Scepter

Loki paced his cell, feeling distracted and agitated. All he could think of at the moment was Emmie, and the scene that had played out nearly half an hour ago. Since he had returned to his cell, he had been pacing back and forth, simply replaying it in his head.

Emmie. Maria Hill the Second. The Mastermind Murderess. The one that was driving Loki crazy with her teasing green eyes and disdainful twisted smirk, and her terrible tendency to attempt to kill him and then collapse into tears, almost making Loki want to pity or comfort her… but neither was in his nature. Yet still, his breath faltered slightly, catching in his throat when he recalled the feeling of her warm skin against his cooler skin, and the exquisite mixture of burning bliss and tantalizing torture as her fingers grazed over his back, and her breath kissing the freshly bleeding cuts on his shoulder.

Loki shuddered slightly. It was too impossibly… unreal that it had happened. And the fact that he was still so hung up on the event was what infuriated him the most. Damn his masochism. Damn his… he clenched his fists at his sides. His attraction to Emmie. To her dark amusement and constant mental agony, and her clever manipulation and her damned vulnerability once he had her in his grasp.

He wanted desperately to go back to her room and demand answers from her. Answers he knew she didn't have, either, but he wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she was in tears. And then he would see her cry, and the self-loathing for doing it to her would consume him, and he would be just as mentally torn apart as she was. And they would once again share that emotion of being lost and lost as to why the loss was there. There was indeed empathy between them. Empathy for the constant darkness and the constant hatred for the world around them, only abated by self-hatred. Loki was disturbed that he had found someone he understood in a seventeen-year-old Midgardian girl. The mere idea was inconceivable, and he could hardly bear to accept it.

He suddenly paused. There was someone behind him, standing just outside his glass prison. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't sensed the presence before. That was the second time Emmie had filled his mind, distracting him from his surroundings. He smiled wryly. "There's not many people that can sneak up on me," he said as he turned, meeting the eyes of Natasha Romanoff.

00000

Emmie, alone in her room, tugged at her bottom lip absentmindedly as she brooded silently, pacing. She could not believe herself. The only thing she seemed to be able to think about was Loki, reliving the scene that had happened she-didn't-know-or-care-how-long-ago. Since he had left, all she had been able to do was pace and relive it.

Loki. Loki Laufeyson, the god of mischief and lies. The one that made her head spin with his piercing blue eyes and taunting arrogance, and yet the quiet reserve at times when he wasn't pinning her to the wall with burning anger in his eyes.

She let out a soft groan and kicked the wall of her room so hard her foot hurt. It didn't stop her from pacing the room.

And now what was she supposed to do? Just… stay in here until she heard a commotion? And then she was supposed to go find Loki's scepter and bring it to him at the detention level? What the hell made him think she would listen to him? How did he know that she wouldn't just walk out the door right now and go straight to the Director, informing him of Loki's plan? She could do that. She had no loyalty to Loki.

She paused. Screw it. She couldn't pretend that anymore. She literally had his name written all over her. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. She had come to the conclusion that SHIELD sure as hell wasn't the friend in this situation. It was the enemy. And Loki was their enemy. And while he sure as hell wasn't a friend, there was definitely an understanding between the two twisted minds. That was why she was pacing back and forth in her room, actually following Loki's orders to wait until she heard—

There was an explosion, making the ship rock, even where Emmie stood. The ground beneath her feet trembled with its power, but she kept her balance. It wasn't too close. But it was close enough to know this was what Loki had meant by a commotion.

She stalked silently to the door and rested her hand on the knob. She twisted it, and then pulled. She smirked. The door, as Loki had promised, was unlocked. She was free to go.

00000

Loki's hands tightened into fists when he felt the ground shake with the explosion. The Black Widow had left by now, leaving him alone. He was just grateful that the woman had only thought of Bruce Banner. She hadn't suspected for a second that Emmie Hill was also part of Loki's plan.

"You're a monster."

"No… you brought the monster."

"So, Banner. That's your play."

Loki shook his head. He had been stupid to let slip even that much. But not all was lost… so long as Emmie kept to her part of the plan. She'd better.

00000

Emmie held her dagger in her right hand, blade unsheathed and ready to use. The little sheath had been shoved into her back pocket. She slunk down the halls carefully. She really didn't have to bother with being quiet. There were so many alarms going off that she was sure no SHIELD agent would notice if she started singing the national anthem at the top of her lungs. But she still tried to make as little noise as possible. She had not yet encountered anyone… but she knew she would have to soon.

She paused as a voice came out of a speaker on the wall, cutting over the blaring alarms. It was the voice of Agent Maria Hill, saying something about Engine 2 being down, and repairs, and listing off some codes. The girl's face hardened and she narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the handle of her dagger. Even the sound of her mother's voice made her want to hurt something… but still she wasn't sure if it was actually her mother she wanted to hurt.

"Hey! You!"

Emmie's eyes flicked from the speaker, now back to blaring the alarms, and met the eyes of a male agent. It was one of the agents that Director Fury had brought with him to apprehend her when she was wreaking havoc in the medical bay. How… convenient. He had just rounded the corner, skidding to a halt when he saw her, eyes wide with shock. He was only about three yards away; an easy distance to cross for her.

"Hi there," she gave him her sweetest smile as he reached for the gun holstered at his waist, but she was faster.

Before he could comprehend what had happened, she had swept his legs out from under him, slammed his hand to the floor with such force that it broke, and had her knife at his throat.

"How nice to see you again," she said, her voice disturbingly angelic. "Tell me, where are they keeping Loki's scepter?" she asked innocently.

He was still stunned by both her attack and the pain coursing through him, stemming from his newly broken hand. "Ah—ah-" he couldn't finish a sentence, or even piece together a full word.

Emmie sighed. She pressed the dagger a little harder against his throat, drawing a fine line of blood across his sensitive skin. "I asked you… Where?" she hissed darkly.

He shook his head as if to indicate that he would never tell even if he could. Growling in frustration, she stood, kicked him viciously in the ribs, and then snatched his gun from the holster and silenced the cries of pain he was trying to suppress. With a huff of mere annoyance, she left the body, now armed with both a knife and a gun. She sheathed the dagger as she continued walking the Helicarrier, and focused on trying to find the scepter as she relished the feeling of carrying a gun. Its weight was reassuring, and the smooth metal was cool and soothing. And yet even the weapon in her grasp couldn't soothe the irritation and apprehension growing in the pit of her stomach.

Loki was stupid. How could he have thought that she could just stumble on the scepter? She had nothing to go off of. She didn't have a chance of finding it by accident.

"Emmie," a voice called out.

Emmie snapped her hands up, pointing the handgun at the speaker… who was holding up a bow with an arrow nocked at her. Her eyes flicked over him quickly, taking in his SHIELD uniform and weapon pointing at her. But then her eyes settled on his… electric blue as the Tesseract.

"I take it you've talked to Loki?" he asked curtly, his voice rather flat.

The girl nodded wordlessly. "You're with him?" she asked tersely.

He nodded and gestured to her gun.

Emmie felt irritation spark through her at the indication that she should lower her gun. She was tempted to blow him away right then and there for his gesture at control. But she slowly lowered the gun, and he lowered his bow.

"I need the scepter," she said shortly. "Know where it is?"

"Yes. In the lab a few halls down… it's a mess right now. It got a little rocked from the explosion. It should be empty by now… the scepter's inside somewhere," he answered , barely meeting her eyes before walking past.

"Going to the detention level?" she called after him.

"Yes I am."

Emmie smiled wryly. "Tell Loki I'll see him soon, and I don't expect a big sloppy kiss when I see him again."

Agent Barton glanced at her over his shoulder, giving her a queer look. He didn't respond as he merely continued on.

Emmie smirked. She had a feeling the man wouldn't pass on her message… but she didn't mind. She turned back to the hall in front of her and moved on, searching for the scepter.

00000

Agent Maria Hill was feeling panicked… even more panicked than everyone else here in the control room. She fended off attackers, just like everyone else. She sent messages to the other agents around the ship, like everyone else. But unlike everyone else, she hadn't forgotten about Emmie.

With the ship so damaged, she could have escaped her room. And something could happen… either to her or because of her. Agent Hill would rather have neither happen. But by now she could hardly concentrate on shooting past her cover behind the table, and by now, the Helicarrier was falling, with two engines down. The computers were down. Outer communications were down. Directional systems were down. There was nothing left to do in the control room except run around like headless chickens and wait for the engines to be fixed.

Hill glanced around. There was no one that would miss her here for a few minutes. The agent made a dash for the exit.

"Hill!" Director Fury's voice stopped her. "We've got enemies crawling the ship! Where the hell are you going?"

Hill whirled on her heel and saw him across the room. "Emmie," she snapped shortly. "The computer systems are down, and her room was locked using a computerized code."

Fury's eye flashed. "You think we might have a Jurassic Park on our hands?"

"Did you just call Emmie a dinosaur?"

"Reminds me of a damn raptor sometimes," he spat. "Go check it out. Let us know if there's trouble." He tapped his ear to indicate her own earpiece.

She nodded determinedly and left the room, gun drawn.

And she was rather perturbed when she made it to the empty room. The only thing Emmie had left was a… bloodstained handkerchief on the bed…? Maria Hill's hand clenched the handkerchief, and she felt a thrill of terror. She didn't know what had happened here, but she knew that there was something.

00000

Emmie, crouched on the floor at the entrance to the lab the man had indicated, peered inside. Indeed, it was a wreck. Computers were on the floor, fallen from their overturned tables. The girl crinkled her nose for a moment, thinking she wasn't particularly interested in sifting through the rubble to find Loki's scepter. Then her eyes landed on a golden object, towards the back of the room, wedged under a twisted piece of steel, blown from the wall.

She slunk over to the golden staff and gingerly tugged on it. She felt her hands shake. There was… power. Power was connected to this staff. She yanked harder on its shaft, but the steel was heavy on top of it. Emmie froze as she heard approaching footsteps outside the lab. Nervously, she tried to wrench the staff again. It didn't budge. With a quiet growl of frustration, she backed away and ducked behind an upset table as the frantic footsteps outside drew even closer. A couple voices began speaking.

"—Banner and Romanoff?"

"Must have fallen down the shaft; we're gonna have to go down a level."

"Let Fury know."

A voice began relaying the information, presumably through a mouthpiece or walkie-talkie device. There was silence for a moment.

"He says he's sending someone down right now." Another pause. "He says Loki's scepter is still in here, and to grab it and bring it to the control room."

Emmie's heart jumped into her throat, and she heard the footsteps draw closer into the room. As they began to pass her table, she jumped into action and sprang up, driving her elbow into the face of the leading agent.

He reeled back with a cry of pain and tripped over the twisted piece of steel the scepter was wedged under. Emmie whipped to face the second agent, and ducked a swinging arm. She came up from her crouch wielding the dagger, and slitting his abdomen from his stomach to his throat, she shoved him backwards. He landed in a bloody heap, choking up blood.

Emmie turned back to the first agent she had attacked. He was trying to struggle to his feet, speaking into his mouthpiece.

"None of that," she hissed, and leveled the gun she had stolen from the earlier agent.

"—attacked in the lab—"

His words were cut off by the sound of gunfire. Three rounds, all in his chest. He fell silent, and he didn't get to finish reporting to the control room. Emmie's eyes flicked over the room and the two dead bodies. She looked down at the dagger in her hand, covered to the hilt in blood, and then at the handgun, now a third empty. Her gaze travelled down to the golden staff again.

A small smirk spread over her lips. When the first agent had tripped over the debris, he had shifted it just enough… the girl nudged the dead legs of the agent away, and she grasped the handle of the scepter. It slid from under the steel with minimal effort. Her grin broadened. This… could be a useful weapon. It had excellent balance, a good height and weight, and a sharp tip. It could be used… in so many ways…

She paused. This would take two hands to carry if she wanted to be able to wield it. She looked at the floor, where she had dropped the gun and knife. She couldn't carry all three knife, gun, and scepter.

Regretfully, she kicked the gun away, wiped the dagger off on the dead agent's shirt, sheathed it, and slipped it into her back pocket. She now held the scepter in both her hands. Now she just had to make it back to the detention level. She strode purposefully out of the room, the scepter swinging casually from her hand. She paused in her leisurely step when there was a sudden roar of a beast. Emmie hesitated. She wasn't sure exactly where it had come from… It sounded a little too close for comfort. She abandoned her little stroll in favor of a dash down the hall, hoping she would be able to find the detention level without any trouble.

She swung around a corner and gasped, ducking. Something was flying towards her. She dropped to the ground, just in time to avoid the object colliding with her. She blinked. Had that been a… war hammer? A giant war hammer, flying through the air? She shook it off and continued down the hall.

00000

Loki was getting impatient. He was already outside the cell, just waiting for Emmie so that they could leave. But she wasn't here yet. And she was taking far too damn long. Someone should be here by now. Even if it wasn't Emmie, at least Agent Barton should be here…

He gritted his teeth, knowing a decision had to be made. He could stay and wait here. He could just make his way to the waiting craft to New York without Emmie. Or he could go looking for the little beast.

Well, he couldn't leave without her. He didn't have his scepter yet. He needed that. As for waiting here, he was getting far too restless and worried… No. He shook that thought out of his head. He was not worried for Emmie's well-being, he told himself. That was silly, stupid, and sentimental. He was just impatient. That was all. He did not care if Emmie lived or died, so long as she served her purpose.

With a quiet growl of frustration, he turned and left the area, in search of the little demon girl. Damn her to hell. He was worried for her.

00000

"Screw you, Loki, for getting me into this crap," Emmie cursed under her breath as she turned a corner. She had managed to find a small sign at a fork of three halls, and the one to the left was labelled "Detention Level." She had turned down that hall…. But halfway down, a group of men in suits had appeared at the other end. She had stopped dead, and they had, too.

Silence for a moment. Emmie didn't recognize any of them, but evidently it was not mutual.

"Hill's daughter," one of them muttered. "Must've gotten out… Grab her and bring her to the control room," they muttered to each other.

Emmie's eyes narrowed as the group of five advanced down the hall. She set her feet shoulder-width apart and firmly gripped the scepter in her hands, prepared for the oncoming battle.

"Emmie," one said coaxingly, drawing closer and reaching for his belt.

Her eyes flicked to his belt. He was not reaching for his gun. He was reaching for… a taser, she thought. Her gaze danced between the other four, who appeared to be reaching for their own belts nervously. She smirked. They thought she was the kind of person to wait for someone else to make the first move. Little did they know, she was more of a preemptive strike girl.

Which was why the lead agent's hand snapped back, struck with killer speed by the shaft of the scepter, breaking his wrist easily. Emmie's foot collided with his chest, and he fell back. Someone grabbed her from behind, wrapping their arm around her neck in a hope to cut off her air flow and make her pass out. She struggled for a mere moment before managing to position herself well enough… and she bit down viciously on the agent's arm so hard that she managed to break skin. The hold on her neck was immediately released as she tasted the metallic tang of blood, and she whipped around, slashing the man across the chest with the razor tip of the scepter. Someone seized her wrist and twisted, making her grip on the scepter slacken. She let out a ferocious hiss, barely managing to not drop the scepter. She drove her knee up into her attacker's stomach, and she felt the hold on her wrist release as the agent clutched his abdomen. She finished him with a sharp blow across the temple with the side of the scepter.

The remaining two agents were already backing warily away, raising their hands in surrender before dashing away, probably seeking backup.

Emmie smirked. Her breath was slightly faster than before from the exertions of the fight, but still she smiled. She had to get herself a scepter. It was… enjoyable to fight with.

"Emmie!" a voice called from behind her.

The girl turned and found herself looking at Loki, emerging from an adjoining hallway to her own. He surveyed the three bodies at her feet and the bloody point of the scepter in her hands. "You didn't have to make a mess," he quipped, stepping forward.

Emmie gave him a dark look, unsure of how to react. "…I'd suspect you've done worse," she countered finally.

Loki smirked. "Mmhmm." He was trying desperately to hide the relief he felt at seeing that she had managed to get the scepter and was still unharmed. He would like to cross the distance between them and see her freeze nervously as he drew close. He wanted to see that look of terror and yearning when he was only an inch away. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, cursing her in his mind.

"Want your freaking scepter back or not?" Emmie asked, forcing words past her tightening throat. "Or do you want me to hold onto it? Personally, I kinda like it. I want one."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I'll take that off your hands, Mastermind." He held out his hand, and Emmie reluctantly took a step closer and offered it. Loki glanced between her face and the scepter in her slender hand. He reached forward and laid his hand on top of hers, pulling her until she was only a few inches away from him, the scepter between them in both their hands. He gave Emmie a hard look.

Her heart had sped the moment his hand touched hers, and it seemed to stop when he pulled her closer to him. Her breath caught in her throat as he gave her a searching look, no doubt waiting for a reaction to exploit. She bit her lower lip. "This is starting to get old, Loki… you just pulling me close and then not doing anything," she breathed scornfully.

Loki smirked faintly. "Would you rather I do something?" he said, his voice almost a threatening purr. He licked the tip of his thumb and then reached forward, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over the very corner of Emmie's lips.

She jerked and jumped away, wrenching her hand from Loki's on the scepter. "The hell was that?!" she demanded, eyes wide and voice shrill.

Loki smirked. "You had blood on the corner of your mouth," he sneered, absolutely reveling in her stunned expression.

"Screw you," she stammered bitterly, absentmindedly dragging the back of her hand over the place where Loki had tried to wipe her mouth. She glanced down and saw that there was indeed a little blood that came off on her hand. But she threw Loki a hateful glare nonetheless.

"Something wrong, Emmie?" he taunted. "You look a little… pale? Tense?"

"You realize I still have the dagger you gave me, right?" Emmie spat. "I wouldn't mind carving my name into your forehead this time."

Loki scoffed. "Not a particularly inviting idea. Come. We've got a bit more to do before we leave."

00000

Agent Maria Hill's head was spinning. She had been listening into the conversation between Emmie and Loki from around the corner. She did not see anything that happened, not daring to poke her head beyond the cover of the wall, but just listening to the words exchanged was enough to draw a number of conclusions. One: Emmie had escaped from her room and then proceeded to get Loki's scepter for him. Two: Loki had, at some point, given Emmie a dagger, and the two were working together. And three: there was some kind of undeniable connection between her daughter and the god of mischief. The way they talked… like they were… friends. And the relief that was barely masked when Loki had first said Emmie's name… And the fact that Loki had reduced Emmie to mumbling and stammering… The idea gave the mother the chills. And yet another confirmation that this girl was not her Emmie was enough to make the agent shudder.

But the simple fact that Emmie had a connection with… someone… was some solace. Just… not much.

Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: So… here we are again. ;)

This chapter was more of just action, and not as much twisted manipulation as previous chapters proved to contain… but I felt I needed to do a bit more of Emmie actually succeeding in taking guys down.

It's really quite a delicate balance to keep with her…. I can't have her always be epic and kick butt… then she ends up being a Mary-Sue… my worst nightmare. But at the same time, I can't have her never succeed… then she ends up being all bark and no bite; an arrogant airhead who thinks she's all that and can't back it up. So… I try to have her fail and succeed both in moderation. In this one, she managed to be pretty epic. She should totally have her own scepter. She kicks ass with that thing ;)

When this story was first published and still in the works, I discontinued it after Chapter 13 after getting severely discouraged from lack of reviews mixed with writer's block and lack of planning ahead and therefore not knowing where to go… Chapter 14 was written after two months' worth of readers pleading for me to recontinue and finish the story. I spent an hour listening to Bent by Matchbox 20 and then finally motivated myself to get going on completing Twisted Minds Think Alike.

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