Loki: Deep Escape

[moonshadows]

((Begins after Deep Containment, continues after Bifrost Repaired))

It was nearly a month before Loki noticed something odd from his deep containment cell. He’d grown used to the guards – always two, usually a rookie and a veteran – that watched from the observation window. He greeted them by name when they came on shift, a parlor trick that unnerved the rookies, and as the days passed the veterans grew…comfortable…with his good behavior. They would share gossip and news of the outside world in exchange for tales of the Nine Realms, something that made their shifts pass more pleasantly. But today, there was only one guard.

“Good evening, Agent Song,” he said pleasantly.

In the observation booth, Agent Song’s fear spiked. There was no reply.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked archly.

The intercom switched on. “I-I’m not sup-supposed to talk t-to you,” Agent Song said shakily.

The intercom switched off.

Loki frowned and retreated to his StarkPad, fingers dancing a well-known path until he arrived at Banner’s profile.

Something’s off, he typed. I’m being guarded by a raw recruit all by himself. Is SHIELD experiencing a shortage of staff?

You got me, came the reply a minute later. I haven’t heard anything.

A computer error, then, or a last-minute change?

You’d have to ask Tony.

But he didn’t, not really. The Odinsight would show him the answer to this riddle. What he saw, however, was Director Fury re-assigning Song’s partner personally. There was only one conclusion that made sense there, but it took Loki what seemed like hours to accept it. Still…it was, if he was interpreting this clue correctly, a command.

Smirking to himself, Loki cracked his knuckles and waited. As soon as Song’s gaze turned elsewhere, he cloaked himself in the magic that hid him from sight.

When Song turned back to the observation window, he stared. Frantically, his eyes combed the modest space as if Loki could have simply stepped out of sight, but no – there was nowhere to hide.

The intercom switched on. “L-Loki? Sir?”

Grinning madly now, he sauntered invisibly over to the door and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Now nearly blind with panic at having lost his very powerful and potentially dangerous prisoner, Song rushed down the steps and opened the door, as if expecting his eyes to tell him a different tale. Loki slipped through the door, closed it behind him, and went up the stairs, magic flowing over him until he stepped out into the sub-sub-sub-basement hallway in a SHIELD uniform. The elevator took him swiftly to the first floor and he nodded polite greetings to the agents he passed on his way to the cafeteria. No one paid him any special attention as he grabbed a tray and stepped into line. A can of Pepsi, an apple, and a pre-made egg salad sandwich went onto his tray as he passed the stations, looking for a good opportunity for mischief. He’d already left the line by the time the hamburgers started mooing on the grill. He was sitting at a corner table when the French fries re-arranged themselves to spell LOKI WAS HERE. And he had half a sandwich in one hand and the open can of Pepsi in the other when the mac and cheese shaped itself into a gooey approximation of his head.

That’s when the building went to red alert.

Loki joined the crowd scrambling to their stations, weaving his way through the chaos until he reached the retinal scanner separating the civilian-friendly lobby from the rest of the high-security building. While the machine was scanning his eye, he sent a spark of magic to temporarily confuse it into authorizing his escape without sounding any further alarm. His uniform faded into a fine suit as he crossed the threshold, and without a care in the world Mr. Lawrence O’Kee strolled through the lobby and out the front door.

 

 

Two weeks later, Loki ruined an attempt at using the audience as test subjects at a performance of King Lear by replacing Edmund’s actor. No one batted an eye until he manifested his armor during a particularly dramatic scene, and then the audience fled screaming. He was obedient as always as Natasha cuffed him, as Barton muzzled him (“Enough theatrics out of you for one day,” he’d said with a smirk), as he was marched down the lonely hallway that led to the surprisingly comforting cell SHELD had constructed just for him. When he lifted the StarkPad to settle in for some harmless reading – in reality, to let Banner know that once again they could have involved scientific discussions late into the night – he discovered three Godiva truffles hiding beneath it.

He was being rewarded. They’d found the device, then, and possibly its creator. But why three? Loki stared thoughtfully at the observation window, letting the dark chocolate melt on his tongue. Perhaps…he would not contact Banner. Not yet. Not until the fourth day, when it would be clear that he’d misinterpreted this gesture.

On the third day, the pair of jaded agents watching him were replaced by a single, nervous, newbie. Agent Chavez reacted just as Agent Song had, and this time Loki bewitched the PA system to play AC/DC’s ‘Jailbreak’ as soon as he reached the first floor, again camouflaged in a SHIELD uniform. While armed agents rushed for the roof, he slipped into an empty second-floor room with a window. Moments later, a white pigeon with black markings on its head and tail flew out into the city sky, just distinctive enough to be recognized if one knew what to look for.

 

 

The third time, it was a week and a half before Fury signaled that he should escape. Irked at having missed a concert he’d been looking forward to – no recording was ever as good as actually being there – he donned the guise of Fury’s reflection and marched boldly through SHIELD headquarters. No one questioned that the eyepatch was on the other side until he turned a corner and discovered Hawkeye at the far end, ready to shoot him.

“Is there a problem, Agent Barton?” he growled in Fury’s voice.

“Yeah,” the other man answered. “That’s the wrong eye.”

The arrow went through an illusion as Loki ducked back around the corner and ran, green sparks trailing from his left hand spelling LOKI WAS HERE on the wall as he passed. Barton turned the corner and an illusion kept running while Loki ducked into an empty room. Once Barton was past, he continued unchallenged until he was out of the building and could dismiss the disguise in favor of Mr. O’Kee’s expensive, elegant clothing.

 

 

The monotony of a Tuesday without a threat to be nipped in the bud was broken by a squadron of SHIELD agents calling for backup because the HYDRA nest they were clearing out contained an extra dozen members and a being of enhanced strength. Unfortunately, any backup close enough to respond would not get there before the majority of them were wounded or dead.

None of them were expecting him stroll to casually in and caress the enhanced being with the blade of his scepter. Certainly they weren’t expecting that it would turn on its former allies and begin wreaking havoc while he stood casually to the side, admiring his handiwork. HYDRA managed to kill his puppet, but not before it had weakened them enough that the formerly-outnumbered SHIELD agents could take out the rest with ease.

The leader, Agent Jefferson, was a no-nonsense woman who’d been around long enough to have pulled guard duty on him more than once, and she turned to him with an apologetic grimace. “You know we’ve got to take you in,” she told him.

“Of course.” Loki banished his scepter and armor. “Ready when you are.”

The agents not staying to comb the HYDRA nest for anything of use formed up almost cheerfully around him and marched him out to the van. Before they got there, however, Thor demonstrated his usual lack of respect towards paving crews and stepped out of the shallow crater his landing had created.

“I see you have already captured my brother,” he said without preamble. “I commend you. Mind that he is a skilled liar; I suggest you muzzle him.”

Two agents glanced uncomfortably at each other. Jefferson stepped forward. “Only Agent Barton has access to the Asgardian muzzle,” she said, not the least bit apologetic.

“Then be sure you restrain his hands,” admonished Thor.

“Right. Of course.” There was no inflection in Jefferson’s words, a testament to her self-restraint. Loki presented his hands and she closed normal handcuffs around them. No one commented on the fact that those wouldn’t hold him if he wanted to escape. “Hey, Loki,” she said in an aggressively casual tone as she finished and stepped back, “we’re going to stop at Mickey-D’s for drive-through on the way back to the jet, you want anything?”

Loki glanced at Thor, swallowing a smile as his expression went from arrogant satisfaction to uncertainty, as if he were listening to Darcy explaining the merits of her current favorite musician. “Just a hot fudge sundae,” he answered modestly. “Oh, but I can’t eat that with handcuffs, can I?” A theatrical sigh. “Never mind.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Jefferson’s lips twitched around a smile. “We’ll get them to put the hot fudge and whipped cream in a vanilla milkshake, how’s that?”

Loki smiled in obvious delight. “That would be perfect! …but might I get strawberry instead?”

“Sure thing,” she agreed, opening the back of the van.

As Loki climbed in, he made sure to catch his brother’s expression. It was that sweet, familiar look of utter confusion he’d seen so many times, the one Thor typically wore when he realized he’d been tricked but hadn’t yet figured out where the trick was or how it had been pulled off.

The milkshake sundae was delicious.

 

Black Widow was skeptically amused to see him waiting calmly in the interrogation room, still handcuffed and guarded by four agents.

“I didn’t know you’d joined HYDRA recently,” she said, leaning against the table with crossed arms.

“I didn’t.”

She let out a small, skeptical sound. “I’m sure it’s a fascinating story, but Fury’s debriefing Thor and then he’s got your friends here to debrief.” The Asgardian muzzle and music-player headphones came out from where they’d been secured behind her back, and she gave him a small, sharp smile when he sighed. “Agent Lewis won the pool. You get Ylvis, ‘The Fox’. We’re debating if she’s getting inside information from you.”

“I do not share my plans with her,” he said in a tone of mildly affronted innocence. “She is quite observant enough to win through her own cleverness.”

Natasha just fastened the muzzle around his head and settled the headphone player in place, cheerfully twisting the volume up to a level that would make it nearly impossible for him to concentrate. Then she waved the other agents out, deliberately dropped her gaze to the mundane handcuffs, smiled again, and locked the door behind her as she left.

She hadn’t brought out the Asgardian shackles. Was he actually earning a measure of trust from her, or was this Fury’s orders?

An indeterminate amount of time later, during which he’d resolved vaguely to find an appropriate return prank for Darcy, Director Fury turned the headphones off and removed both them and the muzzle.

“I’ve already heard what happened from my agents and Thor,” he said, sitting down. “Is there anything you want to add to the narrative?”

“I’m growing fond of Agent Jefferson. You chose well in promoting her.”

“Noted.” When nothing more was forthcoming, Fury sighed. “Your brother thinks you were working with HYDRA.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

“He asked me why my agents would treat you to ice cream.”

Eagerly, the handcuffed Asgardian leaned forward. “What did you say?”

“That I’m giving you an extra five days for subversion of my agents.”

 

Five days later, when agents Kowalski and Raymond went off shift and were replaced by a new, nervous face, Loki realized those extra five days had been added to the nothing Fury would have imprisoned him for if he hadn’t had to keep up appearances for Thor’s sake.

Warily, he used the StarkPad to message Tony. Has my brother been recalled yet?

Tomorrow, came the reply. Apparently he only earned himself a week this time.

Thank you.

Want me to say hi?

No, but if you bring the conversation around to ice cream and insinuate having added hot fudge and whipped cream to a milkshake, I believe the results would amuse you.

The cursor blinked for ten full seconds before the device indicated Tony was typing a reply. There’s a story there. What’s it going to take for me to get it?

Simply ask Agent Jefferson.

I will make a note of that. I take it this means you’ll be causing trouble again two days from now?

Perhaps, Loki typed slowly. We’ll see.

Fury was offering him escape, but Thor was still on Midgard. Were he to accept, his brother would no doubt chase him relentlessly until he was again in his cell, attracting more attention than he really wanted from the Council. The idea of returning quietly to his life while Thor yet roamed the city did not appeal to him, either. Beyond that, though, this would be the fourth time he pulled the same trick and he did not want to seem predictable.

An idea, a beautiful seed of harmless chaos that would drive everyone crazy and ensure his brother did not enjoy his last day on Midgard, blossomed suddenly behind his eyes. Now smiling in a way that unnerved Agent Manning greatly, Loki put aside the StarkPad and focused on weaving his spells…

 

When Loki suddenly vanished from the Deep Containment cell, Agent Manning panicked. His training had stressed that Loki was tricky and manipulative, and he’d hit the big red button before the intention even reached his conscious mind. His next impulse was to physically check the cell, but again his training kicked in and he instead radioed for backup. Two veteran officers charged down the hall and thundered down the stairs, a strange kind of bulky rifle held between them. Manning watched through the observation window as the door opened and a spiked net of some sort shot out, covering the entire floor of the cell. No invisible shape marred the now-flat mesh. To be safe, electricity sparked down the wires, but the missing Asgardian did not reappear. The net was pulled back into the gun and the door moved back into the closed position without either agent ever setting foot on the rubber.

From above, other alarms could faintly be heard going off.

Loki was loose.

On the main floor, armed agents physically blocked every door. Others ran methodically through the halls, scanning for anything out of the ordinary or the tell-tale LOKI WAS HERE emblazoned on a wall, a door, a window, or shaped out of something else.

They didn’t find it.

When an hour had passed with no chaos, no pranks to show where Loki had been, a siren whose grandparent had been a WWII air raid warning went off and an intrusion sweep was initiated. Every hallway, every room, every closet or cabinet big enough for Loki to cram himself into was physically searched and sealed upon being declared empty, starting with his Deep Containment cell. Once Agent Manning had locked the door to the monitoring room and vanished into the elevator to help sweep the sub-basements, Loki the glass spider climbed down the wall from where he’d been tucked into the corner of the first ceiling and resumed his own shape, still hidden from every eye. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to voice the hysterical laughter he’d been swallowing since the idea had first occurred to him. When the torrent of pent-up amusement was down to dribbling chuckles, he bent the Odinsight to the building above him and observed the chaos he’d wrought.

In his lab, Bruce Banner watched mildly as armed agents warily and respectfully searched every corner and cupboard. Finding nothing, they escorted him (and a dozen books) to the Hulk’s containment chamber and sealed the lab behind themselves. Until the 48-hour sweep was over, he would stay where he was safe. Black Widow and Hawkeye prowled the rooftop, guns and bow drawn and ready, shackles and muzzle hanging from their respective belts. Captain America stood guard in the lobby, boldly, fearlessly, as though he were utterly certain that Loki would choose that avenue of escape. Iron Man was streaking around the city, searching the streets for any sign of trouble. He’d already been to Loki’s penthouse, Thor in tow. Now the burly Asgardian stood guard on the rooftop patio, waiting grimly for his brother to return.

Loki laughed at the agents swarming, Maria Hill at the forefront, crisply directing the search of the lower floors. Then he bent the Odinsight to the Director’s office, and the laughter became a gale of hilarity. Nick Fury sat at his desk, head in his hands as though not strong enough to cry aloud to the heavens demanding to know where he went wrong. When Loki’s laughter increased, he lifted his head long enough to give the speaker a murderous glare. He could hear Loki, in his cell, and knew that the intrusion sweep would not find him – but was helpless to call it off. Once begun, no order would end it, and he hadn’t been consulted before it was initiated.

Over the remaining forty-five hours, Loki lounged invisibly in his cell, watching as SHIELD grew more harried when the search continued to not turn anything up. The StarkPad lit up periodically as Tony tried to message him. Darcy informed Tony that no, she hadn’t seen Mr. O’Kee recently. Thor kept his grim watch until she arrived in the penthouse, tapped on the glass door to get his attention, and shooed him away. Then she texted him, fetched his phone from where he’d left it on the coffee table, rolled her eyes, and turned on the TV. He watched as Thor was pulled reluctantly home, glaring through the bifrost’s prismatic torrent of energy, and laughed until his sides hurt and Fury looked ready to march down there and strangle him.

Exactly two days since he’d first vanished, the concealment spell ended and Loki pretended to read a book. In reality, he was waiting eagerly for the sweep to end and his guard or guards to return to the monitoring station. Guards, as it turned out – Kowalski partnered with the not-yet-jaded Agent Song. When the lights came back on and they saw him sitting there innocently, he leaped to his feet.

“What happened?” he called, knowing they could hear him. “Was there an emergency?”

Open-mouthed, they stared at him.

He had to keep going, or he was going to ruin the prank by laughing. Loki grabbed at the first thought that popped into his mind. “A pizza emergency?” he continued. “The Hulk got hungry? The Hulk got angry? You didn’t put anchovies on it, did you? He hates that.” Luckily for him, the Hulk had already caught six pizzas thrown like floppy Frisbees when he’d found that out and all the Hulk had done was spit out the offending pizza with a whining sort of roar. Another four had still been in their boxes, waiting, and Loki had simply apologized for that one and thrown the next. “Can I have a slice?” he finished hopefully.

While Song stared, Kowalski activated the direct connection to the Director’s office.

“Uhm…uhm…Director? Sir?”

“I know,” growled Fury. “He’s in his cell. Just ignore him, don’t give him the satisfaction of more attention – and I hope you’ve all learned a very important lesson.”

The two tired, disgruntled guards exchanged a glance. “Yes, sir,” they chorused.

The lights in the monitoring station went out and both guards pulled fold-up cots down from the walls. Normally they slept in shifts, but it had been a long two days. Moments later, they were out cold.

Loki waited, and was not disappointed. Within the hour, Fury switched on the secret intercom.

“You were supposed to have escaped, damn it,” he snapped, frayed temper audibly held in both hands. “What the hell are you still doing there?”

“Waiting for the pizza?”

The intercom switched off with a strangled sound of frustration.

Another two hours passed before his guards woke up. Minutes later, Song answered the non-emergency phone, glanced at Kowalski, and muttered agreement. Then he left, only to return carrying a pizza box.

“Director’s orders,” he told his partner, audibly baffled but obedient.

Kowalski reached for the intercom. “Alright, Loki,” he said in a firm voice. “You’re getting your pizza. Back away from the door and stay where I can see you. No tricks.”

Really? He was really getting pizza? To keep from laughing in delight, Loki held his hands up and retreated to the wall opposite the door, which opened beneath and just to the right of the observation window. Then he left his image there and moved, unseen, to flank the door.

“Go on down,” he heard Kowalski tell Song. “He’s still there,” he repeated every few seconds as Song followed the staircase around the outside of Loki’s cell.

Then the hydraulics hissed as the door lifted out from the wall and swung up, and suddenly Loki was behind the very nervous agent. “Thank you,” he said pleasantly as he lifted the box from Song’s hand and shoved him in the middle of the back, hard, enough to force him to stagger into the cell.

The hydraulics hissed as Loki triggered the closing mechanism. Running now, illusion still in place, he climbed the staircase and slipped past Kowalski as he forgot his training and charged down the stairs to free his partner, and then he strolled calmly, invisibly, down the hall to the elevator. Once safely on his way up, he inspected his prize: pepperoni and extra cheese.

 

A nondescript SHIELD agent with pale eyes and dark hair stepped boldly into Director Fury’s office holding a pizza box. “Couldn’t find him, sir,” the agent said crisply. “He’s escaped again.”

While Fury stared with an expression that said his last nerve was fraying rapidly, Loki set the empty box on the director’s desk and snapped a crisp salute.

“Dismissed,” Fury barked, an extra edge of irritation lining each letter.

Loki saluted again and vanished, following the trail of magic back to his penthouse, laughing all the way.