Ryker's Island had always been something of an urban legend growing up, the darkest and fiercest of jails in the industry containing all of New York's unfriendly neighborhood villains. It had grown tame over the years when bigger baddies required bigger and badder lockups like the Negative Zone, the Ice Box, and the Raft. The prison abolitionist in me felt fiery as I was patted down and relieved of my personal items—all except for a pen and notepad. I was allowed the main prop in my investigation, playing along with the guise that I was a student writing a paper. I'd read the correspondence this character had had, orchestrated by Sonia and the team, but still I was surprised Callisto had agreed to the visit. Why a college girl, and not Hank or any of us on the task force trying to help her?

My hands shook as I was led through hallways. I'd been so close to being locked up in one of these, and that lurch in my stomach reminding me of that with every step I took did not make the experience pleasant. At last, we made it to the room I'd seen on TV at least a billion times. Thick glass separated inmates from visitors, each little booth equipped with phones on either side. Classic. I was seated at the last booth, and instructed to wait.

I ran over my mission in my head. I needed her to admit her innocence. I needed names of who she was protecting. I needed to convince her to speak to a lawyer. I needed information about the artifact in the attempted heist. I needed to stay calm.

When Callisto emerged, she did not look at all how I remembered. Her lustrous dark hair looked faded and graying in the fluorescent lights, and in lieu of her black pirate eye patch was a sickly white bandage. The orange jumpsuit actually didn't look half bad on her. The permanent frown, however, was still intact. We were face to face, level to level. My brain was almost tricked into thinking I was looking in a mirror as we moved simultaneously, slowly, to unhook our phones.

"Hi. Thank—" I stared.

"Culver University, hm?" Callisto's voice was gravelly and reflected her exhaustion. "Dated a girl who went there. Is it still as fucking pompous as all that? Like a Hogwarts for science nerds."

So that was why my character piqued her interest. Kinship. Smart move, Sonia. I forced a chuckle.

"And just as white," I slumped deeper in my seat, trying to assume a relaxed position to set her mind at ease. And mine. "Thanks for meeting with me. I never thought you'd say yes, honestly."

"Education's important. Especially for people like us." Her mouth was close the receiver and her breath crackled in my ear. "Call it charity. I'll be glad to know I've helped the mutant youth before I go. This is for a class? "

I propped my pencil against the open pad, poised to start scribbling nonsense to imitate notetaking.

"Journalism. So, d'you know anyone who's ever been sent to the Ice Box?"

Callisto shrugged.

"Plenty. Though I don't suppose I really know them anymore."

"I read that escapes are really rare. And they just had that high tech renovation after the funding from Sentinel Services."

"Yes, well, if you escape, you're stuck in Canada. So I certainly won't be trying."

"Not a fan?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I don't like the cold." A beat, then she scoffed. "And they can't even lock me in my own country. Muties don't have a prison all to ourselves yet, so they're shoving us in whatever super max has an empty cell."

"Why did you refuse a trial?"

"Because I'm guilty. Why waste time?"

"Why did you do it?" I pressed. "The heist?"

"Why does anyone do anything? Money. Revenge."

"Why the vase in particular?" I recalled the picture of the item in question, an ugly clay painted thing that had little monetary value and no known lore or magical history. It had smashed in the chaos of the robber escaping. All parties had lost, and the effort was ultimately for nothing.

"It was the first thing I saw," Her eyes sparkled slightly. I got the sense she was telling the truth—but I didn't know whose. "You're looking for deeper meaning in an act of rebellion. I'm sorry to disappoint. I'd lived too long in filth and squalor because I was powerful. One day I just realized, that power was the very thing to get me out of that life."

"But now it's finished before it started. None of it makes sense, you're smarter than that." Thinking out loud was what made me a lousy detective, but I couldn't stop myself. Callisto's glare was suddenly suspicious.

"I thought this was about mutants in the prison system? Now we're getting personal?"

"…You're a mutant in the prison system. It was always going to be personal."

"My story doesn't have to make sense, girl. The end has already been written."

"You're innocent, Callisto."

"Ah. I see. You're one of them. Guard, I'm done here." She began to hang up and I slammed my hand against the glass.

"Wait! I'm not one of anyone. Give me another minute. What does it matter, anyway?" She paused, and I pressed my hand harder into the glass as if she'd feel my heat. "I just want to know. It doesn't have to change a thing."

"I remember you, now. You sought out the Morlocks on behalf of SHIELD. It was…unexpected. I didn't realize we were on their watch list."

"You weren't," I kept my guard up, even as she returned to sitting. "Dr. Hank McCoy, he—"

"I'm familiar with the X-Men," she snorted.

"Well, he established a group of us within SHIELD. A team. To assist in mutant affairs."

"A squadron of mutant cops," She mused. "Turning our own people against us. Despicable."

"I'm a lot of things, but a cop isn't one of them."

"Agent, officer, detective, law-protector…hero. Call it what you want. You help put us in prison. "

"I'm trying to keep you out of prison! Why did you confess to a crime you didn't commit?" My hand turned to a fist against the glass.

"Do you have a family, child?"

"…No." I pulled my jacket closer over my torso with my free hand.

"Then I could never expect you to understand. I will admit to as much guilt as it takes to keep those I love free. I would put all the blood in the world on my hands if it kept theirs clean," She leaned forward and folded her hands. "And so, your investigation comes to an end. Case closed, as it were. It was me and no one else. You've wasted time trying to absolve a villain instead of serving and protecting the virtuous."

"I may not know much about family," I said coolly. "But I know abandoning them has its side effects. The Morlocks have been acting out. Their anger at your arrest has turned them into the very criminals they were framed for. And now there's not one to lead them."

"Revolution, my dear," she whispered. "It's the only way change happens. I was only a push, but this fight has been a long time coming."

"They'll be captured. Mutants will be in the public eye, made symbols of violence. And at what cost?"

"Martyrdom," Callisto said simply. "Is always the straw that breaks the camel's back."

"Are you a martyr, then, Callisto?"

The first of many. I led my people in shadow for so long…it seems only fitting that my imprisonment should bring them to the surface." She smiled with sharp teeth. "I want the world to see us as we are. I want us to see us."

She was right, of course. The domino effect of revolution could already be in play. With every wrongful arrest, every mutant broken and bloodied by prejudice, I had hoped it would be enough to kick off a fight that wouldn't rest until it was won. Mutants sitting at home watching their televisions would be propelled to their feet in an irresistible call to action. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps it wasn't. And either way I'd be on the wrong side of it. As she got closer, her eyes flickered to my bare wrist pressed against the glass. Her smile was pained.

"You have scars, too?" She gestured lazily to her own, thin lines along her neck. "Do they also come from trying to live a normal life among the humans, like mine? From trying to convince yourself you could be treated as anything other than a monster?"

"No," I gritted my teeth and slid my hand down. "They came from trusting the wrong mutants."

"They are punishments," Callisto began to get to her feet once more. "I assume you've learned from yours as I have from mine."

"I'm not sure, yet."

"That should be enough to write your paper, traitor. Now you'll do a favor for me. Forget everything you know about the Morlocks. Their name should not be in the mouths of SHEILD agents."

"We can help—"

"No, you can't. You're not meant to help, you're meant to destroy in the name of protecting the world." she simpered, her long nails clacking on the chair as she pushed it in like a good student. She looked at me, with a rare look of sympathy. "It's not your fault," She said. "That's all any of us know how to do. We were born weapons, after all."

With a nod of her head, the guard stepped up to retrieve her. As she was led away from me, she kept her head turned in my direction, watching as I sat frozen with the phone still in my clammy hand. I had failed.

I waited until I was atop my soft bed to complete my mission report.

"So, you got nothing?" Sonia's voice over the phone after was a recognizable 'annoyed'—the tone she used to take with me when I left my dishes in the sink.

"She's right where she wants to be," I replied. "For whatever reason, we just have to accept that and focus on the Morlocks' current patterns. Maybe we could—"

"There's no more 'we', Maggie. Or haven't you noticed?" she snapped. "I am handling it. This dwindling task force is handling it. But not you, not even Hank, and definitely not SHIELD. We were supposed to be a glimmer of hope in law enforcement for mutants, but we have been nothing more than figureheads. Tokens. You know what my next orders are? They want us to bring in all the Morlocks, rid the streets of them." She paused and I heard her catch her breath. "This was our fucking chance to prove bias wrong, and we lost it. And now I have to do my job."

"And what would it have done, back-pedaling her confession? Callisto was protecting someone, likely another mutant. How would that have helped our image?" I grated.

"It would have meant the right person in prison! Excuse me for being able to sleep better knowing that. They're still out there, and a robbery could be the least of their crimes."

"Yeah, well, there are worse bad guys to worry about." Somehow I believed Callisto had a good reason for hiding the culprit. Maybe that was my Brotherhood mindset slipping in after all these years.

"Not in my paygrade, unfortunately," Sonia sighed. "What's that thing Stark used to say? 'Someone's gotta look out for the little guy'?"

"I don't think he coined that," I said. "But, Sonia, mutants aren't 'the little guy'. There's a shit ton of us. And you can't save us all."

"Oh, god. Do you think that's what the X-Men tell themselves to feel good? Or the Avengers? You're living with them now, guess it was only a matter of time before you saw the world through their eyes."

"I don't see the world at all. That's the problem. I want to do more."

"We all do. But, you, at least, have an excuse."

"…Right." I could tell Sonia still blamed me for getting knocked up. She wasn't wrong to.

"Good luck with everything, Mags," She hadn't called me that in so long. "I…I hope I get to see you again soon."

"Yeah. Me too," I replied in a hollow voice, hoping those weren't the last words I spoke to her.

Later that night, Loki and I had assumed our positions in front of the largest TV in the facility and were whispering stupid questions as a movie rolled by. I was finding it hard to focus on the screen, my eyes trailing to his face every time I thought he wasn't looking.

"It becomes increasingly hard to enjoy knowing you're monitoring my every reaction," Loki spared me a side glance and I flipped my gaze to the ceiling instead.

"I'm just curious to see how you relate," I shrugged, but really I was just aimlessly distracted. "It's about a little wizard boy, like you."

"This is not my kind of magic. It's child's play," His sneer was more amusing than our on screen entertainment.

"They are children."

"Wands and incantations…it's weak sorcery." Loki dug in, knowing it made me smile.

"But you like it?"

"Oh, yes."

He stood up when the credits began to roll and put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. It was a posture that tended to indicate he was in judgement mode, or otherwise preparing for a lengthy speech. I looked up at him from my puddle on the couch.

"What's on your mind, Zoolander?"

"I need your help with something." It was the first time he'd ever asked me for anything, save for the last chip in a bag, and his eyes were nervous.

I pulled myself to my feet and squeezed his arm, but I was poised with suspicion.

"What kind of something?"

"There is a ship," He said slowly. "In the facility's hangar. It's the last available vessel that can withstand intergalactic travel."

"And you want to steal it," I concluded the thought.

"Borrow it," Loki predictably defended. "I need to see for myself the ruins of Asgard. My brother has no idea what they might find there, and I can help. I only need this chance to prove myself."

"By breaking out and stealing a ship?"

It was clear this was not going the way he had rehearsed.

"I am stuck here. If I don't do something to show my worth to SHEILD, to Thor, to the Avengers…I will continue to sit in disuse. Can you not understand that I crave purpose?"

"What makes you think I even have the capacity to help you break in?"

"You know you do. You only lack the motivation," He tried on a sly smile. "I've thought the whole thing out. You'd just need to follow my lead and cover for me while I'm gone."

"You expect me to believe you would come back?"

"…You don't trust me?"

"No! Of course I don't. Fuck, Loki, what you're asking is…"

"Treason?"

I almost laughed. It sounded so impressive.

"Sure," I said.

"Who would you be betraying?" He asked in earnest. "What have any of them done for you?"

"It's not them, so much as the trillions of innocent lives that might accidentally get in your way while you're traversing the galaxy."

"You still think so little of me." His eyes narrowed.

"I don't. That's the problem. I think so much of you that I almost said yes." I pushed him gently away and turned around to think without him trying to read my face. I felt his fingers on my waist.

"Maggie, please."

I should have known he'd be the first of us to crack. Not including the fact that he'd been locked away longer than I had, I'd been almost relishing the fantasy of an empty mansion and an alien friend-with-benefits. To him…it was just another cell.

"How long have you been planning an escape?" I asked quietly.

"Since I got here."

"How long have you been planning an escape using me?"

"Since you got here."

I mashed my lips together and gave him a smug, accusatory look.

"Ah. So that was what this was all about? Winning me over?" I asked. His eye roll was tremendous.

"Oh, don't be petty. It's terribly unbecoming."

"You thought fucking me would make me want aid and abet your breakout?"

"I can assure you the two are unrelated." Loki put his hands up in lazy surrender. "Though I didn't think it would work against me…"

"Jesus."

"I should've known you wouldn't get it," He spat suddenly. "I'm a temporary companion, after all. Once you're gone, so will be the thought of me rotting away here. Not your problem."

"Don't you dare play the sympathy card."

"What other card have I left to play? Would the begging be more convincing if I got on my knees?"

"Loki…"

"You are the only one who could override my collar. I..I need you. Just this once before you abandon me."

"Maybe I don't want you abandoning me," I tried.

"is that what's stopping you from setting me free?"

I threw my hands up in frustration.

"You. Have. KILLED PEOPLE! It's my damn moral compass that says absolutely the fuck NO."

"Well, it must be broken, then, if it allows you to pick and choose which murderer you trust."

"Oh my god, fuck you!" I shouted, feeling heat ball in my fists. "I don't have to explain to you that there is a difference between killing for sport and—"

"You really weigh the reasons as to why one kills?" Loki sneered. "Then surely you think your precious Hulk deserves to be locked up? But, oh, no he's a hero. He's saved people, too. Somehow that balances out! And what recognition do I get for the people I've saved?"

"I wouldn't let the Hulk steal a ship either," I said, careful to eliminate Bruce's name from my vocabulary.

"But this is interesting!" His face had an evil glee that I had only seen in his depictions in Norse mythology. "I'm not the only murderer you've bedded, after all. You believe that some killers deserve more than others. I know that syndrome well. I was born a prince, remember. A soldier. I fought wars. I took lives then, too. But I was celebrated for it, then."

"A battlefield is something else entirely! Shit, that's when you're fighting for something. When it's kill or be killed. You committed genocide on my fucking planet because you could. Because you wanted to conquer."

"I was different."

"That man is still in there," I shot. He flinched, and I knew I struck a nerve. When he spoke again his voice was low and deadly.

"I'm not a man."

"That wrathful god, then," I said. "I see him, sometimes. He wants control and a kingdom to rule because he thinks he deserves it. Because he was raised second best, he had to want it more. That makes him extremely dangerous."

"Choose your next words wisely."

"Or what?" I flipped my palms open at my sides and let strands of electromagnetic energy curl around my fingers. His eyes darted for an instant to the sparks, then returned to meet mine with a cold gaze.

"This escalated beyond what I anticipated." He said it in an apologetic tone, and I instantly dropped my defense. Feeling stupid, I ran my hand through my hair and took a haphazard step back towards him.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I can't be teaching you right from wrong like you're a child. I don't have the legs to stand on."

"There's no need to explain why you don't trust me," He said softly. "You have no reason to."

I shrugged as if it would erase the hurt.

"I'm human. Sort of. But you were still the monster in the stories I grew up with."

"You'll look upon monsters differently when you've held your own in your arms," Loki's voice dripped with spite, but he tenderly ran a knuckle along my cheek. A shiver ran up my spine. "A mother's love is universal. Blind..."

"Sounds like you had a better mother than I did," I replied. He dropped his hand. He wouldn't dare continue to harp on my hypocrisy, not when he realized I feared my child as much as I feared him.

"So, that's a 'no', then."

"I'm not helping you escape, Loki." I felt my heart beat faster. I wanted to think he wouldn't threaten me, force me into his plan, but I really had no idea. He could turn on me at any second, and though he was weak without his powers, I hadn't seen the skills Asgard had instilled in him without the magic.

"And you'd like me to believe it's your conscience stopping you," He went on. "Not for something so selfish as…you merely don't want to be alone here."

"…Could be both." I admitted.

He shook his head in exasperation and began to back away.

"You ought to sleep alone tonight," he said, as though that were the highest form of punishment. "It may do you some good."

With that, he made a grand exit and left me to clean the popcorn kernels from the couch. I was thrown into a terrifying loop of wondering whether I'd made the right choice, then feeling awful for even questioning that. I thought about Callisto, who had never committed a crime but who happily sat in prison whereas Loki refused to believe he belonged chained up. And then I thought about me and the baby and where we belonged. Under surveillance away from the rest of the world? Probably. I'd almost been put away more than once. I wondered what my future would have been if I hadn't broken out with Jamie all those years ago.

That's what haunted the first few hours of my nightmares. Somewhere around three am, my blurry eyes were forced open by the sound of the door creaking open.

I turned on my side, away from the entrance, anticipating Loki to have forgiven me and be returning to my bed. But there was more than one pair of footsteps. By the time I sat up, it was too late. In a woosh, a metal cuff shot out of the darkness and around my right wrist. It pulled me back against the bedframe and was followed shortly by a left one to match.

I opened my mouth to scream and found absolutely no sound came out, not even the hush of my breath. Two figures in all black closed in on me, their faces obscured by helmets with obsidian visors. My hands out of commission, I tried to find their brain's energy with my own but came up empty. The world felt silent, all of a sudden. I kicked with my feet, hoping to channel some of my energy in whatever outward fashion it could, but no such luck. I knew this feeling. The bracelets were high-tech inhibitors.

I tried to pull myself to my knees even with my arms locked, but my aggressors took the opportunity to seize me in that moment and carry me from the bed. I struggled and flailed before another metal cuff looped around both my legs, reducing me to as much movement as a stiff worm.

I made it as difficult as possible for them, but it only slowed them down as they dragged me down the stairs and towards the east wing entrance. I heard them talking the whole time, but their words were muffled like I was underwater. My only functional sense was sight, and it wasn't doing much to help me.

We were almost to the glass door that led to the grassy field behind the facility. Without warning, my left captor halted. He stood frozen for a moment, his partner still tugging my right arm, then he fell to his knees and collapsed at my side. I saw a large chef's knife lodged in his back, squarely between his shoulders.

The other dropped me to the ground to pull his gun, and it was enough momentum to allow me to turn and face the unfurling scene.

Loki stood in his royal green and black attire, twirling two more large knives he must have grabbed from the kitchen. He was every bit an Asgardian warrior without his sorcery.

The remaining agent did not hesitate to shoot, but each bullet was expertly dodged on Loki's way to leaping at his throat. The gun was knocked from his grip, and they wrestled with hands for only a few seconds before the blade found the jugular. The second operative fell beside me, gurgling and slowly dying. Loki finished it with one swift slice.

I was yelling, unable to be heard. I was shuddering, but could not move. Loki looked to me and searched the bodies for the right device. I saw him click a button in what looked like a silver lighted and felt the metal release my limbs. Sound and voice returned slowly to me in the form of my own gasping. I crawled across the floor and blood to Loki, pulling myself to sitting in his arms. He looked just as shaken as I felt.

Before either of us could work up the nerve to say anything, bright lights shined through the glass and the loud propellers of helicopters drowned out any words that would have come.

A man's voice came over the mansion's PA system.

"Stand down NOW!"

Our hands went to the backs of our heads, Loki's knives clattering to the marble floor. We only looked at each other, as an army of soldiers identical to the assailants burst in and surrounded us.

Another voice, this time one I recognized.

"Don't move." A typical obvious instruction from Director Hill.

Uniformed agents I recognized as SHIELD's suddenly moved in behind the circle of unfamiliar rifles. I kept my eyes on Loki, but out of my periphery I saw that even the SHIELD weapons were pointed at him. If we weren't in trouble before, we were now.