From what Loki could tell, this 'therapy' he had been conscripted into was meant to help. A kind of healing, perhaps. Loki did not feel healed; he felt raw and flayed and fragile, like there were insects crawling through his blood, and just now his heart was pounding slightly too rapidly. He didn't want to be still, but he didn't know what he did want, either. Run, some part of him urged. Run away from here and do not come back, you're not safe here, you'll never be safe. She'll keep pushing at you, opening your wounds-

But it was his fault, wasn't it? Dr. Fisher had not forced him to say anything. He had chosen, again and again, to peel back his own skin.

His stomach rolled and his nails dug into his palms. He wanted to go home and hide, but then again he didn't want to be alone. It was the sort of mood where once upon a time he would have gone to find Thor and hoped he would be alone.

That thought scraped like more sandpaper on already raw nerves, and Loki twitched it away.

Natasha, he remembered. He could go to Natasha. She was – they were something, at least; she had called them friends, and he had promised to pay her back for her surprise visit to his house. He could pretend it was nothing but that, a friendly social call and a small jest…

She would see through that, he realized, and almost changed his mind, but in the end steeled himself. Natasha had already seen him at his worst, or nearly, and she would not say anything if he did not speak first.

It took no small amount of digging for him to track down the address she had on file, and then more to find the real information. He had hoped to manage it without the use of magic, but impatience ruled that out more than anything. He memorized the address and then re-buried the information, adding a spell of misdirection to the more mundane shields lest anyone else go looking. A few minutes with the mapping function on his phone and Loki teleported himself to the front door of what he hoped was her home – though it occurred to him belatedly that this might be a misdirection as well.

He let himself inside and took the stairs to the fifth floor. The building itself was rather shabby, Loki noted. He would have expected nicer, though considering it Loki wasn't sure he could have said why. It offended his sensibilities a little, though, that she should not live in more comfortable surroundings. He wondered if Natasha would take it amiss if he mentioned the feeling.

Loki knocked smartly on the door of 15D and stepped back a half-step. It wasn't until then that he thought, again belatedly, that Natasha might be otherwise occupied. After all, she almost certainly had a life of her own outside of SHIELD. It was presumptuous in the extreme for him to be here, to show up on her doorstep as though his discomfort merited interrupting whatever other affairs she might wish to occupy herself with. Loki's stomach clenched as he realized how badly he might have erred, and he was on the verge of stepping back and removing himself from the premises entirely when the door opened. Natasha blinked at him, looking slightly disheveled and wearing grey stretchy pants and a loose shirt.

"Huh," she said. Loki drew himself up, fighting the urge to cringe.

"Is it a bad time?"

"Who is it, Nat?" He heard called from inside, and tensed. Barton was here too, then. Undoubtedly a bad time. Natasha did not precisely looked thrilled – though neither did she look much of anything else. Loki kept his back straight and made himself smile faintly.

"It's Silver," Natasha called over her shoulder. Loki heard a loud groan from inside and tried not to let his mouth twist downward.

"I did tell you I would return the favor of a surprise visit," he said mildly.

"So you did," Natasha said. "I guess I shouldn't really be surprised."

"If you are…otherwise occupied, however," he said, glancing past her briefly before returning his gaze to hers, "with my point made I can return home satisfied."

"Huh," Natasha said again, scrutinizing his face in a way that made Loki want to tense, wondering what she was reading from him. He didn't like the feeling of it, and tried to keep himself closed off and inscrutable, though based on the way her expression shifted a little toward a frown he wasn't certain he succeeded. She stepped back and opened the door more fully. "Come in."

It was Loki's turn to blink, and then he narrowed his eyes. "I do not require-"

"I'm sure you don't," she interrupted. "But now you're here and Scrabble's better with more people. So come in." She stayed where she was, door held open.

"It did not sound as though Barton felt the same way," he said slowly. Natasha scoffed.

"Barton can shove it," she said, louder than necessary.

"Hey!" He heard the sound of footsteps and Barton emerged into the hallway, similarly casually dressed and scowling at Natasha before looking at Loki. "It's fine. As long as you agree to call Natasha on it when she tries to play Russian words."

"Just because you don't recognize a word doesn't mean it's Russian," Natasha said over her shoulder. Barton made a face.

"It has nothing to do with whether I recognize it or not and everything to do with me recognizing it as Russian so stop trying to pull that one on me." He glanced at Loki. "You see? I shouldn't agree to play word games with her at all. Natasha, shut the door, you're letting all the warmth out."

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him. Loki looked back and forth from her to Barton and back. He was plainly just following her lead, whatever the truth of his desires, and Loki knew he ought to step back and let them…Scrabble…alone.

He had never been very good at selflessness.

Loki stepped inside and Natasha shut the door behind him. Barton gave him a crooked little smile. "So, have you read any of the Harry Potter books yet?"

"Yes," Loki said, a touch stiffly, still feeling decidedly unsure of himself. "I have just finished the fifth one. The presentation of magic is positively laughable. Of course one may use a wand for focus or direction, but generally it is considered only necessary for the most rank of beginners."

Barton looked like he was trying not to make some sort of expression, but Loki wasn't sure what it was. "Guess Rowling didn't research that part so well."

He recognized mockery when he heard it, and narrowed his eyes in Barton's direction, but the man acknowledged nothing. "What about the characters?" He asked. Loki considered.

"I do not know," he said slowly. "Harry is…admirable. His loyalty to those he cares for is certainly commendable." The death of Sirius Black had…upset Loki. It seemed so pointless, and his murderer still lived. "Perhaps Hermione. She is clever, and enjoys the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake."

Barton nodded. "Respect," he said. Natasha was watching the two of them, Loki realized, her expression faintly amused.

"Have you read these books?" Loki asked. Natasha shrugged.

"Only the first one," she said. "Too busy, I guess."

"No respect for the classics," Barton said. "I keep trying, but…" He threw up his hands, illustrating futility. Natasha rolled her eyes at Loki and he had to try not to smile. This still felt…odd, but not ill. He could almost be comfortable, the raw feeling receding a little with the distraction if nothing else.

"What is this 'Scrabble' game?" He asked, before the conversation could die down and he could remember too much why he was here. Natasha blinked and then waved a hand.

"Oh, right. It's a word game – you try to form words off of other peoples' words on a board and…it's probably easier to show you."

"By all means," Loki said, smiling faintly. Internally, though, he was relieved. Learning a new game with…company sounded like the perfect way to keep his mind on lingering on his last conversation with Dr. Fisher, and soon enough this raw feeling would pass and things would be fine once more.

Some part of his mind reminded him of what Natasha had said, about turning to face it before it catches up to you, but he pushed it aside.

*.*

Loki decided he preferred chess to Scrabble. Barton won their first game – and proceeded to crow gleefully for what Loki deemed an excessively long time – and Natasha the second. Even if he found it difficult to keep track of both making the words and strategic use of the board – longer, he learned, was not always better – Loki still enjoyed it, and it wasn't until Barton sat up and asked, "so what are we doing for dinner?" that Loki realized how long it had been. He felt suddenly awkward, certain that he'd overstayed his welcome.

"I did not mean to stay so long," he said, half starting to rise. Natasha made a sort of "pff" noise.

"If I wanted you to leave I would've said so," she said. "Dinner's cheaper with three. How do you guys feel about Vietnamese?"

Barton considered it, squinting. "Bánh mi?" He asked, and Natasha nodded. "I can work with that." They both looked at Loki.

"I would be willing to try it at the very least," he said, after a moment. Natasha pushed herself to her feet.

"I'll call in the order if Clint picks it up," she said.

"What," Barton protested. "You can't send the new kid to do it?"

"'The new kid' doesn't know where the place is," Natasha said easily. Loki opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again at a surprisingly sharp quelling look. "Loki, do you have cash?"

"Yes," Loki said. SHIELD had given him a plastic card he had been told could be used to make monetary transactions, but Loki preferred to deal in the more solid form of paper bills – even if it still felt less trustworthy than coinage.

"Good, good," Natasha said. "I think I've got a menu around here somewhere, if you all tell me what you want…" She ducked into the kitchen and rummaged through a few cupboards, emerging triumphantly with a folded piece of paper. He and Barton peered over her shoulders, examining the options. Loki, unfamiliar with any of them, chose one mostly at random, hoping he would not regret it. Natasha retreated back into the kitchen with her phone, leaving him and Barton standing alone.

"So," Barton said after a few moments of silence. "Are you still on suspension?"

Loki felt himself tense, wondering what currents ran under that question. "Yes," he said shortly. Barton slipped his hands into his pockets and looked at Loki sidelong.

"Sucks," he said, a response it took Loki a moment to parse. "I thought I hadn't seen much of you around lately."

Loki gave him a thin, ironic smile. "No doubt you felt the loss of my august presence."

Barton made a face. "If I thought you had an august presence maybe I would miss it."

"I could be offended," Loki said mildly. Barton smirked at him.

"Aw, come on. You find me charming. Admit it."

"I admit nothing," Loki drawled. Barton's smirk only widened, and then Natasha reappeared, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

"Look alive, Agent Barton," she said, dropping sprawling on one of the comfortable, if battered looking chairs. "Twenty minutes to pickup." Barton threw a mock salute in her direction.

"Aye aye, Agent Romanoff." They grinned at each other, and for a bare moment Loki was aware of the familiar feeling of being on the outside looking in. Watching others but not being a part of their circle. Before it could grow, though, or he could withdraw behind his own high walls, Natasha looked back at him.

"I hope you're not getting too comfortable on leave, Loki," she said, half smiling. "From what I hear, Phil's itching to have you back."

It took Loki a moment to connect Phil to Agent Coulson. "Is he?"

"Hmm-mm. Something about weird energy readings – and that was before you closed an interdimensional rift or whatever it was you got up to with Captain America."

Barton leaned forward. "Seriously, I don't know which part of that I want to hear about more, the interdimensional rift part or the Captain America part. No, I am sure – it's the Captain America part. How did that happen?"

"What do you know about the – strange readings?" Loki asked, carefully. "He mentioned as much to me, but only briefly."

Natasha shrugged. "Not much. It's not really my specialty – more of a tech thing. Just happened to come up in conversation and apparently no one really knows what to think of it, so – he figured maybe it was your kind of thing."

My kind of thing. Loki thought of the world tree screaming and his stomach clenched.

Barton shuddered. "Can we not talk about this? Magic gives me the creeps."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Loki? Is something wrong?"

You can't just leave this alone, a voice whispered at the back of his mind. It sounded faintly like Frigga. You can't keep waiting and watching. It may already be too late for that. They don't understand what they're facing and you do. And another, quieter. Asgard is the protector of the Nine Realms. If you can save Midgard maybe…

"No," he said, summoning a smile. "Nothing. I was merely…thinking." He knew what he had to do. It made his stomach want to turn nervous flips, but…Thor would be brave. He could be brave, too. They deserved that: Natasha and Barton and Rogers, Margaret Fairbanks and her granddaughter Angela. Perhaps even Coulson and Fury and Stark.

He could feel both Barton and Natasha eyeing him with doubt, and he smiled at them, he hoped reassuringly. It didn't really matter, though. Where he was going, they couldn't follow.

*.*

Loki stayed for the meal – delicious meat-filled sandwiches, though a little more spicy than he was really fond of. He excused himself after, noting the way Natasha's eyes followed him warily to the door. Just for that, he did not wait until he exited to teleport away, knowing it would startle both her and Barton.

His apartment was cool and dark. Loki left the lights out as he moved over to the living room and cleared a space for the casting. His nerves were humming with anticipation and anxiety, but his head felt clear and his hands were steady. He used a pen to draw runes of protection and warding on his arms, at the nape of his neck and over his sternum. He'd done without before, but he expected this journey to be longer and more perilous.

When he felt ready, Loki gathered his magic and stepped sideways into the space between worlds.

The feeling of wrongness was stronger, he noticed almost immediately. There was nearly a metallic tang to the air, like blood on his tongue or in his nostrils, but Yggdrasil still stood. He did not shift his senses to listen to the sound it was no doubt making, but instead started walking along the branches, seeking one of the weak places where he could slip through. It was dangerous, doing this, but no more dangerous than many experiments he'd done when he was younger, when he'd first found the little pockets and divots in the fabric of reality and explored them, the corners of space and time forgotten by most. He found one of the thin places and wrapped himself in another layer of shielding magic, not sure what he would find on the other side.

Then he stepped through.

He was standing on rock floating in empty space, great fragments of something – but not drifting as they should, held in some kind of stasis. Loki's skin crawled at the sense of cold emptiness he could feel pressing down around him. He called his magic and held it, merely its presence soothing him. He could see nothing but cloaked himself from sight nonetheless. Whatever being he had felt, he would have expected it to notice his magic, but nothing stirred.

Loki moved forward slowly, stepping lightly. Looking around at the shattered pieces of rock, he had the sudden conviction that they had once been a planet, broken by some unimaginable force, cracked like an egg and scattered in pieces. A recent disaster, Loki wondered, or one so long ago it had left all memory? The fragments were oriented in a circle, Loki realized, he at the edge of it, and a greater stone than the rest at the center. He moved toward it, leaping between chunks of stone. Whatever he was looking for, perhaps it was there.

The air felt stale and dead in his mouth. Unpleasant. Loki pushed the feeling down.

"Who comes?"

The voice vibrated through Loki, and he felt the cloak that kept him invisible being swept away. He froze at the sudden sound in too-still air, but forced himself to straighten and hold his ground as he stepped onto that large, central piece of rock. He turned his head, looking for the speaker, and realized that what he had taken for a spire of rock was not in fact attached, but floating – and had a distinct shape, like a chair – or a throne. Loki swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed, vulnerable, but he said nothing.

The throne began to turn. Loki planted his feet and readied his magic, though he strove to keep his bearing relaxed and confident. He would not let this creature see his fear. He kept his chin up and his eyes fixed as the being came into view and Loki looked upon his face.

The figure sitting before him was huge, monstrously so. Greater than a frost giant, perhaps. Man-shaped, or nearly, though his body was heavy, his jaw square, skin a deep purple and his eyes…Loki nearly quailed.

"Well now," it – he? – said, voice deep and sonorous in this place where there should be no sound. "What little creature has come to find me?"

Loki's heart hammered, rabbit-like, against his ribs. He held his ground. "What are you," he demanded. "And why do you seek to enter the Nine Realms?"

It laughed, and something about the sound made Loki want to quiver and quail. "The Nine Realms, is it?" Loki felt something immense reach out for him, and braced himself and his defenses, raising his hands to lash out.

"Do not touch me," he said, and his voice sounded high, almost shrill. "I have come to warn you, whatever you are-"

"Be silent," it said, and Loki's mouth snapped closed. That presence was pressing down on him, and he felt his wards burn, flaring on his skin, searing him. "Ah," it murmured. "Aesir magic. Do you think that will stop me? Do you think you can stop me?"

Loki felt the push and the wards flared branding hot. His mouth opened to scream but no sound escaped his throat as the being on the throne forced its way into his mind.

(He should never, Loki thought for the fraction of a second while he was still capable, have tried to do this Thor's way.)

He remembered when Doom had tried, what that had felt like, the violation of it, but this was worse. It was overwhelming, the power bearing down on him, crushing his wards and protections as though they were not even there, cracking his mind open and turning it inside out. He felt something hot burst behind his eyes. Something hot and metallic dripped onto his tongue but he was scarcely aware of his body, not with his mind thrashing and screaming like an animal in a snare-

And then it was over and he collapsed, unable to hold himself up. He could hear himself retching and sobbing but it was almost lost under the ragged, torn feeling that was deeper than flesh. He had a name, though.

"Thanos," he choked, wetly. "Thanos." He had to warn them. Had to warn everyone. He had been a fool, to think he could do this, could fight this kind of evil alone. To think that he could be like Thor. But Thanos would kill him and no one would know what was coming-

"Interesting," the Titan said, and Loki shuddered with the sound of his voice, echoing in his shattered mind. "Very interesting."

He wanted to move, to stand, to face his death bravely. Loki could not. His mind and body throbbed like he was one great wound.

"What a curious creature you are," he went on. "And stronger than I would have expected. How…intriguing. I may yet have use for you." No, Loki thought, but his tongue wouldn't work properly. No, please. "Yes," Thanos mused, and then Loki felt him reaching out again, his power grasping Loki's mind and squeezing-

He blacked out, mercifully. He could only hope that this time it would be forever, because if not…if not…

*.*

"What the hell did you do?"

His ears were ringing. He couldn't move and he was choking on blood. Hands turned him to his side and he tasted it as it ran back up his throat and over his tongue. Someone was checking his spine, his pulse, and he had a feeling he ought to respond but could not quite figure out how.

"Loki. Loki. Come on…shit, shit, knew you were thinking of something stupid but what…"

Something wet trickled down his neck, curving under his jaw. It felt warm. The back of his neck and down his arms throbbed with pain. His thoughts wouldn't quite assemble. There was carpet underneath him and he couldn't remember-

"Loki?" Someone gave his head a small jostle. "Give me something, here."

He blinked, vision clarifying. Natasha. She hadn't been there before…he'd gone worldwalking. There had been Scrabble and he'd come back and gone worldwalking. "N'tasha," he tried to say, and it sort of worked. Her shoulders slumped and Loki thought she looked relieved.

"What did you – never mind. I need to get you to SHIELD's infirmary since I'm guessing a hospital is a bad idea. Can you stand?"

Loki blinked at her. Something felt…torn, in him. He wasn't certain what, only that it felt as though someone had reached inside him and rearranged his guts, but not physically. It was just – wrong and made something in him panicky to think about it.

"I'll take that as a no," Natasha said. "I – fuck. I'm going to call SHIELD, all right? They're going to come and they're going to take you somewhere you can get treated for…whatever this is. Is that a burn?"

SHIELD, Loki thought. There was something he needed to tell them. And Natasha. He tried to make his hand move and managed to grab her sleeve, but he couldn't remember what it was. His heart was pounding too fast and making him feel dizzy and sick – or maybe it was pounding because he was dizzy and sick.

"I'll stay with you," Natasha said, her voice softening, apparently misunderstanding his reaction. "All right? Don't blow anyone up. Jesus Christ, Loki, you don't do anything by halves, do you…"

What had happened? Worldwalking shouldn't do this to him. Something had – he needed to remember. He tried, casting his mind back, but nothing came but the panic and the dread, overpoweringly strong so for a moment he couldn't breathe.

"Loki," Natasha said, her voice sharp. Scared, he thought. "It's fine. You're fine. Deep breaths, just focus on my voice, all right? Deep breaths."

He tried. He tried, but he couldn't make himself and everything hurt and he just – shut it out. Shut everything out.

Things were blessedly quiet for a while.

When he came back, someone was talking, low and rapidly, nearby. He was lying on his side on an uncomfortably stiff bed, surrounded by white. Medical facilities, he thought. His nose felt stuffed with something. He reached up and found it was cotton.

He must have been bleeding from the nose, Loki thought, and then, at the same feeling in his ears, from there too. It had been a long time since he'd exerted himself badly enough for that to happen. He still felt weak and shaky, though the pain on his neck and arms had faded. He looked at the bandages and remembered the runes he'd drawn burning, searing into his skin as-

His heart started pounding and Loki closed his eyes, trying to force himself to calm even as dread rose up to choke him. He remembered preparing to leave his apartment, remembered Natasha talking to him, but between…sensations. Pain. And fear. The wrong feeling inside of him hadn't ebbed, like there was a wound somewhere vital he couldn't see, but thinking about trying to fix it made his whole body clench.

Something had gone wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong, and he didn't know what.

The door opened and Loki jerked, but it was only Natasha, followed by Director Fury. Loki felt a twang of shame at the sight of him, and could not prevent an accusatory look in Natasha's direction.

"Sorry," she said, "but I think it's important he know what happened." She did not look apologetic so much as worried, strained.

Loki closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "I don't know," he said flatly. He could almost hear Fury's eye narrow.

"Don't try keeping secrets from me, Agent Silver. I've been charitable, but-"

"I am sincere," Loki repeated. His voice rasped over his throat and it sounded horribly nasal with his nose plugged. "I do not remember. I know what I meant to do, and I remember…returning. But between that – I am not certain." There was just the dread and the feeling that it was terribly important he remember. He needed to know.

"And what was it you meant to do?" Fury asked.

"The energy spikes Agent Coulson was concerned about," Loki said, after a pause. "They are from…something outside, trying to get in."

"Something outside?" Natasha was frowning. "Outside what?"

"Outside the Realms," Loki said. He tried again to remember, but there were just flashes, nothing concrete. Fear and a sense of terrible foreboding. "Beyond the World Tree. Something is trying to – tear through reality, and I went to see what it was. To…fight it."

"Alone," Natasha said, her voice flat.

"I would not risk anyone else," Loki said. "If it…whatever it is…did this to me…" He trailed off. The room was very quiet for a long moment. Whatever it is. Had he found it at all? Perhaps this was some other kind of backlash. But the fear, the dread.

"Do you remember anything else?" Fury asked. The anger had gone out of his voice. Loki tried, he did, but even as he groped after his memories he felt like he was choking on thick, bitter terror, his heartrate picking up and his ribs tightening around his lungs. Something started beeping and he squeezed his eyes closed. "Hey," Fury said. "Stay with me, Agent."

"No," he said, voice a little ragged. "Nothing else."

Fury's frown deepened. Natasha looked from Loki to him. "Director," she said quietly, after a long silence.

"Agent Romanoff," he said, and then made a sort of 'hmm' noise, his eye moving back to Loki. "I think it may be time to move the Avengers Initiative forward."

Interlude (XXVI)

To Loki's surprise, whoever was having him followed did not react immediately to his opening salvo. He had almost hoped otherwise – it would give him something to do, something to distract from his current state (drifting, lonely, lost). But they did not. In fact, his tails vanished almost conspicuously abruptly.

Loki did so hope he hadn't alarmed whoever was employing them too much.

The brief glow of satisfaction faded quickly, however, and left him with the same sense of aimless uncertainty as before. He considered finding a new place of employment – but that pressed too close to what he had sworn not to do. He was keeping his distance from the mortals – and now, with someone on his trail, was all the more reason to avoid getting close to anyone. Connections were weakness.

(He could picture the horrified look on Megan's face when he'd killed the men in her apartment. He wondered how she was doing – and Carl and Andrea, what of them? Loki pushed both thoughts ruthlessly away.)

He did, however, purchase a tablet – a Midgardian device which seemed antiquated to Loki's eyes, but somewhat less cumbersome than their computers – and spent most of his time reading about Midgard, jumping from page to page on a website called Wikipedia. It was a small thing, but nonetheless enjoyable.

He was sitting in the sun with his eyes closed and his head tilted back, savoring an early spring day and the warmth on his face, when his tails reappeared.

He first noticed because the park had gone quiet. Loki opened his eyes. The park hadn't emptied entirely – there was a man and woman walking arm in arm not far away, and another, older man talking animatedly on his phone. It was nothing obvious that gave them away, just a twinge of instinct and long, long experience with subterfuge.

Loki stayed where he was, considering his options. He could tip his hand, give away that he had noticed them. He could attempt to slip away without notice – a few simple spells of misdirection would probably do the trick. Or he could play along and see where this led. The first two options, after all, would likely only lead to them coming back with more reinforcements. If he played the third carefully, however…he might get some concrete answers and find a way to keep them from following him again.

So he stayed where he was, watching them play out their little game and close in on him, toying idly with his tablet as though he was unaware of their approach.

Then one of them shot him.

It felt like little more than a bee's sting, and Loki felt a wave of dizziness, jerking to his feet and pulling out the small dart. He hadn't considered how they intended to capture him – he supposed ruefully that perhaps they'd learned their lesson about attempting conversation. He turned in the direction the dart had come from to see a young woman looking thoroughly startled that he hadn't keeled over at once. Perhaps he should have pretended.

"How very rude of you," he said.

"Shoot him again," Loki heard in a tinny voice communicating from a distance. The second sting hit him in the shoulder, and this time Loki let his knees buckle and his eyes close, casting a quick working to adjust his vital signs to read as unconscious, at least to the casual observer. No point in letting them know the strength of his resistance, and he did not truly want this to turn ugly. Not yet.

It was still a struggle not to react when one of them prodded him with a boot, and even more of one not to react when they cuffed his hands and a heavy cloth bag was shoved over his head. The indignities I suffer for knowledge, Loki thought dryly.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax, though he kept his ears open. "Keep an eye on his vital signs," one of them was saying. "Two doses is a lot. We don't want him dead. Tell HQ that we've got the package ready for transport."

Loki waited while they lifted him into what felt like some kind of vehicle, listening idly to their chatter. He waited until he heard the door close and the engine start to free his hands and pull the bag off his head. There were two of them in the back with him, and in an instant their weapons were pointed at his face. Loki held his hands up and gave them a genial smile.

"Tell your driver to stop the car," he said, not bothering to lace his words with command. "I would like to speak with your superior officer."