A/N: Thank you FMA Human Starter Kit, xbecbebex and Lovesbugsalot for your reviews of chapter 7!

I graduate in 30 days, 13 hours, 49 minutes and 44 seconds… But after I sit through a likely tedious commencement ceremony, I get to see GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY 2! Hehe… That part'll be fun. I'm still undecided about what I'm going to do to the back of my graduation cap, though—do I go with a deep Doctor Who or Harry Potter quote or something, or do I do something funny?

The Easter Egg for the last chapter is Nina Dobrev, the incredibly talented actress who portrayed Elena Gilbert, Katerina Petrova, Tatia Petrova and Amara, in multiple different mindsets and situations, all within the same show, The Vampire Diaries. Nina's character isn't necessarily based on Dobrev's real life self—but she does have characteristics of the characters Dobrev has played. As for the identity of Professor Ahlström… Well, that's still a spoiler.

Enemies

Loki wasn't one to be distracted. He was clever, perceptive, and always one step ahead. Darcy's defense of her theory that he was mind-controlled during the invasion included the fact that the plan was far too simplistic, not brilliant enough to be something he'd come up with. And she was right.

But that morning, before he'd left for his third debriefing with Coulson, he'd listened in on a long, loud, angry conversation between Darcy and her boyfriend—a nondescript blond with too-long bangs and a drawling voice that he found incredibly grating. He wasn't totally sure what they were arguing about—he wasn't sure THEY were sure what they were arguing about, although living arrangements had come up once or twice—and in the back of his mind he'd been trying to pick it apart. He'd been so engrossed by his thoughts on the subject that he'd barely been aware of his surroundings—and that was when they'd grabbed him.

He'd smelled something like rancid lemon juice on a rough cloth they held over his mouth and nose, and the world became sickeningly foggy. Time blurred, and he came around in a moving vehicle, his hands bound behind him, something tied over his eyes. He let his body sprawl limply, not wanting to alert his captors to his state of wakefulness until he'd come up with a suitable solution to the problem at hand.

The vehicle sounded large, and there were at least three distinct voices. They were driving over uneven terrain—more so than city street potholes—and traveling pretty fast. He could hear the engine laboring to keep up with the driver's hurry. The voices around him spoke in English, so he assumed they were human. His first guess was they were SHIELD operatives, as they'd accosted him within the restricted area of the building. And at least one of them had to be fairly high level, to have either clearance to use a back exit or not to arouse suspicion carrying him, unconscious, through the front.

However, they weren't the highest level agents, because they were clearly doing this without SHIELD's consent—otherwise, he'd have woken up somewhere more secure and convenient, such as one of their many cells or interrogation rooms. That meant they wanted something from him other than what SHIELD was already getting out of the bargain that Darcy had struck. Possibly they simply sought to punish him for the invasion—what an unbearably dull motive—or possibly they wanted to force his help for a coup of some sort—more interesting, but still problematic, as he would have to say no in order to preserve his standing with SHIELD, and they wouldn't like that.

Either way, he got the ominous feeling that this was going to hurt.

-0-

"I just don't like that you're living with a guy, Baby," Jeff grumbled, sitting huffily on Darcy's bed while she sat on her bean-bag, arms and legs crossed, not looking at him.

"You didn't have a problem with Keenan staying here," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but I know Keenan, and you're not his type," Jeff complained. "I know he's not checking you out. I don't know this guy at all, and you never talked about him before, now suddenly you're besties, and he moved in, and I hadn't seen you in a while… makes a guy wonder, y'know?"

"Well, it wouldn't if you trusted me," Darcy reminded him crisply. "I told you, he's been backpacking across Europe for years, his foster family kicked him out, he was living with his brother and wanted to move here for school. His brother's dating a friend of mine, so we got introduced through the grapevine. We're not 'besties;' we just both needed a roommate."

"So why don't you move in with me, Baby?" Jeff pushed. "Cole's moving out at the end of the month, we can turn his room into an office or a den, Luke can find some other dude to take your room, everybody wins!"

"I'm not leaving my apartment," Darcy snapped. "We've had this conversation before. I like having some independence—in situations like this one, when I need some space, I can kick your ass out of my building. You're approaching that point, by the way," she warned him.

"Oh, that's encouraging," Jeff shot back sarcastically.

"Hey, it is what it is," Darcy shrugged. "I come back after working my ass off with an internship, we get to see each other again for the first time in months, and all you give a crap about is my roommate and wanting me to move in? Yeah, I'm really feelin' the urge to get all lovey-dovey and share a kitchen right about now."

"I can't deal with this right now," Jeff muttered, running a hand roughly through his hair and standing up.

"And finally, we agree on something," Darcy hissed as her boyfriend sauntered out of her room and down the hall. Once she heard the front door close, she slid forward, flinging her body back so that she was half sitting on the floor, half laying on the bean bag. Then she crossed her arms over her eyes and took a deep breath.

The whole time she'd been gone, Mia Howell had been tagging him on Facebook multiple times a day, acting like she was trying to elbow Darcy out, but had Darcy complained about that bitch? Not once. 'Cause there was this thing that couple did called trusting each other, so she trusted Jeff not to cheat on her even if Mia-freaking-Howell dropped her panties right in front of him, because he was a grown man and capable of thinking with his upstairs brain if he really put his mind to it.

But Loki, who she'd assured Jeff had no interest in her, Loki was a problem. That wasn't a double-standard or anything…

Rolling up onto her elbow, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and shot Loki a text message, asking how long he was going to be "with Mrs. Hanson," which was the code word for meeting SHIELD people. If he was going to be there super late again, then she was going out for sushi, dagnabbit. But if he was on his way back, then maybe she'd order takeout Chinese for both of them and put on Harry Potter—the next item on "Loki's List of Pop-Culture Necessities OF DOOM."

Shortly after sending the message, she remembered that he'd mentioned they took his phone at the door. But if they took it, then someone had it, so she decided to take a chance and call. Worst case scenario, it was in a locker somewhere…

-0-

Letting his captors get him to wherever they were going couldn't possibly end well, Loki decided after a few minutes of bouncing around limply. They were clearly leaving the city, and the more secluded they were, the more danger he'd be in. He gathered information, using the jolts of going over rougher patches to subtly test the strength of his bonds, and letting himself slide when they hit the brakes, face pressed painfully into the floor to "accidentally" slide up his blindfold. After a little effort he was able to free one of his hands, carefully draping it behind him so he still looked bound, and then all that was left was to listen for his opportunity.

"What's that?" one of the men asked, and Loki tensed, lying determinedly still and hoping he hadn't seen that his captive was free. Then he realized he heard a phone buzzing, and relaxed a little.

"Call from Darcy—who's Darcy? Tell me this alien freak doesn't have a girlfriend." Loki tensed again instantly. They wouldn't bring her into this, would they? Not just from a phone call…

"Nah," responded a voice that he recognized as agent Jackson's. "She's his babysitter—this civilian chick he lives with. She's helping him blend in with the humans."

"Traitor bitch," another voice spat.

"Yeah," Jackson continued, "she's basically the one who got him out, I heard."

"When we're done with this one, we should pay her a visit," the first voice growled.

Even with his eyes closed, Loki saw red.

He flicked his eyes open, taking in the interior of the big van and the positioning of his three captors at a glance. Then before any of them could even notice the change, he rolled, pivoting on his shoulder and side to twist his legs under one of the men, who was standing near him, keeping guard, while the other two occupied seats. He dropped with a cry of shock and Loki rolled over, smashing an elbow into his face, breaking his nose and knocking him out.

The second man was seated with his back to the driver, and he bolted upright, taking a fighting stance and shouting out a warning as Loki rolled up to his feet. He was dizzy and disoriented, but rage coursed through his veins like ice water, forcibly clearing his head and providing him with several options for how to most effectively dismantle and maim this unworthy human scum.

The van screeched to a halt by the side of the road while Loki grappled with the second agent, throwing sharp, quick jabs to his weak points—his joints, solar plexus and neck—to knock him off balance and force him to defend his core, leaving his legs open to attack. With a powerful sweep of his right foot, Loki took the agent out at the knees, and jumped on top of him, holding him down and ramming his fist into the man's face.

It was right about then that Loki lost the upper hand.

The driver had, by this time, exited the front door of the van and was moving to fling open the back door so that he could join the fight. The agent beneath Loki kneed him in the groin so hard he saw stars, and then bashed his fist into the side of the Jotun's head, knocking him aside and allowing the bloody and bruised agent to take his place on top, fists raining down in a painful hail. Ordinarily, this would be where Loki would use magic to craft an illusion and confuse his attacker, but without that option, he found himself helpless beneath the onslaught to his face and chest.

"Get off of him," Jackson—the driver—instructed quickly, and the punching agent rolled to the side just in time for Jackson to pull the trigger on what Loki recognized as a Taser, like Darcy's. At the last second, he rolled to the side, dodging the electrodes, but he couldn't get back onto his feet; he was pressed too close into the wall, and the other agent began kicking him in the stomach and side.

"You! Bastard!" the agent shouted as he landed kick after kick. "You! Killed! My! Sister!"

"Here, gimmie some space," Jackson said after the agent seemed to tire. Loki saw through his fast swelling eyes that the man had removed part of the Taser—the part with the unraveled wires—and now had a black rectangle with a little arc of blue electricity in his hand.

"See," he said conversationally as he pressed the arc of lightning to an exposed patch of flesh on Loki's stomach. Loki screamed as the pain coursed through his whole body. His bones were melting, he was on fire, and he couldn't move. "You destroyed a lot of lives, you hurt people, you killed people, your army broke down buildings, killed children… And now you get to just go live your life? My boss pays your tuition, while my friends are dead in a ditch? And do you know why they're dead?" he took the horrible device away for a moment, and Loki gasped desperately for air.

"Do you?" he repeated. "Why do you think they're dead, huh?" Loki's panting sobs were apparently not answer enough, because he electrocuted him again. "They're dead because YOU took over their minds, and their BROTHERS IN ARMS had to kills them. And then it turns out a little bump on the head, and everybody's fine. How convenient!" he pulled away again, letting Loki catch his breath.

"And they bring back Coulson, and they save Barton and Selvig, but the rest of us can just suck it up, right?" he hissed, and the pain returned and took Loki's breath away. "And you! You caused all of this, and you just get to go free, no slap on the wrist, no need to feel any of the pain you caused?

I don't think so."

A/N: So! That happened… Poor Loki! Things have started to heat up for him, huh?

This chapter was more serious than its predecessors, so it didn't really have room for any Easter Eggs.

I'm supposed to be writing a research paper (a how-to for interpersonal manipulation, no less; I've been thinking about Loki a lot this quad!) but I have a dreadful combination of senioritis and spring fever, so I'm posting this instead. How about THAT, fellas?!

Drop me a review and tell me I'm awesome! :-D :-D :-D

Chapter 9: Rescue

Of course, he reasoned, his mood darkening, if justice was really to be served, then he probably deserved everything they gave him and more. Of course, he'd been forced to do everything he did, and he barely even remembered it, but that didn't make their loved ones any less dead. And then… there was the fact that he knew his mind was unbreachable. Someone couldn't have just broken in and taken him out for a spin. He didn't know how—didn't know what tortures they'd had to subject him to—but he knew that at some point, he must've consented. So… was all that blood on his hands?

He truly didn't know.

And he didn't much like not knowing.