Chapter 10

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

- Love The Way You Live, Eminem ft. Rihanna

Her mind had been a truly fascinating place to enter.

All mortals, being the foolish, naive creatures that they were, thought that freedom was the key to happiness. Lies. Loki knew better. He knew that freedom was something that the simple mind of a mortal simply could not handle. They functioned better when their paths were chosen for them, when they were ruled.

All mortals lives under the illusion that they desired freedom, but her illusions were stronger than most. Her disdain for authority, her hatred for subjugation, even in its simplest forms, made him grin at her folly. He would show her that to be controlled, to be commanded was what she truly, truly wanted.

Oh, she was under his control now, yes, but she fought it. Loki could see it in the stiffness of her movements, the way her jaw was clenched in difference. She would follow him without question, yes, but there was still that part of her, deep down, that was aware of what was happening and was fighting it every step of the way. That little conscious part, the part that was still her in her most fundamental form, that was the part he would break. And he would have fun doing it.

The others, pah, they were dull, mindless beings who had reached their full potential and still came up short. Their entire, weak race was like that. What was the phrase the mortals used? The light was on but no one was home. Yes, that was it, and it accurately described the humans. They built bright cities, beacons of light, but for what? To show off their 'prowess'? Bah. Ridiculous. That was nothing to be proud of. When Loki ruled, and he would rule, he would build monuments in the sky that would be things to be truly content with.

Monuments in his name. Loki's lips curled upward at the thought. Millions of mortals, bowing down to their rightful king, the worthy son, to him. Humans, down on their knees, in their correct place - beneath him. He was a god, was he not? It was only right that he be seated far, far above this inferior race.

"Sir." Loki turned to see another one of the agents he had compromised, an archer by the name of Clinton Barton, said. The man stood at attention, his bow held tightly by his side. Like all of the other minions Loki had added to his collection, Barton's glowing blue eyes stared outwards without seeing. "The perimeter is secure."

"Excellent," Loki purred. "Do make sure that it stays that way - you and your men are to ensure that anyone who comes within half a league of this facility does not leave to tell the tale." After being waved away by Loki's slender hand, Barton strode off, shouting orders to the working class men. Immediately, they left their posts, fanning out and exiting the damp underground space where their base now was. Those who were men of science rather than the more physical beings, continued on with their work, swarming around Selvig.

From out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw a long swish of blonde, and a predatory smile crossed his face. "Oh, Agent Crippen," he sing-songed. "There's no need for you to go with them. Come, join me." Rising to his feet, Loki gestured for the woman to follow him. He glided through the throng of scientists (whose knowledge was so limited that the scholars of Asgard would have laughed in their faces), and stopped when he reached a heavy metal door. This room, the room that was hidden behind this door, was his favorite part of his new... residence. Like a spider waiting for his prey to crawl into his web, Loki patiently stood by the door until Crippen had finally reached his side.

She was not entirely repulsive. Compared to the beauties on Asgard, she was plain, but for a mortal, he supposed she was attractive. Her features were symmetrical, her nose seemingly delicate while her lips were full - or rather, they would be full, had she not pressed them together tightly. A sign of displeasure, he knew. Oh, how she did not want to be here. And how that pleased him, to know that she knew she was helpless. Her crystal blue eyes stared ahead, not looking directly at him. "Yes, sir?"

"I want a word with you, agent," Loki replied smoothly. Deciding to test her, he reached out and lazily ran his long fingers along her collar bone. While her jaw tightened, she did shiver under his touch. That same wolfish grin spread across his face. Pushing the door open, Loki leaned down and breath against her neck, "After you." Once again, against her will, she shivered. Oh, yes, he was going to enjoy this.

The room he followed her after was completely empty, save for a marvelous throne in the center of it. Loki had to suppress a smirk at his handiwork; made of gold, the chair was larger than any on Asgard, and was adorned with glittering green gems. Was is showy? Perhaps, but it was the throne Loki deserved, was it not? After years of being shunned to the darkness, of living in his not-brother's shadow, of being the ignored, cast-aside son, this was what he deserved.

Realizing that his hands had clenched into tight fists, and that his face had contorted into a rather unattractive scowl, Loki straightened up, returning his face to its blank state and clasping his hands behind his back. In a few long strides, he crossed the room, then, his cape flaring out dramatically, he turned and sank down into the seat of his throne, legs parted in his relaxed state. Calling upon his magic, Loki conjured up a - what did the mortals call it? Ah, yes, a martini glass. He brought the chalice to his lips, looking over the rim and down at the mortal girl as he did.

"Agent Crippen." His voice echoed of the walls, filling the large, empty space. "Tell me everything."

The girl continued to stare straight ahead. "Sir?"

Loki smirked cruelly, slowly bringing the glass to his lips. Once he had finished, after taking as much time as he pleased, he elaborated. "I wish to know everything you know. About SHIELD, about your dear friend Agent Barton, about your pathetic little race. Tell me your secrets, little one. Tell. Me. Everything."

And then the secrets began to tumble from her lips. She divulged everything. Loki learned of the secret organization that was the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Divisions, learned of the one-eyed Nick Fury, of the seemingly unflappable Phil Coulson, and of the hard Maria Hill. Crippen revealed their weaknesses to him, and as the minutes ticked on, he grew more and more impressed with her apparent knowledge. She revealed all she knew about Agent Barton, about his love for the one known as the Black Widow, about his brother who had turned on him, about his time in the army, simply everything.

The best part was how he could here the small, conscious part of her scream in resistance while she could do nothing from stopping it. Her body was Loki's to control, but her mind resisted. Her screams... oh, what they did to him.

He questioned her about the mortal's resistance force, and that was when things became truly... interesting. Apparently, SHIELD Director Fury had been working on assembling a team of 'extraordinary' mortals to help to protect their planet. Of course, the efforts, as valiant as they were, would be futile, but Loki supposed that they might be a wrinkle in his plans. He drilled the girl on them, trying to find out all he could.

When he did find out more about troupe of misfits, he had to suppress a laugh. This was the best Fury could come up with? How droll. A man out of his time, still living seventy years in the past, and haunted by the memories of those he failed to save. A mortal man of iron who thought himself a god, and, just as Loki was planning to do, had built a monument in the sky with his name on. Loki decided then and there that this 'Stark Tower' would be the first building he brought to its knees.

The other members of the team were even more laughable than the first. It seemed as though Fury had run out of better options, for the other members of his team included Agent Crippen herself, the compromised Agent Barton, Natasha Romanoff (the woman who was also the Black Widow), and Loki's own not-brother, Thor, who was stuck worlds away.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

But then Loki sensed something - she was not lying, but Crippen was holding something back, refraining from telling the entire truth. Rage boiled up inside of Loki, and he rose to his feet, fixing the girl with a glare that would make any warrior flinch. "Tell me, Crippen," he spat. "What is it that you are trying to hide from me?" His words were laced with poison, yet he kept his voice low and steady, under control.

"There is someone else that Fury was planning on recruiting," the girl admitted slowly, through ground teeth. But there was something else in her voice besides the regret that she always spoke with while under his influence - longing and sorrow.

"Oh?" Loki arched his jet black eyebrows. "Someone else? Someone you... care about, Agent Crippen?"

The girl stiffened, but did not say anything else. Rising from his chair, Loki strode down the steps until he was standing right in front of her. From there he began to circle round her, trailing his fingertips along the exposed skin of her neck as he did. "Speak, pet. Tell me about him."

"His name is Bruce Banner..." And from there, there was nothing she did not reveal. By the time she finally fell silent, Loki knew all there was to know about the man-beast. How his desire for glory and arrogance had led him to become the monster he was, how his failure had ruined his life, how he grew low, desperate, and how he sought an end, yet failed at that as well. Oh, he had made a weapon for the ages, but that was had not been his intention - it seemed that everything ended in catastrophe for the good doctor. The fun Loki would have, messing with the beast's mind (assuming he had enough of one to be trifled with).

And even more fun? Messing with the monster's heart.

Because it appeared that the brute had fallen for Loki's dear Agent Crippen. To make matters even more interesting, it looked as though Crippen returned his feelings. Hmm, Loki mused, Beauty and the Beast. How quaint.

Loki stopped his pacing to stand directly behind the girl, leaning forward and breathing down her neck once more. "And tell me, girl, what is he to you? Has this beast captured your heart, earned your love?"

"Bruce is not a beast," Crippen replied tightly, her jaw going tense. Just as she looked as though she was going to say more, she clamped her mouth shut.

"Tell me," Loki urged in his velvety smooth voice. When that failed, he leaned in and pressed his cold lips to her neck. Instantly, she tensed, a gasp escaping her lips. "Tell me," he hissed against her skin, delighting in her discomfort. "Does the beast have your heart?"

The screams of protest that can from her conscious were like a drug to him - he relished them, craved them. They were so loud in his own mind that it almost overpowered everything, and he very nearly missed the answer she breathed. "Yes."

At that, Loki drew back suddenly, a laugh escaping his lips and echoing around the room. He continued to laugh, reveling in the fact that he had just found the way to break her. "Thank you for your time, Agent Crippen, you are free to go." Just before she reached the door, he called out to here again, laughter still coloring his voice, "Oh, and Agent Crippen? Do not fear, pet. He will not have your heart for long. It. Will. Be. Mine."

As she walked away from him, slamming the door behind her, a plan was already forming in his mind.

Perhaps it was time the beast payed her a visit.

The blue fog that I had been struggling to see through finally began to clear, and relief flooded through me, sending a warm feeling through my body. I let out a deep, shaky breath, glad to be rid of the burden of blindness.

As the fog began to clear, I blinked rapidly, not believing what I saw.

Home.

Well, not my home, not really, but it was the place I had come to identify as 'home'. I stared up at the beat up, shoddy shack, and I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. That was our house, I knew, but it didn't... it didn't make sense. How could I be here? I was just... where I had been previously? I didn't know. I didn't know anything.

The only thing I was sure of was that this was the place I most wanted to be.

My legs seemed to move on their own, pumping furiously until I was at the foot of the stairs that led up to the door. Completely ignoring them, I leapt upwards, clearing the levels with ease, and rammed into the door, sending it flying open as I did. "Bruce!" I called, and the eagerness in my voice was so apparent that even I let out a laugh. I hadn't sounded that happy in a long, long time. "Bruce!"

There was no immediate response. Calming myself down, I started to scan the room. Everything was in it's place - that is to say, Bruce's books were still strewn all over the floor, wood shavings covered the space around the bed, and the black medical bag was tucked away in the far corner of the room. The only thing missing was the thing I cared most about: Bruce.

When I heard a low moan coming from the corner, I whirled around, my heart drumming wildly against my rib cage. Was that him? Was he hurt? "Bruce?"

My breath caught in my throat when I saw him, and for a moment, I stood there, choking on air. A cold, numbness flooded through me, making me shiver and gasp and want to scream all at the same time. I couldn't find my voice. My stomach began to churn, and I stumbled forward, putting a hand on the wall for support. Head spinning, I looked down at Bruce, breath growing ragged.

He was curled up on the floor, naked, and covered sticky, crimson blood. His own blood. Cuts and scars covered his entire body, and the stuff leaked from it. It stained his bruised skin, slicked back his hair, and was flecked across his face. When he looked up at me, his eyes weren't the warm brown color I had come to love - they were a cold, soulless black. His lips, scarred like the rest of him, curled up in disdain when he saw me. In that moment, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

"You," he rasped, all the softness to his voice gone. "You did this to me." There was a soft clicking noise, and I looked down to see that Bruce had a silver revolver clutched in his hand, and it was ready to go. Pushing himself up to a higher position, he continued to look at me with pure and unrestrained loathing. Oh, God, what had I done? Bruce, my Bruce, was gone, this broken thing left in his place.

And I was to blame. I had broken him.

Eyes still not leaving mine, Bruce slowly lifted the gun towards his mouth. I wanted to scream at him, to apologize, to tell him what I had refused to admit to myself; I would say anything to get him to stop, but my mouth refused to form the words I needed to talk him off the ledge. Instead, all I could do was stare at him, horror frozen in place on my face, and tears running down my cheeks. Oh, God, I couldn't watch - but I also couldn't look away.

Bruce's lips curled up in disgust, and when he spoke the next time, each word was like a knife sinking into my heart. "I. Hate. You."

As his finger tightened on the trigger, I finally managed to find my voice. The blood-curdling scream that came from my mouth filled the room, reverberating off the walls and hitting me ten-fold. A bang mixed in with my scream, and I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing that I wouldn't be able to bear looking. Little bits of flesh, blood, and other matter splattered on my face, making my stomach heave again. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, Bruce.

Without warning, my legs gave out from under me, and I fell to my hands and knees. I retched, over and over again, tears streaming down my face as the heaving and the sobbing racked my body. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening. I gasped, desperate for air. Oh, God, oh, God.

A snarl made me look up, and when I did, I did a double take. Bruce wasn't dead. No, he was still alive and kicking - literally. I watched in shock as he failed around, blood still seeping from every cut, still oozing from the back of his head. His voice deepened as he let out a growl that shook me to my very core. Muscles bubbling, body elongating, Bruce through his head back roared.

His skin was green.

Terror flooded through me, and I tried to scramble to my feet, but once again, I found myself rooted in place. I jerked about wildly, trying to break free. It was no use; I was stuck. A roar tore through the air, and I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed.

The roar was replaced by wicked, velvety laughter.

Loki.

That little shit.