Cassandra paced, circling the table as the skin of her palms burned, fingers digging into her biceps as her folded arms crossed a little tighter. They'd announced that Steve and Agent Romanoff were returning with Loki in custody a while ago—too long—and it was taking every ounce of will within her to remain composed. To be patient, to wait. Odds were, Fury was not going to let her speak with Loki anyway. But she had half a mind to go above him regardless.
"They're here," Fury spoke then, interrupting her pace. "Tony Stark will be joining us. Try to keep things civil."
She felt as though she'd just been slapped in the face, standing at the opposite end of the table from the Director. Tony Stark? What would he even have to offer they didn't already possess? He added nothing valuable, as far as she was concerned. And there was going to be nothing civil about their introduction.
It didn't take long for Agent Romanoff to lead Steve through the doorway onto the bridge. Following them was a tall man with shoulder-length, blonde hair. He wore red beneath silver chest plating, intricate designs on the armor Cassandra recognized. "Thor," she blurted out the name, the epiphany and surprise of it all forcing past her lips without thought. She never thought she would actually see him in person—only hear about a perception of him in stories. The man turned at the sound of his name, caught off guard as he glanced twice.
"Yes. And you are?" he questioned her with eyes squinted, confused.
The others were all looking now—all just as caught off guard. Though, Fury was not as surprised. He'd wondered, however briefly, if she knew of Thor. It stood to reason that Loki would tell her things. She would ask questions and he would answer them. So, it made more sense that she recognized him than had she not. Cassandra shook her head at herself, taking a step forward. "Sorry. I'm-"
"Cassandra," Thor spoke her name as it finally touched his tongue, retrieved from memory a little too slowly. Cassandra's feet stopped suddenly, head tilting quizzically as the sound of it poured cold water over her head, but he continued with an explanation, "My mother spoke of you. I'd always wondered where Loki disappeared to—I never thought he might be meeting a lover. Especially not here."
She was unsure how to respond. Somewhere, deep within, she could feel the sentiment of it tugging at her. But the anger, the absolute fury was quick to cover it with a thunderous cloud. "I haven't seen him for months," her tone was firm, almost defensive—as though the thought of being connected with Loki might be offensive. And, now, it was starting to truly feel like just that.
"He's being taken to lock-up," Agent Romanoff's voice caught Cassandra's attention as she spoke directly to Fury, only a few feet away.
"Good," Fury nodded, before glancing over the people before him. "I'll give him the welcome speech. Make sure he feels at home."
He was stoically sarcastic, voice darkened just enough to notice, before he turned to leave. As he passed through the doorway out, Banner passed through coming in. Cassandra returned to her seat as Agent Romanoff filled him in on what was about to happen. The knowledge that Loki was on board, so close, was deafening. It was hard to focus on anything else. Her fingernails remained dug into her palms, bracing against the heat that refused to quiet, as she rested her folded arms atop the table.
Steve lowered himself into a chair opposite her. He glanced at her as he did so, mostly out of habit, and he couldn't help but notice the unrest. Her eyes were wild but unnaturally focused, determined—biding her time, he knew. Prior, she seemed saddened, scared, concerned. Now, anger was the only color in her face. Cassandra glanced up, briefly catching his eye, before her gaze fell to the large star on his chest. "Nice pajamas," she quipped dryly.
"You don't look so good," he told her, honestly, resting an arm atop the table. "Are you alright?"
She gave a small, dismissive shake of her head. "I'm fine."
The denial was almost laughable. It was clear to see that she was not, at all, fine. But the Captain refrained from pushing it, taking her word for it instead—though, he couldn't help but keep an eye on her, a cautious peripheral gaze. Agent Romanoff took a seat in the chair next to Cassandra's. "Can we get the feed from containment?" she asked, looking to the far right, at another female agent. The woman nodded and turned her eyes to the tablet in her hand. With a few buttons pressed, rectangular screens appeared in the glass of the table.
Cassandra promptly moved her arms back, out of the way of the screen before her. It played a live feed from cameras in another part of the helicarrier, where they'd just sealed Loki inside a large, cylindrical cage of glass. The Asgardian stood in the center as Fury touched the controls a few feet away. "In case it's unclear, If you even try to escape, if you so much as scratch that glass…" Fury's voice echoed through the microphones of the cameras. Then, a large hatch beneath the glass container hissed open, air loudly rushing into the space. "It's thirty-thousand feet straight down in a steel trap. You get how that works?"
Fury pressed another button and the hatch hissed closed. He gestured with his hands slowly toward Loki, then toward the controls as he quipped, "Ant, boot."
Loki chuckled, a sound that caused the muscles in Cassandra's gut to clench, a jolt of cold trailing down the length of her spine. "It's an impressive cage," he mused, stepping back from the glass. "Not built, I think, for me."
No, it clearly was not. The container was only glass and bolts. How did they expect someone as powerful as Loki to stay inside? Although, Fury didn't argue. "Built for something a lot stronger than you," the Director corrected, confidently.
"Oh, I've heard," Loki's head turned in a straight line, eyes finding the black orb on the other side of the cage easily. Cassandra swallowed, nails digging into the skin of her arms now, a dull throb of heat pulsating into her palms. "A mindless beast. Makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?"
Fury stepped toward the cage. "How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, and you kill because it's fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did."
"It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power—unlimited power. And for what?" Loki chuckled again, once more glancing up at the camera. "A warm light for all mankind to share. And then to be reminded what real power is."
"Well, let me know if 'real power' wants a magazine or something."
With that, Fury turned on his heels and took the stairs. As he exited the room, Loki turned toward the camera fully, staring up at it silently. It was difficult not to feel at least somewhat conflicted. After all, her heart still ached after his departure. Seeing him again under any circumstance felt like scratching off a much-needed scab. However, there was anger in her chest—a strong bout of rage she found it quite difficult to stifle.
Loki was not acting quite like himself. But was that really enough to warrant empathy, even after he targeted her brother? No. It was not. "He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Banner joked, as the screens faded quickly from the table.
"I'm sorry," Cassandra instinctively spoke up, looking up to where he stood at the other side of the table, leaning into the backing of a chair beside Steve.
But Bruce shook his head. "You don't have to apologize for him. I'll live."
Although Cassandra nodded a little, averting her eyes, it still felt so necessary. Maybe, she thought, if she hadn't allowed him to stay for so long, they wouldn't be here? Maybe, somehow, that was the cause? She'd clearly turned a blind eye to this new behavior, not hesitating to allow him a place in her home—when, all along it seemed, he'd been scheming and planning for this very day. Perhaps, in some way, she could have prevented it all?
And not just that. There was a pang of guilt in her gut, hitting her hard at the nature of Loki's comments. The emotions she'd felt when shaking Banner's hand—thanks to Charles—were potent, and they lingered in the back of her mind, a certain empathy looming with them. "Loki's gonna drag this out," Steve commented, with a sigh. "So, Thor, what's his play?"
Steve looked to the giant in the room. Thor stood a few feet from the table, arms crossed as he remained pensive, in deep thought. "He has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard, nor any world known," Thor turned toward the table as he spoke, allowing his arms to fall to his sides. "He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."
"An army...from outer space," Steve mulled over the idea with heavy features. The notion was absolutely insane. It was just another thing on the list of modern-day changes that warped everything he knew about life.
"So, he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for," Bruce realized aloud.
Thor's brows knitted. "Selvig?"
"He's an astrophysicist," explained Banner.
"He's a friend," Thor replied.
"Loki has him under some kind of spell," Agent Romanoff spoke up, adding to the conversation. Then, sullenly, she said, "Along with one of ours."
Cassandra's shoulders tensed. She wondered, briefly, if Laura even knew what had happened. Had anyone told her? Was there anyone who knew she existed that could call her? Then, finally, should Cassandra call? The ache in her temple returned, and she tuned out of the present conversation as she leaned aside, lifting a hand to rub gingerly at the sore spot. With all the stress, anger, and fear, she was equal to a barrel of dynamite.
She could feel it in the tremble of her hands, the never ending pressure inside her skull. Inhaling through her nose, she tried to calm herself—though, to no avail. Nothing would ease her discomfort and volatility until she released what was pent up inside. So, instead, she gritted her teeth through it. "It's a stabilizing agent." A male voice spoke above the rest, from somewhere behind. As Cassandra righted herself enough to turn her head, the man came to stand in front of the table.
Tony Stark. The pulsation of her hands quickened, searing heat burning its way through her veins from the wrists. She didn't bother hiding the way her features naturally dropped, steeling, and drooping into an expression of enraged disgust. Her mouth was a firm scowl as he continued to speak. "It means the portal won't collapse in on itself, like it did at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony explained. Then, he gave a friendly pat to Thor's bare arm. "No hard feelings, Point Break. You've got a mean swing."
Tony turned to continue walking, moseying toward the control center Fury would normally be standing at, and he continued to speak even further—and Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily. "Also, it means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants," he said. Standing in Fury's place, he thrusted a hand toward the agents at the computers. "That man is playing Galaga! He thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."
All present company stared quietly in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. Cassandra groaned—rather loudly—and allowed her hand to fall to the glass of the table. "Will you shut the fuck up already?"
"The only major component Loki still needs is a power source of high-energy density," Tony turned on his heels to see the table, eyes landing swiftly on Cassandra's disgruntled features. "Something to kick-start the cube. I'm sorry—am I boring you, Miss…?"
Cassandra straightened in her chair, her eyes a heated glare. "Barton. You know, the girl who's brother is being mind-controlled? Take it seriously."
Steve pulled his concerned gaze away from Cassandra, instead looking to Tony, speaking in an effort to divert the hostility. "Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" he questioned.
"He'd have to heat the cube to one-twenty-million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier," Banner answered, pacing slowly aside the table.
It was then Cassandra retreated from the conversation again, her mind wandering away as her eyes lingered on the tabletop. Loki needed a large amount of heat and power—something she was more than capable of providing. Could that have been Loki's plan all along? To use the cube with the help of Cassandra, as a kind of evil sidekick? The thought injected a shot of rage and hurt into her veins, the emotions melting together as they traveled toward her palms like a lava tube carrying magma toward the spout.
"Son of a bitch!" she exclaimed involuntarily, slamming the side of her fist against the table. The interruption alone was enough to gain the attention of everyone present. But, the glass beneath her fist cracked, a hairline breakage just visible enough to notice as translucent lavender burst through in small, quick streaks—and anxious concern joined the surprise on every face around her. Though, Cassandra didn't have the will to truly notice, to process what she'd just done.
She stood abruptly, stepping out from her place at the table. In her bout of deep thought, she hadn't noticed Director Fury's return to the room. He stood near the end of the table, hands placed on the backing of a chair, and he stared at her, too. However, that was not enough to stop the large rock of anger rolling down hill, threatening to crush them all in its path. "It's me- I'm the power source," she spoke quickly, furiously. "That cage can't hold him and he knows it—he's only here because he wants something."
"Why would he want you, exactly?" Tony questioned, an eyebrow arching in confusion as he pointed toward her in a brief gesture.
He did not receive an answer. Cassandra turned the second she'd finished speaking, and began walking. After three marched steps, she was enveloped in purple smoke, the energy built-up within her giving the cloud distinctive lines of electric color. They flashed quickly like lightning, the surge hanging in the air long after the smoke had dissipated. Bruce, Steve, and Thor were caught off guard by her disappearance. Agent Romanoff was only vindicated in the prior thoughts of curiosity she'd had, hearing what it was Clint's sister could do.
Tony slid his hands into the pockets of his pants with a disinterested sigh, tossing his eyes toward the ceiling as he turned back toward Fury's controls. Agent Coulson attempted to follow quickly toward the exit, but Fury held up a hand, stopping him before he could pass the table. "Let her go," Fury told him. "Something tells me this unstoppable force needs to meet that immovable object if we're going to get anywhere. Hill, get us the feed."
When Cassandra reappeared, she was marching toward the glass of Loki's cell. The Asgardian sat on the small bench along the back side of the container. He tilted his head, a devilish smirk illuminating his face upon her arrival. "At last," he mused, standing to his full height. "I was wondering when they'd send you in here."
Although, his words were not truly being listened to. As Cassandra reached the glass, she disappeared once more, before reappearing on the other side. Inside the cage, she met him in the center with her palms landing flat against his chest. The force was only enough to force him back a half step, if anything just for the sake of surprise. "Where the fuck is my brother, Loki?" she was shouting, glaring up at him with a rage in her eyes he'd never seen those gentle orbs possess.
Something inside him screamed. A small cry from the depths of his mind, a voice so similar to his own. His instinct was to express sorrow, with drooped features, empathy and remorse on his tongue—but even as guilt swirled in the pit of his gut, he gazed down at her with a smirk. "Ah, don't worry, my dear," he said, his voice sickeningly patronizing. "You'll see him soon enough."
Cassandra scoffed at his amused appearance. "You're right, I will. Because I'm going to blow your goddamn head off if you don't tell me where he is."
"Now, darling, do you really believe these people won't put you in a cage as well? If you make them think you're dangerous—who's to say they won't?"
"I've been in a cage before," she tilted her head, features steeling. Though, in thought, she called out a name. Charles. "You have five seconds."
Loki outstretched his arms, defiant against the strong constriction of his chest, his body moving despite the pleas of that small voice. "Go on, then. Give them a show."
As Cassandra lifted her hand, the base of her skull hummed, and she did not hesitate to continue. She could feel the large quantity of energy within him through the nerve endings in her palm—and she pulled. Heat burned within Loki's frame, flames fanning outward from his gut, and his features contorted as the heat turned to pain. It raced through his veins, over every inch of his body almost too quickly to comprehend. His knees buckled as she pulled harder, and he dropped to the flooring with a strangled groan.
It was a constriction of his lungs, a boiling of his blood. Cassandra took a step forward, fingers curling inward in an open fist, but she kept herself at bay. After all, actually killing him wouldn't accomplish much. The Tesseract would still be gone. Her brother would still be missing. No, this was not to kill him. Simply keep him still and lower his defenses.
I can see inside, Charles' voice entered her mind, speaking over the anger. You must keep him still—I need to look deeper.
Show me what you see.
She could feel Charles' apprehension in her gut, but she pushed it down, forcing it out as she mentally reiterated her demand. Then, in an instant, her mind was a murky bog of black. Wisps of shimmering blue danced across her vision. Disembodied voices echoed in her ears, fading in and out with the flashes of color. A sudden pain hit her square between the eyes. It was hot, sharp, carving its way deeper to her spine. From there, it spread rapidly. The pain doubled, fear wrenching her gut—no, terror—and she cried out.
Her feet shuffled back quickly, tripping over each other, and her hold on Loki was instinctively released. He fell forward, bracing against the floor on his palms as his chest heaved, and Cassandra continued backward. Before her back could touch the glass, she appeared on the other side, teleporting subconsciously. But the footing was wrong, and she fell backward onto the floor with a harsh thud. The pain had stopped—though, an ache lingered, only an echo of the strong feeling.
Cassandra's chest heaved as she labored to breathe, careful as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Did you think you were being clever?" Loki questioned, on his feet now. Slowly, he stalked toward the glass, now venomous eyes boring into her. "Tell me, how does it feel to fail so spectacularly, darling?"
A sudden bang startled Cassandra with a jolt, forcing her aching frame to twist, moving quickly to find the source. The door to the room was opened. As she turned her head to look, Steve had already bounded through the door, and he'd taken to the steps by the time Thor trailed in behind. Steve went straight to Cassandra, kneeling as he arrived. "Are you hurt?" he questioned, an arm snaking around her shoulders, another hand on her arm nearest him.
As he stood, he hefted her up to her feet with him. She shook her head despite its sudden, dizzying spin, and allowed him to help her—against her initial instinct to shake him off. Thor stood aside from them, glaring hotly at his brother through the glass. Loki remained silent, staring right back, smirking all the while. "Come on," Steve spoke quietly, aiming the words at Cassandra. "Let's get you out of here."
All she could bring herself to do was nod in response. Her eyes couldn't reach their height, lingering on the floor instead. What happened had felt quite indiscernible. Although, somehow, she'd felt like she knew exactly what had happened. Charles seemed to have left her—she could no longer feel his presence lingering. And she wondered, for a moment, if it had impacted him as negatively as it had her. Did he feel that pain? That teeth gnashing horror? Was he alright?
Steve guided her down the stairs, out of the room, and into the hall. Thor followed, but surpassed them as they reached the hallway. They moved slowly, taking their steps gingerly. However, with the pain and fear gone, and her anger all but depleted, she simply felt emptiness. Her own fears and the stress of it all was staggering. In her throat, a small lump burned, and she could feel it coming—a sob. The strangled sound echoed lightly in the otherwise empty hall, leaving her body trembling.
Their feet were halted the moment it happened. Steve stared at her with concern, empathy, as he briefly tightened his arm still around her shoulders. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. We'll find your brother," his voice was so sure, so warm. But Cassandra found herself pulling away from him, scrubbing her hands over her face as she leaned her butt against the wall. Maybe if she simply dried them away, the tears would stop? It was an innocent attempt. Though, it did not help.
Another sob wracked her body and her knees softened, buckling, causing her to slide down the length of the wall to the floor. Her knees in her chest, she tried her best to hide her face—furiously scrubbing at her cheeks, wiping it all away. "I just- I'm sorry- I just need a minute."
Steve glanced briefly either direction of the hall before stepping toward the wall, following suit to sit on the floor. Though, he was a little more graceful. "Don't apologize," he told her, resting his forearms atop his knees. "I knew this woman, a long time ago—one of my best friends, actually. She was the strongest person I'd ever met. Even she cried when things got tough. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
Cassandra took a deep breath before sniffling, trying desperately to rein herself in. It was a nice sentiment, a gesture she genuinely appreciated—though, it didn't do quite what he'd hoped. "Thanks. I've been like this for a while, actually. It's not new," she shook her head, wiping her tear-soaked palms on the knees of her jeans.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and the way he voiced the words made her feel as though he somehow truly meant it. He'd just met her the same day—but it felt like it'd been spoken by a friend. Cassandra couldn't help the weakened, but grateful, smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. She read about Captain America when she was younger, the scrawny kid from Brooklyn that became a super soldier and fought Nazis. And, although every biography was factual, none of them came close to describing the man she was looking at.
He was polite, humble, genuine. It was clear that he truly cared for the people around him regardless of relationship—a rare quality, she knew. Though, she also knew, no one was that perfect. There had to be an exception. A line not to cross. Tipping her head back against the wall, she eyed him curiously. "I'm gonna be blunt," she said, the sudden inflammation inside her nose deepening her voice. "I don't trust anyone on this helicarrier."
Steve nodded slowly, thinking. "I can't say that I blame you. To be honest, I don't really know who to trust, either."
"I'm a mutant. Does that bother you?"
"Should it?"
"No," she gave a shake of her head, lifting it from the wall. "If it doesn't, you can trust me."
Steve huffed a small chuckle, the corner of his mouth pulling upward. "I know you don't like government but, if being a soldier doesn't bother you, you can trust me, too," he nodded once, confident in his response.
"Shake on it?"
Her hand raised mostly in jest, held up in the few inches of space between them, as her brow arched lazily. But Steve smiled and clasped his hand around hers, and Cassandra instinctively chuckled as they each gave their hands a shake, before she swiftly retracted. Then, pushed against the wall to stand. Halfway up, Steve stood and offered her a helping hand, and she accepted it gratefully. Every muscle held a faint ache, refusing to let go of the brief trauma they endured. What did it all mean?
Surely it couldn't all be simply a defense. It felt so much more real than a magic trick. More so like a memory, a lived experience, as she'd felt many times before with Charles' help. So, then, when did Loki feel such pain? Who caused it? And, most importantly—why was he feeling it now? With that much anguish bottled up, it was a wonder he was on his feet. It didn't make sense. Once upright, she held still for a moment to let a wave of dizziness pass. As it calmed, she found herself reaching out to the emptiness of her mind, asking for Charles. If anyone was going to give her answers, it would be him.
