed out the suds, and the bold tattoo on her wrist caught her eye. An unanswered question; inked into her skin and embedded into her mind. It was her name, Loki had said, but how had she known how to write it? None of it made sense. Another thing that didn't make much sense was why she'd protected Loki when he'd not lifted a single finger to aid her.

Cora soon shut off the water and pulled the dark blue towel she'd been supplied with from over the chrome doorframe. Wrapping it around herself, she pressed against the door until it popped open and stepped out, shutting the steamy glass panel behind her. It was amazing how much of a difference a shower could make in her attitude.

On the edge of the simple full-sized bed near the center of the opposite wall was a folded set of clothes, given that hers had been on her back for a few days now. Cora picked them up curiously and arched a brow down at them, finding that it was a femininely tailored SHIELD uniform. With a small huff at the irony, she dropped her towel and put it all on, boots included. Glancing at herself in the reflection off the window as she dried her hair off, she smirked faintly at the sight. Phil would be proud; she wore it well.

That was confirmed when Agent Barton came back to get her to escort her to the conference room, seeing as Fury had gotten an answer apparently much faster than anyone had expected. She'd opened the door after Clint had knocked and the sniper-archer had greeted her with a brow-raise of approval. "Suits you."

"Thanks," she murmured as they began their trek down the hallway, soon arriving outside the door.

They walked in and Phil smiled at her, commenting, "It's really too bad we couldn't figure something out sooner. You look kickass in uniform."

The man actually caused her to genuinely smile, which dimmed a bit when she saw Fury's look of forced composure. "Well, go on," she murmured reluctantly, the suspense putting her more on edge than knowing the actual outcome would. Or so she thought.

Fury cleared his throat and murmured, "They're not letting up on the warrant. They still believe you are too dangerous to be 'running loose.' To be kept alive."

"So, are you going to do it or is Robin Hood over here going to do the honors?" Cora snapped quietly before frowning and murmuring an apology to Clint for her undeserved slam, who just shook his head and put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. When she turned her gaze back to Fury, he looked conflicted. "There's more, right?"

"There's another option. The one we're going to engage."

"Which would be…?" Cora encouraged, starting to hope a little.

Fury clenched his jaw a little before asking, "Do you know much about Steve Rogers? About Captain America?"

"I mean… I met him outside Clarkdale a few days ago… Apart from that and the bits of World War II propaganda I've seen him on, not really."

"Well, most of it has been kept fairly confidential since Red Skull made an attempt at terrorism and succeeded in taking the lives of so many beforehand, using the Tesseract…"

"What's that?"

"It's basically a cube of raw energy," Phil supplied calmly, though for the first time she noticed that the worry lines on his face were more prominent than usual.

Fury placed his hands behind his back and paced toward the head of the table, continuing, "To stop Red Skull's superbomber craft—the Valkyrie—from carrying out its purpose, Steve crashed it into the Arctic. He and the ship were entirely encapsulated in ice. He was only rediscovered seventy years when we went to recover the ship, the Tesseract, thanks to Stark, and, by total surprise, Steve Rogers, as well. Alive."

"And what you're saying is…what, exactly?" she asked with a bit of an impatient gesture, though she already had a feeling where this was going, angry little butterfly-like sensations teeming in her stomach.

"The World Security Council won't tolerate your freedom. They've found something they can control in this new era of non-control and they seem desperate for some power. They want you dead. However, we ended up coming to a compromise: we're going to put you in a deep freeze until this misunderstanding is cleared up."

"I'd rather you blow my head off right here," Cora noted, her stomach turning over at the thought of being slowly frozen solid with just a sliver of hope that she might walk free again, fully aware of what was happening but unable to do a thing about it.

"These are our only options, they wouldn't allow for anything else," Fury argued defensively.

"They're never going to allow for anything else. Like you said, they're desperate and power-mongering. They see this as a guiltless end to their problem and maybe you do, too."

"Cora, please," Phil frowned at her with faint disapproval, looking a little older with the smile gone from his face. "We just want to help. We're trying to help."

"I know, but…," she struggled, running a shaking hand through her hair. "Could… Is there any way to, um… Put me under before…?"

Fury shook his head. "Any kind of sedative will lower your heart rate and will make it more difficult for you to stay alive in there. The temperature would make it very hard for it to come back up."

Cora's throat tightened and it felt like she was having an episode of claustrophobia, not remembering having such an anxiety-fueled reaction since the car crash that killed her parents. "How do you know I'll survive it? Steve, he's… He's different right? Better."

"He's a supersoldier. His body was genetically engineered to be superior in strength, agility, endurance, and stamina," Fury explained with a nod. "But from what we've seen, you're 'better,' too."

Cora's eyes widened marginally and she asked quietly, "Do… Do you know what's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you as far as I can tell. You're just different. Special."

She wasn't sure she believed that, but she let it slide. "So… When is this thing happening?"

"They gave us a deadline of tomorrow, ten-hundred hours." The SHIELD director paused heavily and, when no one could find anything else to say, he advised, "Go get some rest. Dinner can be sent to your room and if you need anything else, just say the word. And Cora?" She looked over her shoulder at him. "It's going to be fine."

Whether or not he was just saying that to make her feel better, she gave a slightly forced smile of thanks and headed out into the hall, the conference room door sliding shut in her wake.

Sorry for the late-night posting on this one, it was a difficult one to crank out. We're edging toward the Battle of New York... See you all again next week!