Our banished!Odinsons and certain unpleasant elements continue to intersect. We're now at the point where I hope everyone's seen Winter Soldier, because otherwise things are going to get a little confusing and/or spoiler-y.

Wherein Sitwell gets a visitor and Darcy doesn't get cookies. (Humor/Drama. PG-13.)

When Darcy was shaken awake at a completely unfair hour to a torrent of babbled conspiracy theories, she figured Jane was overreacting. It wouldn't be the first time. Jane's an overreacting type. (Then again, from Darcy's perspective, everyone's an overreacting type. Just wait; they'll all worry themselves into early graves while she'll be a hundred and ten years old and still going strong.) Still, she got out of bed and made the coffee like a good little intern (and ignored the disgusted expressions from the now-spoiled pets as they sipped their Folgers); The sun had risen before she was awake enough to follow what they were all saying, but before she could say You guys need meds, the Man-In-Black car pulled up, and out popped the very person Erik had supposedly warned Jane about.

So, Darcy was wrong.

It does happen sometimes.

"I'm not asking you to trust me, Miss Foster—"

"Doctor Foster. And yes, you are."

"—but whether you believe me or not, I'm trying to help you."

"By asking us to give you our research and submit to—" Jane turns to Loki, very sarcastically "—what did he call them? 'Voluntary interviews'?"

"I believe that was the term," replies Loki, just as dry as her. (They're a really weird pair, and look it even more when Loki's in his suit and Jane's still wearing cotton pajamas, but they can both do the snotty intellectual thing.)

His words are punctuated by a loud thump and a series of scrapes. One of the lawnchairs slides into view and tilts crazily over the edge of the roof; Agent Coulson sidesteps as it crashes to the ground.

It's kind of disturbing how not disturbed everyone is by what's apparently a full-fledged battle going on twelve feet above their heads. But Darcy's not that worried about Thor's ability to handle himself. He's pretty badass when he wants to be.

Agent Coulson sighs. Darcy almost feels sorry for him and the way he's trying to talk through the locked front door. "Your friend isn't helping the situation," he says.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have put your friend on top of my lab."

"Standard precautionary measure. Shouting through glass isn't going to get us anywhere. May I come in?"

Jane crosses her arms. "Do you have a gun on you?"

"Yes."

"Leave it outside."

"No."

"Then you can't come in."

"Doctor Foster, your walls aren't exactly bulletproof. Which side of the door I'm on makes no difference to a Glock 22."

"Yeah, that makes me want to trust you."

Loki moves just a little bit in front of Jane; Darcy wonders if that steak knife he's got up his sleeve is scratching him. From what she's seen, she'd guess God-With-A-Knife is a pretty close match for Agent-With-A-Gun, but it would suck if someone got shot today. Loki was cranky enough about it last time. "We may deign to answer a few of your questions — if you choose to answer a few of ours. Tell us what has become of Erik Selvig."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss Doctor Selvig's whereabouts at this time," says Coulson. "And S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't do quid pro quo."

Loki glances at Darcy (which, she has to admit, is pretty gratifying). "Latin," she tells him. "Means 'something for something'. He's telling you to fuck off."

"Ah."

There's a familiar roar above them, followed by a whole lot of swearing. A bow — huh? — sails through the air to nearly hit the side of Jane's trailer.

Coulson raises an eyebrow and looks up. "Problems?" he calls.

"Nope!" someone who is not Thor yells back. "Totally under control!"

Darcy pulls out her taser. "The ceiling's made of metal," she says. "Think I should zap it?"

"No," snap three voices simultaneously.

Geez.

As the S.T.R.I.K.E. team spreads through the research base, Jasper Sitwell's meeting with Brock Rumlow takes place well past the perimeter fence and out into the dry morning air. They're just two colleagues taking a walk before the daily grind gets going. Nothing anyone will comment on.

Sitwell's very good at carrying out his business in ways no one will comment on.

"All right," he says once they're a satisfactory distance away. "How involved is Fury?"

"A lot less than he thinks." Rumlow squints out at the endless expanse of dirt and dust. "Have you really been stuck in this hellhole for three months?"

"Yes. I missed Game of Thrones and everything."

"Damn."

"I know. I'd started to think Pierce forgot about us. What changed? Why the sudden rush?"

Rumlow spits on a nearby rock. They're both members of the most powerful secret society in the history of mankind, but that doesn't blind Sitwell to the fact that Rumlow isn't what one would call 'classy'. "Official story? The cube's been linked to all that spooky data you've been collecting, and the bosses want to know why before they proceed with P.E.G.A.S.U.S."

"Real story?"

"Phase Two's pretty much done, but there's been some big breakthrough in one of the other research departments, so the talk is all genetics all the time. Von Strucker got wind of your subjects and wants to play with them; rumor has it he got extra-excited when he heard they were siblings."

Sitwell grimaces. Von Strucker is as creepy as they come. "I hate being out of the loop. What are the orders?"

"Bring everyone in. The brothers go to von Strucker. Western Division wants the scientist, since Selvig's starting to melt down. And if we get the intern she'll be a bonus for leverage."

"I don't like it when you say if."

"Just hedging my bets. You never know who you'll lose in the crossfire."

"Look," says Coulson, "I'm trying to do you a favor. You could have killed my agents in Albuquerque, and you didn't. I appreciate that."

"Your gratitude rightfully belongs my brother and his moronic bout of mercy. Had I not been wounded, I would have slit their throats."

A pause. "Be that as it may, I can promise you that one way or another you will give us the information we're looking for. The people who give the orders are out of patience. When they're out of patience, they don't ask nicely the way I do."

"You call this asking nicely?"

"Doctor Foster, I'm as nice as they come. I even thought very seriously about bringing Girl Scout cookies."

Darcy perks up. "I didn't even know they had a Girl Scout troop in town."

"As it turns out, they don't."

Damn. "Then why did you get our hopes up like that?"

The second lawnchair falls in a twisted mess of metal. "Your research is unprecedented, Doctor Foster—"

"I know that."

"—and I'm aware that you intend to open a portal that may prove dangerous to mankind as a whole."

"It won't be dangerous! And an Einstein-Rosen bridge doesn't open or close, it moves. I'm just extrapolating its locations."

Loki glances at Jane and makes a very distinct scoffing noise; Darcy's heard this argument of theirs so many times she could write her own dissertation. But all he says is: "The Bifrost inflicts no harm upon your realm. Not when managed skillfully."

"If you do manage it skillfully, and don't make a habit out of it, where you take your vacations will not be at the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s very, very long priority list. Just as long as we get what we need before you depart." Darcy cringes back as he reaches into his suit (so does Jane, and even Loki) — but he only pulls out a photograph, which he slaps against the glass. "I want to know more about this."

This is a picture of a glowing box hooked up to a whole lot of wires.

"Looks like Photoshop," Darcy says skeptically.

"Is that gamma radiation?" Jane frowns. "Even if I wanted to help you, which I don't, thermonuclear dynamics isn't my field of—"

"Respectfully, Doctor Foster, it's not your help we're after." Coulson turns to Loki, who is staring at the photo and looking as flabbergasted as Darcy has ever seen him, even more so than when she explained about MechaHitler during Cards Against Humanity. "Are you familiar with this object, sir?"

Loki speechless is a kind of awesome, if vaguely terrifying, sight. After a moment of complete silence he walks forward, slams open the front doors so hard that Coulson has to leap backwards to keep from getting a broken nose, spins on his heel, and shouts to the sky: "Brother! Cease that idiotic combat! These fools have the lost Tesseract!"

There's a bellow of surprise, a word Darcy's never heard before but is definitely some kind of Asgardian curse, and then a series of thumps and scrapes as Thor and another man roll off the edge of the roof — still fighting — and fall into the side yard with a thump.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," says Coulson. "Barton?"

The other guy winces as he gets to his knees. "I work better from a distance," he groans, coughing. "Almost had him, though."

"You fought valiantly," says Thor as Loki walks over and (rolling his eyes) helps him up. He's got a solid black eye forming and makes a face as he rubs his shoulder. "For that you have my respect, despite your Cigarette-Smoking Man efforts to intimidate and suppress."

Did he just— "You made an X-Files reference!" exclaims Darcy, beaming with pride. "That is so awesome!"

"The truth is out there," says Thor. "Now, what is this of my father's Infinity Stone?"

The wind shifts; Sitwell sneezes as the smoke blows their way. New Mexico hasn't been kind to his sinuses. "This is going to be hard to explain to the Council," he says, reaching for a handkerchief.

"That hammer of yours has been throwing off weirder and weirder shit," replies Rumlow. "The Triskelion will get readings about a huge energy wave wiping everything out, and the report will show it was caused by the hammer itself."

"Fury's not going to buy it."

"Pierce can handle Fury."

"Still, those were decent men."

"They knew too much. Nothing personal."

True. "You'll have to deal with Coulson and Barton too, you know."

"Yeah, we'll get them along with the rest of the town." Rumlow sighs. "Shame; I always liked Barton. You want to come with, or should I pick you up once we're done?"

Sitwell's skill set isn't suited for Rumlow's part of the game. "I'll stay and get rid of whatever's left." From here, the now smoldering crater where the research base used to sit looks pretty well destroyed, but flash drives have a way of surviving even the best salted earth campaign.

"Good man." Rumlow claps him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise as they head to where the S.T.R.I.K.E. team is re-holstering their Phase Two weapons. "See you on the other side. Hail HYDRA."

"Hail HYDRA."