Every eye within earshot of the conversation was on her, heat boring into her skin from every angle, causing it to crawl beneath the weight. Although, above everything, she was confused. "I'm sorry?" Cassandra tilted her head, looking up at the Director with utter bewilderment. "Is this supposed to be some kind of sick joke?"
"Eighty people dead is nothin' to joke about, Miss Barton. Your pal Loki here stepped through a portal powered by the Tesseract. He stole it, taking your brother with him, and the facility imploded," Fury replied. His voice was calm, but stern—enough to let her know he was serious without coming across as accusatory. Though, it all sounded the same to Cassandra.
"No, that's—that's not like him at all."
Fury shrugged lightheartedly. "And here we are."
"So, what, you brought me in here to help you find him? Is that it?" Her arms pulled tight across her chest, crossing defensively as the irritation returned, threatening to turn into anger. "This was never about my brother, getting him home safely—no, this is about you not being able to do your job."
"This is my job. You're an associate, but we have no reason to believe you're a threat unless you give us one. We need to know what you know, before more people lose their lives," Fury explained.
Listen to him, Cassandra. He's telling you the truth.
Charles' voice echoed through her mind and she blinked hard reflexively. Of course he would say that, she thought. But Charles was, in fact, right. Many thoughts blazed their way through her head, bouncing around obnoxiously. Why would Loki do something so horrendous? She never thought him capable of such a thing. It didn't make sense—how she left him and how he'd been found.
The dots didn't connect, the details didn't align. Something wasn't right. It couldn't be, could it? Could she have truly misjudged him so thoroughly? "I don't know anything about what's going on, so I can't help you," she shook her head, moving her eyes to the glass of the tabletop.
"I don't know—you two look pretty acquainted in those photos," Fury pressed it, eyeing her carefully. "You sure he didn't mention anything?"
"She said she doesn't know anything," Steve entered the discussion, stepping up to the table across from her. It was a small gesture, an almost timid extension of an olive branch.
Fury leaned back on his heels, turning his skeptical gaze to the Captain. "And you believe her?"
Cassandra scoffed as she resisted the urge to move, to get up, to leave. Steve looked at Cassandra, and he sympathized—she looked genuinely shaken by the news, all of it on top of her brother gone missing, doing who knows what. From what he'd seen of her reactions thus far, he was confident in the nod he gave, moving his eyes back to Fury. "I don't need a fucking sponsor," the words slipped through Cassandra's clenched teeth, looking up at the Director with narrowed eyes. "The person I know wouldn't do anything like this—so I can't help you. I won't say it again."
"Alright, then. Who's the person you know?" Fury humored her, choosing to ignore her attitude for the sake of insight.
"Loki is good. He's kind, and smart, and funny. He's insanely polite. He's gentle. This?" Cassandra reached out, slamming a finger into one of the photos on the table to pull it away from the rest. "We went book shopping. It sounds menacing, I know, but he likes astronomy. I don't know who the fuck is wrecking your shit, but it's no one I know."
Nick Fury was not one to take someone's words at face value. There was always something beneath them, he knew. He'd learned that lesson the hard way over many years. Despite her genuine appearance and his lack of any damning evidence against her, he couldn't help but remain cautious, keeping himself from letting it go quite so quickly. He heard her words and felt the emotion stored within them—but he also knew what he'd seen with his own eye.
There was clearly a disconnect. Maybe Loki had hidden his plans from her all along? Maybe he was simply using her for resources while he schemed? It was hard to find an answer to any question he could ask himself about the discrepancy. Cassandra slid the other photos together and pushed them toward Fury, before sitting back in her seat, arms folded once again. "Where are you with locating the Tesseract?" Banner spoke up, aiming to change the subject for everyone's sake.
Fury turned to glance over the railing, giving Agent Coulson a cue to speak from where he stood just below, supervising the trace. "We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet," Coulson explained, crossing his arms. "If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us."
"That's still not gonna find them in time," Romanoff said, squatting to look at one of the screens.
"You have to narrow your field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?" Banner asked Fury.
Fury made a shrugging gesture. "How many are there?"
"Call every lab you know, tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays," Banner spoke as he took off his suit jacket, folding it in half and draping it over his arm. "I'll rough out a tracking algorithm, basic cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?"
"Agent Romanoff, could you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please?"
Romanoff didn't hesitate to nod and make her way toward Banner, passing him as he began to follow toward an exit. "You're gonna love it, doc. We got all the toys."
Cassandra watched them leave absentmindedly, her train of thought drifting in too many other directions to truly give it any attention. Many things the Director had said did not make sense and she was hung up on each one. All she could trust for certain was the condition of her brother. Though, even that had its own set of questions attached.
Then, Charles' voice vibrated through her skull. The Director has ulterior motives. You're right to question him, Cassandra. But I must warn you—there is no room for error here. Choose your moves wisely.
Can you ever give me something useful, instead of a vague commentary that barely answers anything? If Cassandra could roll her eyes in the form of thought, she would've, in response to Charles.
It was of some comfort to have him there for the sake of insight. Though, that didn't stop the annoyance from bubbling within her gut upon hearing his voice. Sighing, she stood from her chair and took steps away from the table, toward the railing at the edge of the level. The agents sitting at their screens worked quickly, faces pensive, unbothered by anything happening around them. They looked almost robotic in their determination. Fury turned slightly in his position as his gaze followed Cassandra in an almost straight line, mild curiosity tugging an eyebrow upward.
"You know what I am, who I associate with—yet you sent only one agent to bring me here. You want something. What is it?" she questioned him calmly with a brief glance, but there was nothing docile about her demeanor. She was hunting. A lioness stalking her prey, noting its patterns and habits, adapting to best approach without alarming the target.
Fury could see it, the defensive, protective gleam to her eye. Though, he wanted to test her. To withhold just enough information to make her mad—and, maybe, see just whose side she was on. "Very perceptive," he dryly quipped, expression unchanging. "I want the Tesseract."
Cassandra raised a brow. "And you think he'll just give it to you?"
"No. But he might give it to you."
That was when she laughed. Fury continued to stare at her with serious, stern features, and the sound of the laughter had Steve looking now, too—but she couldn't help herself. It was simply so ridiculous, the thought that she would cooperate and, in a way, work for a government agency. If lives were truly at stake and it was the only thing that could be done to save them, of course she would. But there was something even someone as smart as Nick Fury neglected to consider.
"If Loki really is some Asgardian warlord come to kill us all, then clearly he was lying the whole time he was with me. The fact that you think he'd listen to me, given your own opinion on the subject, is genuinely laughable," Cassandra explained the outburst as she crossed her arms. "I'm not helping you do shit."
"I suppose we'll see about that," the Director said, forcing Cassandra to hold back a strong roll of her eyes. He appeared to believe something he was doing somehow kept her there. When, in all actuality, she could leave and return whenever she pleased. It was a kind of entitlement, an arrogance—no, overconfidence—that stank like smelling salts. A reminder that no matter how friendly he portrayed himself, he would always be government. His position within S.H.I.E.L.D. came before all else.
It was his largest personality indicator. One never reaches the top without shedding parts of themselves thought to be unnecessary, as Charles would say. And, often times, the parts we shed are the ones we truly need. Cassandra narrowed her eyes at Fury. "Can someone show me the bathroom? Or, do I need written permission to leave the bridge?"
With an uninterested, tired expression, Fury looked to a nearby agent and tilted his head. The agent rushed, walking quickly past Cassandra with a small, "Right this way." Cassandra refrained from scowling—the natural position her face was threatening to take—as she picked up her duffel bag from the floor and began following the agent out. In truth, she didn't need to use the facilities for obvious reasons. No, she needed a quiet place. A spot where she could breathe and push through the fog to find some clarity. And, answers.
There was a bathroom not too far from the bridge. The agent that lead her there let her be, and Cassandra locked herself inside. She lowered her duffel to the floor before the sink, at her feet, and leaned into the small counter space on her palms. "Tell me everything," she spoke quietly, as not to alert anyone in the hall, as she looked into the mirror. In the small space of the rectangular glass appeared a figure, sharpening slowly to bring it into focus—but she knew it was Charles long before his face took shape.
"The Director is right to fight to reclaim the Tesseract—its power is beyond measure. Although, I'm not certain if his hands are the best place for it to stay permanently. He intends to use it to make weapons. And, in fact, he already has," Charles told her, features shaded grimly. "The purpose is for otherworldly threats, such as Loki. However, we know very well how quickly that will change. What I can tell you about Loki, currently, is fairly limited. There's something blocking me from connecting with him."
Cassandra sighed, briefly allowing her eyes to close. "That's not surprising."
"I must confess, I've read his mind before—years ago. I wanted to make sure he wasn't a threat, and he wasn't, so I've stayed out since. This blockage is new. It feels alive, as though it can sense me attempting to get in and is adjusting to keep me out."
"Okay...Fury said Clint was being mind-controlled. Is he blocking you out, too?" she questioned, gritting her teeth. It was all she could do to swallow the rising anger, the offense at his admitted intrusion on Loki's behalf. To stay focused.
Charles paused in the mirror, considering. "No. Although, his mind feels rather different. Almost like it isn't his own. It's probably an off-chute of whatever consciousness is behind the wheel. But it is completely reversible."
"Can you tell me, with one hundred percent certainty, that Loki has done what Fury said he did?"
"I'm afraid so. Fury was telling the truth about that—he was there, after all, when Loki took the Tesseract. And your brother," Charles answered. Then, another pause. Cassandra stood upright, allowing her hands to fall at her sides, as her eyes narrowed in question. "It appears your brother is on the move. Though, I'm not entirely sure where. It looks like a kind of museum, perhaps? No, something else."
"Is he with Loki?" Cassandra asked, quick with a bubble of worry rising within her throat. Whether she was concerned more for Clint or for Loki was uncertain at this point. It all melted together in a swirling stormfront of anxiety.
Charles was searching for the answers to her questions, but his vision was blurred extensively. Every morsel he could retrieve was muddled and mangled, making it very difficult to decode certain images, and almost impossible to determine a location. Almost. "No. My apologies—it's very difficult to make much sense of this," he apologized. "Your brother has gone to a research facility somewhere in Germany. Loki appears to be elsewhere, although still in the same country."
Cassandra had a hunch. She couldn't tell just how much of it was Charles and how much her own, but it didn't really matter. With an exhale, she nodded—mostly to herself. "Thanks. You can go now. I've got this."
"I'm not so sure that's a good idea-"
"Go, Charles. That's enough," she insisted, eyes meeting the hazy visage in the mirror. Though Charles disagreed, he accepted her request for independence. Cassandra knew that if the case was dire enough, Charles would always pop back in—and that was the bittersweet part. If she was in danger, he was there. If she needed something as simple as a hug, he was absent.
It gave her the illusion of attachment. Maybe he was worried because he truly cared? If he cared about you, you wouldn't be here, she reminded herself. Perhaps, she'd thought many nights, her life would have played out much differently had she been treated properly? If she'd felt loved, wanted, needed—but she never did. Of course, she'd always felt cared for by her immediate friend circle. And Logan, when he was around, always made an effort. Not Charles.
Not Scott. Not Storm. Not anyone she desired closeness from. It was hard not to dwell on it as the sudden silence filled her mind, the mirage in the mirror no longer lingering. Though, it did present an interesting thought. She had lived her life feeling completely alone, and there she stood—surely, no matter how difficult this situation became, she could handle it alone, as well.
It was then the small bathroom echoed a swift rapping of knuckles, bone meeting the door from the outside, and she startled with a hard blink. "Miss Barton? Everything okay in there?" In came the calm voice of Agent Coulson. Although he was muffled through the door, he sounded genuine. Cassandra exhaled heavily and opened the door. She'd hoped for a few more minutes alone. Though, it wasn't surprising Fury would send someone to 'check in'.
The thought left a bitter taste on her tongue, narrowing her eyes as they settled on Coulson. "Which leg?"
"I'm sorry?" he was confused, understandably so.
"Where do you want the ankle monitor?" she rephrased her dryly sarcastic question.
Coulson straightened his shoulders and, with a closed-mouthed smile, replied, "We don't do that here." He shook his head with confidence and Cassandra bit her tongue. However, questions nagged at her. Questions he might actually be allowed to answer now.
"Why were you stalking me?"
It was blunt—the words hitting him square between the eyes with irritation and disdain—and the phrasing caught him a bit off guard. But it was to be expected. Of course she would want to know—who wouldn't, in her position? So, he answered calmly, candidly. "I was assigned to you by Director Fury," he told her. "Not to stalk—just to check in every once in a while."
Cassandra raised a brow expectantly. "And why did he assign you?"
"He originally considered you for the Avengers Initiative, but he wasn't sure if you were as much of a friendly as we would need you to be. My job was to observe and report back. Your mental state was the primary focus."
"What the fuck is the Avengers Initiative?" she questioned him, loosely folding her arms. Adjusting her position, she leaned a hip into the doorway, forcing her shoulders to relax.
He gave a brief shake of his head. "I'll have to leave that one to Fury."
Cassandra reached up a hand, rubbing her left temple gingerly as her eyes fell to the floor. The pressure had not stopped building between her eyes, spreading out now along the arches of her brows, finding the sensitive temples on either side. It poked and prodded at them, demanding her attention. However, there was no attention she could give. Too much of it was needed to focus on a headache—despite where she knew it would lead.
"Are you even married?" she asked yet another question, this time through a grumble.
"Afraid not."
She looked up, then, confused. "Then what did you do with all those flowers?"
"Well, there is someone I'm-"
A female agent appeared, walking quickly into the small side hall from around the corner. She appeared just as focused and determined as those working at the screens, but clearly rushed, something important forcing its way up her throat before she could stop it. "Agent Coulson, the Director needs you on the bridge," she said, interrupting abruptly. "They've located a match."
He gave a curt nod and she was dismissed, leaving as quickly as she'd come. And, now, Coulson was in a rush, as well. Cassandra instinctively pushed off the doorway, arms falling to her sides, as Agent Coulson turned to her once more. "I think you'll want to be there for this part," he told her, with a tip of his head in a gesture. It was to urge her to follow as he began walking. Cassandra was quick to retrieve her bag from the floor and follow after him, walking a bit faster to keep up.
When they returned to the bridge, Steve was leaving the room through the other side, guided by an agent. Director Fury was conversing with another agent down below, over the railing, at one of the computer screens. The atmosphere of the room had drastically changed. It was determined but calm. Now, electric with the excitement of the find, like a bone to an anxious dog. "Director," Coulson announced his presence as they approached, gaining Fury's attention. "We found him?"
"Looks like it. They're suiting up."
Fury stood upright, turning to see them both. Cassandra stayed back a few steps, opting for space, fingers curling into her palms at her sides. "I can help with that," she spoke up, forcing the words past the anxiety caught in her throat.
"You'll be staying here," Fury told her. It wasn't surprising that she would volunteer for this part. Not surprising at all. But, although she was right, sending her to bring in Loki would only foil his plans. "We're not going to reveal our hand just yet."
Frustration blossomed from the helplessness that had grown within her chest. She tightened her fists, breathing in deeply, and turned on her heels. It seemed there was nothing she was allowed to know, nothing she was allowed to do—and it was utterly infuriating. Cassandra dropped into a chair at the table and dropped her bag at her feet, right back where she was not two hours before. Given her insight, she knew they would not be finding Clint, and there was no reason to worry about Loki.
If anything, she should be worried for whomever they'd sent to bring him in. Though, that was just another thing on a long list of things Fury did not know. With a heavy sigh, she spoke up to be heard, "I want to see the surveillance footage from when Loki took the Tesseract."
Fury turned to see her over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised—as though he expected her to correct herself. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, if I ask, the answer is always no," she replied, stubbornly. "I want to see it."
"Alright then. Knock yourself out."
Again he signaled to an agent, and they rushed toward the table, a tablet in hand. The agent placed it on the table and Cassandra nodded in thanks before they disappeared, hurrying back down the steps toward the computers. Almost immediately her hands were on the device, eagerly opening up the footage, and Fury eyed her a moment longer. At the bottom of it all, it was fairly easy to understand why she would distrust him—dislike him, even.
She had just as much reason to be wary of him as he did to be wary of her. What was hard to understand, was her affiliation with Loki. Could she truly be involved in this sinister plot? Or, was she genuinely a heartbroken woman, caught up in the lies of a real-life Disney villain? Cassandra opened the footage and began to play it, scrutinizing every detail as she found herself hunching forward, hovering over the tablet.
It was a wide shot, from up above it all, but she could see it clearly enough. The Tesseract shot a beam of blue at a platform a few yards away, the energy flourishing up the walls of the shaft above in an explosion of flame-like light. As it faded out, a shadow was left behind on the platform—a human figure. Loki, she knew. Agents approached cautiously as he slowly stood. Her eyes caught on a golden rod in his hand. It hooked at the end, a glowing light of blue inside the curl. She'd never seen it before—and, from what she could recall, she'd never heard of it, either.
The next thing she noticed was his face. Despite the unnaturally sinister way his lips contorted into a smile, he looked borderline sickly. Visibly pale, discolored skin under his eyes, sweat beading his forehead. As he stood to his full height, his features relaxed, taking in his surroundings, and the unwell appearance of his face was more visible. She paused the screen, rewound and played it again, only to repeat the process. It didn't make sense. Cassandra had asked, once, how he'd so effortlessly come and gone from Asgard.
From what she understood, opening a portal such as this would not cause such physical side effects. Though, what did she truly know about interdimensional travel? All she had was the word of someone she could no longer trust. Still, the image was added to her mental list of things that didn't make sense, things that didn't quite add up like they should. Then, she hit play—and she wished she hadn't.
Fury stood next to Clint near the Tesseract, looking on at the sudden intruder with both curiosity and concern, and Fury requested Loki put down his weapon. However, Loki simply looked down at the scepter—almost as if he'd only just remembered he'd held it. Then, he lunged it forward, a bolt of blue shooting out at the agents. Loki sprung from the platform and plunged the tip of the scepter into an agent's chest, before righting himself and throwing a pair of daggers at the other two agents.
It was difficult to watch. But she clenched her teeth and forced herself to look. Clint and agents behind him fired their guns at Loki. The bullets were deflected by a quick shield of thin, translucent blue. He fired back, then, sending a bolt of blue toward Clint. Every muscle in Cassandra's body instinctively stiffened, refusing to relax even after Clint had rolled away, missing the bolt. All was still for a brief moment as every agent had been taken out. Clint pushed himself up from the concrete flooring as Loki quickly approached him.
Clint lifted his arm, finger on the trigger of his hand gun, but Loki grabbed his wrist and twisted it aside. Then, he touched the tip of the scepter to Clint's chest. Veins in Clint's neck visibly rushed with a shimmering blue, the color crawling quickly up through his cheek, as a darkness flushed through his eyes. That was when he'd been mind-controlled, Cassandra knew. A pang of anger hit her square in the chest. It overshadowed the ache she'd felt at the appearance of her former lover, squelching anything else left after it.
Taking Clint felt deliberate, with the way Loki was so quick to pounce. Why was Clint first? Why take him at all? After all, Nick Fury was only a few feet away. He could've had all of S.H.I.E.L.D. at his disposal and, instead, he chose her brother. She stopped the footage—there was no reason to continue, and she couldn't stand to watch any further—and released the tablet, sitting back in her chair as the anger pulsated, washing over her in white hot waves.
"I take it you didn't like what you saw," Director Fury's voice filtered in quietly through the mess of swirling emotions within her skull, just enough to turn her steely gaze in his direction for a brief glance. "Believe me now?"
