"Try to get him to talk about his brother," Agent Hanna said.
She was a lean and strong woman, maybe five years older than me. She wore an athletic S.H.I.E.L.D. suit, navy blue, and form fitting. It was a mix between armor and sportswear. Something breathable, but could take a hit if something went wrong. Her rusted brunette hair was slicked back and assembled into a tight bun on the back of her head. With a device wedged into her ear and a gun on her hip, she was threatening. Most agents did. Walking along side her, I didn't understand why I was the one going into Loki's cell and not her. She was much more intimidating. She could probably take him in a fight.
Agent Hanna flipped through her dossier as we travelled down the empty hallway. Loki was kept deep beneath the base. A hundred layers of alloy and metal, a dozen floors with security protocols to subdue him, and enough people with guns to make up a militia. So many flags telling me he was a villain, yet I allowed him to just saunter into my mind.
I still wasn't certain what happened in my dream was real. Perhaps I really did conjure an imaginary Loki. One who was just as cunning and sarcastic. A fictional trickster that made me second guess my own sanity. The answer lied behind a thick metal door and a couple dozen locks.
His gaze was fixated on me from the moment I walked in. Loki was sitting at the white plastic table provided by S.H.I.E.L.D. It was the type of table I remember playing board games on with my family. I dropped the file down on the textured surfaced and glanced at the cameras around the room. If I came out and asked him about last night, there wasn't a chance I could get away with it. They'd hear it and know something was wrong. They'd probably take me away. Any chance of getting information peacefully would tumble down the drain.
I sat down on the chair across from him. A hundred different words swirled through my head. I sat there pondering how to tether them together to make a cohesive code. Something clever enough to hint at last night without seeming obvious to security. We sat in silence. Too much silence.
"Did you sleep well last night?" Loki chimed.
I peered up from the closed file. He had a soft smile on his face. The bags under his eyes were slowly filling with his natural skin tone. His question caught me off guard.
"Fine. I slept fine, thank you," I replied with a flustered smile. "I did have a strange dream though."
Loki leaned forward and placed his arms on the table. I could smell the leather from his extravagant Asgardian outfit. The woodsy scent he gave off naturally. Coffee and mahogany. Refined and brazen.
"What a coincidence. So did I," he replied.
He rested his face in his hand and began thumbing the side of his cheek. He felt the outside of his cheek bone and traced a line down to his bottom lip. As if he was fidgeting. It seemed more like a message.
"Perhaps we had similar dreams."
"That would be a funny thing, wouldn't it?" Loki smirked with assured confidence.
"I couldn't process the reality of the situation. It was like my brain frantically put up a wall in order to keep me from having a nervous breakdown. What hell had I opened myself up to?
"I must thank you. Whatever you did yesterday truly fixed my burst of insomnia. I don't think I've slept that well in a century." Loki stretched, leaning back in his chair, and relaxing with his arms folded behind his head. "Honestly, I can't wait to do it again tonight."
The room was suddenly filled with a quick burst of heat. I felt like I was standing in front of a bonfire. It radiated off of Loki. It was pleasing warmth. Flirtatious and hedonic. For a moment, I felt joy. Whether it was genuine or animalistic, I couldn't be sure. Maybe it was both. His eyes gleamed like a hawk about to dive for its prey.
I had to catch my breath. I diverted my attention to the dossier. It had become my textbook on Loki. Something I religiously studied. Every instance of his known prescience on Earth was documented. S.H.I.E.L.D. even cross referenced some Norse mythology. For the most part, it was an interesting read. Until I realized that I was face-to-face with the man behind the myth. The defamed god who lead an attack on New York City and tried to usurp his realm, twice. Some would call him a monster. He'd call himself a god, a king, and the rightful ruler of Asgard. I'd call him the man who was making my heart beat out of its chest.
"He was just a man. A man with a family. An upbringing that shaped him into the plethora of titles he bares today. A man that was once a boy.
"I steadied myself with a few deep breaths. "Tell me about your family," I exhaled.
"Loki perked an eyebrow and leaned into the table, resting his elbows on the coarse surface. "What about them?"
"What was it like living with them? I've read that you grew up in palace on a magical realm full of creatures we would consider mythological. You're a prince. An accomplished sorcerer and royalty. What was that like?" I said as I plucked a few photos from his dossier. Artist renditions of Odin on his throne, Asgard painted by a man a hundred years ago, and some more archaic ancient Norse depictions of the gods. I slid them over to Loki.
A smirk tugged on his cheek. He flipped the picture of Asgard towards me. It was a lovely painting. A strong golden fortress lost behind a shimmering rainbowing, glittering next to a wide rushing waterfall. A dazzling rainbow bridge in the foreground. Plenty of lush green trees surrounded the golden city as snow peaked mountain towered in the background. Above it all was a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Planets in the distant, shattered through out the glittering sky of diamonds.
"This is quite accurate, actually," Loki's finger tapped the picture. "I grew up in a golden palace. By the time I was of school age, I could speak three languages, cast basic illusions, and handle a sword with great proficiency,"
The room went cold.
"I can't imagine. It sounds like you were expected to accomplish a lot at a young age. Is that normal for children on your world?"
"His eyes glanced up at me and then back to the painting. "I'm not sure. It was normal for us, anyway."
"What else was normal for you?"
Loki finally peeled his eyes away from Asgard and focused his attention on me. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"I'm not sure what you want me to say."
"I want you to say whatever you think you need to say. I'm not here to torture you for information. I just want to understand."
"Understand what, exactly?" he asked condescendingly.
I shrugged my shoulders, "You, I suppose. I want to know what it was like for you to be raised with all those expectations. What it like to grow up next to your brother? How did you experience shape you into the person you are now? Those sort of things."
A puff of laughter passed through his lips. His smile spread. "You're psychoanalyzing me, aren't you? Do you think your primitive techniques will work on me? You'll unlock a secret within my psyche by asking me about my issues with my father?"
He was agitated as well as amused. It was like we were playing a game that he was conned into playing. He didn't like the rules so he was finding his own humor in it.
"Would you prefer if I was more direct? I have a list of questions I'm suppose to ask you, but I thought it would be more beneficial if we tackled some of your issues and worked our way up."
"What kind of questions?"
I flipped through the dossier, all the way to the first page. A big yellow sticky note with my goals written on them.
"Number 1: Why are you here?" I asked plainly.
"Easy, I want to be," he curtly replied.
I sighed. It was like I watching him build a wall around himself. "Why do would you want to come to Earth? Midgard, I should say,"
"Why does anyone go anywhere? To get away, I assume."
"Get away from what?"
"Who knows?" he sighed with a dreamy look in his eye.
The atmosphere shifted from hot, to cold, to unsettlingly still. An almost eerie numbness. The temperature was completely average. Loki radiated nothing. A dull hum of tepidness.
"Number 2: When were you last in contact with your brother, Thor Odinson?" I read verbatim.
He simply shrugged his shoulder.
"Number 3: Where is Thor Odinson?"
His eyebrow cocked once more as his face twisted in confusion. "Here, I'd presumed," he scoffed.
I shook my head. Loki's eyes darted from me to the camera in the corner of the room, and back to me.
"He vacated the planet a month ago and hasn't contacted us since. When you appeared, we hypothesized that you may have had something to do with it. At very least, maybe you had some information." I replied.
"Thor is missing," he stated. He inhaled, fulling his muscular chest with air before letting out a large sigh. "That's unfortunate."
I probed him with more questions, but none of his answers were of use. After another ten minutes, it was clear that he was getting uncomfortable with the bureaucratic S.H.I.E.L.D. approach. The playful atmosphere we created had almost vanished. I didn't like it. In a hasty decision, I shut down the questions and offered him breakfast. Guards came in with cafeteria style trays of scrambled eggs, lukewarm pancakes, two thin scribbled of bacon, and muddy cup of coffee. I accepted one too. Loki didn't even try to mask his disappointment. The moment the tray hit the table, I could feel his disgust turn inside my stomach. The smell of the food became acrid in an instant. I did my best to eat it, but Loki's repulsion made it difficult.
"Back home, where I'm from, there's this little cafe by the college I went to. They had the best triple berry French toast and corn beef hash. I'd stop by there three times a week with my little white chocolate latte and take a bag of beignets with me to class," I remanence as I reluctantly carved myself a sliver of pancake.
Loki took the cup of coffee and swirled it around. A distant look glazed over his eyes as he watched the mud colored water circle the cardboard cup.
"We didn't have that on Asgard. At least, nothing that I experienced. We had chefs and kitchen staff," he put the cup to his lips and recoiled. His face scrunched as he choked down the small sip he allowed. "We had expertly prepared meals every day, unless we were off world. Even then, we had many comforts in comparison to other warriors."
"What was your favorite breakfast food when you lived there?"
Loki contemplated for a second. Not on the food. He knew the answer immediately. He was wavering back and forth between telling me or making something up. His face was stern and troubled. The silence was deafening.
Finally he sat up. "When I was young, a child, my mother would take me into the kitchens. She'd have the staff go on break and it would just be us. We'd bake these simple treats with just flour, sugar, and butter. Sometimes I'd add jam or chocolate. It was a simple recipe that I could manipulate to my liking. We didn't do this often. Once every six months," he starred into his cup like a looking glass, "It wasn't anything special, but...it was special. Does that make sense?"
My heart skipped a beat. A bitter sweet pull inside my chest. I could only nod and swallow the tears that were welling around my eyes. Loki masked it well, but I could feel the overwhelming sadness that churned inside him.