25/11/12 -EDIT- Changed a few things, nothing major, just reads better now! (thanks again npeg! :D)

WARNING IN ADVANCE: This chapter contains fatalities, just so you know.

Thanks again to the lovely npeg for acting as beta and making some lovely tweaks. This chapter was a really hard one to write, and I was hoping to include more of the remaining scenes I had planned for it but it would have just been a wall of text. The chapter's already a long one ^_^'. So yeah, look out for next chapter coming soon and my OC will finally be making an appearance! FINALLY! LIKE, HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN!?

As per, music of choice:

"Take a Bow" – Muse

"Assassin" – Muse

"A Watchful Guardian" – Hans Zimmer & James Newton Howard (The Dark Knight OST)

"Embers" – Max Richter (For obvious reasons D':)

npeg also informed me of a comic that has a familiar sort of theme to this chapter (Captain America volume 6 I believe, but I could be wrong, it's one or several of the issues, and I have yet to read that but yeah, there you go.)

I don't own any of the characters yada yada, etc etc, or any reference to existing dialogue etc etc, and any OC character likeness in name or appearance is purely coincidental. Title inspired by Muse's track name, and also that song is win.

Also, don't play with guns and firecrackers. BAD.

Take A Bow

"Are you absolutely sure?" Fury interrupted as he turned to face the screen.

"My instincts are telling me it's him. I know it's him," Natasha replied firmly.

The blue glare from the screen above Fury flickered in the darkness of the quiet room on board the Helicarrier. He leaned over the tinted glass table and sighed heavily. The council had been on his back for days now, pushing him to 'deal with' this Dermott character quickly before any real classified information was leaked. The news Natasha had delivered was proof enough for him to give the go ahead and have a team take the guy down, but if her instincts were right (which they usually were) that would be a grave mistake.

Bullets wouldn't work on this guy, and he certainly wouldn't give up without a fight.

"I need to inform the Council. If what you're saying is true then we've got every reason to worry about him now. I want you to keep an eye on him, but keep your distance. He knows what he claims to know about us, that's fact."

"Understood."

Fury ended the transmission and scrolled through the glass panel in front of him as Agent Hill entered the room, having overheard the conversation from the other side of the open door.

"Sir… if what Agent Romanoff said is true, then shouldn't we send out a response team?"

"He's put himself right in the middle of a televised event surrounded by civilians. If we try to take him out now there will be civilian casualties. And we can't afford to have that black mark on S.H.I.E.L.D's name, not with the (current) state of things. I think the list of casualties we've racked up is long enough already, don't you?" he replied gravely.

"But surely you don't mean to let him continue –"

"–Agent Hill, I will deal with him when the time is right, but for now I expect you to do your job and let me do mine. Understood?"

Maria pursed her lips and nodded, turning on her heel to leave the room. Fury pressed a few lights on the glass panel and four screens lit up before him, each displaying a silhouetted figure.

"Council…"

. . .

Steve had returned to the gym not long after his conversation with Fury, eager to punch something out of sheer frustration, and had spent the majority of the day in that room drifting between workouts and daydreaming. He'd not signed up to spying on his own friends, and he damn well wasn't going to, since he'd made his point leaving S.H.I.E.L.D in the first place.
He hit the punching bag with one last swing of his fist, sending it flying across the room. Bag number six of the day, and incidentally the last of them. He'd apologise to Pepper later.

"Rough day?" a voice called out to him from the entrance.

Steve recognised that voice immediately, and was literally lost for words when he turned to find who it was.

"I apologise for the inconvenience, but he overrode my security measures and insisted that I not inform you of his presence –" JARVIS's voice rang in Steve's ears.

"–You?..." Steve breathed, blinking in disbelief. He must have overdone the workout this time…

Because an Agent Phil Coulson stood by the door of the gym, very much alive and well, wearing his usual suit and holding a folder of paperwork. He smiled sheepishly at the soldier.

"But… You… Fury said –" Steve gaped.

"–He wasn't wrong," Phil admitted calmly, trying to convey an apology in his eyes, "I know what he told you, and I'm sorry he had to lie to you. It was a necessary evil."

Stung, Steve removed the tape from his hands as he reached roughly for a towel to dry his face. "Well I'm glad you believe that. Frankly, you look pretty spry for a corpse."

"Captain, I almost did die. It was a close call. I was severely wounded, but fortunately for all of us, I wound up in a recovery room instead of the morgue. It's taken me a while to get back to work, and I'm still not at my best, which is why I'm not on the job with Barton and Romanoff," Coulson said, making his way into the centre of the room.

Steve opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the sound of heels clicking on the hard floors of the room opposite, and Pepper arguing with her cell phone, the snap of it as she closed it angrily.

"Steve? The company is in deep trouble and I need you to contact S.H.I.E.L.D to…" she trailed off, letting the phone slip from her fingers and fall to the floor with a crack as she stopped dead in the entrance, unable to believe her eyes.

"…Phil!?"

Coulson turned and smiled softly at the astonished woman in the doorway.

"Miss Potts."

Steve cracked his knuckles, trying to calm the wave of irrational anger Coulson's Lazarus-style reappearance had awoken, then motioned to Pepper, "Not to be blunt, Agent Coulson, considering you were a dead man as far as we were both concerned not two minutes ago, but why are you here?" he asked.

"Fury sent me to investigate Stark Industries. I understand that you have run into some difficulties recently, Miss Potts?" he spoke calmly.

Pepper stammered a little before finally finding her voice again. "I – yes, in fact that's why I'm here." Pepper sighed as she revealed the news. "I don't know how he managed to do it without my noticing but Hammer has bought enough of Stark Industries stock that he now owns a controlling interest in the company. He's managed to worm his way onto the board of directors and somehow he's convinced them that it's in the company's best interests to lock me out."

"What-?" Steve asked, but Phil held up a finger to shush him, motioning Pepper to continue.

"He's got his hands on some… strange documents, documents that he used to undermine me in front of the board, documents incriminating Tony. But they're forgeries. Clever forgeries, granted, but they're forgeries nonetheless." She rolled her lip between her teeth in the slightest betrayal of how nervous she really was about this turn of events, then breathed out slowly but heavily through her nose and carried on.

"I don't know how he got them, or who he got them from, but I want to know who he's working with, because there's no way he's done this on his own –"

"Captain, Director Fury is on the line…" The persistent English voice interrupted, and with perfect timing as usual.

"Fury?..." Pepper muttered.

Instantly, a large video projection appeared before the three of them, and a very concerned-looking Nick Fury spoiled their little reunion. Steve suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

"Captain, I've got some bad news for you and Miss Potts."

Bad news? Steve was still waiting for any other kind of news to be delivered…

"It looks like Dermott has been working with Hammer and Senator Stern, most likely to get his hands on Stark's armour. I suggest you move it to a secure location as soon as possible."

"That son of a –" Pepper breathed.

"–That's not all," Fury added, "Agent Romanoff has reason to believe that Dermott isn't a politician. Dermott isn't even human. He's Loki."

The room fell silent, and Steve's mouth went slack. His gaze wandered through the projection to some distant space.

The guy had been under their noses all this time, in broad daylight, on national television no less. He'd managed to find the perfect hiding place – at the centre of all the chaos that had been consuming the country little by little, eating away at the foundations of law and order until gradually it would all come tumbling down like a precarious house of cards, and he'd stand by, ready to mould the world to his own desires, remake it in his own twisted image. How in the hell had they missed it?

"My God, he's got us right where he wants us," Steve murmured, his attention returning to Fury who arched an eyebrow.

"I think that's an overreaction at this point, Captain, but I've informed the Council and they demand a response team be sent to deal with him. I've advised against it and refused to send any more of my agents until we are absolutely sure it's Loki we're dealing with."

"Don't you see!? Anything they do will just make his position stronger. The Christian Dermott gimmick, the protests, the talk shows? He's surrounding himself with a mass of supporters who hang on his every word. Loki's got us playing his game by his rules, and if your Council choose to ignore you like they did with New York, he'll win. We're the bad guys in this piece – he's turning the people against us," Steve urged.

Pepper's legs suddenly felt weak beneath her and she steadily lowered herself to sit on a nearby chair, eyes distant.

"He won't succeed, not on my watch. You leave the Council to me. I've already got Agents Romanoff and Barton on site; they'll deal with anyone who tries to lay a finger on the guy. Now, I advise you get to work haulin' that tech out of Stark's place before it ends up with a Hammer price tag and I have to make you watch Terminator: Judgement Day for you to get the picture. Understood?"

Steve actually had no idea what he meant towards the end of that little rant, but he got the gist of it and managed to exchange a blank gaze for an affirmative nod.

"Oh, and Coulson?"

The mild-mannered agent raised his head.

"Sir."

"You know what to do."

And with that, Fury ended the transmission.

. . .

A mass crowd of protestors covered the east grounds of The United States Capitol, trailing onto the main roads and causing heavy traffic jams. The afternoon air was heavy with the constant wave of cheers and car horns as people gathered in the thousands, their picket signs raised high above their heads and words made visible for the entire world to see. And at the heart of the pandemonium their majestic leader, clad in a stylish black suit and tie, stood on the steps of the iconic white building, arms animate as he delivered his speech with a passionate force that caused the crowd to swell and roar.

Clint sat apprehensively by a window in the west wing, quietly observing the event with his bow at the ready, a single arrow braced between his fingers.

"I've got two on the ground by the trees. You see them?" Natasha's voice came through the comms in a hushed tone.

"I got 'em."

Two agents hiding riffles were attempting to keep hidden amongst the foliage surrounding the mass of people, and Clint could also see a further suspicious-looking individual on the rooftop of a building behind the crowd on the other side of the street. Moments earlier Fury had given Clint and Natasha orders to take out anyone attempting to assassinate Dermott as he feared the Council had ignored him – again –and taken the initiative themselves to have the man 'taken care of'. The job seemed simple enough, but the crowd was the perfect place to hide an assassin, and Clint suspected that the men by the foliage and on the roof were not the only ones.

"Somethin's not right. Seems too easy…" Clint spoke quietly as he lifted the bow, a soft creaking noise escaping it as he pulled the arrow back against the string.

"Just keep your eyes peeled," Fury's voice came through the comms, calm but commanding as he stood on the bridge of the Helicarrier, monitoring the situation.

Natasha stood on the outskirts of the crowd not far from the steps of the building, dressed in black skinny fit jeans, a red top and a beige jacket. She was assessing the situation on the ground, keeping her eyes on the building's windows behind the target for any signs of trouble. It was likely that many of the men in sight were decoys or simply there to cover the real assassin that she suspected remained hidden in the crowd.

The sea of protesters erupted into applause and cheering as Dermott finished a lengthy segment of his speech. Natasha kept her eyes on the crowd.

"Don't know 'bout you, but I'm findin' it real hard resistin' the urge to pincushion this guy right now," Clint said.

She quirked a small smile before turning to assess the position of the other suspicious men already identified.

"Yeah, well save it. You've got plenty of target practice already."

Clint could see the man on the roof across the street was beginning to take his aim at his target, and he let the arrow fly, landing a clean shot right in the guy's eye socket.

"Rooftop's clear."

Natasha made her way around the edge of the crowd and snuck up behind one of the agents hidden in the foliage, knocking him out with a few blows to the head. The guy never saw her coming.

"Amateurs…" She breathed before making her way back into the horde of people.

Dermott's speech appeared to be approaching its end, but unbeknownst to his eager supporters it was merely the beginning of something much greater, something worthy of far more concern to our heroes.

The other rogue agent within the foliage on the east side of the crowd aimed his sniper rifle at the instigator stood atop the steps, and Clint let another arrow fly, neutralising the problem. However, amongst the cheering and applauding Natasha spotted another man who appeared to be making his way through the crowd towards the front, his right hand tucked behind his open navy jacket. She urged her way into the mass of protestors, pushing her way through as she reached for her own gun.

"We have a rogue agent in the crowd, east. Suspect is male, blue Boston cap, navy jacket. I'm in pursuit."

"I see him," Clint breathed as he aimed another arrow at the blue cap worming its way through the sea of people below. Unfortunately there were so many picket signs obstructing his view that he couldn't get a clear shot unless the man inched his way a little closer to the front of the crowd.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and Natasha raised her gun instinctively. She turned to find where the noise had come from, only to discover that they were merely firecrackers that a few teenagers had set off. The noises continued to impair her senses, the mini explosions accompanied by the roar of the excitable spectators thundering through the air as she continued to pursue the suspicious man in the cap. She reached a small opening and had a clean shot at her target when another bang echoed around the grounds, only this time is wasn't a firecracker. A woman to her left dropped to the floor, and Natasha raised her head to a window in the east wing of the white building in front of her.
The man in the window aimed his rifle again, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid the gun shots of his target. Natasha fired at the window, but by now the crowd had caught on to the danger that surrounded them. The cheers from the centre of the crowd gradually turned to screams as people pushed forward towards the building in what was rapidly dissolving into a mindless panicked stampede.

"Shit! I've lost him! Take him down!" Natasha shouted.

Fury leaned against the table as he and the rest of the crew, including Agent Hill, listened to the live audio feed and a news broadcast of the event played on the many monitors on board.

"On it," Clint murmured, holding his breath as he followed the blue cap's purposeful strides towards the front of the chaos.

He released his grip and the arrow whistled above the heads of frantic spectators, barely grazing the cheek of a young woman before imbedding itself in the head of his target. Instantly the hired bodyguards from the hotel made their way down the steps and began to fire at Natasha. The crowd scattered, and that was when Clint noticed him. It was another man, to the west side of the grounds, holding a picket sign and dressed in similar clothing to most of Dermott's devout followers, but he was not running away from the fight. The man dropped the picket sign and hastily made his way towards the steps, pulling a gun from the inside of his coat. Before Clint could reach for another arrow and aim it square between his eyes the man pulled the trigger, and Dermott fell to the floor. It was a clean shot to the head, and Clint's arrow was barely a second too late as it found the assassin's skull.

"…Shit…" Clint breathed, lowering his bow and blinking as the beads of sweat dripped down his brow.

"…Suspect is down…"

The disembodied voice of the archer echoed around the walls of the Hellicarrier Bridge, falling on the ears of its defeated crew members.

Fury sighed heavily, lowering his head. If Dermott wasn't Loki, then a shot like that would have killed him. It was good news in a way – the man was no longer a threat to S.H.I.E.L.D or the safety of its associates. But on the other hand, Loki was still missing…

"…Wait…" Natasha's voice added, shakily.

The Helicarrier fell totally silent, and Fury lifted his head slowly to view the footage on the screen in front of him.

"Tasha?"

Natasha could hear Clint's voice over the comms, and he was clearly disconcerted.

And for good reason, because the suspect – Dermott – was moving.

More than that, he was rising to his feet.

Natasha aimed her gun at the bloodied man, his head still bowed as he slowly rose to a standing position. His dark hair appeared to be much longer than before, black suddenly crawling like ink from the roots to the tips as the hairs grew longer, stray locks trailing down the sides of his pale, blood-spattered face. He exhaled slowly, the long hiss dissolving into a low cackle – it was faint, too faint to possibly be audible against the continuing screams of the fleeing crowds, but Natasha, Clint, everyone in fact who was listening to the feed, could hear it. The cackle grew louder still, until it swelled to become a deep, menacing laugh.
Natasha felt a bead of sweat skid down the side of her temple as her wide eyes remained glued to the tall figure that gradually came to its feet atop the stairs, looming over her and the mass of people yet to flee the grounds.

"Agent Romanoff," the familiar velvet voice purred. "Did you miss me?"

He raised his head, levelling his posture so that the full extent of his tall frame towered above her and the ant-like followers on the ground.

"Loki…" Natasha whispered. She tightened her grip on the gun in her hands, and Loki grinned, obviously delighted by the reaction he was evoking.

"I did enjoy our brief encounter the other day. I would have stopped to chat, but alas, I have been rather busy of late." He made his way down the steps slowly and gracefully as he smiled; a familiar one she had seen him pull when he had been held captive on the Helicarrier.
He had no sooner made it two steps when an arrow flew from the far west corner of the building behind him. He lifted his hand and caught it easily before it could make itself cosy in the base of his skull, but before he could throw the thing aside the arrow head flashed blue and exploded in his hand. Natasha ducked for cover, raising her arms to shield her eyes, but she caught a glimpse of the still-standing trickster, smoke streaming from his unscathed frame in the gentle breeze.

"You are only making matters much worse for yourselves, you know," he breathed, grin no longer present.

Natasha regained her footing, and noticed a small golden cane with a glassy blue tip melt into vision within his left palm as he swung to his right and fired a blue bolt of energy at Clint's window. The archer dived out of sight, rolling across the floor and under a table as glass and plaster exploded within the room in a bright flash of blue heat.
The explosion created a powerful wave of air that pushed back on the god and his red-haired enemy, causing the tail of his long fitted jacket to dance black in the wind.

Natasha ran for the nearest cover, shooting at the trickster as she did so, but the bullets had no effect and were simply deflected. He waved them aside as if they were nothing, like insignificant insects. The remaining rogue agents on the ground also began to shoot, however each met an expedient end in flashes of blue as Loki fired his small cane-like sceptre.

The god of mischief made his way back up the steps and positioned himself at the very centre of the platform. He slid a hand along his cane, extending it to its full length, a similar-looking sceptre to his previous design, only it looked more like a spear now, the blade shining silver, engraved with intricate weaves and ancient scripture.

He struck the floor with the end of the sceptre, hard, the loud crack rippling through the grounds, causing the crowd to stop and turn, to listen once more to their leader, born again in chaos.

"People of the free world!" His voice, strong and commanding, reached the ears of the frightened protestors as it was carried booming on the wings of the growing breeze. The grounds fell eerily silent as he spoke, and Loki breathed a laugh at his own choice of words and the sight of his supporters before him.

"Free world," he snorted, "Such a romantic concept." Then he smiled, pitying. "An idea. A delusion. An illusion conjured up by your so-called leaders and protectors, the very protectors that have deceived you and will continue to do so unless you choose to act now and stand against them. I offer you this chance. Will you take back control? Have you the strength? Have you the courage? Will you rule, or be ruled?"

He paced the platform slowly, eyeing his spectators who remained frozen, listening intensely to his every word, from fear or awe, or both. There was silence at first, but with his words the crowd began to whisper, to speak and shout, until there was again a dull roar laying the soundtrack to his speech.

"I stand before you the same man who pulled you from the ashes of grief and despair, who gave each and every one of you a voice, a voice that cannot be silenced or shunned, a voice that demands justice for the crimes your protectors have committed," Loki's voice rang out.

"I ask you,stand. Pledge your allegiance to me, and I promise you… you will have your justice. I shall deliver it into your waiting hands. Now."

His grin grew into a wide smile as he motioned to another bodyguard hidden in the shadows behind him.

The doors to the building opened, and four armed men – military by their camouflage uniforms and guns – walked towards the edge of the platform, each pushing a figure with a bag over their head and their wrists bound behind them.

"Look upon the guilty faces of your guardians!" Loki shouted as each of the armed men lifted the bags from the heads of their prisoners, revealing the terrified faces of three men and a woman, their mouths taped crudely shut.

Fury could see them clearly in the live news footage on his screen, and his heart plummeted.

"Sir, that… that's the –" Agent Hill uttered.

"—I know…" Fury interrupted in a grave voice.

Loki had the Council.

How the hell had Loki managed to track down the members of the Council!?

Gradually, more military men began to circle the grounds, keeping the crowd of spectators locked in a mass horde to pay witness to the scene unfolding atop the white stairs. Loki's deal with Hammer had paid off, as had his deal with Senator Stern, because he had a great deal of support and protection from the military right now, and that realisation troubled Fury deeply.

"These leaders and those faceless, nameless criminals who destroyed the city of New York are one and the same. They sentenced you, the people, to die. Your brothers and fathers. Your sisters and mothers. Your friends. They are the same criminals who have tried to silence you when you demanded answers, when you sought justice for their unforgivable crimes, and they are the same criminals who attempted to silence me." Loki continued.

"But we shall be silent no longer!"

The crowd began then to shout and cheer in support in earnest, and Natasha could barely believe what she was seeing and hearing unfold.

She raised a hand to her earpiece.

"Clint!? Clint, are you there!?"

The archer had made his way out of the devastated room, fire burning at his back, and was attempting to find a way down the inside of the building to the main entrance where a public execution appeared to be underway.

"I'm okay. The place is swarmin' with militia though."

"He's found the Council members. They're here."

"What!?"

"I think it's a public execution."

Clint sprang into action and began firing arrows at unsuspecting gunmen that were patrolling the area. The quiet whistling of the arrows as he let them fly offered his enemies little warning, and each man fell one after the other as the crowd continued to roar outside. A couple of gunmen noticed a body of one of their unit, face down on the marble floor, an arrow protruding from the back of his neck. They readied their guns.

"The Hawk?" one of the men asked his comrade, who nodded silently.

"I heard he can hit a target as small as a fly over 100 feet away."

"Pfft, oh yeah? I heard he used to do tricks for peanuts at the circus. Which sounds more likely to you–?"

Suddenly, the gunman winced in pain before falling face first onto the floor. An arrow was neatly lodged dead centre in the small anarchy tattoo on the back of his neck. His comrade blinked in shock and instinctively raised his gun.

"Shit! Where is he!?"

"Caw caw, mothafucka," a voice breathed behind him.

Before the gunman could react the archer's bow was already pressed firmly against his windpipe, Clint pulling hard from behind. He kneed the man in the lower back a few times before striking a fatal blow to his skull. Clint reached down to remove the arrow from the other body on the floor, placing it back into the quiver and replacing the arrow head as he did so.

"Sorry. Thought that was a bull's-eye. Guess I don't get those peanuts then."

He could see the building's exit where Loki continued to make his voice heard outside at the top of the stairs, and made his way towards it in a sprint.

Meanwhile, Natasha noticed a few unused firecrackers lying on the floor, and knelt to pick them up. Most of them seemed to be damaged, most likely during the chaos that had ensued moments earlier, but one seemed to be in good enough shape. It would do. She pocketed it and continued to move through the crowd of cheering supporters who were blinded by the prospect of revenge as their leader continued.

"I believe in the true concept of justice! An eye for an eye…"

The trickster grinned.

And a lie for a lie.

He gave the signal to the gunmen behind the kneeling prisoners to open fire, but one by one they began to fall to the ground, an arrow buried in the back of each of their necks. More soldiers appeared from the fringe of the grounds and began firing at the Council members who had risen to their feet and made a run for it. The crowd scattered now as men took aim and fired, fired again, and the three of the four prisoners fell, but the remaining one managed to run through the building's entrance, passing Clint as they did so.

The archer kicked forward and made to strike the trickster square between the eyes with his bow, but Loki was far too quick for him. The bow fell to the floor with a loud crack, and Clint found his feet barely touching the ground as Loki grabbed him, tightening his spidery fingers in a vice-like grip around his throat.

Natasha lunged forward to save her partner only to be warned by the glowing core of Loki's sceptre as he aimed it steadily towards her. She stopped and resumed her fighting stance, a venomous glare directed at the monster before her.

"Look at the two of you, the happy couple. Come now, don't tell me this isn't love," Loki sneered at Natasha.

"Put him down Loki, or –"

"—Or you'll what? Kill me?" he laughed, "Your superiors attempted to do just that and failed spectacularly in case you had forgotten. You're clearly outmatched here. But if you wish to save him in the hope of wiping that ledger of yours clean… then by all means, you are welcome to try."

"Tasha…" Clint choked as he held on to the arm of his captor. He shook his head, urging her to back down, but she wasn't going to give up so easily, least of all to a monster like Loki. All the while the soldiers under his command began to circle the trio, guns at the ready and aimed at the two assassins either side of the god.

"Such tragic circumstances…" Loki grinned, tightening his grip on the archer's throat.

Natasha glanced at the closing ring of enemies quickly before meeting the eyes of her partner. She gave him a knowing look, shifting her eyes quickly to the bow beneath his feet, a warning for him to prepare himself for the next move she was about to make. He got the message.

"…I am curious to know just how far you would go to save him."

In a lightening quick move, Natasha threw one of the firecrackers towards Loki, reached for her other gun and fired at it. The small cylinder exploded with a loud bang right in the face of the trickster, and an adequate cloud of smoke veiled the trio in the centre of the ring. Instantly a number of soldiers began to shoot blindly into the white fog. Loki's initial reaction was to shield his eyes, lowering his guard enough for Clint to reach for the arrow already prepared in his quiver and thrust it into the god's shoulder. It barely impaled his arm, but was lodged deep enough to trigger the acid contained in the arrow's head to spill. Loki cried out in shock and instantly released the archer who was quick to grab his bow and fire a number of arrows through the smoke, each one hitting its target directly in the throat.

Loki reached for the arrow still protruding from his shoulder and removed it with a hiss. The acid had done little damage to the Asgardian's tough skin, but it had hurt nonetheless. He raised his sceptre and fired it through the dissipating cloud towards the two agents who had made their escape through the building's entrance. The blast missed by a hair, but the shockwave still caused them to lose their footing as chunks of debris flew above them in a cloud of dust and smoke.
Ears ringing, Natasha lifted her head to find Clint rolling onto his side, face twisted with pain. He had a few bullet holes in him, and the reinforced vest he was wearing hadn't quite managed to stop all of the shots that had been fired. To make matters worse, the last of his arrows had been spent, and Loki was making determined strides through the doorway towards them in the settling dust.

"Agent Romanoff!? You've got a jet coming in now," Fury's voice called over the comms, a relief given the circumstances.

"Clint, c'mon! Get up!" she hissed to him, trying to pull him to his feet as she stood. She looked out towards the open doors of the exit and could hear the approaching jet – the Quinjet II most likely – from the far end of the grounds. With Clint on his feet the two made their way out of the building.

Just outside Natasha could see the Council member that had managed to escape relatively unscathed, running towards the black craft that was landing on the grass. Natasha limped her way to the lowering rear door, the injured archer leaning against her shoulder for support as his legs began to fail him. She sat him down on one of the passenger seats as another agent exited the craft and helped the last surviving Council member on board.

"You – you shoulda just –"

"–Shhhh," she hushed him softly, kneeling on one leg as she strapped him in, "I wasn't going to leave you out there with no ammo."

"I had a gun," he breathed.

"But your aim's off, and your hand-to-hand combat's gotten a little sloppy lately," she smiled faintly.

Clint scoffed at that through a smile of his own.

The other S.H.I.E.L.D agent attempted to close the door so they could take-off, but the platform would not lift.

"Door's jammed! It won't budge!"

Natasha turned her head and noticed the approaching group of heavily armed enemy soldiers through the stray gunfire that was beginning to reach their ride, accompanied by the trickster himself.

"Leaving so soon?" Loki's voice rang softly in her ears. She appeared to be the only one who could hear him. "I'm afraid I cannot allow that."

"Loki…" her own internal voice replied with mixture of fear and rage.

"You have one of my prisoners, and I do not take kindly to thieves…unless, of course, you wish to make a trade?"

Natasha's eyes shifted to Clint who was anxiously watching their enemy draw ever closer.

"I know it is not my prisoner you are protective of though, is it? No. You fear for his life."

She swallowed hard, fighting off the growing anxiety in the pit of her stomach as she shut her eyes, shut out the light and the painful present. But Loki's words continued to haunt her, continued to suffocate her with their merciless truth and strip her of her usual strong will and cold indifference. She was bare, naked before him in the darkness.

"I can spare him," he said softly, promising, "I will spare them all. You pray for redemption, I offer you the opportunity."

Her eyes opened, and Clint was looking directly at her now, his concern made obvious in his furrowed brow. Natasha made to stand, but he grabbed her wrist.

"Tasha? –"

"–You saved me, all those years ago. I owe you, Clint. I owe you so much–"

"You don't owe me anythin'. Tasha, why are you sayin' this? –"

"–And you were always there for me," she said appreciatively, turning her hand over in his grip, her thumb stroking his wrist.

Clint's eyes hid nothing. His heart, his honour, his pride, everything lay before the woman he loved.

"I'd follow you anywhere," he said wholeheartedly.

Without hesitation Natasha leaned in and their lips met in a desperate kiss. It was a lovers' kiss, passionate, enduring, and one that reflected a love for one another that had never been spoken openly. Their love was a silent one, and one too often governed by their duty.

She pulled away reluctantly, and Clint protested, pushing his weight against the oppressive safety harnesses as he followed her lips.

"Not this time," she breathed in his ear, voice trembling as her lips lingered there.

Clint heard the soft clicking of metal, and a coldness around his wrist as Natasha handcuffed him to the seat. His eyes remained fixed on hers, silently pleading with her not to go through with what he feared she was about to do, a deep unyielding pain burning behind them.

She left the craft, never looking back at the desperate man she had left behind.

"TASHA! NO!"

Loki smiled.

"You got what you wanted. Now let them go," she mentally projected her voice to the smirking monster that stopped but 50 yards from the jet.

"Of course," he complied, and the door began to close of its own accord, all the while the archer's desperate cries fell on deaf ears, the noise of the craft's engine smothering them. He caught the last glimpse of his partner through the shrinking crease of light before the door hissed closed, and they made their escape, unhindered.

"TURN THIS THING AROUND NOW!" Clint yelled at the pilot.

"I can't! – the controls are locked, and all weapons are disabled!"

"I know what you're planning to do, but I won't become one of your puppets."

Clint could still hear Natasha's voice over the comms, and he listened intently to the words, a prayer caught in his throat. Let her make it.

Natasha approached the barricade of guns and their leader at its centre, his sceptre catching the fleeting sunlight.

Loki sniggered.

"If you wish to resist, I will not disappoint. However, your lover and his friends could so very easily plummet to their deaths if you do. And then your noble sacrifice would be for naught."

Her mask, the very one that she had mastered over the many years in her profession, cracked then; shattered into tiny fragments that crumbled to dust before her very eyes. She was compromised, trapped within a prison that had no bars or walls, to be tortured or controlled, used as Loki saw fit, and she could see no escape.

No escape…

She raised her hands behind her head and knelt, the guns' aim following, and the monster grinning with sheer delight at his triumph.

No escape…

Loki stepped forward, his staff at the ready.

No…

She closed her eyes, tried to summon the good memories that she and Clint had shared, the few that were truly theirs alone. They were buried so deep beneath the nightmares, but truly, they were no deeper than the very heart that held them.

"…red."

"What?" Loki breathed.

Natasha opened her eyes and met the monsters' above her, a small smile tugging at her lips as a single tear fell down her cheek, the only weakness she would allow herself as her world came crashing down around her. She pulled out a gun hidden in her sleeve jacket, but did not fire it at Loki, nor did she fire it at any of his loyal gunmen.

There was a loud bang, and then nothing but static in the archer's ear.

"TASHA!?... TASHA!"

Clint screamed desperately, struggling to free himself from his restraints, bloody wrist showing the beginnings of deep bruising beneath the metal cuff. But he and the other occupants of the jet continued to drift further away from the disaster that had taken place.

The crew on board the Helicarrier were silent. Agent Hill, blinking with shock and disbelief, stared into some distant space, and Fury slowly bowed his head as the archer's cries echoed unremittingly over the audio feed.

"Sir, should I give the order to pursue?" a soldier asked Loki who remained still, staring quietly at the lifeless body of his red-haired enemy.

"No…" he breathed as he turned towards the helicopter that was landing behind them. "They will meet their end soon enough…"
The soldier nodded then stared down at the body by his feet. The woman looked so serene, her mouth turned ever so slightly in a soft smile, the trail left by a lone tear still fresh on her pale cheek, and her dark eyes half lidded.

"…They always do."