I own nothing. Everything belongs to Marvel except OC's. PLEASE EXCUSE THE TERRIBLE WRITING. I WAS YOUNG I WAS FOOLISH. IT GETS BETTER. To my wonderful viewers: You may find some references to other TV shows, movies, or books. This is intentional. Enjoy the Easter Eggs!

I've always been sort of dramatic. In effect, my policy has always been that if I'm going to go down, I'm going to go down with a show. It's pretty silly, I know. And, truth be told, my story will probably end sooner than most because of it. But if you want to understand my reasoning, think of it like this: in your favorite TV show, you have your favorite character. If that character dies while the show is still running, you cry and remember. And, if not, well then, who cares? I guess it all boils down to wanting to be remembered in the long run.

So, I suppose all this begins at Comic-con, New York. There are nearly ten thousand people filling the halls. All the fandoms have collided in a massive atomic explosion of geeks and nerds. After a long day of meshing, it's time to go. There's only one issue. We can't. We've been locked in. We're kept from the outside. Who knows why?

A few people are freaking out, wondering what's happening to them and why. Some don't seem to think that there's anything wrong and are complaining about how they need to go to work tomorrow and can't afford to be kept in late. And then there are the nerds who are absolutely ecstatic and positive that their hour of heroism has come. I have my own confusions, of course. But I'm just a wallflower, content to watch the bewildered world continue in madness. I don't have much of a right to join in any of these groups.

The power goes out. People freeze and the noise that generally comes with a crowd vanishes in an instant. There is only one light, like a spotlight, and it is focused around a very recognizable villain.

Loki of Asgard invaded quite some time ago. I don't know all of the details as I was in Europe at the time, but apparently he brought about mass destruction in a small New Mexico town. And he doesn't have a problem killing people. I honestly do feel I will be threatened with death now.

"Humanity!" He addresses us in a loud, booming voice. "Look how far you've fallen!"

Yes it seems that a life threat is inevitable.

"You huddle together in the dark like beasts!"

I am most likely going to go down now. I might as well go out with a bang as planned.

"I am Loki of Asgard!"

As if we didn't know that.

"I am your king! Kneel! Kneel before me!"

Even the nerds who had every hope of saving the day obey him. I mean, this is sort of shocking. They're not even putting up a fight. What a bunch of backboneless babies! If I were in their shoes I wouldn't-

"You!" I look up to see Loki staring me in the eye. "Why do you not kneel?"

"Why should I? It's a stupid command," I retort. It was the first thing I was thinking. And honesty is the best policy. However, my whole "going down epically" plan is not really going my way.

"Stupid?" Ok, wow, he's… got this accent. Sounds British but isn't quite.

"Yeah, stupid. I mean, seriously, you take control of a minimum of eight thousand people and the first thing you want them to do is kneel, rendering them completely useless. So, yes, it is stupid, and I don't care if you mind my saying so."

He lifts his head ever so slightly, perhaps so he can look down his nose at me. "What is your name, Mid-guardian?" he asks with obvious disgust.

I look around. "Oh, now, see, I'm not really sure if your ears are worthy enough to hear my name." A-ha! See, there is the epicness I was looking for!

"What is your name?!" His anger is clearly bubbling over.

I glare at him, annoyed. "My name is Abby Brandon, Mr. Mischief, and I have to admit that you're not off to a great start with this whole 'hostile takeover thing.' See, if I was in your shoes, I would go with a sort of Stockholm Syndrome thing. Earn our respect. But evidently you don't have the brains to put that together. Or, y'know, anything respectable about you."

He scrutinizes me and announces with casualness, "Tell me, Abby Brandon. Why should I not just kill you?"

"Because I'm a civilian, and murdering me wouldn't be very respectable. And now I must leave. As much as I would love to see the birth of a nation, I cannot. I'll be very busy tomorrow. I've got places to go and people to see, you get the drill. Ta-ta!" I turn to find Captain America staring at me like I've just grown horns. I brush past him saying, "Excuse me."

I stumble over a few people who are absolutely petrified with fear. Then I trip over some guy's hand. In mid-fall, I find myself no longer falling. I try to move at all, but I can't. I'm frozen like a statue. Am I dead? No. Is this some sort of magic? Probably, and if there's anyone who would be able to do magic, an otherworldly villain would be my candidate.

After some time, and what I understand to be a fight between the famed Avenger and the notorious Asgardian, I move. However, it is not of my own will. I am still stuck in the same position. Apparently, I am being moved. By Loki, I gather, for I see Captain America sprawled across the floor unconscious. Luckily, he is still breathing and doesn't appear to be incredibly damaged. I had wanted to observe the condition of the Captain further, but the doors slam in my face.

I'm in a vacant hall. Loki comes to the front of me and with a snap of his fingers my fall is completed.

"And now you are finally where you always should've been. In the end, you will always kneel."

I scramble to my feet. "What do you want from me?"

He chuckles under his breath. "Abby, haven't you been listening? I want from you what I want from everyone. I want your allegiance."

"You want to strip me of everything I am entitled to as an American. You expect me to side with that?"

"I expect you to consider your options. I expect you to understand that my side is the winning one."

"Why do you care? I'm one person out of billions. Why does it matter to you what I believe in?

He begins to circle me. "You're different, Abby. You're clearly not very bright, but you're brave. More than brave, I imagine. There is a war coming. And wars are built on people like you. Stupidly courageous people. The kind of people that become leaders. I want you to help me."

That is very tempting. Not. I pause as though considering his offer. "Uh, yeah, no thank you."

He stops. "No?" He is clearly taken aback. "You are trapped with no escape, you have tempted my wrath, I have offered you a way to reconcile and not only that. I have offered you a position of power, and your answer is no?"

"This is a simple concept, Mr. Mischief, so try to get it through your teeny, tiny brain. To you I'm an interesting subject rather than something worth actual investment. A bird with a broken wing, if you will. That makes me disposable, and I don't well like the sound of that. Now, I would like to exit, if you please."

I walk casually to the door, noticing that everyone is gone. Odd. The door is locked as I anticipated.

It takes some time for Loki to follow me. "You expect me to simply let you go?"

"No," I say as I push harder against the door. "I expect you to consider your options."

In six seconds the door opens and, once again, I take a tumble. Loki doesn't say a word, but merely spins on his heel and leaves.

I can go right now if I like, but there is one more thing I have to do. Now, I can tell you from personal experience that dragging Captain America's body around and buckling him into your car is not as easy as it looks.

It is a long and tedious drive home. I change the radio station at least five times before deciding to turn it off entirely. I steal the occasional glance over to Steve Rodgers who is still out cold. It's kind of disturbing seeing him slumped over like that. If I didn't know any better, I would say he's dead. However, I know that that's not the case. I can see that he's breathing.

When I return home, it's midnight. I almost leave the Captain in the car. I almost want to. I live on the top floor of the small but tidy apartment complex. I have to get him to the very top. If I thought getting him into the car was hard…

I try to defeat the awkwardness by complaining about everything that makes the task difficult. Oh, for Pete's sake! Who am I kidding? There is nothing within the power of human kind that could make this any less weird.

When I reach the top, needless to say, I'm out of breath. After gulping down a large glass of water, I tend as best I can to the large gash on the Captain's forehead. All I can really do is clean it and hope that it heals. But, man, can he sleep like a rock! He didn't even flinch when I used the hydrogen peroxide!

Afterwards, I push him onto the bed and try to make him comfortable. Then I make myself comfortable (or at least try to) on the couch. After just a few minutes, I doze off with hardly a second thought to the events of the night.

The next morning, I wake up wondering why I'm sleeping where I am. Then it all comes flooding back to me. The Comic-con, Loki, Captain America. Yes, I remember all too well. Anyway, I had better wake the Captain. Soon enough, the Avengers are gonna come looking for him and I don't want that mess at my house. I drag myself off the couch and into my room. I grab Steve's shoulder and shake him violently due to his uninterrupted sleep last night.

"Steve, wake up. C'mon, Steve, you've got to get back. Wake up, Steve. Wake up!"

He moans and runs his hand over his face as he opens his eyes. As soon as he recognizes that he doesn't recognize me or the place he's in, he is all too awake. He lays somewhere around one million questions on me.

"Who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here? What happened?"

I try to calm him. "Settle down, okay? My name is Abby Brandon. This is my house. You fought with Loki last night and got hurt. I brought you here. Everything's fine."

He inhales and exhales deeply, calming down. "Alright… Yeah, I remember now. What about Loki? Did he get away?"

I nod my head. "Unfortunately, but for now everything's fine. Listen, everything is open to you. Go take care of yourself. Get some breakfast. I don't really mind. Just whatever you're going to do, please do it quickly because soon your friends are gonna come looking for you"

He nods his head and practically leaps out of bed. I'm surprised at his energy considering last night and the fact that he just woke up, but, when you're in the Army then an Avenger, I guess you have to get used to it.

There's a knock on the door. "I'll get that. Why don't you get something to eat?"

"Thanks."

I walk to the door, sort of embarrassed that I'm still in my pajamas.

When I open the door, a colored man with an eye patch stands before me. "Captain Nick Fury, ma'am."

He is interrupted by Iron Man breaking down the door and pinning me to the ground. "Where is he and what've you done with him?! Don't even act like you don't know what I'm talking about because-"

"Stark, leave the civilian alone."

I push him off of me. "Yeah, Stark. And just for your information, you can pay for that door with your billionaire-ness." I jump to my feet.

"Ma'am, we're interested in the whereabouts of Captain America or Steve Rogers. We traced him as far as here and-"

At that moment, Steve walks in with a bowl of cereal. "Hey, Abby, where do you keep the…" He sees them and freezes in his tracks.

"Gentlemen," I announce sarcastically, "it appears you've caught me."

Captain Fury speaks again, but this time in apology. "We're very sorry, ma'am. Thank you for your trouble."

I shake my head. "No trouble, except the door, so…" I glare at Stark.

"Uh, yeah. Real sorry 'bout that. I'll send you a check."

"And I'll hold you to that," I tell him seriously.

Steve forces a smile onto his face. "We'll be going now." Oh man, he is so embarrassed! It makes me feel guilty to think it, but this is actually kind of funny. No, not kind of: really funny. He begins to literally push them out the door, or at least what remains of it. He glances over his shoulder. "Thanks again!"

"No problem!" I answer in a sing-song voice.

After a lengthy breakfast, I feel uneasy and sort of ill. I doubt I'll be able to go to work. I call in sick, because I honestly do feel very sick now. Most people would say that I ate something that didn't agree with my stomach. I doubt that. I believe it's this: I am just now beginning to understand the danger I was in last night.

I could've died! I am such an idiot. It wouldn't have been dramatic in the least.

Yet, somehow, I'm still alive to remember my near-death experience. Why did Loki keep me alive? By rights, I shouldn't even be here. If things had gone differently but I managed to pull through alive, I would and should be in captivity. Not only did Loki spare my life, but he also freed me. I don't know if you would call that mercy, but from first-hand experience, I don't know what else you would call it. It may sound juvenile, but I think that there's a heart underneath that thick skin. Now, I'm not saying that he's right or sane. I'm just saying that nobody's that heartless.

As I said, I was young and foolish. But I do love where this story is going, and I hope you will, too. Til next time -TARDIS-elf