"Loki."
The god of mischief continued gazing listlessly out the second story window and into the cafeteria.
"Loki."
He'd thought this job Fury needed help with would be relatively simple to complete; it would be a quick way to get Odin off his back for a while and Frigga to stop with her unintentional guilt-tripping smiles. He had not expected to be so thoroughly basted in SHIELDs filth and teething troubles – or that they would persist for so long.
"Loki!"
And to make matters worse, he was only halfway through his contracted time; he was still obligated to stay on Midgard for another year.
"Hey!"
Surely there was some sort of loop-hole within the director's contract that he could exploit.
Fury banged loudly on the table with the flat of his hand.
That contract had not been created by a wordsmith – of course there would been unforeseen holes.
"LOKI!"
Now if Loki had made the contract, all of those holes would have been planned for instead of incidental.
"For fuck's sake!"
And they would all be to his benefit.
"I swear to-"

Loki twisted in his seat to stare back uninterestedly at Fury.
"We've. Got. Nothing!"
He turned back around to look over the auditorium below him. It was free time, and the inmates were conversing and playing card games. If it weren't for the grey walls and uniforms and guns and guards, it seemed almost fun.
"We made a deal."
The slight clench of his jaw was barely visible.
"You'd better come up with something brilliant." Fury got up from the table, ending their hour long one-sided discussion, and stomped over to the door. "Figure something out! Elimination starts tomorrow and we've got fuck-all to show for it."

Loki tightened his grip on the armrests to keep himself from jumping up and slamming Fury into a wall. Not that he could reach. The best he could do with the chains on him now – if he strained hard enough - was a sort of awkward bow. He continued to glare silently out the window, and watched as they rattled slightly in Fury's door-slamming wake. Finally, he was left alone to his loft and his thoughts. There was a soft click as the locks slid into place on the door, and once Fury was done doing whatever it was he did on the screen outside, the restraints on his wrists were loosened and Loki was free to wander around the room. No matter where he wandered though, the long chain trailed behind him and led back to a small hole in the floor near the window. It was only when he had company that the chain shortened and he was confined to that particular spot, but he'd gotten into the habit of staying in that area for all hours of the day. The Avengers seemed to enjoy entering unannounced and watching the cable snap him back to the other side of the room when they entered. It made him pine for his first cell; at least on Asgard he wasn't subjected to this outrage.

The links always pinched and dug into his skin when they were tightened, Loki idly rubbed the red marks on his wrists as he stretched his legs and leaned into the cool glass that separated him from his hidden target. Honestly, he had given the whole thing a fair amount of thought. The problem was that the restrictions that Fury'd placed on him barred him from doing anything truly useful most of the time. Typically he was confined to his loft and forced to watch the inmate's patterns from the window or review the security footage – at least until elimination week. Then he'd finally be released from his prison for a few hours to mill about disguised as a guard. He wasn't entirely looking forward to that part; Tony had made him a 'shock collar' to make sure he'd stay in line, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that the Avengers would abuse it.
It's what he would've done.

Even more infuriating, the director's idea of an 'elimination' round consisted of scooping up everyone at once and terrifying the daylights out of them with a series of tests and interviews. Fury had explained that the only reason that he didn't just call people in pell-mell was because the whole group might start rioting and working together (or as much as they could with undercover agents thrown in the mix). He figured that the elimination round would be a good time to shake things up because he could terrify them all equally and without causing a scene. It was reminiscent of when he moved in and arrested all of the potentials at once.
Loki thought it was tedious; he'd much rather do it his way.

~~~~~~~01100101 01011000 01100101 00100000~~~~~~~

I was ninety nine point nine-nine percent sure that I'd just scared away my only prison friend. Torres had never been a particularly genial person to begin with; but ever since I'd mentioned the security room she seemed to spend more time casting me wary sideways glances than anything else. To be fair, she was apparently under the impression that being well behaved would set us free; so I guess it made sense from her standpoint not to want to be friends with someone who was even considering breaking the rules. I wanted to kick myself; in just under a minute I'd managed to alienate my cellmate – not a clever thing to do in places like these.

She didn't leave though - Torres still dragged me with her to the gym or the laundry room or whatever part of the penitentiary she wanted to visit that day. I was okay with it; it was either this or moping around in the cell. Honestly, I think she'd of left me by now if she had other friends –people less likely to get into trouble or… think of it. The only reason I didn't have any other friends was because everyone else seemed kinda sketchy – which is absurd, seeing as I'm the real criminal here.

"Get up!"
I jerked out of my stupor and looked over to where she was hug-hanging onto a punching bag.
"I'm up." The yoga mats along the edge of the room have an odd way of getting comfortable if you lie on them long enough.
"I mean up up." She said. "All you ever do is sleep."
I scoffed at her blatant disregard for facts and snuggled deeper into the foam-bed.
"Come on," she waved me over and made her way to the treadmills. "I'll race you."
"That's not a fair race." I called from my spot. "You look like a human greyhound-crossed-horse."
"And you look like you haven't run in ages." She muttered.
I turned a slight shade of red and sat up. "I run plenty!" I shouted defensively and glared at her. Torres gave me a skeptical look-over.
"I run scripts."
She scowled from a distance and clipped the safety cord to her chest. "Whatever, your jokes suck."
I shrugged indifferently and eased back down. "Well I'm not exactly in here for making killer puns."
"So what did you make, then?" she asked coyly.
"Nothing."

My half-sleep was interrupted by the gym door clanging shut, and I raised my head to find Five-Group's most gigantic member trudge in and begin leisurely perusing the dumbbell rack. He stopped at the end of the stand and gave a particularly nasty looking weight an experimental curl before walking over and settling himself on a bench near the exit. He can probably lift the whole rack – what's he need just one for? Torres saw him too, and lost some of the speed she'd just gained on the treadmill. It was odd to see him all alone though; that group usually stuck together all hours of the day. I think they spent most of their time either in the cafeteria or each other's cells. The rest are probably just lagging behind – I bet he begged them to come down here. He didn't acknowledge us or anyone else in the room – he just stuck to his dumbbell and never took his eyes off the floor.

"Tor, what's the time?" I called out to her.
"Twenty to six"
I heaved myself up and dusted the dirt off my back. "I'm gonna go shower." If I rushed I could make it - at least the water would be warm; most people showered after dinner. "Are you going to the cell?"
"Nah…" she looked up from her unhurried pace and I caught her gaze linger slightly over the newcomer. "I still want to try that stair-step machine."
Oh, so THAT'S it - she wants to stay here and hit on him. Typical Torres. "I'm going."
"Be down before the gates lock!" She called.
Stop mother-henning me. "Sure."
I passed Big Guy sitting by the door and threw Torres a quick grin over my shoulder. I know what you're doing! I shouted at her internally.

~~~~~~~01100101 01011000 01100101 00100000~~~~~~~

Malotte watched her charge trot out the room. Sometimes she wished she had telepathic powers - because the grin Campbell threw her was absolutely malevolent. She glanced over uneasily to where Pierce was still working his dumbbell. Her cellmate didn't have much communication with anyone else – she doubted very much they'd be in cahoots with the group of five. Still... the sudden appearance of a single member of the group of five – the biggest one to boot – coupled with her targets recent bad behavior…
She just noticed it now, but she was currently the only agent in a gym holding fifteen potentials. That was unsafe. Besides, there was supposed to be about one agent to one criminal; where were these potential's agents? She jumped down from the treadmill and jogged after her target. Cambell was definitely up to something.

~~~~~~~01100101 01011000 01100101 00100000~~~~~~~

"Hey."
I jerked out of my 'I-just-escaped-SHIELD' daydream and looked up to find Torres looming over me.
"Yes boss?"
"Where were you?" She asked suspiciously, setting her plastic tray down across from me.
I raised a brow. "Showering."
She frowned at my wet hair and harrumphed.
She's so clingy sometimes.

Malotte picked up a ketchup packet and tore it open. Tomorrow marked the start of the first elimination round, and she had yet to tell Fury about Cambell's outburst from last week. Not only that, but she still hadn't been informed of Loki's route as a guard; and she wasn't entirely sure what to do with her target should they run into him. Cambell wasn't even technically listed as a high threat because their file hadn't been updated, so how would Loki know to pay attention to her cellmate? Agh, all this last minute stuff is stressing me out.

Torres suddenly tossed a ketchup packet at me, and finished squeezing her second one's contents over her bun.
"Thanks."
"That was yours." She deadpanned.
"Huh?" I bent down and lifted the edge of the plate - and found the three packets that I'd brought were missing. "You didn't."
"I left you one." She grinned impishly.
"You can't give me what's already mine!"
"It's not yours." She said sweetly. "That was paid for with American tax dollars."
"I'm borrowing it." I reached out quickly and switched our plates before she could register what was going on - and bit into her burger before she could stop me.
"Oh you shit – you're going to regret that."
I chewed happily. "S'not your burger."

~~~~~~~01100101 01011000 01100101 00100000~~~~~~~

The room was incredibly dark, save for the soft green light filtering in through the window from the exit sign outside our door. It was deathly quiet too – probably around one or two. The hell woke me up? I wondered blearily. I lay there in the silence for a moment, and was nodding off again when I heard it. Torres shifted in her bed and whimpered quietly.
"Tor?"
She huffed and buried her face into the pillow.
"Torres?"
Nothing.
I got up and padded over to her bed. She was in a kind of kneeling-fetal position clutching her stomach. I reached over and shook her blanketed shoulder gently – she was still whimpering.
"Torres stop it." I said a bit noisily given the quiet atmosphere.
"Nngh." She rolled away from me to face the wall. She looked absolutely pathetic - all pale and sickly and clammy like; or maybe it was just the green light that made her look so bad. I didn't touch her forehead – seemed a bit invasive – but she was probably running a fever too.
"Can you get up?"

I glanced out the small window in our door and wondered where all the guards had run off to; no one had told us what to do if we got sick. I was fairly certain that there was always at least one posted at the end of the hall; but the problem with the wall guards was that they never moved from their spots - I wasn't so certain he'd come with me.
"M' fine," she replied woozily to my unasked question.
I shook her again to make sure she didn't pass out or something. "Listen, I'm gonna call the guards and have them-"
"Naaaa-"
"You're pathetic!" I hissed angrily. "You can't even lift your head!"
"M'fine ." She repeated, feebly batting my hands off her shoulder. "S'important today."
"What?"

Torres just moaned and curled into a tighter ball and rocked herself.
She needs help.
I walked up to the door and peered out the poor excuse of a window; it was about the width of my palm and the length of my forearm. Do I just…? The door was obviously locked, so knocking on the window was the best plan.
I knocked on it twice and waited, but nothing happened. The third time I pounded harder, and a guard suddenly appeared on the other side. It's like Bloody Mary, except SHIELD.
He motioned for me to move out the way, and unlocked the door. It swung open and revealed a second guard behind him brandishing a very nasty looking gun.

"What are you doing out of bed?" the one in front asked gruffly.
"Uh, Torres is really sick." I moved back further into the cell to let them in. The first guard approached her without any of the hesitation he showed me, and turned Torres over onto her back.
"M' fine." she insisted pitifully for the third time.
"Sure you are," he agreed. The second one with the gun nuzzled his chin into his collar. "We're going to need a gurney down in two oh eight." He murmured quietly.
Oh hell no.
"You." He pointed with the butt of his rifle at me, "back to bed."

I scrambled back to my side of the room and watched as a nurse and a couple agents came to escort Torres away. She had insisted on walking, and after a full minute of both sides arguing the agents agreed to follow behind her with the gurney instead. One of them bagged up her belongings while Torres shuffled out, and asked me if she had been sick for very long. She'd been fine when the lights went out. He thanked me and told me I'd be contacted again if they had more questions. After all that was said and done, one of the guards threw me a pointed glare and bolted the door. It's one of those things you can only truly appreciate when they occur; but heavy doors locking sound a thousand times more ominous when it's too dark to see.

~~~~~~~01100101 01011000 01100101 00100000~~~~~~~

Monday morning came far too quickly. Not that he got much sleep anyways; Loki spent most of it sitting in his chair and staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out who he wanted to harass first as a guard. He'd probably go for someone from the group of five; most likely the smallish boy - he seemed nervous. Loki stood up and leaned into the glass to watch the group eat. He could go for the girl too, or the big looking one. The old man seemed to be the ringleader of the group; perhaps it would be best if-
His thoughts were interrupted by a single rap on the door, before it quickly swung open.

Loki was thankful he'd been by the window this time – though standing up. His arms were jerked down and the rest of him followed suit into a hunched over stance.
"There's no need to bow." Natasha said sweetly. Tony followed in behind her, grinning.
Loki sank into the seat behind him and returned the smile, "Its common courtesy to do so when multiple women enter a room."

"There's been a development." Natasha muttered quickly, before the arguments could start.
Loki leaned back and clasped his hands before him. "Do tell."
"You have options now," she continued, taking one of the seats at the table in the middle of the room. "One of our agents was just taken to the infirmary for food poisoning; Fury wants to know if it'd be easier for you to go as an agent instead of a guard."
"For the whole week?" Loki asked, surprised.
"Yes."
He looked down to his cuffs and gave them an experimental tug. "Who is it?" he asked.
"Agent Malotte."
Loki scoffed, "The one who can't do her job?" he frowned at his uninvited guests. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea; it'd be out of character if she did something right for once."

"You'd be in among the potentials instead of just posted along the wall." Natasha explained.
Loki weighed the two. The elimination rounds gave him a chance to move amongst the population unnoticed; the second option made more sense in that respect. But if he went as a guard he'd be able to have more direct control over the prisoners instead of just posing as another one of them. Obviously there'd be unhappy consequences for him if he chose the greater freedom of the agent.
"I'd rather do both."
"Malotte's already been targeted before; the prisoners might get suspicious if she intermittently goes missing throughout the week."
"Pity." Loki murmured. "Have you considered getting rid of her permanently?"
"No." Natasha deadpanned.
"Did you not just say that she is a liability to the integrity of your scam?"
"This isn't a scam," Natasha huffed. "And unless you want to stay up here forever…"
"I'd rather not."
"Then pick." She folded her arms. "Guard or prisoner?"
Loki smiled. "Well when you put it like that…"

Natasha kept her face carefully blank as Loki reclined further into his seat.
"And what of these?" he brought his hands up and wiggled the cuffs. "They're horribly conspicuous."
"That's my job." Tony waved the box he'd just pulled from his pocket. "We tweaked your guard shock collar a little and turned it into a... Well. Shock bracelet – it looks like the inmates barcodes." He held it up to the light and inspected it. "It's juiced up, of course. Took me like, five seconds to make.
"Wonderful." Loki murmured.
"It's really powerful." Tony whirled it around on his index finger, "It would probably turn you into a sniveling pile of goo if it went off."
"Mm."
"I'd like to test i-"
"So which is it?" Natasha interrupted again.

Loki looked back out to the slowly increasing number inmates stuffing their faces with breakfast. He'd have a greater chance of weaseling into the group of five if he went as Malotte. Maybe he'd even manage to get them to admit to their crimes on the first day.
Loki held out his wrists, "Make that 'bracelet' loose enough for me to slip it off."

A/N: BlueEden: I don't actually know, it changes for me - but I'll get it out there when I finally decide. Probs soon. :s
SigmaPsiSin: nonono that's really clever! And I am, well, the… character... *stop giving away my plot*... but yes. THE SCRIPT KIDDIE THo. They pretty much are. I'll get someone to call them out on that xD
AllTheRestAYallNotNamed: thankyou, you beautiful creatures :')

A/N.2: I have no idea why, but this chapter was hell to write. Sorry if it's jerky or whatever but I literally can't even.