NOT cannon-compliant with any films released after The Avengers.

Oh, and Loki was under the Scepter's/Glow-stick of Destiny's influence during the events of The Avengers (Thanos was puppet-mastering him), and is kinda-sorta trying to make up for what he did by kinda-sorta playing nice, so he's kinda-sorta on the good guys' side. Maybe.

Darcy is a fan of Supernatural.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Base, U.S.A.

March 10 1143 Hours

"What about toilet paper?"

Seems like a sensible enough question to me. Apparently, judging by the looks on their faces, Jane, Bruce, and Natasha hadn't thought of that. Wow. An astrophysicist, a paranormal cellular biologist, and a world-class spyssassin, and not one of them remembers something as basically essential as bathroom tissue. Fail. Epic.

"Hey, we are prepping for the apocalypse, you know. Seems to me there should be a secret stock of toilet paper." How sad that I have to point that out.

"The apocalypse?" Bruce echoes skeptically. He opens the door on what looks like a high-tech breadbox, and frigid air plumes out. With tongs, he takes out a covered Petri dish that's glowing slightly, then shuts the box again. I really hope S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't messing with Croatoan virus or something. That would mean that Niveus Pharmaceuticals and the big Archangelic planet-destroying showdown are all real, and that would kind of suck. On the other hand, it means the Winchester boys are real, too, and that would be SWEET. Lickably.

Bruce puts the Petri dish under a UV lamp and switches it on, making the hopefully-not-Croatoan-virus glow brighter. "Isn't 'apocalypse' a little extreme?" he asks.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Natasha says, eyeing the glowing dish distrustfully. "This is Loki we're talking about, and he's had seven months to prepare. What worries me most is that we can't find any evidence that he's doing anything. We can't prepare adequately if we don't know what to prepare for."

"Hello! Apocalypse! I thought we established that." I look to Jane for help. Surprisingly, she delivers.

"According to Thor, absence of proof sort of is proof when it comes to Loki's style of making trouble. And with seven months worth of prep time," she nodded to Natasha, "who knows what he could do?"

Everybody's quiet, looking at each other.

I hate it when things get this serious.

Natasha takes a bracing deep breath (The Black Widow never sighs—come on, people, get real) and turns to leave. "Every S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost and ally in the world is on high alert. Whatever hell Loki raises, we'll put it down." And with that, she stalks silently away.

Bruce, Jane, and I do the awkward everybody-glance-at-everybody-else thing again.

I really hate it when things get this serious. I point at the Petri dish.

"Is that Croatoan virus?"

Bruce's eyebrows furrow confusedly. Jane rolls her eyes.

In the shadows, Loki smiles.