You've Got Sucker's Luck

Prologue

Curls of steam were still wafting from Loki's coat when the elevator doors re-opened, revealing a brightly lit hallway, and the door to the apartment he sought.

How convenient.

Smirking, he traversed the distance in one long stride and extended a hand towards the door's mottled brass handle, which began to glow faintly green in response. He had only just finished picking the lock, however, when the slightest of creaks reached his ears. Someone had crept into place on the opposite side of the threshold and was now lying in wait for him to make his entrance.

Well, no need to disappoint.

Loki twisted the knob, opened the door and entered, coming came face-to-face with the owner herself - and the business end of a double-barreled shotgun. Her easy stance and steady aim told him she knew how to use it.

"If you're looking for more coffee," she said pleasantly, "I'm fresh out. Hands up."

She must have taken a shortcut and returned home before he had arrived, he realized.

"This is unwise," he warned, holding his hands aloft as requested.

"You broke into my apartment," she pointed out, "Hi, pot. Meet kettle."

Loki had scant familiarity with Midgardian idioms, but knew enough to recognize when he was being insulted. Outraged, he proffered the woman an elegant sneer and went to lower his hands.

She moved her finger to the trigger.

He looked down at the length of black steel pressing into his sternum, scowled, and lifted his hands once more.

"I have no wish to hurt you," he said firmly.

"Okay," she replied, continuing to speak in the same conversational tone as before, index finger still hovering by the trigger, "That makes one of us. What are you doing here?"

Recognition flooded into her eyes before Loki could answer, followed by unbridled irritation.

"Oh, for..." She lowered the shotgun to rest the stock on the floor, "Let me guess," she drawled, one hand around the barrel of her weapon, the other on her hip, "Coulson sent you, right?"

Loki came by his nickname of Liesmith honestly if not honorably, and at any given time was equipped with as many alibis as he was knives. This mention of Coulson, however, caught him wholly off guard. He had killed the man three years prior; why in Hel was this little mortal upstart referring to the man in the present tense?

"I know you're just the messenger and that you're following orders," she was saying, taking no notice of his confusion as she shoved past him and into the dusty living room, lobbing the shotgun onto the couch as she went, "but do me a favor and tell your boss he's about one B&E short of a restraining order. I don't need a baby sitter."

Bee and E? Loki wondered, only half-listening as he regained his composure. What did this reference? Baldr and Eir? Bragi and Eostre?

"Wait a second," he heard her gasp. She whirled around to face him, now wearing an accusatory glare of fury. "He bugged you, didn't he?!"

Without waiting for a reply, she stormed over and began poking and prodding at him as she searched for something on his person. Loki tolerated these indignities, stone-faced, until she grabbed his arm to start inspecting his sleeve.

"Madam, I can assure you that Agent Coulson is not monitoring our conversation," he declared, grasping both of her wrists and pushing her back from him.

"Then why are you here?" she demanded. "Who are you?"

"A representative of SHIELD," he replied, cover story at the ready, "Security."

"Security?" She looked him up and down and started to smile, "You look like a Comic Con refugee. What gives?"

Assuming she was referring to the cut and quality of his suit, which was leaps and bounds above SHIELD's paltry standard-issue garb – Coulson wouldn't have known an Armani if it slapped him in the face - Loki dodged the question and extended his hand.

"John Lucas," he said, coming up with name on the spot.

"Sabrina Nolan," she answered warily as she firmly returned his handshake, "But you already knew that. Speaking of, care to return my wallet?"

"Ah – yes." Loki adopted a rueful expression, reached into his pocket and handed over her wallet, "I would have introduced myself, but –"

"What was up with you, back there at the Starbucks?" she interrupted, "Are you guys testing some kind of new thing? I've never felt a spike like that, not from anybody."

"A spike?" Loki adopted a confused expression. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah, SHIELD has some fancy name for it," she said, "Sith – seth – sither…" She closed her eyes, struggling to remember, but then finally shook her head and looked back at him. "Sorry," she apologized. "My memory is still pretty shot."

"I...am afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Loki admitted; his voice was filled with reluctant uncertainty, but he knew full well the word she was unable to recall: Seidr – power. Magic. Exactly what had SHIELD been up to that they were dabbling with Seidr? And how had they not already blown themselves to bits?

An unpleasant revelation occurred to him: His accord with Odin never specified the form his reparations needed to take, only that he needed to atone for his crimes on Earth and Jotunheim. Surely the Allfather had not intended Loki's penance to also include playing the role of Midgardian's magical nursemaid for the rest of his life…!

Or perhaps that is precisely what you intended, Loki reflected darkly, his fists clenching as he recalled those agonizing final moments at Odin's bedside. Making me an offer I could never refuse, knowing I would agree to anything if it meant being able to see her again.

"Are you okay?"

Sabrina Nolan's voice pulled Loki out of his livid abstraction, and when he returned his attention to her, he saw she was watching him with some concern.

He apologized, made a generic excuse about having had a long day, then continued his story, "My orders were simply to bring you in. There was no mention of…spikes."

She was about to ask another question when the chime of the elevator at the end of the hallway reached Loki's ears, followed by approaching footsteps. These sounds fell outside of the range of human hearing, but she spotted his glance at the door and straightened up from where she had been leaning against the back of the couch.

"What's wrong?"

The door kicked itself open before he could reply. Five armed men stormed inside with weapons brandished, closely followed by a woman clad in a black jumpsuit.

"What the hell!" Sabrina Nolan yelped as the newcomers rushed forward. Two guards headed straight for her, flanking her on either side as they drew her several feet away; all other attention was directed at Loki, armaments included.

"Hands up, sir," barked the woman in charge.

For the third time that day Loki raised his hands into the air, thinking dark thoughts of what might transpire if he were ordered to do so a fourth time.