Elise looked down at the driveway from the top of the half-demolished cabin, watching as several black vans emblazoned with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s logo pulled up. They were followed by a sedan bearing the same decal, as well as two more cars whose doors read: "Allegheney County Police." Two S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents aimed their weapons at Loki as Thor muscled him into one of the vans.
"Check it out," Iron Man said as he approached Elise. "They brought a puppy."
She watched the cadaver dog, a Doberman, jump from one of the police cars, and she knew that it wouldn't take long for them to find the bodies Loki had left in the National Forest.
Iron Man held out his metal-gloved hand. "Time to go," he said.
Elise gave him an ugly look, but ultimately placed her hand in his and let him pull her up. She stood on one leg until he hoisted her over up and over his shoulder. The metal of his suit dug painfully into her abdomen. She didn't have time to brace herself before they were in the air. They descended slowly to the ground, and Iron Man carried Elise to a van, but not the one that Loki would be riding in.
"Fuckery?" Iron Man mocked. "That's a new one. Did you come up with that on your own, or..."
"Can you just help me figure out what to do about the arrow in my leg?" Elise snapped.
"Can't, not a doctor." He turned around to address someone else. "Clint, can you unshoot this arrow in Elise's leg?"
The man he was speaking to stopped what he was doing and walked toward the van. He was carrying a modern-looking bow in his hand and a quiver on his back.
"No," he replied humorlessly. "I can take it out, though."
"You know what I mean," Iron Man said. "Watch her for a minute, will ya?"
Iron Man took off, and Clint stepped forward, stopping at the edge of the back of the van where Elise was perched. He crouched down to reach her ankle and examined the wound.
"I got you good, didn't I?" he said.
Elise winced when he touched the arrow. "Was it really necessary to shoot me?" she asked.
"Yeah," said Clint, "if you wanted to live."
As he began to maneuver the projectile out of Elise's muscle, she teared up. "I was perfectly healthy before an arrow became lodged in my ankle," she replied though gritted teeth.
"I know that's not true." Clint didn't take his eyes or hands off of the arrow and the wound as he spoke. "And there were only two ways that could have gone without intervention. Either you were Loki's bargaining chip, or you went down with him." He yanked the arrow out abruptly, tearing Elise's skin.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Elise clutched the open wound, pressing her palm into it to slow the bleeding.
"Don't be a baby," Clint said. "It was just a bullet-point, and it came out pretty clean." He lifted the flap on one of his vest pockets and extracted a bandage and gauze. "Let me see that one more time."
Hesitantly, Elise let go of her ankle so that Clint could wrap it. As she began to calm down, other thoughts found their way into her head. "Where's Loki going?" she asked.
"That's classified," Clint replied bluntly.
"Fine," Elise said. "Where am I going, then?"
The expression on Clint's face was as though he had wanted to roll his eyes but hadn't been able to summon the energy. "Same place."
"Why can't you tell me if I'm going to find out anyway?"
Clint stood up straight. "Why do you think we're taking you there in a windowless van?" He watched her, waiting for an answer, but when none came, he said, "Scoot in. It's time to hit the road."
That was just what Elise did; she literally scooted backward to avoid putting pressure on her injured leg. Clint jumped into the van once she was out of the way, pulled the doors shut, and helped Elise into her seat.
"No handcuffs this time?" said Elise.
"You're not getting far with that puncture wound," Clint replied.
"I thought handcuffs were 'protocol.'"
"Protocol's not my style."
There was a long and uncomfortable pause as the van started moving. Elise looked at Clint, but he was focused on swabbing her blood from the arrow that he had just extracted from her leg.
"Isn't that unsanitary?" Elise scolded. "Don't you worry about hepatitis, or-"
"You know how I just said that protocol isn't my style?" Clint interrupted.
"Yeah."
"Fraternizing with the enemy isn't my style, either."
Elise knew that she shouldn't have expected him to be friendly - or even polite, given her previous encounters with S.H.I.E.L.D. - but she wanted to talk to someone to take her mind off of what was happening. "How long are we gonna be in this van?" she asked.
"Why don't you take a nap?" Clint said.
"So it's gonna be a long ride?"
Clint didn't reply; he just looked at the floor of the van as it rocked over a bump in the road.
Elise slumped to the side and tried to follow his advice. As the roads became smoother, she fell into a much-needed, dreamless sleep. Later – though she couldn't be sure how much later – Elise woke when another bump passed under the wheels of the vehicle. Instinctively, she raised her head to look out the window, but she was troubled to find that there were one.
"Where are we?" she asked groggily.
"Getting close," Clint answered.
Elise's eyes took longer than usual to adjust to being open. "How long was I asleep?"
"About six hours." Clint seemed to consider carefully what he was going to say next. "You wanna know where you're going?"
"Well, yeah."
After a moment of silence, Clint answered his own question with one word: "Court."
Elise shot up straight. "What? How?"
He ignored her reaction. "There'll be a lot of cameras outside. Be ready for that."
"No," Elise said, "I'm not going to court. I don't have an attorney."
"I thought you were an attorney."
"I was," Elise replied defensively. "I mean, I am. And nobody's read me my rights yet."
For the first time, a smile cracked on Clint's face. "You don't have rights yet."
"I'm an American citizen," Elise snarled. "I always have rights."
"This isn't the first time you've been detained by S.H.I.E.L.D.," Clint said. "You should already know by now how much you don't know." As the van creaked to a stop, he positioned himself at the double doors at the back.
As the doors flung open, bright light seared Elise's eyes. The mild intensity of the half-obscured sun was aggravated by the snaps of a hundred flash bulbs.
"Come on," Clint urged.
Elise scooted to the edge of the van and, with her eyes half-lidded, groped for his hand. He helped her to the ground, and she flung an arm around his shoulder to take the weight off of her wounded leg. She kept her head down as Clint guided her through the crowd. Through the slits beneath her eyelids, she could see the pantlegs of police officers' uniforms facing throngs of civilian feet and calves. She could hear people shouting – definitely shouting at her – but their words were drowned in their own ferocity and rage. As she ascended the short staircase to the courthouse, a portion of which was still under repair, she was struck by a plastic vessel full of slush, which splashed onto her shoulders and the side of her head. She turned her head slightly to see a newly-empty "Big Gulp" cup, rolling back toward its source on its side. As they ducked into the building, Elise glanced quickly behind her to see police flood onto the steps to intimidate the gathering mob.
With sugary goop dripping from her hair, she leaned on a table as a short, stout security officer waved a metal detector over her. Finding nothing, she motioned her through. Limping along, Elise proceeded down the hall, escorted by Clint, who managed to pass the security check without being x-rayed or asked to leave his weapon behind.
Before they got very far, they were stopped by two uniformed New York police officers of comically disparate heights and ages. Clint held Elise steady while the younger and taller of the two handcuffed her. Once her wrists were secured at her front, the other officer recited, from memory, the rights to which she was entitled. He asked her repeatedly whether she understood, and each time, she nodded.
Elise and Clint proceeded on, flanked by the officers on either side. As they closed in on the entrance to the courtroom, Elise was surprised and relieved to hear a familiar voice.
"'Lise!"
She had never been so happy to see her boss before. Skip Parmeri bumbled across the marble floor, briefcase in hand. Clint stopped walking while he approached.
"Jesus, 'Lise," Parmeri panted, having exhausted himself by rushing to her, "this is a mess. That turn out good for us, but Jesus, it's a mess!"
"I don't even know what's going on," Elise said. "Where are we?"
Confusion showed on Parmeri's face. "Come on, 'Lise, you've been here a thousand times..."
"No, not physically," she clarified, "where are we on the time line?"
"Right." Parmeri checked his watch. "Well, we're about twenty minutes from your arraignment, and-"
"Wait," Elise interrupted, "you aren't representing me, are you?"
Parmeri nodded. "Of course I am."
She lowered her voice. "Are you sure you want to be tied to this..." She searched for the right metaphor. "Are you sure you want to be on this ship when it sinks?"
Parmeri took a step forward, placed his sweaty palm on Elise's shoulder, and smiled sympathetically. "'Lise, I'm gonna make sure you swim away from this," he said. "I got you into it, and I'm gonna get you out."
Elise was optimistic for the first time in a long time.
"Let's head in," Parmeri suggested, his posture suggesting that the invitation was open to Clint and the officers as well. "Cara's in there with Loki, but I wouldn't put it past her to let him say something stupid."
"Cara? She's handling the case now?" Elise limped toward the court room, still supported by a very quiet Clint and his arm around her torso.
"Picking up where you left off," Parmeri said as he held the door. "Don't sweat it."
Elise entered from the back of the courtroom, and she saw Loki at the front, seated at the center of the table reserved for defendants, facing the empty bench. Seated beside him, stage-left, was Cara. Elise took her seat on Loki's right. Clint took his seat behind the bar behind her, and Parmeri took the seat nearest the prosecutor's station.
"'Lise, Mr. Laufeyson, here's the deal," Parmeri said as he opened his briefcase on the table in front of him. "We're a little late for a plea bargain here - not that there's any kind of deal to be had – and there's a whole, long list of charges. Serious stuff. Don't let that get under your skin, though. 'Lise, you know this. They're throwing everything at us to see what sticks."
Elise nodded. "What do you think might stick?"
Parmeri sighed and snapped his briefcase shut, leaving a few papers out and setting it down beside his chair. "Hard to say, but 'Lise, you're gonna plead 'not guilty,' got it?"
She nodded again. "Got it."
"And how shall I 'plead?'" Loki asked calmly.
Parmeri leaned backward in his seat and turned to Cara. "You explained this to him?"
"Yeah," Cara replied defensively, "but he wouldn't listen."
Parmeri tipped forward in his chair. "'Not guilty by reason of insanity.' But I'll tell you right now, you aren't sayin' anything in this trial. You're the only one at this table who doesn't know the law. You just sit back and try to look like someone who doesn't understand right from wrong."
Loki chuckled softly. "I trust your judgment," he said with a slight smile. "I have no doubt that you are well-versed in the ways of this tribunal."
"You could say that." Parmeri turned in his seat, turned back around, and sighed once more. "Here she comes," he whispered to Elise. "Four o'clock."
Elise turned her head to get a look at the prosecutor. She had crossed paths with her only once before, but Elise instantly recognized her. Their opposition was a tiny, translucent-skinned, bespectacled woman, but she carried herself with the kind of confidence that came only with years of experience – and those years were written in fine lines on her forehead. Her frigid gaze swept the room, finally landing on Elise, sending a shiver down her spine.
"God, I hate her," Elise muttered. "I don't think that woman has a soul."
"Who is she?" Loki asked quietly.
"She's Whitney Mercure," Elise explained. "She's a federal prosecutor. She's who we're up against."
Loki craned his neck to see for himself. "You fear her," he stated plainly.
"You should fear her, too," Parmeri said. "You don't just walk onto a job like hers." He lowered his voice. "No matter what you think of her – personally, I mean – you gotta admit, she's the one to beat."
When Elise turned to look at Mercure again, she noticed that she was approaching. Elise stared at the United States seal that emblazoned the wall behind the bench, avoiding eye contact.
"What are you gawking at, girl?" Loki scolded. "Face your enemy." He tilted his head to meet Mercure's eye. Reluctantly, Elise followed suit.
"Well," Mercure said, "isn't that charming?" She looked to Parmeri and extended her hand. "Always a pleasure to see you, counselor."
Parmeri stood and shook her hand. "Pleasure's all mine," he fibbed.
Whitney Mercure went on to speak as if Elise and Loki were not there. "Let's try to keep things civil in this room, shall we? There already seems to be a riot starting outside; there's no need to start one here."
"Whitney," Parmeri said, "when have I ever let things become less-than-civil?"
She started back toward her own table. "All I'm saying is that if you want to make this a production, I'm prepared for this to become a production." With that warning, she retook her seat, crossed her legs, and busied herself writing something on a legal pad.
Elise opened her mouth to comment on the interaction, but before she could, she heard the all-too-familiar words:
"All rise."
The white-bearded judge entered with his clerk and stepped up to the bench. He looked tired and flustered, as though adjudicating were somehow an annoyance to him. When he was seated, the clerk spoke from her seat.
"The United States District Court for the Southern District of New York is now in session, the Honorable Norman T. Dames presiding."
"Please be seated," said Judge Dames.
Everyone at the defendants' table bent their knees to sit, but they were interrupted.
"Not you," the judge said, pointing at Loki. "You, keep standing." He then gestured at Parmeri. "And you, counselor. You stand up, too."
Elise exchanged a confused glance with Cara behind their backs. She then looked to Whitney Mercure; she too was standing.
"Will counsel please identify themselves for the record?" Judge Dames asked.
The prosecutor spoke first. "Good morning, Your Honor. Whitney Mercure, United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York, for the United States of America."
Parmeri made his introduction next. "Good morning, Your Honor. Skip Parmeri and Cara Fleiss of Parmeri & Associates. We represent defendants Loki Laufeyson and Elise Milton."
"Let's launch right in," said Judge Dames. "Mr. Laufeyson, do you know why you're here today?"
"Yes," Loki replied stoically, "though if you are offering to refresh my memory, I am inclined to accept your offer."
Upon watching the judge's expression change from one of minor irritation to one of pronounced displeasure, Elise had to fight the urge to elbow Loki under the table.
Judge Dames continued. "Mr. Laufeyson, you are here because you've been charged with a federal criminal complaint – really, a litany of charges. Now, generally, I'd ask counsel to waive the reading of the charges, but I'm going to discourage that here, because I want to be sure that you fully understand what you're being charged with. Understood?"
Loki nodded, his eyes fixed on the judge, unmoving.
"Note that the defendant is nodding affirmatively." The judge cleared his throat before he began reading.. "Loki Laufeyson, the charges against you are as follows: one count of unlawful entry into the United States; one count of terrorism transcending an international boundary; one count of conspiracy to commit a terrorist act; two counts of arson; twenty-two counts of murder in the second degree; three counts of murder in the first degree; three counts of attempted murder; two counts of destruction of government property; two counts contempt of court." Judge Dames took a deep breath. "Do you understand these charges, Mr. Laufeyson?"
Parmeri interjected. "Your Honor, my apologies, I'm not sure I heard you correctly," he said. "Three counts of attempted murder?"
"Yes," Judge Dames said, "and three, not four, of murder in the first degree. Did you read the amended complaint?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Parmeri replied.
"Shall we move on?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Mr. Laufeyson," Judge Dames proceeded solemnly, "how do you plead?"
"My client pleads 'not guilty by reason of insanity,' Your Honor," Parmeri announced. "On all counts."
The judge gave Skip Parmeri a disparaging look from the bench, then shrugged his shoulders. "Very well. Defendant will be held without bail."
When the judge's gavel struck the sounding block, Elise knew that it wasn't worth it for Parmeri to argue. No judge would have let Loki out for any amount of money, and that would likely prove true for her, too.
"Elise Milton," the judge said, "have you had the chance to read the complaint?"
"No, Your Honor," Elise said.
"Then I'll read it now." He flipped the page, and, after a dramatic pause, began to read. "Elise Milton, the charges against you are as follows: one count of aiding and abetting a criminal; one count of conspiracy to commit a terrorist act; one count of treason; two counts of murder in the first degree; one count of attempted murder; three counts of assault in the second degree; one count of contempt of court; and one count of rape in the third degree."
"What?" Elise exclaimed. "Rape?"
"In the third degree," the judge repeated impatiently. "I assure you, it's not a mistake."
Elise felt Parmeri's hand on her upper back, cautioning her to keep quiet.
"And Ms. Milton," Judge Dames said, "how do you plead?"
Parmeri beat her to the punch. "Not guilty on all counts, Your Honor."
"All right," the judge replied calmly. He looked over the complaint before him, sighed, and said, "Now, given the gravity of these crimes, I'm inclined to hold both defendants without bail. I trust that the prosecution has no objection that."
"No, Your Honor," said Whitney Mercure.
"Counselor," the judge said, turning to look directly at Parmeri, "is there any reason I should set bail for either of your clients?"
"Your Honor," Parmeri said, "Elise has been through a lot. She needs medical attention, and that's best done in the comfort of her own home."
Mercure chimed in. "She also needs supervision," she said. "She's a flight risk."
"She's not a flight risk," Parmeri retorted. "The poor girl can't even walk on her own."
"Your Honor," said Mercure, "Ms. Milton is accused of domestic terror. Even at home, she could-"
"I'll keep an eye on her," Parmeri interrupted. "I'd stake my reputation on it – she's not going anywhere fast."
"I hope you're prepared to stake your property on it, too," said Judge Dames. "Bail is set at one million dollars for Ms. Milton. Mr. Laufeyson will be held without bail. Is there anything else?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Parmeri said. "I'd like to request ten days to prepare motions."
"This trial has already been delayed for too long," Judge Dames replied, shaking his head. "You'll have two days."
Parmeri's face went red, then white.
Judge Dames rapped his gavel on the sounding block. "This court is now adjourned."
As the judge made his exit, there was a considerable amount of shuffling and chatter in the courtroom as the officers who would escort the defendants out made their way toward them.
"Is this where we part ways?" Loki asked quietly, his eyes still watching the wall ahead.
"Yeah," Elise replied, barely audible.