I've had some serious fun with this chapter.

"I talked to Clint." She stared. "Don't egg Loki on. He's dangerous." Natasha told her plainly as soon as they were in the SUV, headed to her hole-in-the-wall apartment.

"No, really? I thought he was a cute bunny rabbit." she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the red heads dramatic words, tapping her foot in irritation.

"He didn't actually kill your brother, you know that, right?" Natasha looked beside her at Lana, raising her eyebrows.

"I know he didn't, not personally, anyway." she said, practically spitting out her words. "But he brought that army here. As far as I'm concerned, he might as well of incinerated Alex himself." She knew that her brother was just a casualty of war deep down, but in the end, she needed someone to blame. Loki seemed like a good candidate. Everyone else hated him, too.

She continued, trying to change the subject. "I don't see why you had to drive me." She respected Natasha, but being in close proximity with her in a small, enclosed space? She felt like a fish in a bowl with a cat above.

"I needed to be sure that weren't thinking of doing anything stupid." Natasha said. What did the assassin think she was going to do when she was leaving the alley? Yell abuse as she was leaving? Tell him she wanted kill him? Yeah, that was really crossing the line.

"Me?" she looked aghast, her words full of snark and contempt. "Me, do something stupid? What would make you worried that I would do something stupid?"

"That." Natasha replied, referring to Lana's words. "He could kill you." The redhead continued.

"And so could you, or Clint, or anyone else for that matter." Natasha could kill her in literally hundreds of ways, and could probably kill her with a pineapple if she so chose to. Maybe even yoghurt, if she tried really hard.

"Not like him."

Lana shook her head at her. "And why is he so different? What could he honestly do that you couldn't? In the end, death is still the same. D'you know why? Because it's permanent." She said, practically spelling out the last word.

"He uses your words and your past against you, not just violence."

"That's what you do!" She looked at the window, shaking her head, thinking back to the first time she met the infamous Natasha Romanov. "Hell, that's what you did, to me!"

"Not like him. He gets in your head, even when he's not there. He takes everything you care about and twists it."

"Isn't that what the Maximoff girl does?"

"Yes, actually, except she's on our side now. Just," she started, her eyes containing concern, "be careful. Enough people have died because of him. You don't need to be another casualty."

"Yeah tell me about. Wait," she looked at Natasha with new eyes. "Would that be a caring tone I detect in you voice, Agent Romanov?"

The agent in question kept her eyes the road as she parked flawlessly in between two cars, directly in front of the apartment complex. Lana huffed as it became apparent that Natasha wasn't going to grace her with a response.

"Be quick. I don't like to be kept waiting." the stoic agent said, turning her head to observe the street.

"Don't I know it." The blonde said as she slammed the car door, heading up the stairs to her apartment.

What would she need for her eventual demise at the Tower, she thought as she unlocked her door, throwing her keys on the kitchen counter. She began rifling through her closet, throwing acceptable things onto her bed. She then pawed through her underwear drawer, and threw some more on her bed. She then pulled her purple suitcase out of the closet, opened it, and threw everything on the small pile on her bed into it, and zipped it shut.

"God, what did I get myself into?" She asked the mirror on the wall. Like it would ever give an answer. It never did. She turned away, grabbing a photograph and a locket on the way out.

"Five minutes, eighteen seconds." Natasha said as she threw the suitcase into the trunk. "I'm impressed."

"Well, Nat," Lana said, knowing that it would annoy Natasha to call her that, as a few weeks prior, she reminded her that 'Nat' was exactly like 'knat'. Who knew that the assassin would take it so personally? Actually, Lana's shoulder still hurt from where Natasha had whacked it. "I try to impress you, you know."

"Grow up." Natasha said, rolling her eyes as the car was started, and they were on their way back to the Tower through the hectic streets of New York City.

"I didn't have a childhood, you know, so I'm not exactly that eager to 'grow up'."

"Neither did I," the driver said, referring to a childhood, or lack thereof. "But I had to grow up." Natasha said in a serious voice. She looked over to Lana, a barely perceptible look of pity in her eyes. "It's about time you did, too."

"I guess Stark never took that advice, did he? Or did you even try to share it?"

Natasha snorted. "I don't tend to argue with rocks." Something about that was unbearably funny about the way Natasha had said that, because Lana was now shaking, almost uncontrollably with silent laughter.

Natasha, deciding that she had laughed too much, asked a question to bring Lana back to the land of reality. "How many bodies were there?" Lana looked sheepishly as Natasha whipped around to face her, the question on her face.

"I, um, didn't count."

Natasha let a out deep breath. "Twelve. There were twelve bodies. And don't waste your training," she looked over at the girl, "I spent two months on you. Of my time. Try using it." Did she honestly think that two months of training was enough?

"I know, I'll try." she replied looking out at the snow as they pulled up to the Tower, another agent taking the car as soon as they were out of it.

They stepped into the elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, Lana's phone binged, indicating a text had come in. She pulled up the text message, and surprise of all surprises, Stark had texted.

When you two are done with girl time, get up to living room ASAP.

xox Tony

"How'd did he get my number?" Lana groaned in exasperation.

"Like I said, stop questioning Stark." the agent looked over to where she was standing, leaning against the railing. "What did he want?"

"We supposedly need to go up to the living room. 'ASAP', apparently."

"I hope he's not dragging up there for some stunt he's going to pull." Natasha spoke in an irritated voice, like he had done this before. Great.

"I'm sure he just has information about the bodies, I hope." she shook her head, laughing. "God, I never thought I would be hoping for information about bodies."

"You'll get used to it." was the short reply she was graced as the stopped on the level Stark had requested them to go to, Lana still tugging her small suitcase along.

"Seriously? Why?" Lana muttered, looking at the scene unfolding before them, earning a sideways smirk from Natasha.

No, Stark hadn't called them up for an information meeting; he had called them up for dinner.

"Lana, Natasha! You're back just in time for dinner!" Stark called to them as they returned. Lana mentally kicked herself, forgetting that she should have gotten Natasha to stop for food on the way back to the Tower so she didn't have to deal with this. But then again, Natasha would've just laughed and told her to deal with it. The universe can truly be evil at times.

"Take a seat, you two." he gestured to two opposite seats, one in between himself and Banner, the other between Thor and Steve. Natasha took the one between Thor and Steve, but Lana stayed standing where she was.

"I'm gonna go put this upstairs..." she trailed off, backing up to the now closing elevator doors.

"Nope! Leave it there!" Stark said, pointing to her suitcase, grinning at her obvious discomfort.

"But-"

"Dinner, Whizkid. It's not gonna bite you." She looked at the pizza on the table.

"I think it could." She stared at the food on the table, like it would morph into a vicious animal at any moment, with mozzarella strands for teeth.

"Reaaallly?" Stark raised an eyebrow. "Just sit down, cause either you come sit down or I carry you to the table." He threatened. She groaned, throwing her head back, before shuffling over to the table, to the available seat beside him.

"I dislike you."

"The feeling's mutual." he said, repeating her earlier words, smirking. Stark turned to the other inhabitants of the table. "So, how was everyone's day?"

The majority of everyone, sans Thor, who was busy trying to figure out how to eat his plate of pizza with out making a mess, stared at him with blank stares.

"Okay, then. Great. It went just like mine did." Lana poked the slice of pizza Stark had put on her plate in distaste; she wasn't very fond of American pizza; too much grease.

She saw Thor giving up his attempt to eat the pizza in an orderly manner, and just shoved it in his mouth, leaving tomato sauce around his lips. Loki looked in disdain at his brother, and pushed his untouched plate to the side. Lana snorted. He probably didn't want to get his pristine hands dirty with the filth of mortal food. He glowered in her direction, hearing the sound she had made. She stared back, her eyes not being able to leave his hypnotic stare. She now understood what Natasha had meant. His deep green eyes pierced her soul, or so it seemed. This was not going to be a pleasant stay.

"Hey, children," Stark interrupted their staring contest, Lana's head whipping around to his voice, "stop trying to stare each other to death."

"And you," he poked Lana hard in the shoulder, "don't play with your food."

"Not playing with it. I just don't wanna eat it." She stared at Clint, who was busy shoving food down his throat, hoping for silent approval of her dismissal. That however, didn't come, and she was there, sitting awkwardly while Stark prattled about nothing important. She internally groaned, wondering when this torture would end.

Finally, after more than half an hour of pointlessness, everyone was dismissed from the wreck that had been dinner, which involved Stark trying out a new robot. It nearly obliterated the table when someone said the wrong word, that would being 'please'. Everyone was allowed to leave, on the condition that they would reconvene early the next day.

Lana was finally able to stand up and head toward the that led to the stairwell once Stark and Banner had finished 'discussing' why robots- that were still in the testing stage - should not be used around anyone else.

"Hey, Whizkid, do you wanna go see the lab?" Stark asked hopefully. She rolled her eyes; he probably wanted to brag about his robot.

"No, I think not." she said, edging away with a knowing look on her face.

"Aw, why not?" he said, demonstrating his uncanny puppy-dog eyes.

"Something tells me that if I went into your lab, you would probably blow something up, which," she gestured around her to the remains of the blanked, ashy, practically gone table that their dinner had been on, "you already did with your killer robot."

"Okay, Dummy II had some kinks, I know-" he flapped his arms around awkwardly. "But it was just an algorithm error!" he whined.

"There was a Dummy I?" she questioned. "What happened to it?" she regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth, wanting to snatch them and make them go back. She really didn't want to know what had happened to it; it was probably worse than what had happened at the dinner table.

"Nothing. Dummy I is fine. It's in the workshop, and you can see it if you just," he gestured to himself and Banner, "come with us." Lana held up her hands, and walked to the stairs. She thought about going to her room, as she climbed the stairs, but decided she wanted to see the roof and the interesting view it had to offer. She walked up however many flights of stairs it took to the roof, and pushed open the heavy door leading to the crisp outside.

She skipped over to the side, and sat on the ledge, dangling her feet over the side. New York City wasn't the nicest city she had ever been to, but it was still a beautiful one, in it's own way, that was. From where she was at this height, the buildings and lights below her looked like a sparkling ocean, constant and never ending, always moving.

"That could be quite dangerous in the present company." said a silky voice behind her. She whipped around to face the voice in surprise; she hadn't heard them open the door, much less walk up behind her. Loki. She thought as she saw the god of mischief, great. Just great.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" she said, quickly scooting herself away from the edge and standing up to face his menacing stature.

"You aren't fond of my presence, are you?" he spoke, ignoring her question.

She let out a nervous laugh. "No, not particularly. But you didn't need to ask to find that out."

"I make you uncomfortable." Uh, duh. Yeah, you do. Crazy god, responsible for my brother's death? Yes, oh so uncomfortable.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you do." she responded, rapidly nodding her head up and down.

He looked down at his hand, flipping it over, observing his palm. "Why do they require your assistance? They don't need 'an extra set of eyes', as you put it." He looked back up to her - which was actually down, considering he towered over her - and took a step forward.

"You're right, they really don't. But I don't see," she said, edging to the door, "why you need to know."

"I don't." He said simply, smiling.

"Then why ask?" she nearly shouted in response, throwing her arms up in question.

"I don't need to know; I want to know. I want to know why the great and mighty SHIELD thought that a mere mortal could be privy as to whether my words are true or not." he spat, moving even closer to her than he was before, suddenly a down-right menacing look on his face.

"So, you found out about that, did you?" she said shakily, nearly at the door.

"I find it amusing that they believe you could." He began circling her, almost like he was in a game of cat and mouse, Lana being the mouse. "A mortal, too upset with the death of her brother." She ceased her attempt at moving to the door. How did he know about that? She hadn't said anything near him. She had made sure of that. "I wonder if he felt the pain of the fire." he continued smirking at the tear making its way down her cheek.

"I doubt it." she said through clenched teeth, brushing the tear away with a hand. She had actually thought long and hard about this subject. "He wouldn't have felt anything. No one would have in that building. It vaporized everything." That was always a relief to her, knowing that. "You vaporized everything, actually."

"But you're still afraid that he did." She saw what he was doing; he was trying to scare her, and get into her head, just like Natasha had said. Her life had been ruined enough by him; she wasn't going to let it be anymore.

"Of course I am. Fire is a horrible way to die. But enough about him. What about you? Why are you here, really?" He looked at her with scathing eyes, almost demanding a silent explanation as to why she asked him, a god, so high above her, a question. But for some reason, he answered, albeit with what she already knew.

"As you're director said: to 'help'."

"You? Helping?" she snorted. "Yeah, when Hell freezes over. You're probably here just to get out of the dungeons. That's where you were, weren't you? In Daddy's dungeon?" His eyes were blazing. She smiled at him, this time her face with a sadistic edge; this was as close to payback as she was ever going to get. "Oh, that's right, isn't it? Daddy's not actually your Daddy, is he?" He took a step closer, fists clenched. Those fists were probably going to be in her face soon, but she wasn't going to be stopping. "How far you've fallen. You used to be a prince, and now, you've been removed from the throne. Twice, no less. You are such a failure - " his hand shot out, grasping her throat.

"You know not of what you speak." he hissed dangerously in her ear. She laughed against him.

"Oh? I don't? It seems pretty simple. Prince falls from the throne, tries to get another throne, gets sent to prison for trying to get said throne, gets out, takes back the original throne, and then gets pushed off. Again." He nearly growled, clutching her throat tighter. She thought he was actually going to kill her in that moment when a whoosh of air flew past her, and she was on the other side of the roof. She coughed violently, and was hit with an equally violent wave of nausea, causing her to look down to make sure the roof was still intact, and not breaking apart from some unknown force. She then took a second to wonder how on Earth she got over here. But that could wait, seeing as Loki was still on the roof. He looked in disbelief at her, his hand still in the air, where her neck was. He slowly shook his head, and quickly exited the roof, his foot steps echoing, his stomping going several flights down before she could no longer hear it.

Lana massaged her throat, but it had been worth it. She had pissed him off, which was by no means the smartest thing she had ever done, but she felt that his stomping off was a small victory, and it was better than nothing.

Soon after the incident on the roof, she had practically run down to her room. She had then thrown up in the elaborate bathroom, and had promptly fallen asleep in an awkward position. She barely had time to consider her miraculous shift of spacial coordinates before a unrest-less sleep overcame her.

Smoke. Smoke, she smelled smoke. She shot up in her bed, and opened her eye. Everything was foggy, or more accurately, smoky.

She coughed and rubbed her eyes as the smoke infiltrated her lungs. She looked wildly around, searching for the source of the smoke, but was unable to find one at first. Then she looked over to the wooden desk, which the flames danced on, greedily devouring the wood, turning it to ash.

"FRIDAY?" she looked up at the ceiling. No response. Her gut clenched. "FRIDAY?" she coughed out again, longing for the snarky Irish voice. As she was getting out of her bed, her foot brushed about against something hot, and she cried out in pain. Even after multiple pleas, the AI still wasn't responding, much to her dismay. She stumbled over to the heavy metal of her door. Why Stark needed to have 2-inch thick steel doors? She, and the world, may never know. Lana tried the handle, which turned, but the door didn't move. She pushed against it with all of her body, but it still wouldn't budge. There must be something blocking it, she thought.

But at that time, she didn't have the time to figure out how to move whatever was blocking, because she might have not even been able to, considering it was on the other side of the door. She searched for another way out, and her eyes landed on an air vent. She had always heard Clint talk about how easy it was to navigate air vents. Knowing Stark, though these air vents probably had a laser trip system, which at this time, seemed like a good thing to her; it could alert him that something was on fire.

She pried off the metal grating of the vent, breaking several fingernails in the process, which, unbeknownst to her, caused blood to smear on the wall as she was finally able to rip the covering off. She then grabbed her photograph and locket, the only two possessions she cared about, and ran back to the side of the room with the now unobstructed vent. Before attempting to climb up, she whipped her head around, hearing a very odd noise, almost like breathing.

At that same moment, out of nowhere, the smoke seemed to lose its chaotic form, and became more... corporeal as it suddenly flew at her, causing her to shriek, and at that moment, she hopped up into the air vent. For some reason, the smoke didn't seem to follow her as she made her way through the expansive air vents, bumping blindly into things in the dark. Smoke. Moving around. How could smoke be moving around, on its own. She had seen some weird things at her time with SHIELD, but she had never seen smoke that almost seemed to think.

She was pulled out of her thoughts suddenly, as she fell through a hole. Lana let out a strangled gasp as she landed on her ankle, the pain slithering its way up her spine. She clutched her ankle in agony as she curled up into a fetal position. She sat there breathing heavily for several minutes before moving on. After several more minutes, she ended up dropping out somewhere a couple of floors below, onto her knees. She blindly felt the rough carpets beneath her hands as she struggled to stand.

She, yet again, felt around for something, looking for light after her rather ungraceful exit from the vents. She suddenly ran into something solid, knocking into the ground as she rebounded from the solid object. She prayed to whatever deity wasn't Asgardian that the smoke hadn't become solid. Light blinded her, as the telling 'click' of a switch was heard. Luckily, she didn't think corporeal smoke would turn on a light switch.

Tada! Don't hate me!