Chapter Thirty-One
Sleaze's Secret Society
January 2012
The briefing took place over a breakfast platter brimming with muffins, croissants, bagels, crumpets and even vegemite on toast. Yet despite the delicacies placed before them, the sleep-deprived recruits found themselves less than inclined toward feasting. Alex suspected that it was not the food itself that curdled their stomachs, but rather the man at head of the large oak table.
Lucas Malory was always immaculately dressed. Today his suit was a sleek Armani number in charcoal grey, set off with a crisp white shirt and obsidian tie. His hair, still damp from the shower, curled at the nape of his neck. Chocolate brown eyes, anything but warm, snapped from recruit to recruit.
There were sixteen of them in total; known around the Western Australian complex as "Triple S" or "Sleaze's Secret Society". They were the elite, the best of the best. After months of exhaustive training, mental testing and psychological evaluations they had been chosen. But for what, absolutely none of them knew.
Alex knew she should be proud of her achievement. Not only had she advanced past her office job, but proven herself above some of Australia's finest candidates. Yet deep down inside, she could not shake the insecurity that she was only here because Malory enjoyed her body. He sent for her most nights, yet thankfully what progressed had remained a secret from the rest of the recruits. They all loathed Malory. Just imagine what they would think of her if they discovered she was his whore, albeit a thoroughly unwilling one.
Her mind drifted back to a conversation had with Justin only a few nights before. Her best friend had been waxing poetic about his glorious new girl, the sparky red-head he had encountered during one of their free weekends in Perth. Anna, her name was. According to Justin, she was absolutely everything he had been looking for.
"...and she has a brother, you know. I'll be meeting him next time we're on leave. Apparently he's single..."
Alex rolled her eyes. "Justin, you are officially the worst matchmaker of all time."
"Don't say that until you meet the guy. He could be perfect. Or there's the cousin – he's English. Apparently he's an actor. Tall – cheekbones."
"Still the worst matchmaker of all time. You know how much I hate blind dates."
"It may get Sir Sleaze off your back."
"Sir Sleaze? Honestly, surely you can do better than that?"
Justin snorted. "Well, I was tossing around with 'Cunt Flap', but I thought that might be a little crass for such civilised company."
"Me, civilised?"
"You drink Coke out of a wine glass. It's un-Australian." Justin's expression darkened. "But in all seriousness. He's been ogling you. It's fucking creepy. You need to find yourself a bloke just to get Sleaze to back off... even if it's just for a couple of drinks."
Alex swallowed hard at this point. Her friend had meant it all in good spirits. Evidently this Anna girl was good for him, and he merely wanted to see Alex with the same ridiculous smile on her face. But that would be impossible. If Malory found out she had seen either of those men: Anna's brother or Mr. English, she would find herself out of a job quicker than she could say "cheekbones".
Justin was at the table now, idly nibbling at a bagel. Alex chose to stick to her coffee, her stomach quivering at the thought of much else.
"Welcome." Malory opened his arms, as though to embrace them in a disgustingly figurative hug. "Congratulations for making it this far. You are the best. The cream of the crop. The elite. Out of the three hundred recruits at this base, it is you that have been chosen. Once more, congratulations."
Alex stole a glance at Justin, whose dark blonde eyebrows seemed on a collision course with his hairline. It was clear Justin body talk for "get to the fucking point". It was at this moment that Malory threw an image up on the enormous screen behind him. Or more, a series of images. Alex could not stop her jaw dropping. The mirage of images looked like something out of a superhero film, or a horror flick.
The next three hours had changed her life.
Everything she thought she knew about the world seemed instantly wrong. There were superheroes, monsters, aliens, magic, weapons unlike anything she had ever imagined, rainbow bridges, demi-gods, magical hammers that summoned lightening, big green monsters that ruined cities.
One hour later "Triple S" boarded a plane to the United States.
Mere months later the rest of her team, including Justin, lost their lives aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier, the unwarranted victims of Loki's attack.
Weeks after that, she was in Loki's bed.
Oh, Malory may have taught her all about monsters. His training and abuse may have prepared her to combat them. Yet all of it was for nothing. She could not beat up herself. No, she was the monster. Her best friend had been murdered, and rather than seek vengeance, she had sex with his murderer.
It was unforgivable.
oOoOoOo
September 2013
The short bob of dusky blonde hair bounced around her shoulders, its new length still something of fascination to her. The hairdresser had been loath to cut it.
"But such long, beautiful hair! Why-?"
Why? Alex wondered what the sweet little brunette would say should she hear the truth. Every inch of that long, curling caramel mane reminded her of Asgard. It still smelled of the water. She could almost feel Loki's long, pale fingers running through it has he slid into her; or his tight grasp as her lips wrapped around his cock.
It simply had to go.
"I need a change," she had replied simply.
As each shard of hair fell away, she felt lighter: not just literally, but mentally as well. The pile of blonde hair gathering on the ground represented the hoard of tantalising memories: wisps of a future she could never rightfully have. It was foolish to grow so attached to Asgard: to Sif, the Warriors, the Queen, the City, the Market, the mountains... Loki. The more she loved them, the more difficult it became to leave.
Her time in Canberra had been short and sweet. The days were fine. She spent them unpacking and repacking, avoiding her family, munching on delicious roast pumpkin pizza with her friends on the tranquil shores of Lake Burley Griffin. She did not even need to concern herself with Malory – who would doubtless be waiting for her at Geraldine station.
It was the nights that tortured her.
Loki haunted her dreams: his tongue, fingers, hair, cheekbones, body, voice, cock.
Every morning she would awake in such an utter state of arousal that only a cold shower seemed to help. She did everything she could to try and eradicate the dreams: sleeping pills, hot milk, locking away everything that reminded her of Loki... cutting her hair. They helped, slightly, but only temporarily.
The worst thing about being home was the absence of Justin. She had always taken him for granted, assumed he would be there, her right hand man. But he was dead. He never got the chance to say goodbye to Anna, to introduce Alex to the brother or the English cousin. One of the smartest, kindest men she had ever known was gone. And it was only now that Alex allowed herself to mourn.
And to writhe in guilt.
She was the only survivor, the last of Sleaze's Secret Society. The best of the best. The elite. All dead because of the man soon to be imprisoned within Geraldine. Yet as much as she tried, Alex could not hate Loki. Every time she felt the caustic emotion boiling up inside her, it ended up shooting out toward Malory. The disgusting wretch of a man that had allowed his entire team to fall prey to a masochist while he hid away in a supply locker. At least Alex had been in the thick of the action...
No, she could not hate Loki. Only Malory. And herself.
The transition into her role at Geraldine happened fluidly, much easier than she anticipated. The base remained secret, buried beneath the rust coloured rock of the Western Australian desert. Yet, its purpose was as public as those that openly campaigned against it. Calls for America to "take care of its own garbage" had sprung up all over the great southern land. On the cusp of an election; the current administration found itself flooded by vitriolic abuse from the opposition party. Various media outlets demanded that the government reveal the location of the prison. Riots and organised protests sprung up all over the country. Even the surrounding nations: New Zealand, Indonesia, Papa New Guinea, Japan exploded in shock that such a dangerous inmate was so close to home.
After a heated discussion with Malory, Alex found herself volunteered as Geraldine's 'public face'.
The memory of her first press conference still haunted her to this day.
"Agent Beckett – this Loki, do you think he is a threat to national security?"
"Agent Beckett – can you tell us why we have to do the dirty work?"
"Agent Beckett – what do you hope to achieve by keeping the war criminal here?"
"Agent Beckett – on behalf of the Australian nation – where is the prison?"
Every security clearance she ever signed, every chance she had for long term employment with S.H.I.E.L.D, seemed to disappear as her image appeared on every newspaper, website and anti-Loki blog in the country.
After a while, she was able to tune out the vitriol. It was rubbish. All of it. She just wondered what the press would do if they found out about just how close to Loki she had actually become.
It was for this reason that she soon came to embrace the long weeks spent below ground at Geraldine. No flashing lights, loud voices, abuse. Just S.H.I.E.L.D agents, scientists... the occasional visitation from Tony Stark. It was almost tranquil.
Or it would have been if it had not been for Malory.
He had come to her the very first night she stepped foot within Geraldine. Her quarters seemed infinitely smaller with his bulk presence, the smear of a smirk on his face. It was tempting to throw a punch his way, but he was now her boss.
"Alex, Alex, Alex... you are much too aggressive, my little duck."
Alex merely gritted her teeth.
"I told you in Asgard that you will be mine again, little one. And you will be." He moved forward, cupping her face. She tried to turn away, but his grip hardened. "If you fight it, I will only fuck you harder, you little slut." The grip on her chin was so tight now her eyes began to water. She tried to speak, only to have him slap her across the cheek. "And this time, your lover boy won't be here to save you. Well, he will be here, but he'll be behind the glass. Helpless. Perhaps I'll fuck you in front of him...?"
"Lucas-"
"Don't try to deny it, Alexandra! I heard it from the horse's mouth. He came to me, you see, and told me to keep my hands off you. Imagine that. A murderer ordering me to keep my hands off my own fucking property."
"I am not yours."
"Are you his? Is that it?" Grabbing her lapels, Malory thrust her against the wall. "You fucking little bitch. Do you really think he loves you? Sorry to break it to you, sweet heart, but all you are is a cunt and a pair of tits. He only ever saw you as something to ram his cock into... which is exactly what I intend to do."
"No, please..." Tears streamed down Alex's reddened cheeks now, fingers uselessly flailing against Malory's arm.
"Are you crying, slut? Are you that fucking stupid? Imagine what Fury would say if he found out his precious little Agent Beckett spent a whole year pounding the mattress with the very same bloke she was meant to be monitoring? Something tells me that wouldn't go down too well, now would it?"
Alex never imagined it would be in a moment like this she would find her bravery. Perhaps it wasn't bravery at all, but a snippet of stupidity.
"Tell him."
Malory stopped. "Excuse me?"
"I said: TELL HIM!" Her voice echoed around the room. "You heard me. Tell him! Sing it from the fucking rooftops if you like, Lucas. See if I care. But rest assured, if Fury hears even a whisper of this from your lips, I will tell him about all the times you have raped me. All the other agents you have had your way with. I'm sure Fury would love to hear that one of his operatives is a sex offender. Oh wait, how about I tell your wife."
Worry flashed past Malory's eyes at this point. "You wouldn't dare-"
"Oh trust me, Lucas. That poor woman deserves to know what a pig she married."
"If you tell her, I will fucking kill you."
"Good luck with that."
Malory drew away. "What is it that you want?"
"You're a smart man, Lucas, surely you have figured that out? Or are you just a cock with a nice face?"
"I am your BOSS."
"You are also the man who blackmailed me, so forgive me if that technicality has passed me by. We are at an impasse. You don't tattle about my affair with Loki, and I won't tell Fury and your wife about your little... activities."
"You will pay for this, Beckett."
"I really don't see how, I don't have anything to lose."
Despite this initial victory, Malory had pulled the Loki-card again when convincing Alex to be the public face. Only this time he was not threatening to tell Fury, but rather Tony Stark, who had recently shown up on the base.
While her time in Geraldine was mildly nerve-wracking, Alex could not help but feel consoled that she did not have to worry about Lucas' grappling fingers. Well, not intimately anyway. He would still cup her shoulder, or send fake indulgent smiles her way. Sometimes she desperately wished Sif was around. The Goddess of War would have no qualms ramming the edge of her practise sword into Malory's smug face.
The weeks moved swiftly, the day of Loki's arrival looming ever closer. Despite her new found strength, Alex was concerned as to how she would react upon seeing him again. As she slipped into the SUV, every nerve in her body had screamed. His scent was everywhere. Though she refused to look at him, she could feel his eyes shadowing her every movement. Her Loki. Her sexy, glorious god – chained and gagged. It was necessary, but not something she was particularly looking forward to greeting on a day to day basis.
Throughout the tour of Geraldine she seemed to run on autopilot, every joke instantly forgotten, the words leaving her mouth bypassing the pond of her memory. It was just Loki. Loki, damned bloody Loki. For months she had tried to exorcise him from her mind, yet here he was again – causing her blood to boil, her mind to race, her knickers to dampen. He was a prisoner for crying out loud!
We will be together again soon, Alexandra. I will make sure of it.
As his words popped into her head, she almost choked on a sob. Did he mean now? How could they possibly be together? Even if he did redeem himself, the residents of Earth, of Australia, would never rest until his head was mounted on a spike.
As he was led into his cell, her Loki had almost seemed resigned. The slight leer of horror at the public nature of his bathing facilities was not missed on her. Yet, this sprig of emotion was soon hidden.
And then he turned blue.
It was not a particularly subtle shade of the colour, its hue akin to that of the bright outback sky. Eyes that once shone green were now crimson: large, fearful, down cast.
Yes, it was shocking, truly shocking.
As was the fact that he was now radiating cold, as though someone had plonked a Loki shaped iceberg into the room with them.
In a way she had expected it. She had seen the painting of Loki's true father in the gallery. It was therefore not necessarily the blue that terrified her, but Loki's expression. Horror, disgust, shame. It was evident that he hated every millimetre of cobalt flesh.
To him this transformation was pure torture.
And it made her job a damn sight more difficult.