Madness of the Serpent

The spirit stared down at the human strapped to the semi-reclined medical bed, his azure eyes bloodshot, his glistening muscles pulling at the restraints which bound him by the wrists and ankles.

“My turn to be rescued, huh?” Barton’s strained smile faltered as he saw the graceful figure of the female agent follow the spirit into the room designated as Infirmary 31-F on the door.

“That’s the plan,” she said, crossing her arms as she looked down at her fellow agent. Barton stared back with an unfriendly scowl, the sweat-shined skin lending a sickly aspect to his features.

The spirit had been understandably cautious when Barton-Hawk was revealed to be Agent Clint Barton. But when the Romanoff human had asked for its help in freeing Barton from Loki’s compulsion, it had immediately agreed to examine him, on one condition. The female agent had consented with no argument, leading it to believe she had been sincere when she had claimed need of Barton’s mind released.

The spirit now stood next to the female agent as she, too, stared down at the sweaty, unwell human.

“What do you think?” she asked, voicing the spirit’s silent trepidation.

“It is not sure,” it replied simply and honestly. But there was nothing to do but make the attempt at studying the human and determining if the spirit could help liberate his mind. It reached a pale hand forward, thin fingers reaching towards Agent Barton’s head.

The male human gave an anxious smile and asked, “What are you doing, kid? You should be helping me out of these restraints.”

“Please remain motionless.” It gingerly touched his skin with its fingertips, following with the rest of its palm as it made contact with his forehead.

Barton suddenly jerked forward, straining against his bindings as he gave a baleful leer.
“I’m going to break free, Trinity. And when I do, I’m going wrap my hands around your slender little neck and snap you in two.”

The spirit flinched away from him, the intimately familiar echoes of Loki’s madness displayed on the face of his mind-thrall, causing its heart to race with unmistakable fear. But the female agent was on him instantly, placing her splayed hand against his chest as she slammed him back against the gurney.

“I’ve got him. Do it!” Romanoff snapped tersely, holding down her enthralled companion as she focused her full attention on the human.

“Oh, don’t worry Nat – I haven’t forgotten about you. I’m going to use your lovely collarbone to whet my knife, and then I’ll thrust it into your- Aaah!”

Barton snarled in frustration as Agent Romanoff jammed a rolled cloth into his mouth.

“You know I love dirty talk as much as the next girl, Clint, but you’re only going to say something regretful.” Turning her head back to the spirit, her emerald eyes flashing, she said, “Either help or back off – he’s going to hurt himself like this.” Her face was sweaty and her expression strained as she attempted to keep an even tone of voice.

The spirit apprehensively moved to reconnect with Barton’s forehead, his azure eyes burning in their hollowed sockets as he glared with luminous hatred. Doing its best to ignore his growls of anger, it closed its eyes and attempted to suppress its vibrating nerves and shaking muscles, concentrating on the sensation of Barton’s damp brow against its palm. His skin felt slick and much too warm to the touch.

Taking a deep breath, it strived to calm its own mind as it mentally reached forward, searching for anything recognizable, a familiar sensation it could grab onto. It had somehow connected with the unique power of the mind-jewel, and it hoped its strange affinity for the cosmic object could aid it now in freeing Barton from its thrall.

It did not take long to locate. The spirit had suspected, rightly so, that it would be able to find the residual energy left behind by the artifact. All processes needed energy to operate, and the mind-jewel used its limitless energy to control and bend the minds of others. That force still resided in the brain of the human, allowing it to influence his behavior even though the sceptre was far from hand.

Tentatively reaching forward, it mentally pinpointed and isolated the unique signature that could only belong to the alluring power of the mind-jewel.

It was unsure of what it should do next. Attempt to use the residual energy to revert Barton’s mind to a previous state? That seemed conclusively dangerous, but it could not simply disperse the remnants of power. It had to be absorbed or transported, pulled from Barton’s consciousness while leaving him intact.

There was only one place for the energy to go, and despite the danger this option represented, it would not leave the human within Loki’s control – especially now that his rage at the spirit’s departure would cause him to become even more unpredictable.

The spirit braced itself as it began to absorb the energy, able to visualize the vibrant, yellow force as it was engulfed into its body via the palm of its hand – just as it had done with the thrumming shaft of the sceptre.

Barton’s reaction was immediate and visceral as he arched his back, the muscles in his neck straining as his screams were muffled by the fabric in his mouth. The shackles around his wrists and ankles creaked alarmingly, pulled taut as he attempted to writhe and lash out. It did not need to open its eyes to see his struggles – its mind could actually perceive the texture of his skull and brain matter as the energy of the mind-jewel flowed through the biological material.

It did not falter or release its hold due in part to the steady hand Romanoff held against his chest. The spirit continued to siphon the power from his mind, as if it was draining potent venom from a deep wound. It took as much care as it could, attempting to cause the least amount of damage possible, but the mind-jewel had already begun to harm Barton from the evidence across his cerebrum.

After one agonizingly long moment, the energy began to taper off as the spirit fully absorbed the force into its own physical vessel. The luscious, sensual energy trailed up its arm and throughout its body, filling it with satisfying vitality and tantalizing strength.

It opened its eyes and pulled back its hand, and the elated feeling of power and life-sustaining energy faded as it looked into the exhausted face of the human it had originally labeled as Barton-Hawk. His eyes were clear, and it could see his irises for the first time – a gentle grey-blue instead of a harsh, crystallized hue.

Out of the corner of its eye, it saw the female agent staring at the spirit with an expression of oddness, as if she was startled by what she had just witnessed. But she made no comment, and turned her attention to her freed companion, giving him a shaky smile, the first show of strong emotion she had displayed thus far.

“I’m… oh God, Natasha… I’m so sorry,” the agent said, horror written clearly on his face after Agent Romanoff had removed the cloth from his mouth, which the female had done quickly, able to see he was free of influence without having to be informed.

“Apologizing for something you didn’t do? That’s a new one,” she said, her tone attempting to be light as she continued to smile at him gently. “You worried me for a second. That you can apologize for.”

“You know me, I like to live on the edge,” he responded, his voice hoarse and raw from his agonized screams. Despite this, he tried to give his female companion a reassuring smile.

“That’s what concerns me,” Romanoff replied, her green eyes never leaving his blue ones. The spirit shifted uncomfortably. It had the distinct feeling it was listening to a conversation not meant for it to partake in.

The movement attracted Barton’s attention, and his eyebrows creased in confusion.

“Trinity?”

“Yes,” it confirmed, curious to know if Barton suffered from some type of memory loss from the effects of the mind-jewel.

“How… how are you here? How am I here? What happened?”

“Frost surrendered herself to SHIELD. And you tried to take me on by hand-to-hand combat,” Agent Romanoff replied, and Barton responded by loudly groaning.

“I did? Shit.”

“Yep. And I hit you really hard on the head. Hoped you would level out after that, but… you didn’t.” Agent Romanoff glanced sideways to where the spirit still stood, her expression unreadable. “We had to resort to more unconventional methods.”

“Well, whatever you did, it worked. My head feels clear for the first time in days,” Barton quipped as Romanoff began to unbind his shackles. “Though all things considered, my brain wasn’t the most valuable commodity that Asgardian asshole had in his arsenal.” His tone of voice attempted levity, but his breath still came in too quickly, and his skin was still pale and reflective with sweat.

“Self-deprecation? Must still be under a spell,” Romanoff said, giving him a soft smile with a look that indicated to the spirit that she cared for him greatly – perhaps more deeply than what was required between two allies.

Barton’s lips twitched as he gazed up at his female counterpart, and the spirit was surprised how quickly he was recovering from the traumatic effect of having his mind not be his own. Or perhaps he was dealing with the pain by covering it with humor. Humans, the ones it had observed at least, seemed to have a penchant for this defensive behavior.

The agent looked back to the spirit, his face suddenly solemn.

“In all seriousness, it’s good you got away from that sociopath, kid.”

Its expression stayed neutral at his words, but a dull ache resided in its chest, unable to forget the way the Jotun-Asgardian had looked at their separation. Rather than respond to his assertion about Loki, the spirit drew his attention elsewhere.

“It believes there are some small traces of damage to the outer layer of the cerebral cortex, but it does not believe this to be permanent.”

“Didn’t know you were a brain surgeon,” the human responded lightly, though his eyes flickered up to the female agent. “How did you manage to get him out?”

“You’d have to ask her,” Romanoff replied, the prior playfulness now completely gone from her voice as she glanced at the spirit.

Instead of answering the inquiry, which it knew would only work for a limited amount of time, it asked the male agent, “Do you remember… it?”

Agent Barton nodded and a dark shadow seemed to pass over his already-clouded face.
“Yeah. I remember everything, mostly.”

The spirit felt an unavoidable vein of guilt trace through its mind, even though it had done nothing to cause the haunted look on his face.

“Have you ever had someone take your brain and play?” Barton asked as Agent Romanoff poured him a glass of water. “Pull you out and stuff something else in? Do you know… what it’s like to be unmade?”

“You know that I do,” Romanoff responded, her eyes softening as she stared at the other agent. The expression on her face was disquieted. The spirit wondered what she had experienced that would make her feel the irresistible control of another.

The female sat on a chair pulled up next to the gurney, and they seemed to have both forgotten it for the moment.

“Natasha… How many agents did I-”

“Don’t,” Romanoff immediately responded, looking straight into Barton’s face. “Don’t do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki.”

At the mention of his name, the spirit could not help but feel that odd pressure in its chest once more.

“This is monsters and magic, and nothing we were ever trained for.”

“Loki. He get away?”

“Yeah. I don’t suppose you know where?”

“Didn’t need to know. Didn’t ask.” He glimpsed up at the spirit, an eyebrow raised, and it stared back at him unresponsively.

“He tell you where he was going?” Barton asked, sitting up straighter as he winced from the movement.

“No,” it responded, though it quickly averted its eyes.

“Trin,” he replied, his tone indicating that he did not believe the spirit’s evasive response. The spirit glanced up at him, confused by the shortening of its name, while Agent Romanoff watched the two of them silently.

“It does not know where Loki is located. It only knows he was going to reunite with Dr. Selvig, who is in possession of the artifact you seek.”

Romanoff slowly got to her feet, walking towards the door with a thoughtful expression, her hands resting on her hips.

“He’s going to make his play soon, then.” He took the cup of water from the table, though he gripped it tightly in his hands rather than drink its contents. “Today.”

“We’ve got to stop him,” Romanoff responded from near the infirmary door.

“Yeah? Who’s ‘we’?” he asked gruffly after taking a gulp of water.

“I don’t know. Whoever’s left.”

“Well... if I put an arrow through Loki’s eye socket, I’d sleep better, I suppose.”

“May it use your restroom facility?” it asked abruptly.

Agent Barton, seemingly oblivious to its sudden discomfort, nodded toward a doorway leading into a small room.

“Be my guest.”

Agent Romanoff, however, watched it closely as it went into the bathroom and shut the door. The spirit breathed with relief as it was separated from the two humans by a solid barrier, its back braced against the cold door.

It could understand Barton’s anger, but it did not want him to glimpse any of its underlying emotions regarding the one who had enslaved him. It rationally understood that Barton could not know what the Jotun-Asgardian had been through to reach this point of unravelling and cruelty.
It understood, but it did not have to agree with the human nor assist him in harming Loki. The spirit still wished to save its Jotun-Asgardian, which did not bode well for what it planned to do next.

It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power... for identity.

The spirit wondered if Loki had understood the hypocrisy of his words in the human city of Stuttgart, about his own desperation to seize control. Most likely he did not consider them to be such, as his madness was too deeply ingrained for him to see it. Or perhaps he believed his station to be so far above the humans that the same parameters did not apply to him.

But the spirit was beginning to understand why he craved such power – why its allure could be so irresistible. Understanding had been out of its grasp until it had held the golden apparatus in its hands – it had felt the tinge of joy and fear at the prospect of having such an unstoppable tool. It could not begin to imagine the things it could accomplish with such a wide array of powers at its command.

And that was precisely the problem. It had a limited imagination, as it had little experience in the realms of the living. It did not know what the purpose of having such power was, or how to control it in a way that was appropriate.

It had just been brought into existence a few solar days prior – how was it to differentiate between correct and incorrect actions? Was there a moral baseline that sentient beings were supposed to obey, and did it have certain responsibilities if it wished to wield such power?

Unable to answer these questions, it had returned the golden apparatus to Loki, fearful of what would happen with the weapon in its grasp. It had decided it did not have the wisdom or the knowledge to wield such a dangerous tool. The golden apparatus might even be more hazardous in the possession of the spirit – both because it did not possess a foundation on which to make moral decisions, and because it was able to bend the jewel to its whims with little effort.

The spirit had rejected that responsibility, choosing instead to seek out the humans for their aid. To plead on Loki’s behalf and attempt to convince them to spare his life when the inevitable clash between the two forces took place.

Would the Jotun-Asgardian ever forgive the spirit for what he no doubt saw as a broken oath to remain at his side? It had seen no other option. If it wanted to shield Loki from the dark fate he was so desperately trying to create, then it would have to join with beings stronger than itself in order to accomplish its goals.

What Loki would see as an act of betrayal, the spirit saw as a possibility for salvation. The Jotun-Asgardian was not only its charge to protect, but also its burden to bear. Coulson of SHIELD had been wrong in that regard.

The spirit had just completed this thought when it heard a loud voice from the other side of the door, baritone and familiar. Familiar in a way that made its stomach clench in anxiety.

“Go where?” Romanoff was asking as it pulled open the door, coming to a halt as its eyes met a stern, steely-blue gaze.

“I’ll tell you on the… What is she doing here?” the Captain demanded while looking between the two agents.

“She pulled a Norse god out of my brain. Is there a problem?” Barton asked, pointedly shifting his tone of voice.

“That depends,” he responded, glaring out of the side of his eye at the spirit as it walked towards the center of the room but remained a safe distance away from the shield-warrior. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“You have located Loki,” it instead remarked. Not a question.

The shield-warrior sighed, now staring it fully in the face.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Actually… it is,” Romanoff said, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Excuse me?” he questioned strongly, his eyebrows rising in a clear sign of disbelief with her words.

“We struck a deal. She would help free Barton, and we would take her with us if we found the Asgardian.”

The Captain stared at the agent as if he questioned the soundness of her mind. Even Barton was peering at her as if she were speaking in an unrecognizable language.

“I was exploring all of our options,” the female agent unapologetically remarked, meeting their gazes evenly.

“You still didn’t answer my question, Frost. How did you manage to break Barton free of Loki’s mind control?” the Captain asked, turning his attention again to the spirit. It eyed him in return – curious as to why he used the second name given to it by Loki. This seemed to indicate formality, or possible hostility, given the nature of his tone.

It did not answer his inquiry, even after the other two humans trained their wary gazes on its form. They waited in the tense silence until Barton finally spoke.

“I may be able to answer that for you.”

“How?” the female agent inquired, and the spirit made immediate eye contact with the male agent who had once been a mind-thrall. The gentleness of his voice did little to comfort it from his words.

“Look, I’m grateful for what you did, Trinity. Truly and deeply. I can’t put it into words how thankful I am. But… I have to tell them you’re not…”

It continued to silently plead for his discretion regarding what he knew about the spirit’s true nature. Its message was either missed or ignored.

“…not human.”

“What?” Romanoff and the Captain asked at the same time, one voice even and calm while the other was sharp and suspicious.

It remained silent, apprehension tightening its throat as it watched the humans closely for their reactions.

“Loki, he… I don’t know how to explain it. He created her with the Cube and sceptre using the portal device that Dr. Selvig is building. Said she was some kind of celestial spirit slash dragon-thing trapped by something called the Other. It was some very weird shit and way above my pay-grade.”

All three of the humans stared at it with various expressions, none of them encouraging.

“It means you no harm, and… our goals are aligned,” it replied, its expression blank as it waited for their response. From what it had learned about the humans, they were not the most tolerant and welcoming peoples when it came to those who did not fit a specified criterion of “normalcy”.

But it did not want them to see its hesitation. The next few minutes were crucial, and it needed to exude as much trustworthiness as it could muster.

“And what goals would those be?” the shield-warrior asked, his tone indicating skepticism and distrust while his tense body language confirmed the negative emotions.

“To prevent Loki from causing further harm. Both to himself and the people of your world.”

“Why do you care what happens to him?” Agent Barton asked, his eyebrows drawn together with suspicion. “He kept you as his prisoner. Not to mention his weird, creepy fixation on you.”

The spirit did not understand the meaning of Barton’s words. Loki had been focused on it in a particular manner, to a certain extent, but it had not been the only one who had received the intimidating attentions of the Jotun-Asgardian.

It searched their faces, indecisive on how much information it should reveal. If it could not convince them it was in their best interest to allow it to accompany them, it would be forced to remain imprisoned while Loki either succeeded with his designs for war, or he was defeated and possibly killed at the hands of these powerful warriors.

But if the spirit revealed it had rescued the Jotun-Asgardian from the void, it may not gain the trust of the humans, which would still result in its imprisonment while Loki was left to face the consequences of his twisted mind. Alone.

“It… witnessed Loki being tortured by this Other you mentioned. It believes he may have been coerced or manipulated into attacking your people. He has been… changed. Warped. He is a victim in this,” it said earnestly when its explanations were met with silence. None of the warriors appeared to believe a word it had uttered.

“Did you see anything to indicate Loki was not in control of his actions?” Agent Romanoff asked her counterpart, her green eyes searching his face while she waited for his response.

“Not that I could see. But, it was weird… he didn’t seem to know a whole lot about Earth, or modern humans in general. Most of his initial intel was outdated by a few hundred years.” Barton stared back at his female companion, his jaw unusually tightened while speaking of the being who had enslaved him. “It was as if he hadn’t prepared, at all, to conquer us – like he was planning to rely only on his alien armada,” Agent Barton offered, slightly shrugging his shoulders as he attempted to downplay his obvious discomfort when discussing the Jotun-Asgardian.

“That does sound out of character for a meticulous psychopath like Loki,” Romanoff replied, her eyebrows furrowing in thought. “His type needs to be in control, always one step ahead and making sure everyone knows it.”

“He sure seems to be a step ahead of us ever since he stole the Tesseract,” the Captain said unhappily.

“Loki relied on his… on the people he had taken, on Dr. Selvig and me. A lot. Especially me.” Agent Barton stared blankly between Romanoff and the Captain, but his voice remained steady, having a flat quality that matched the expression in his eyes. “I was either instructing his mercenaries on how to secure his underground compound, helping him plan the heist in Germany, keeping Trinity under guard, or giving him details on every classified piece of information regarding the Avengers Initiative.”

“Barton,” Romanoff said, gently but firmly. Curiously, she did not use his first name and the softer tone as she had before, when the agent had begun to blame himself for his actions under Loki’s compulsion.

“You didn’t have a choice. Trust me. Anything that involves the Cube is greatly outside of your control,” the shield-warrior added, his blue eyes also curiously softening as he looked at the SHIELD agent.

“Yeah... I learned that the hard way. Several times.” Barton glanced at the spirit, giving it the impression what he was speaking of involved it in some way. His next words confirmed this. “Loki even forced me to provide him with a list of movies to show Trinity with the goal of making her hate people.”

It regarded him with curiosity – it knew Loki had shown the spirit the documentaries in order to manipulate and twist its opinions, but it had not known Barton had been involuntarily pulled into participating.

“I’m really sorry for being a part of Loki’s brainwashing and propaganda machine. I’m sorry for… a lot of things I said to you.”

The spirit blinked in confusion. Barton had not been in control of any of his actions or speeches. Why did he apologize for them?

“The documentaries were false?” it asked, a small flicker of hope lighting inside of its chest, only to be extinguished at the agent’s next words.

“No, they were…. accurate, as far as I can tell. The SHIELD one was especially interesting to watch – I have no idea how the filmmaker got his hands on such restricted information. I remember Fury had a shit-fit when he first got wind of it and had it immediately suppressed. I think the poor sucker in charge of the film got laughed out of the media sector for good.”
The smile which had begun to form on Barton’s face began to fade as he noticed its closed-off expression and stiff body posture.

“Not what you wanted to hear, I know. But I promise you, we’re not all bad. Well… most of us.”
“Wait. Can we go back to the part where Loki- what, created some kind of golem?”

“A what now?” Barton asked.

“A magical construct built with inanimate matter and powered by a living soul,” Agent Romanoff answered immediately, who was rewarded with a side-eyed glance from her fellow agent.

The spirit’s own focus was pulled inward as it thought on her words. Was it what the female warrior had described? A golem?

“It is not composed of inanimate material – it is conclusively organic.”

“But not human,” the shield-warrior pointed out.

“Is that really the most pressing issue right now?” Agent Romanoff remarked sharply, causing the spirit to glance at her in surprise for coming to its defense. “Thor’s an alien as well, in case you forgot. We can’t really afford to be picky with where our help is coming from.”

“And how is she going to help, exactly?” he countered sternly. “We don’t have time for a town hall meeting about this. Loki is hell-bent on opening that portal, and if she’s not going to be useful, then she’s only going to be a liability.”

The spirit could not help but begin to feel its chest tighten at his phrasing. It was too reminiscent of Loki’s words, of Barton’s words while under his enslavement.

Agent Barton must have realized this, because he said, “Rogers. She’s been through hell. She may not have been under a spell, but she was under Loki’s boot heel as completely as I was. If she wants to be there for closure, or revenge, or whatever – I say let her.”

The spirit strongly disagreed with the agent’s characterization of Loki’s actions and how it would respond to them, but it remained silent, knowing his argument was furthering its chances of obtaining its goals.

“And what do you say?” the shield-warrior asked the red-haired female, adding, “That she should come with us?”

“Absolutely not.”

The spirit stared at her, its confusion reflected on the Captain’s face.

“But you just said-“

“Maybe she can help, maybe not. Personally, I don’t want her within fifty feet of the Asgardian.”

“Then why did you advocate for taking her along?” the shield-warrior asked, once again expressing the questions the spirit was attempting to comprehend.

“I said I would take her, not that we should take her. I was also arguing against your rationale for not accepting her help – mainly because she isn’t human.”

“Seriously Steve, it’s 2012. That anti-alien attitude is so misinformed and outdated,” Barton added with a serious expression, though his eyes seemed to hold playfulness as he stared at the flustered warrior.

“A deal was made,” the spirit said to the female, finally finding its voice as the three humans turned at the sound of its words.

Its tone sounded even and unemotional to its own ears, but Romanoff perceived much more than what the spirit presented, because her expression appeared quite different from the usual ones she displayed.

“Some promises aren’t worth keeping, Frost. Especially if breaking them means saving a life.”

The spirit could only stare at the female agent, unable to process her words. What life would be saved if it remained behind? A life was more likely to be extinguished if it did not accompany the warriors.

Romanoff turned her face towards the shield-warrior when it did not reply, and said, “Make the call, Rogers.”

“Me?” the blue-clad human asked with raised eyebrows.

“Like you said, no time for a town hall meeting. You’re the one in charge, so make the decision you feel is best for the mission.”

“I didn’t realize Fury had appointed me for anything more than his mascot,” the human replied, his large arms crossed across his chest.

“Well then, congratulations Steve Rogers. You were designated as the unofficial leader under the Avengers docket by the Director himself. With Earth about to be invaded, I think we can make it official,” Barton remarked with a small grin as he regarded the human across from him.

The shield-warrior looked as if he were caught between annoyance and exasperation, and he settled for a look of slight embarrassment as he ran a gloved hand through his yellow hair.

“Fine. But this is a stopgap measure, not a permanent solution,” he reiterated to the two agents who nodded their assent, though the glance that passed between them indicated something else entirely. The human, Steve Rogers, missed the look as he fixed his gaze on the form of the spirit.

“Final decision may rest with me, but I still want input from the two of you. Romanoff, why did you say you didn’t want Frost within fifty feet of Loki?”

Attempting to hide its growing discomfort, it remained perfectly still as it waited for the female’s response, knowing she would not portray the Jotun-Asgardian in a positive manner. It was correct.

“Loki’s incredibly dangerous, more than we can ever understand. And his attention seems focused on Frost in an obsessive, disturbing way. There is a high probability he will target and isolate her – either to reclaim her or take her out of the equation altogether. I’d rather not take the risk, especially when my first assessment tells me the threats presented outweigh whatever assistance she can bring.”

The spirit began to feel strangely uncomfortable, and it had the odd urge to exit the conversation and find a small space in which to curl its physical form into the most compact shape possible.

The humans believed Loki to be a source of threat to it. Romanoff had been speaking of the spirit when she mentioned a life to be saved, it realized now. But what would be the value of that? What purpose would be served in keeping it here, rather than using it as leverage against the Jotun-Asgardian?

Why would the humans concern themselves with its wellbeing? It was illogical, incomprehensible, contradictory-

“Sorry Nat, I gotta go against you on this. She did something to my head, even if she won’t tell us what, and it was pretty damn effective at screwing with Loki’s shit already. I think she’s plenty helpful,” Barton added, giving the spirit a warm smile. It returned the gesture with an expression it hoped conveyed gratitude.

Unfortunately, the agent decided to continue speaking.

“Not to mention showing up with Trinity in tow will really freak him out. You should have seen him when-”

“It can collapse the portal.”

It interrupted Barton before he could speak of Loki’s actions in the hidden lair, either of his treatment of the spirit, or the humans he had killed as a result of its attempted escape.
The distraction worked. The two males stared at it, one with open disbelief, the other with his eyebrows creased in suspicion. Only Romanoff remained expressionless, and it hoped she did not sense the spirit’s desperate ploy.

“What?” Barton demanded sharply, his tone of voice riddled with incredulity.

“It can collapse the portal,” it repeated, assuming he had misheard. Unfortunately, the clarification did not seem to assist him in understanding its words any more clearly. He continued to stare, his mouth slightly open.

“And what makes you think you can accomplish that?” the Captain asked, fixing his bright eyes on the spirit as he determined its fate.

It responded with as much confidence as it could gather – its eyes boring into theirs to convey its solemnity.

“Because it knows how the original portal was destroyed.”

Notes