Detention Section. 2012.

It was eerily quiet when I got to the detention floor with there being no sign of any disturbance having occurred on the ship at all. Loki was stood in the centre of the suspended cell with his back to me. On my way down, word had gone over my earpiece that the explosion to the ship had come from an arrow, Loki had obviously orchestrated the attack through Clint. I kept my hand on my weapon as I glared at the gods back. His head turned slightly to the side and I could see the edge of his trademark smirk.

"There really is no need for such precautions, Agent. As you can see I'm clearly unarmed." My head snapped around as I registered his voice was coming from behind me and my gun was out of its holster within seconds as I turned to face him stood to my left. A cocky grin was clear on his face as a terrifying roar was heard.

"It seems my plan has gone surprisingly well."

"Has it? Because you still have nowhere to go. It's a good party trick, I'll admit. But you'll have to wake up earlier…"

I was staring at the ceiling when I finally woke up, an intense wind was blowing around the room and Loki was gone. I felt the warmth of blood on my temple where he must have hit me and forced myself to my feet, activating my earpiece.

"Marakova! Where have you been?" Fury demanded.

"Oh, you know. I thought this was the perfect time to take a nap." I tentatively prodded the swollen area on my forehead and mentally chastised myself for being so lax and thus allowing Loki to get the better of me. My own arrogance had gotten me into similar problems before but usually it only impacted badly on me and no one else. I heard Tony snort with laughter through the earpiece and couldn't help but smile slightly. Until I glanced over my shoulder and saw Agent Coulson, slumped against the wall with a large weapon in his lap and blood soaking his shirt.

"Oh god. Fury, Coulson is down." I spoke on a secondary frequency, one that had been set up for Fury, Natasha, Clint and me. There was nothing but silence on the other end for a few moments until Fury finally spoke.

"I'm coming."

I knelt in front of Phil and removed the heavy gun from his lap, tore the sleeve of his suit jacket and pressed down on the wound as he winced in pain.

"I'm sorry," I said, and he choked out a small laugh.

"For what?"

"It's a flaw of mine," I confessed. "I like to have the last word, the best word, the only word. So much so that I can't see when there's three Loki's instead of one. He did the exact same goddam thing in Germany, I watched all four of him corner a crowd and I never even considered he might do it again. And now he's gone, and you're hurt." Coulson laughed lightly again.

"You know. When I first met you, I honestly thought I would have to kill you. That you would refuse SHIELD's offer and I would have to put a bullet in your head." I found myself smiling slightly before I noticed the bleeding getting heavier.

"I can't picture you killing anyone Phil. People say I'm intimidating and I suppose they're right. They say I have a good threatening voice and an intimidating glare. But you don't, you always sound so calm and honest. You're a good person." I took a breath as I heard footsteps approaching. "And by not putting a bullet in my head I think you helped make me a bit of a better person too." He smiled as Fury and two paramedics arrived and I backed away, Coulson's blood was warm on my hands and I found myself rubbing them together, almost trying to rub it off. Fury turned to me as the paramedics muttered amongst themselves.

"Go. Clean yourself up." I glanced at Coulson whose eyes were closing but did as I was ordered and began to head back to my room but before I could get there I heard Fury's voice over the earpiece.

"Coulson's down."

"The medical team is on its way to your location." Someone else replied.

"They're here." He paused for what felt like minutes. "They just called it." The words spun around my head like a ball on a roulette wheel. I hadn't changed, twelve years and I still brought death to those around me. Instead of it being at my own hand, I let my ego get in the way, allowing others to do it for me and now Coulson has died when I could have and should have done something about it.

I eventually found my way back to my small room and plunged my hands into a sink of scalding water, gripping them together and scratching away at the drying blood that had seeped into my skin. I couldn't cry, the ability had long ago been beaten out of me, but my throat was dry, and my tongue felt thick in my mouth. My phone suddenly buzzed on the side and once I'd dried my hands, I saw that Natasha had Clint and she was going to take him through detox. I exhaled deeply, it should have been a victory, but it felt small and almost insignificant now. We'd got one Agent back but lost another in the process. Nat would break the news to Clint thankfully, so I didn't need to be there, a welcome relief. I locked the door to my room, pulled the metal blind down and laid back on the uncomfortable bed as I felt a headache begin to encroach on my temples. Despite only arriving on the helicarrier yesterday, this had felt like it was dragging on for weeks. We had been hit hard, Thor and Banner were gone, Natasha was tied up with Clint. Tony and Steve were the only people Fury would be talking to – they were the only two worth talking to. The soldier who didn't really know any of us and the billionaire who didn't really want to. I needed to get my head straight and the darkness and silence helped to calm my frazzled nerves. My pulse was still going too fast for my liking and I couldn't breathe steadily, I felt like I'd been shot with electricity. Eventually, I managed to get myself back under control and the wave of calm that washed over me was a relief, despite it being laced with the worries and the guilt of ongoing events. I moved from my bed to the cool floor before laying down and resting my cheek on the metal, it was something I vaguely remembered my mother making me do when I felt sick or had a fever. Lay on the bathroom floor, it's always the coldest room in the house. I found my eyes dropping as sleep threatened to claim me.

Suddenly there was a knock at my door and I shot to my feet, yanking the blind back up and pulling the door open. Tony was stood outside.

"It's not over. We're taking him out." He began to walk away, and I found myself hurrying after him.

"How and where?" I questioned as we descended into the belly of the ship where Tony was storing his now-damaged suit.

"New York. Stark Tower. That's where his final showdown is going to be. Rogers has got Romanoff and Barton, meet them on deck and get ready for wheels up." I nodded and suddenly my logical head was back firmly on my shoulders and all thoughts of Coulson were gone. Before I made my way up to the flight deck I slipped back into my room and cleaned my face, tied my hair back into a long rope braid and ventured into a metal case that held a weapon I'd been anticipating a use for. If there was ever going to be a time, this was it. The metal grid fit into the gaps between my knuckles and connected to the button in the palm of my hand and when I clenched my hand into a fist a fine stream of scorpion venom filled the mechanism and would inject into any porous surface it came into contact with.

I removed my earpiece, so Fury couldn't contact me and changed it to a private frequency as I climbed into the jet that already contained Nat, Clint, and Steve.

"Good to have you back," I said to Clint as I retrieved extra magazines from the overhead locker and the loading door to the jet slowly closed.

"Good to be back." He replied solemnly, he didn't look at me, instead kept his attention focused on the take-off protocol and the setting up of his own quiver of arrows. I glanced across at Steve who was staring down at his shield with concern etched on his face.

"You okay?" I questioned cautiously as the jet took off and we sped towards New York. Our first and last conversation had not been the most civil but if we were going to have a solitary chance of beating Loki, there couldn't be barriers up between any of us.

"Yeah. You?" He asked in the same breath and it caught me off guard. Very few people I knew, bar Clint and Natasha would ask how you were feeling as if it were natural. In my line of work, no one was ever really OK. People who had normal upbringings and stable lives didn't become spies and kill people for a living.

"Yeah. Fine." I nodded before busying myself with making sure each of my weapons was in orderly condition. I filled each magazine with bullets and kept a mental note of how many rounds I had. I pulled a magazine holder from a shelf above my head and attached it to my belt. My blade was still sparkling clean, but I had a feeling it wouldn't last. My previously queasy stomach settled, and I sat back with my eyes closed, mentally preparing my own plan of attack for when we finally landed to face an army of unknown aliens. I liked to think I excelled at my line of work, but each of us in the jet silently agreed that not one of us had a clue what we were going to do once we touched down.

If we even got that far.