41. Lair, Liar, pants on fire

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" Okay. One more time" Loki said, trying to contain his laugh.

I scrunched up my face, channelling the Sceptre, channelling my powers, all at once, until finally, I had it.

Loki laughed out loud for the 5th time that day, snickering at my face "You look constipated"

I opened my eyes, glad to see a film of blue fog covering my sight. "Broken robot my ass" I smiled. " I'm fully functional"

" Remind me why you're doing this?" Loki smirked. " Because I'm quite enjoying it"

" It could be useful" I said, relaxing my face again, my eyes losing their glow. " And it's better than just sitting around and making an awkward conversation with Finn"

" Useful, how? I mean, it is a cool parlour trick-"

" God, you've never actually had to disguise yourself, haven't you?"

" You're talking to a shape-shifter here"

" I can give people the illusion that I am controlled." I said, smirking. " An ingenious idea, thanks to me. It won't just allow me to get into Shield undetected, but also get close and personal with Andrei"

I changed back my eyesight, blinking the film of blue away like wiping off residue. But this time, Loki didn't laugh as I pulled a face.

" You realise... you might have to kill him"

I paused. I hadn't really thought about that. So mind-set on getting the Sceptre back, I hadn't even contemplated the idea of battling Andrei head on. I mean, he wouldn't be a good fighter, that much I had thought about. I doubted that he had trained once in his entire life. I imagined perhaps giving him up to Shield, so that they could lock him up somewhere secret, where not even Hydra could rescue him. But murdering him?

If it came to it, if my life, Loki's, or the lives of the Avengers depended on it, I would kill him. I would kill him because my job as an Avenger was to protect people. Gods, I had responsibilities now. Not just an urge to protect people, but a responsability. If Andrei got in the way of that, I wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in his head.

Yes, I would mourn. But then again, I had already mourned for the loss of that relationship between him and I. Those quiet nights, the stolen moments, all of that. It was over. Because I didn't need someone to comfort me anymore. No, I had grown to look out for myself. He had been my salvage from the Red Room, until he wasn't, until I was my salvage.

But him? Would I mourn for him? Would I feel loss or guilt or regret for killing him? Should I feel that way?

No, because he had used me, had used me like a toy until I was broken. And now that I had mended myself, he wanted to use me again. He had refused me help in my darkest moments, and I almost paled, thinking back to one of our later conversations.


" What is this?" I asked, feeling a soft fabric between my calloused hands. As if the fabric didn't belong with me, didn't fit right.

" Chiffon"

" And this?" I felt another, smooth as water, flowing between my fingers like a vapour.

" Mulberry Silk. You know, Experiment, you are beautiful"

I turned around to look at him. Handsome, even in the setting sun, where shafts of light seemed to hit his face at just the right spots. I blushed, turning around to hide it. But he was on me, grabbed my chin with smooth, slender fingers, brushing my long hair out of the way. " Blushing? Cute"

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