The following week lasted forever, in Jak's opinion. Time seemed to stretch lazily on while she worked herself to the bone to make the nights go faster. When she wasn't sleeping during the day, she was training in hand to hand combat with Wanda and Natasha, both of whom were excited for her upcoming hearing.

Everyone in the Compound seemed to want to be her best friend all of a sudden, giving her advice on what to say when she spoke to the parole board. The unsolicited advice was nice at first, she was flattered to know that any of them cared enough to try and help her. But after a while, having so many caring individuals constantly press her with tips and tricks began to remind her of her mother's nagging.

"Don't forget to smile, but don't look smug."

"Stand up straight."

"Look them in the eye, but don't look intimidating."

"Be humble."

"Tell the truth… unless the truth is that you aren't sorry for your actions."

"Make sure you dress for the occasion! They like it if you look well groomed."

"Let your lawyer do the talking… but be sure to answer the board if they ask you questions."

On and on it went, making Jak's head spin with advice. Eventually, it got so bad that she only ventured out of her room for workouts and work. She ate all of her meals curled up on her bed, reviewing the files of her case and going over the statements her lawyer sent her.

In the evenings, she scrubbed the Compound from top to bottom. No nook or cranny was safe from her bottle of Lysol or her industrial size Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. No droplet of superhuman sweat was allowed to dirty the gym equipment. No hair dared to stay clogging the drains.

The night before her hearing, she had noticed that the ceiling of one of the sparring rooms had a bit of blood splattered on it. She was on top of a ladder polishing the glossy ceiling tile when she heard footsteps enter the room. She glanced over her shoulder and then turned back to cleaning the ceiling.

"Hello Loki. I suppose you've come to tell me what to say and not to say at my hearing," she muttered, "I'm surprised you weren't the first one to try and give me pointers."

He didn't respond, moving closer to the ladder.

"Don't walk under me," she snapped, still looking up, "It's bad luck to go under a ladder."

He was still quiet, but she felt the ladder wobble a bit as he stepped on the first rung. She felt her heartbeat pick up speed at his nearness and fought a small smile. She preferred to keep her interest in him a secret. He wouldn't be able to mock her for finding him attractive if she never let him know that she did.

"So, what advice does the great trickster have to offer me?" She wiped her hands on her polishing rag and turned on the ladder to look at him.

She should have paid closer attention when he entered the room.

He was tall, had long hair, and leather clothes, but he wasn't Loki.

"Don't scream. Don't run," the man below her said in a robotic tone. He reached toward her with one hand, looking to grab her wrist.

Jak's fight or flight kicked in, and thankfully she'd been training with the Black Widow enough for her first instinct to be kicking the man in the face and leaping down the ladder in the second it took him to recover.

"Friday! Friday, wake up the Avengers! Intruder!" Jak shrieked, sprinting for the door to the room.

"She can't hear you," the man slowly advanced toward her, "I found the main microphone control. Don't run. I locked the door behind me. There is nowhere for you to go."

His voice scratched at an old memory in her brain, but adrenaline made it difficult to focus on anything but trying to escape. She didn't bother with the door, knowing that if she tried to unlock it, it would only waste time and allow her to pin him in. Instead, she made a dash for her cleaning cart and picked up her trusty mop, swinging it around to put between her and the man.

His left arm shot out and grabbed the floppy mop head. He wrenched it out of her hands and snapped it in half with one hand. Jak yelped and danced away from him, searching for something else to use as a weapon. Her hand went to the hammer that hung from her belt and she threw the tool at him, feeling a bit like Thor.

Except she doubted Thor's enemies could just catch his hammer without even hurting their hands and drop it to the floor.

"Get away!" She yelled, taking the wrench from her belt instead and throwing that too. "Get away from me!"

"I am under orders not to kill you, but I will hurt you if necessary," he told her in that same robotic tone. "Stand down."

"Help!" She screamed, finally deciding to risk running to the door. He stalked after her and, just as she'd feared, pinned her in when she couldn't unlock the door. It looked as if he'd crushed the knob somehow and disabled the button that would open it automatically. If she'd been smart and kept her hammer or wrench, she might have been able to break the handle off and force the door open, but her tools were on the other side of the room and the man was already on top of her.

"Please," she begged, pressing her back to the door and facing him, "Leave me alone! I'm just the janitor! I'm not an Avenger!"

He didn't react to this beyond clamping his left hand on her shoulder. She gasped, at the strength in that hand. It was not flesh and bone. She tried to remember if she'd accidentally incurred the wrath of a cyborg or robot somewhere in her long life, but the only robot she knew was Vision.

"Stand down," the man repeated, "Just come with me."

"No," she tried kicking him again to no avail. She tried every trick that Natasha had taught her, but this man knew those tricks too and he anticipated every one of them.

"Help me! Someone!"

"Don't scream," he pulled her close to his chest and covered her mouth with his other hand, which was also gloved, but didn't feel like metal so she bit it. He wasn't even phased. She threw her elbow back into his gut and he grunted, but did not loosen his hold. She stomped on his foot, but his boots were too thick for that to hurt him.

Slowly, he began dragging her toward the window in the room and she knew that he was going to carry her off if she couldn't find a way to escape. Desperating renewed, she threw her head back and hit him in the nose. This finally shocked him enough that his grip loosened and she was able to break free. She ran for her hammer and ran back to the door with him trying to catch her, blood now dripping from his nose. She gave the doorknob a good thwack and then another before it fell off and she was able to force the door open just as his hands latched onto her belt and hauled her backward.

With the door open, she screamed down the corridor. "Help! I'm being attacked! Help-"

The man covered her mouth once more and picked her up like a sack of potatoes. He ran toward the window and started to punch the bullet proof glass with his metal fist. With his hand off her mouth, she began screaming again, until he gave her a solid hit to the back of her head and dazed her. She felt consciousness slipping away from her, but kept her eyes open long enough to see another long haired, tall form come rushing through the door to the sparring room.

There was a burst of green energy and then Jaklyn blacked out.