Madness of the Serpent

Their journey soon came to an end, to the spirit’s relief. The atmosphere inside of the crowded air vessel had been uncomfortable, the air rife with charged tension and frazzled nerves. The hatch door opened and the spirit saw they were inside a spacious metal structure – some kind of holding facility filled with other air vessels which were considerably more aerodynamic than the squat vehicle they had previously occupied.

Loki was led from the air vessel first – the shield-warrior and armored human flanking him while his brother followed close behind. The female with the crimson hair unclipped the spirit from its seat and firmly held it by the bicep as she led it onto solid ground.

A group of humans waited for them, somber in their black and navy blue bulky garments. One in particular stood out, the expression on his face one of severity as his singular eye observed them closely. His skin was dark brown and his head was devoid of hair, his dome dimly reflecting the lights from above. Tendril-like scars were seen past the edges of his eye-cover, as if something very powerful had deprived him of his sight.

His body language spoke of power, authority, and complete control which brokered no disobedience.

“Put him in the tank,” he said in a deep, commanding voice, indicating the bound Loki whose wrists were now being shackled behind his back. A gathering of armed and armored humans surrounded him, and the Jotun-Asgardian gave the authority figure an unimpressed sneer as they led him away.

The human leader turned his attention to the spirit, still dressed in its glittering attire, and said, “Detention level, standard cell. Give her something more practical to wear.”

The female gave a curt nod and raised the spirit’s hand, placing it on a flat surface. A line of light shone underneath its palm, apparently scanning its image into the device. Once its hand was removed from the tablet, the female wasted no time in escorting it from the vast area, pressing her finger to her ear to give instructions to an unseen party regarding the acquisition of clothing.

It looked over its shoulder to find Loki, but he was already gone. There was nothing to do but allow itself to be led by the red-haired female.

They did not speak, and the spirit took this time to observe. They were in some type of military compound, and there were uniformed males and females everywhere. They all wore similar black-and-blue garments and moved with precision and discipline. The intense focus they displayed was not dissimilar to the way Loki’s mind-thralls behaved, which drew its thoughts to Barton.

Would he be concerned about the spirit’s predicament after having been charged with guarding it? Or would he continue to follow instructions, his enslaved mind not giving it another thought? Loki had indicated he would reunite with the assassin, but how was that possible when they were now captives of the human warriors and a branch of their military?

And from the recognizable circular emblem on the shoulders of every human it passed, it knew exactly what kind of military organization now held them in captivity. The documentary had served its purpose in making the spirit extremely wary of the entity known as SHIELD.

The female led the spirit through several doors and they descended several stairs before they paused in front of a blank wall. The human slid her palm over a device, and the wall slid back, revealing itself to be a door to a brightly-lit room covered in grey walls with a dull metallic floor.

It was brighter and cleaner than its quarters in the underground structure, but it was a cell nonetheless. A horizontal surface designed for sleep was attached to the wall, a small facility for eliminating waste was sequestered privately to the side, and there was a spigot high on the wall that served an unknown function. There was also a small, black device in the upper corner of the room, its purpose also obscure.

“Clothes are on the bed,” the female remarked curtly. “Your interrogation will be in ten minutes, and I recommend you cooperate to make your situation more comfortable.”

Interpreting the human’s emotionally detached words as the subtle threat they were, the spirit watched her depart in silence. It knew the word interrogation meant to question, but it also knew the word could have other connotations. Unpleasant ones.

The spirit approached the small reflective surface above the sink and took one last look at itself in the elegant garment, footwear, and jewels. As it attempted to pull the fabric away to undress itself, the shimmering fabric began to disintegrate through its fingers as the lingering energy which fueled the illusion was broken apart. The glittering jewels and foot-coverings disappeared, as well as the black undergarments. Everything it had worn from the moments of its inception had been created by Loki, and nothing remained once the conjured energy was disbanded.

This also meant the reemergence of its facial injury, and the ugly mark on its otherwise smooth throat – although it did not ache unless the spirit decided to form facial expressions.

Picking up the under and outer clothing left for it to adorn, it wondered if the color grey was the chosen hue of imprisonment. Loki had originally given it a singular grey garment which covered its body, and now it had several grey fragments of clothing it had to decipher as to which covered which body part.

Once it had pulled the fabric on, which was an awkward affair as this was the first time it had dressed itself, it looked at its reflection in the mirror. Dark, oval eyes stared back, its face framed by the long, black hair which hung past its shoulders. It did not look as impressive without the glamorous attire, but it looked healthier than the pale, wide-eyed creature in the underground.

A few minutes later, a small hiss sounded as the door slide back from the wall and two armed humans entered the room. They placed a set of metal bindings on its wrists and led it to another room down the metallic corridor – this one darker, smaller, and empty save for a table and two chairs. A wall-length mirror was embedded upon the wall, and it briefly wondered why humans seemed to be so fond of looking at their own images.

After its metal bindings had been attached to the table, the humans left, and it was scarcely alone for thirty seconds before another figure entered. The humans wasted no time, at least.

He was a male of a height similar to its own with light skin, wearing a dark outfit not unlike the garment Loki had adorned at the human event. He also had some type of placard on the pocket of his outer garment. The spirit read the marker which identified him as “Coulson, Phillip J: Level 7”.

Coulson, Phillip J had pleasant features with warm blue eyes which creased in their outer corners, the suggestion of a smile on his face.

“I’m Agent Coulson of SHIELD, and I will be your interrogator for this evening.” He smiled at the spirit and waited, as if for some kind of reaction.

It simply blinked at him.

He cleared his throat and said, “Generally, when someone introduces themselves, it’s considered polite for the other person to also give their name.”

It slightly cocked its head and said, “Trinity Frost,” after a moment of hesitation. There was no harm in giving the human a label with which it could be called. It did not have a name that it knew of, and the one Loki had bestowed upon it was better than none.

“That’s a nice name, Trinity,” he responded easily, pulling out the metal chair across from it as he sat down at the table, clasping his hands on its surface.

The spirit, too, had its hands clasped on the table, but only because it was bound by the wrists to a metal loop on its surface.

“We don’t have a profile on you yet – your fingerprints yielded no results. That’s not unusual – it just means you’re not in any sort of institutional database.

“So, I’m going to take a photo of you. Please don’t move,” he requested while he pulled a black, rectangular handheld device from his pocket. It remained still as it watched him, suddenly conscious of the injury to its face and the shadow on its neck.

Coulson of SHIELD seemed very aware of these as well, as he remarked, “Those are pretty nasty injuries. How’d you get them?” while he completed his task of taking its photo.

It stayed silent, merely watching him.

The SHIELD agent stared back, placing his hands and neatly folding them on the table once he had deposited the device back into his pocket.

“It’s okay. We can protect you if someone is hurting you,” he said softly, his eyes open and inviting, his tone of voice sympathetic.

It did not like where this line of inquiry was heading. It did not like the humans assuming it could confide in them – that they were safe and would not cause it harm. If what it had learned about SHIELD was correct, they would never let it free if they knew its true origins.

The spirit did not want to believe the humans were so fearful of foreign beings, but from what it had witnessed thus far, it could not take the chance and reveal itself as anything but an average denizen of Earth.

The human slightly chewed his bottom lip, as if contemplating something, obviously not going to give up because of its silence.

“You know… when I was younger, a lot younger than I am now… I was in this relationship. With an older woman.”

The spirit watched him, unsure of what the point of this confession was, but it listened regardless.

“I was so smitten with her. Worshipped the ground she walked on.” His eyes were slightly unfocused as he spoke, as if they were fixated on only something he could see.

“I should have seen the signs. But I didn’t, because I was so… consumed. I would have done anything for this woman. Friends and family tried to tell me something was off, but I wouldn’t hear it. We were in love, and that was that.”

The agent fixed his gaze on the spirit, and a slow realization opened in its mind. It understood. But he was mistaken. The two situations were nothing alike. There was no comparison between two intimately involved humans and the complex ties it had with the Jotun-Asgardian.

Loki’s will had been twisted by another. He could not fully control what he did or said. The way he would threaten and coerce one moment, and be concerned with its welfare the next.

It was… not the same.

“I should have seen the manipulations, the lies, the way she twisted everything to get what she wanted.”

It could not help the discomfort it felt in its stomach, and it wanted him to stop talking.

“Eventually, I realized what I had wasn’t love. She cared about me, in her own way. But… love is supposed to build you up, make you stronger. Not tear you down and rip you apart.” His blue eyes were too perceptive, too sharp.

Its voice remained bland as it said:

“Loki did not cause these facial wounds.” Surely this was safe enough to admit. It did not know why, but it needed this human to understand that the Jotun-Asgardian had not intentionally caused it harm. But if the spirit tried to explain this, the humans would only misunderstand.

“But he did give you that bruising around your neck?” Coulson of SHIELD asked mildly, his eyes once again soft and inquisitive. The spirit eyed him warily, taking note that it would have to be more careful with its words around this perceptive human.

“Who hurt you, Trinity?” It ignored the question and merely stared at him, refusing to answer.

“Why were you with the Asgardian?” he asked abruptly after waiting another minute in silence for an answer that was not forthcoming.

“Where is the Tesseract located?”

It could sense it was entering dangerous territory as his eyes regarded it in focused interest. The humans wanted to know more about Loki and the other artifact, but it wondered why Coulson of SHIELD did not inquire as to the sceptre. They must not have known how it was created, that the golden apparatus was more deadly than even the Jotun-Asgardian realized, and merely thought it to be a wayward human caught in Loki’s twisted plans.

While this was not the truth, it was uncomfortably similar to it.

The spirit studied his face for a moment and changed the topic instead of answering.

“You’ll not find information about it in your… computers.”

“It?” the agent asked, seeming genuinely confused.

“It. The being in front of you with which you are conversing.”

“…interesting.” It did not understand his meaning, but the human named Coulson chose not to elaborate. Instead, he asked, “Are you an Asgardian?”

It was now the spirit’s turn to experience confusion.

“Your speech patterns and inflection remind me of someone I know.”

“The thunderous one,” it immediately guessed, and the agent’s eyes brightened. It realized it had erred in some way, though it was not sure how it had done so.

“You know about Thor. Loki trusts you enough to share personal knowledge with you. And you obviously aren’t doing the glowing-eyes party trick, so he doesn’t control you… in a way that’s obvious, at least.”

It knew it should not reply, having already given the human far too much information by the pleased look on his face. But it had to. The human was putting more significance on its knowledge of Loki’s brother where there was none.

“Unless you have another Asgardian in your custody besides Loki, it could be no other. It does not know anything about him, specifically.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But Loki doesn’t waste time with ‘mortals’ like us. If he dragged you with him to Germany, or picked you up at the event, you’re significant to him in some way.”

The spirit did not know how to proceed, so it elected to stay silent.

“Let me put it in the form of a question, then. What does Loki get out of having you around?” the human asked, leaning forward slightly as his blue eyes fixated on the spirit in a way it was all too familiar with.

But the human had asked a question it could not have answered even if it wanted to, as the spirit had pondered the same inquiry many times.

Why did Loki seem so interested in keeping it in his company? Why focus his energy and resources on its resuscitation when he claimed ruling the humans to be his most important priority?

And why endanger it now by leaving it in the hands of said humans?

The spirit kept its thoughts concealed and its features blank as it watched his face, a reflection of its own nonexpression as they both waited. And waited.

Coulson of SHIELD crossed his arms.

“So that’s how it’s going to be, is it? That’s fine. We have all the time in the world.”

They did not and it was sure the human knew that. But he calmly retrieved the armored humans to escort it back to its cell, and it went willingly, wondering who had its best intentions in mind.
The mad Jotun-Asgardian with his sickly bright eyes, or the humans who seemed to want to use it just as he did?

______________________________________________________________________

Agent Romanoff left the observation room just as Agent Coulson passed by, and they walked side by side down the hallway, the assassin giving him an appraising look.

“Not bad, Agent Coulson. Get what you need?”

“Some, but we’re just getting started. Stoic, isn’t she?”

“For a civilian, maybe,” Romanoff said, almost smiling before giving him a side-eyed look. “What was with the picture-taking theatrics? You know we’ve been scanning for a facial match since she came onboard.”

“Oh, I know. But some people get fidgety when they’re aware you’re looking for their face in a computer. Taking the picture yourself, even if it’s a fake, drives it home for them.”

Agent Romanoff’s lips twitched slightly. She had nearly forgotten that Coulson’s abilities to ply and emotionally manipulate were almost on par with her own.

Almost.

This made her ask:

“The story about the ex…. Did you really…?”

“No,” he responded with absolutely no contrition.

“Still, it was a fairly convincing story,” she remarked, still glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

“One relationship with a narcissist is pretty much the same as the next. And if Loki is anything, he’s a textbook narcissist. That girl practically has a neon sign above her head that screams ‘Easy Target’ to any passing predator.”

The agent pursed her lips in thought as she walked around a pair of hurried technicians.

“Not to mention Frost referred to herself as an “it”. I hate to think what’s caused her to do that,” the female agent said in an even tone that never hinted at the personal and painful nature of the subject. The idea of dehumanizing a person to the point where they no longer saw themselves as an individual with an identity was one she was intimately familiar with.

“Whatever it is, it isn’t good,” Coulson agreed, his jaw slightly tense at the idea that Loki could have molded the willpower of not just SHIELD personnel, but hapless bystanders as well.

“You asked her what Loki got out of having her around. Did you word it that way for a specific purpose?” Romanoff inquired, even though she already suspected the answer.

“Absolutely.”

“You wanted it to seem as if she’s insignificant – a burden to him,” she guessed.

The senior agent gave her an appreciative nod as he said, “I expected her to take the bait and wildly defend her importance to him. But she didn’t so much as bat an eye. She either didn’t know the answer, or she was confident enough to not give a damn what I was insinuating.”

“I would lean towards the latter, since the Asgardian obviously does want her around. Only she doesn’t appear to be confident. She was mistrustful, even scared, but she’s hiding it well.”

Coulson nodded his assent and responded, “She’s sending mixed signals from the few she’s broadcasting. It’s hard to get a read on her.”

“Loki got her all dolled up and brought her to Germany with him for a reason – I seriously doubt he picked her up at the museum. He knew he was going to be spotted by SHIELD, and we would come for him. Why bring the girl? She would only be a liability,” Agent Romanoff mused as Coulson guided her into an alcove where they could continue speaking in private before they reached the controlled chaos that was the bridge of the Helicarrier.

Agent Coulson didn’t respond for a moment, looking almost uncomfortable, which was a rare sight for Romanoff to witness. The man was the very definition of living granite, and not many things could disquiet him.

“What have invaders done throughout all of history soon after they begin conquering and pillaging?”

Romanoff caught on instantly, but she didn’t look uncomfortable. She looked downright disgusted, the veneer of the calm assassin briefly slipping from her features as she fixed a hard glare on the other SHIELD agent.

“You suspect Loki sexually abused her.”

“I would say it’s more than likely,” Coulson replied, looking troubled as he regarded the female agent with pursed lips. “The bruising around her neck, consistent with a two-handed grip. The facial injuries from being struck with a blunt object. Medical will be able to tell us more, but we shouldn’t be surprised, to be honest. He’s not exactly the nicest guy on the planet… or anywhere else, for that matter.”

Agent Romanoff regarded him with her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on a point above his shoulder before regaining eye contact with him.

“She didn’t seem like the victim of that kind of mistreatment. Frost tried to protect him after the beat-down Stark and Cap gave him.”

“Victims deal with trauma in a variety of ways. We can only guess how deep the venom goes.”

Romanoff gave a nod as she concurred with his point, knowing full well how easy it was to condition someone’s behavior in a particular way, even if it conflicted with their own self-interests. It wasn’t all that difficult to manipulate the victim into admiring their abusers, either.

The assassin just didn’t want to admit it, and was trying to find some explanation that fit the situation other than the obvious, glaring, ugly possibility that was the simplest answer to Frost’s odd mannerisms: Loki had broken her.

Coulson’s next words only confirmed what she reluctantly suspected.

“I think the Asgardian brought the woman as a message to SHIELD. A message saying, ‘Look at what I can do to the people of your planet. They’re playthings to me.’”

Romanoff clenched her jaw, immediately thinking of her partner. Trapped as Loki’s slave, forced to do God knew what, helpless to oppose even the simplest order. Not even his training to resist torture and interrogation would aid him against the mystical qualities of that damned sceptre.

But Coulson knew her thoughts would instantly fly to Barton, and he would expect her to remain a professional. She could not distract herself with limitless questions and worries about her missing partner, or what would happen to him now that Loki was in their custody.

Romanoff’s mask of calm composure was carefully replaced, though her eyes retained some of their heat. The Frost woman’s situation was hitting a little too close to home, at least in regards to being dominated and controlled, unable to fight against the manipulation because the victim is so buried in it that they can’t even see it happening.

It was not often that Romanoff let something hit her on such a personal level, and she was glad Coulson was the only one who had witnessed her uncharacteristic display of emotions. He was one of the few good people she could count on, and trusted him almost as much as she did her partner.

“So Loki kidnaps a woman, abuses her, but talks with her about his brother,” the female agent responded, her voice once again steady and calm as she regarded her handler, grateful for his unspoken understanding as he patiently waited for her input.

Coulson responded with a shrug, stating, “From his speech to the Director, did you get the impression he was entirely stable? Plus, maybe he got lonely. Attempting to invade a planet on your own can be pretty alienating, I’m sure.”

Romanoff studied Coulson with a raised eyebrow, having one of those frequent moments where she was unsure if he was joking or not. The man had an odd sense of humor.

“I believe our best course of action would be to not tell Thor that his brother may be a rapist as well as a mass murderer,” Romanoff offered solemnly. The last thing they needed was the God of Thunder bringing down the entire Helicarrier in an understandable, but disastrous, fit of rage.

“Agreed,” Agent Coulson breathed heavily, his shoulders slightly slumped as he turned and entered the hallway, Romanoff right behind him. She had never seen the senior agent look so tired, but then again – none of them had gotten more than a few short naps in the past seventy-two hours.

The pair of agents entered the bridge of the Helicarrier which was bustling with activity as every available engineer and technician was attempting to track down the Tesseract according to Dr. Banner’s specifications.

“Think she’d be willing to talk if we kept her away from the Asgardian?” the red-haired agent asked, studying her superior as she noted the posture he now held of relaxed confidence. She was not the only one with a useful assortment of masks and veils.


Agent Coulson looked away from her to stare out at the expansive night sky through the bridge bay window, his arms crossed as he carefully thought about her question.

“Given enough time, maybe. Despite her steadfast silence regarding the demigod, I get the feeling she’s holding back for other reasons. Out of loyalty, out of fear, I’m not sure yet. But distance tends to help you clear your head – see the big picture.

“Unfortunately, time is a commodity with a high demand and a short supply. I doubt we’ll get anything useful from her that could matter with the time we do have.”

“She’s safe now, anyway,” Romanoff remarked in an even tone of voice which sounded almost aloof and uncaring. But Coulson knew that was just the way the agent composed herself: unemotionally and objectively. Especially after the conversation they had just had.

“None of us are going to be safe from the war-hungry Asgardian if we don’t find the Tesseract. Soon.”

Notes