The Unseen Avenger ∘ Marvel

chapter seven; shut up

Natasha was the same old same old the next morning. One look from her, and to my knowledge last night never happened. But I still can't comprehend it. Nat never breaks down. Ever.

Thankfully, Fury summoned me to his office. That means an assignment, but most likely one of little meaning. He knows what I hate more than having no work to do; having too easy of a job to do.

"You called?" I say walking into Fury's office. He swivels his recliner around to face me while I seat my self in a chair that I've gone quite familiar with the last few years. I cross my arms, awaiting instruction.

"Agent Firman, nice to see you." The sarcasm drips from his voice, only taking a second to look at me before examining the report in front of him. He's still not over my earlier intrusion where I insisted work.

"No need to stand on ceremony," I comment almost lazily, "I know you're going to give me something a Level Two could do."

My working relationship with Nick might be seen as a one of mutual disrespect. That was just not the case. In fact, I saw him as an apt chief figure for an intelligence organization and cunning leader. All of Strike Team Delta, meaning pretty much Nat, Clint, and me, worked closely with Fury more than the average SHIELD agent. Yes, he had divine authority over all of us, but after numerous missions and Clint's constant jokes, meetings with the director became taken much lighter. The word 'chill' would be Barton's way of describing it.

He still keeps his eye on the data tablet in front of him, swiping to the next page, "Guard Loki."

"Excuse me sir?" My question is met with little consideration as he finally meets my confused gaze.

"Guard Loki." The director repeats, tone even and firm in its charge. This isn't a choice he's going to explain with further prompting, "Is that a problem, Firman?"

Arguing would be fruitless, perhaps even dig me deeper in the hole I've put myself in. I swallow my complaints. A job is better than no job, "No, sir. I will do as you ask."

Those were the last words exchanged before Fury gestured to the door. Figured his orders were effective immediately, I didn't waste time. In moments my feet lept up the steps, heading few levels up to the prisoner's cell. I arrive at the door, knowing a guard is already inside right near the actual cage. I press a button near the handle, hearing a faint buzz come from the other side of it. It's barely an instant before the door is open, showing a young man standing at attention. Agent Bradley's stance unmoving in his grim demeanor.

"Agent Firman, relieving you of duty."

"I was not notified of this." He responds quickly, almost robotically. His more carefree attitude from the training gym is wiped with an unsmiling stoicism replacing any attribute that could be considered friendly.

I resist the urge roll my eyes. Did Fury really not brief this guy? "Director ordered it."

"I was not-" The only thing that alerts me to the incoming message is a static crackle that comes from his earpiece, the directive arriving a little too late. He nods after a while, pressing the device afterward, "Copy that."

"Sorry Agent Firman, I just got my orders. I now give you the task of guarding the prisoner."

"Simple misunderstanding Agent....."

"Bradley," He says, his entire form relaxing, "Agent Colton Bradley, Level Three.'

"Well, Bradley," I say, crossing my arms, "You are dismissed."

I open the doors to the room whilst the agent goes past me. I immediately see the cell Loki has been placed in; a large, encompassing chamber surrounded by see-through glass and clear of anything save for a chair. Roomie.

The alien clad in green flicks his eyes up at me with a strange curiosity given away in his irises, "Oh, a new guard. Hopefully, you are more talkative than your predecessor."

I stay silent, facing my back to him. I don't need to see him to know this enemy is examining me. He's shown himself to be attentive, always wanting to know what's around him. I know the type, and I know he'll remember me soon.

"The female," he finally says, a pause lengthening his speech, "The girl who attempted to hurt me. I healed easily from my wounds."

This sort also has an affinity for demeaning others. The comment comes as no shock.

"You did surprise me, though. A young woman fighting a man's war. The practice isn't as odd on Asgard, but I know it can be foreign on this world."

I should have thrown more knives at him when I had the chance, probably aimed for his throat. His knowledge of Earth's extensive sexist history is worth noting. How long had the demigod been scoping out our civilization in wait to strike? Or had a human been a willing informant?

My continued silence doesn't deter Loki from the melodious sound of his own voice. I wonder if his persistent speech is meant for personal amusement or if he truly has a viable reason for trying to get a rise out of me, "It must have been terribly hard for you, always trying to prove yourself among them."

I have no idea what gain he means to pull from this one-sided conversation, but he's getting increasingly annoying. All he seems to be doing is drawing from broad generalizations and hoping this teasing dialogue is enough to earn him a verbal response.

"The accent didn't help, did it? The fact you weren't raised like them? It only isolated you more from your peers."

The peculiar specifics claimed immediately alerted several warning signs in my mind. The color of my skin could determine that there was a slight chance my heritage wasn't entirely American, but the mention of the Italian accent I had as a child was not an easy guess based on one interaction with me.

The talkative prisoner isn't finished yet, "Oh, and if I remember, I wounded you. How is your shoulder?"

I continue with silence, staring at the wall in front of me. Was there a way this guy could've discovered anything about me? Why would it even be relevant to a madman intent on taking over the world?

"Have it your way, Sienna."

The mention of my name reels me, knowing there's no way he should know it. I slowly turn, meeting the creature's stare. Mischief runs through every feature of his face. I cross my arms, deciding to learn a few things for myself, "I like keeping my identity a secret. How'd you find out?"

He walks closer to the glass, steps light and calculated. He's trying to incite something in me, make me do something stupid, say something stupid, "Why Agent Barton of course."

I resist the urge to reach through the glass and have my hands grip his pasty neck. Clint, under this thing's spell. Clint, my best friend now intent on eradicating SHIELD. Clint, whose disappearance is killing Natasha in a way I haven't seen before.

"What have you done to him?" I ask cooly, impersonal in my expressions.

His head leans towards the right while studying my lack of reaction. He then laughs, a low and chilling sound, "Nothing, yet. I still need him. Secrets of SHIELD lies in his memory. He still is quite useful."

"You think he knows everything about SHIELD? Not even Fury knows that much information."

"Well, not every secret. But he does know your past."

The shock of the statement comes as if ice has been poured into my lungs. I resist the urge to swallow while anxiety floods under my skin. Memories dance across my thoughts, teasing me like the god has been doing.

This........monster knows things less than ten people on Earth know. My father, my tormentors, my fears.

"So how was it," he purrs and continues walking, eyes making sure they bite into my skull, "To watch your father get gutted in front of your eyes at the feeble age of seven? To know that after everything he lied to you about, he still loved you, or was that a lie? How was it to be tortured at such a young age by your own drunken mother? How did it feel to kill her? How did it feel to become a murderer as a child?"

"You think that story will faze me?" I say, making sure my words are strong. They sound as intended, but he knows he has the upper hand.

He steps forward, his breath fogging the glass, "Oh, but this isn't just a story, it's a reality. You pulled that trigger. You watched the life drain out of her eyes. You stood there as they took her body away. You didn't shed a single tear. You were a ruthless killer, even at the age you were."

It was an accident. I didn't mean to. My lungs turn to ice and my throat tightens.

"And you are any better?" I respond, keeping a steady facade. He doesn't own the power to compromise my emotion. I won't let him, not with the mention of my mother.

Loki chuckles at this, "You misjudge me. I am the greatest thing that will ever happen to your feeble little planet. I will purge this world, and a new rule will arise."

"What," I hear my own voice raise, keeping the anger coiling in my chest at bay, "do you expect to achieve through world domination?"

"I will become a god!" He turns fast, his voice raising a few octaves. The sounds echo off the walls, the words lingering in the dry air longer than they should've.

"You won't succeed," I uncross my arms, venom following my trail of threats, "Guess who's locked in a cell? Guess who can't do anything? Guess who is delusional?"

"Guess who is in control of Agent Barton."

Air seems to be non-existent. Still, I resist the urge to swallow, speaking against him, "And you think you'll win? An order will be restored by SHIELD. You being here is enough proof of that."

He chuckles, "Oh, the murderer believes she is on the greater side. But you yourself are evil, but it is I who will bring order!"

"Just shut up." I mean for the statement to come off bored and lazy, but there is a fierceness behind it. A hint of emotion is enough indication for Loki to know he's getting somewhere.

I am naive. I am weak. I am a killer. He's right in that respect. Natasha killed innocents for a living before SHIELD. Her past is redder than mine. Fury has taken countless lives, Hill right beside him. Most of the people on this damn ship are murderers, but I don't need to contemplate their morality. Not when it's a madman threatening to 'purge' my entire race and were the ones in way of a g******e.

"You are ignorant to the truth!" Loki's volume raises with his conviction.

"Look at yourself for a change." Again comes the emotion, the anger. The sign of pain, of hurt. My words seethe behind my teeth and I have to clamp them shut.

The door creaks when it opens, first revealing an equally stoic Bradley to a quizzical Rogers coming. Both men seem very confused, the Captain speaking first.

"I thought I heard yelling. Is everything okay?"

I put on my smile, one wide that accompanies a sugary voice, "Everything is fine. The prisoner was just having a tantrum."

"Oh," Loki isn't done, "The killer lies, just as killers do."

Just shut up

"Agent Firman..." Cap keeps jumping his gaze from the Asgardian to me.

"Everything is fine Captain Rogers." I say, a little too quickly, "This guy isn't worth the worry."

"Is it, Sienna? Murderer?" Loki continues to keep pressing, making my shoulders tense.

I ignore, done with this conversation. I don't want to focus my past any further.

"Firman, may I see you outside." The captain says. I scowl, not bothering to look again at Loki who I'm sure is smiling like the maniac he is. I walk out, letting the door slam behind me. Bradley dismisses himself, rushing away. Rogers gives me a confused look while I keep my expression polite.

"What was that all about?"

I can lie, the beauty of a lie. I'd rather not discuss the atrocities I've done. I am a horrible person, a murderer of innocents. I look at this pure, selfless man, who only killed to defend innocents. Yet he dares to address me like I owe him an answer, which I certainly do not.

So I feed him a falsehood, "That was Loki trying to get a rise out of me. He nearly succeeded. Thank you for distracting him. I will guard against outside using the monitors to keep an eye on him."

Cap keeps staring at me, not convinced, "I guess your fine, but does that guy need more supervision or-"

"Don't you have something to do Captain Rogers? Superhero business?" I clip, raising an eyebrow in hopes he takes the hint that he has no reason to be giving unnecessary orders.

He gives me one last look with a short nod, turning the other way. I quickly find the nearest data pad and tap it into the cell's surveillance camera. Once I get the feed, I see Loki looking up at his camera inside the room.

"You are a coward, hiding from the truth." His eyes find the camera, a wicked smile on his miserable face. I turn off the sound and watch the little worm in his cell, hissing at me.

I imagine the trapped enemy as a snake to step on; a little gardener one with a green stripe. I see my boot crush it in my mind. The thought brings me a shed of joy.