Hey guys! Sorry for the late post! Just been so busy lately, and I re-wrote this scene around a hundred different frickin times because I didn't know which plot elements I wanted in here, blah, blah, blah, existential crisis and all that jazz.

Anyway, I came to the conclusion that I was going to be putting way too many plot elements in, and had the fear that I was going to skip over some important details – so after many weeks of smashing my head on the desk, this is it!

Chapter Three

"You seem so sure of yourself."

"And you don't. Why is that?"

"She's dangerous," Coulson replied. "There's no telling what she could do."

"That's precisely my point."

"Sir?"

"That woman is one of the best agents that I have ever seen, and as much as it pains me to say it, I trust her."

"Why?"

Fury sighed.

"Despite her inherited stubborn nature and hot-headedness from her father, she always came through in the end. No matter the circumstance, no matter what the cost, she would always find a way. Never knew how she did it, but she did, and that's why I'm trusting her with this mission."

"That aside, I just don't think that this is the right course of action that we should be taking," Coulson argued.

Fury chuckled mirthlessly. "You're starting to sound like the Council."

"With all due respect, sir, I—"

"If you have a better idea, then by all means, share it – but in the meantime, I expect you to show her the same trust that I do. Is that clear?"

Coulson sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Have the jet fuelled and ready – you depart in one hour."

"You're going to have to get used to using it sooner rather than later, kid," the redhead called out.

The blonde cast a wary glance at her left hand.

"I choose later," was her definitive reply as her eyes then took in her surroundings; a wide clearing, encircled by trees and shrubs, and completely bereft of any sort of human interference. The afternoon breeze caught onto her hair and caused it to dance about her face. She swallowed hard.

"You'll do fine."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "And what makes you think I can even use it again, Natasha?" If her voice had been unsure before, it was now suspiciously tight, fraying at the edges and slowly coming undone, thread by thread. Why did she ever agree to this?

"Absolutely nothing." The redhead then adjusted her stance, flicking the stray locks of fiery red hair that fell over her cheeks in the passing breeze with a sharp twitch of her head. "But that doesn't mean we can't try."

Uncertain didn't even begin to identify what Emily was feeling. Her body was wracked through so many emotions that her head threatened to spin. But, really, what choice did she have? There was no way out of this, she knew, and putting this off any longer would dangerously hinder her in ways she could only even begin to imagine. She couldn't afford to lose from now on, and – she guessed with a shaky roll of her shoulders – that the journey of a thousand miles began with only a single step.

So, with one last heavy sigh, Emily nodded in affirmation. And then, as she had done a thousand and one times before, the two agents slowly walked in to one another, and began to close the gap between them.

"Now," Natasha spoke as they stopped a respectable distance from each other, "I'm going to go easy on you, just like we did when you first came to S.H.I.E.L.D., but then I'm only going to push you harder, understand? There is no way out of this, Emily, and the more you put it off, the harder this will get." Her eyes were hard, yet only Emily could detect the compassion and care that hid behind her famous façade.

Nodding her head, Emily readied herself, arms and legs groaning as they registered the achingly familiar actions. In seconds, the two were ready, and it would only be with the slight dip of Natasha Romanov's head that would indicate the first of a thousand bloody and sweaty steps.

Moments later, and with a great effort, Emily had leapt back after predicting the first of many moves from her opponent. It was a swift lunge accompanied with a punch that Emily had just barely avoided. Her next three moves were planned out in her mind, but she had misjudged Natasha's swift kick, and was sent sprawling on the grass, effectively ending the first of what was to be many rounds.

"You're too slow," Natasha commented tersely. "Pick it up."

Biting her tongue, Emily only nodded as Natasha helped her to her feet, cradling her left hand against her chest. After a few moments, the starting process was repeated again, and as Natasha nodded her head to begin, Emily's mind raced.

She had managed to dodge a particularly sneaky sweeping of Natasha's leg before she landed a swift punch to the redhead's ribcage. Her skills seemed to be sorely lacking, Emily quickly deduced as Natasha recovered with little effort and lunged toward Emily, her next move coming to fruition.

Emily had, to her own surprise, dodged about a third of all the moves that were dished out from the infamous agent before she was, once again, sent sprawling on the grass.

"Again," came Natasha's hard voice. "Get up." She was already standing in position while Emily was still recovering from the nasty kick to her lower back. Her muscles ached and screamed in protest, but she pushed on. She had to push on; there was no going back on this. Emily was going to prove herself worthy once again, even if it killed her.

After six more rounds, Emily was positively exhausted. Her shoulders ached, her chest heaved with every breath she tried so desperately to keep in her lungs, and her head was pounding with such force that Emily thought she was going to throw up. But, again and again, Emily picked herself up off the grass and prepared to face yet another onslaught of punches and kicks.

Emily yelped aloud in pain as she fell forward, left hand becoming jammed underneath her own torso and the ground. The dry scent of the dirt and grass filled her nostrils as she clenched her jaw while trying to push through the throbbing in her arm. A searing rage bubbled in her chest at how easily Natasha was throwing her to the ground. Before this, Emily had even managed to pin her teacher down with just two simple steps. But now, she couldn't even land a scratch on that round face of hers.

Natasha was already standing over her, hand held out to help, but as Emily pulled herself up, she childishly smacked the hand away and sought to prepare her stance, fists held up and legs spread shoulder-width apart. Natasha didn't even blink, and copied her student's actions.

This time, Emily flew at her teacher, hands clawed and teeth bared as she threw as many kicks and as many punches as her body would take. Natasha effectively dodged every single one, and that only served to make Emily even angrier. Again and again, Emily's fists flew out, and again and again, Natasha smacked each of them away with just one swift jerk of her wrists. And as Natasha's leg came around and crashed down onto Emily's shoulder, she snapped.

An inhuman roar, of anger mixed with frustration, erupted from Emily's throat as her movements became sloppy and indirect, hands now only focusing on just grabbing something, because right now, that was all her mind cared about. She ignored the punches that sent the wind flying out of her mouth, and pushed through the kicks that caused her knees to buckle. Seconds later, Emily was thrown to the ground, but to her amazement, she caught her balance just before her knees hit the ground.

"You're still weak."

Emily's eyes shot open at her teacher's harsh words. And just as she was about to open her mouth and speak, a hand coiled tightly around her neck, effectively silencing her. Her breaths came out in choked gasps as her Natasha lifted her up from the ground. Her hands instantly flew to her neck, trying to pry the hand away, but to no avail; the grip was just too strong – inhuman.

Emily caught the redhead's gaze, and her blue eyes went wide with terror at the blackened orbs that were now her teacher's eyes; gone were the warm hues of Natasha's eyes.

"You're pathetic."

That was not Natasha's voice. This voice was alien; gritty and deep, and it rumbled from the woman's chest in such a horrifying way that Emily was rendered immobile. As Natasha lifted her higher and higher, Emily's heart rate doubled as her toes of her boots barely scraped the grass, and she kicked furiously as she tried to push her away.

Natasha then brought Emily down to their faces were scant inches apart. Her lips then peeled back to reveal animalistic pointed teeth, dripping in the saliva that crawled down over her chin. A low growl then tore from Natasha's throat, and her grip tightened to the point where Emily saw spots dance before her eyes.

"It's your fault that he's dead."

Emily's heart skipped a beat. Her body froze, and all she could see were those depthless pools of ash that seemed to burn with the most intense of fires that she could practically feel seething over her skin.

"You killed him! It's your fault that he's dead!"

The voice grew louder and more hateful as those words were repeated with such ferocity that Emily's own terrifying screams paled in comparison. Emily kicked, punched, and clawed with such fierceness that blood poured from underneath her fingernails.

Emily was then thrown down on the ground with such brute force that if she had blinked, she would have missed it. Her screams were cut short, only a pained gasp being the last thing that tore from her lips. This creature had her pinned now, and there was no escape. A sick smile then appeared on its face, fangs poking through and the long tongue accompanying it licking its way through each individually pointed tooth.

"It's your fault, Emily…" it hissed.

"Your fault…"

"Emily…"

"..ily…"

"Emily?"

Opening her eyes, Emily sucked in a deep breath as the strangling confines of her nightmare dissipated, like breaking through the threshold of deep water, but she didn't move. Her back muscles immediately began protesting when she did, and it was a moment before she moved her eyes over to where the voice had come from.

"You alright?" Agent Coulson asked as he looked up from his book. There was no etch of concern on his face, but the words were enough.

Emily shifted from the position in the stiff chair of the cargo hold. "Been better," she grumbled as she unclicked the seat-belt. Her skin was chaffed and her back and shoulder muscles whined in pain from sitting upright for too long.

"We'll be there in another hour," she heard Coulson say.

Rubbing her neck, Emily tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but she opted to slouch down instead, letting her hands come to rest on her belly as she closed her eyes once more, trying to rest herself for when they landed.

It felt like they had been flying for days. The skies were dark, yet there were hints of pinks and oranges peering up from the horizon line. Adjusting herself again, Emily tried to find something to busy herself with.

Instinctively, her fingers crept up to her neck, and felt the familiar coolness of the thin chain that hung loosely around her neck. Pulling it from underneath her body suit, she fingered the locket in her fingertips; it was a bright gold and emerald eight-sided star that held on to so many forgotten memories and broken promises.

"You want some?"

Emily looked up, brows furrowing just as they came to rest on a small plastic pouch in Coulson's stretched out hand – no doubt with some kind of snack in it. She then shook her head and continued to slouch in her seat, eyes forlornly gazing upon the pendant between her fingers.

"Drink?"

"No."

Silence befell the cramped carrier once more.

It was almost crushing, swathing them both in a thick blanket. Emily nervously cleared her throat and adjusted herself for the umpteenth time. Coulson was looking elsewhere, and the tension in the air was obvious.

"Germany's nice," Emily heard him say; whether to himself, or to her, she didn't care. "Wonderful architecture. Nice food." He then paused, and Emily saw a hint of a memory cross over his face. "Doesn't compare to Tahiti, though."

"I wouldn't know," Emily replied stiffly, avoiding his gaze.

"You should go check it out one day."

"Well, once I'm done with this mission and your faceless organization, I might make it a priority," she sneered, locking him in an intense glare.

"Sorry," Coulson said, and Emily's brows almost shot up in surprise."For the knocking you out thing," he added, briefly avoiding her gaze.

Emily snorted. "You guys sure know how to make a gal feel welcomed."

"Sorry about that."

Emily held up her hand. "No need, though I'm honoured that Fury holds me in such high regard over your precious little Avengers."

"This isn't an opportunity," Coulson shot back, clearly beginning to lose his cool. "It's a dangerous mission, and you'd better start acting like its one, Stark."

"How is it that you know what agents should and shouldn't do?" Emily shot, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"I make it my business to know."

"Right, right," Emily said, holding up her index finger, as if trying to pin-point the answer in the air like a school teacher. "Because someone has to watch from the sidelines, don't they?"

Emily saw Agent Coulson bristle at her comment, but he appeared to let it slide off.

"Fury seems to trust you," he explained tightly.

Emily snorted. "Still?" she laughed coldly. "I almost feel like I should give you a speech about how grateful I am that Fury is still calling on lost people to do his dirty-work."

In an instant, Coulson was on his feet, standing over Emily like a long shadow. But the heir of the billionaire looked up, expression smug, lips pursed; she knew that he wouldn't hurt her – he couldn't hurt her.

"You may be one of the best, Agent Stark, and Fury may trust you as far as he can throw you, but listen well when I say that the second you step one toe out of line, I won't hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes," he ground out, leaning down to almost spit his words in her face.

"Big man in a scary blue suit," she countered lowly, rising to her feet, eyes level with his. "Take that off, and what are you?"

The tension was suffocating.

"Just because Fury trusts you, doesn't mean that I should."

"Pity," Emily said, "and after all the good that I'm going to do for you? Not even a thank-you card?"

"Don't push your luck, Stark," Coulson sniffed.

Emily moved closer, voice low, eyes burning into his steel grey ones. "Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me."

Suddenly, there was a sharp piercing sensation on the left side of Emily's temple. It all happened so fast, like a flash of lightning, and she flinched backin pain, her hand coming up to hold her head while she flashed a rather nasty glare at Coulson – who seemed so damned pleased with himself at his valiant effort to catch her, a Stark, off-guard.

"That chip in your head will allow you to communicate with us while you're in there. It's linking itself to your cerebral core as we speak." He then sat down, hands in his lap. "It's like hearing us inside of your head. Completely wireless technology. And untraceable."

"Glad to know where all of my hard-earned taxpayer dollars are going," Emily hissed under her breath as she took her seat. "Ass."

"We like to think of it as investing in the future."

"Is this where I'm going to be staying?" Emily asked as her and Coulson entered through the wooden door whose paint had seen better days. She dropped her bag down just by the door and surveyed the little shack as Coulson ventured further into the little house.

Emily followed suit, and came into a room where there were monitors, keyboards, flat-screens, and piles and piles of data sitting about the cluttered desks, along with a few men sitting at each. The light from above only provided minimal light, though the brightness of the screens provided more than that light ever could.

"No," Coulson said as he manoeuvred around the cluttered room. "We'll be monitoring you from here, where we are undetectable and hidden from their view."

"What do you mean by hidden from their view?"

"The palace has a ten mile radius of pure alien energy around it that can, and will, scramble everything human that comes within it; computers, radios, phones, most vehicles" one man from the desk spoke up as he typed furiously at one of the keyboards. "The safest place for us is out here."

Emily stepped forward, hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. "So what you're saying is that there is no human technology within that radius?" she asked incredulously. "It's all completely useless?"

Coulson nodded. "That's why I implanted that device in your head – it's our only piece of technology that can survive within that radius."

"Makes sense," Emily shrugged. "But what about me, then? Where am I supposed to go if I'm not going to stay here?"

Emily looked to Coulson, who seemed reluctant to answer. She flashed him a look, and he sighed.

"Loki has a… large following," he explained. "Not only does he have the Chitauri again, he also has recruited an abundant number of human followers that also act as a part of his army. They are mostly made up of the civilian population, but there are a select few that have deviated from the defence force of the country to team up with Loki—"

"—basically, people who are giving up their loyalty in order to save their own asses; I get it, but what exactly do you want me to do?" she asked irritably. "I thought I was to just infiltrate, get the job done, and walk out, no questions asked."

"I'm afraid it's not that easy," Coulson continued. "You'll need to infiltrate the league of followers first – that's you're only sure-fire way of getting to Loki without him discovering who you are."

"So, knock out one of the followers, usurp his uniform, get to the big guy, and slit his throat with a knife while he's asleep? Sounds easy enough."

Coulson sighed. "You'll need to be swift, silent, and strong, Stark. No screwing around on this."

"Wait a minute – you called me in," Emily reminded him tersely, walking up to him and lowering her voice as she folded her arms across her chest. "So, like it or not, you need me."

"Fury's the one who needs you. Not me."

"Then you can tell Fury to just let me do my job, my way, got it?"

The two regarded each other for a moment before Coulson moved away to a table located to his left. It was chock full of papers, and after some shuffling, he pulled a huge pile of large white sheets from underneath the stack of smaller ones.

Waving her over, Emily came and stood to the edge of the table and looked down. It was a map, and a fairly large one at that. It appeared to be the architectural plans for Ludwigsburg Palace – the place that Loki was currently occupying.

From a glance, the palace was enormous; full of endless corridors, hidden passages, rooms upon rooms and a vast expanse of groomed vegetation surrounding the architectural marvel.

"These are the plans of the palace," Coulson explained. "Though we have reason to believe that they aren't entirely accurate."

Emily looked up to Coulson, who continued to explain before she could interrupt.

"Loki is a wielder of magic – and a powerful one at that. For one thing, that's how he's been able to scramble all of our technology. Also, we have recently learned that he has the power to alter the structure with his magic."

"So it's like a living maze?"

"As smart as you ever were, Stark," Coulson commented as he briefly looked. "Now, this is where you're going to need to be very careful. Loki keeps these walls and rooms changing on a constant basis to avoid infiltrators to gain the upper hand – every second day, we believe. So, it's your job to try and not get lost while finding the big guy."

"Don't get lost – got it."

"Also, Loki has both human and Chitauri guards patrolling the perimeters on the hour, every hour, so you'll need to avoid being caught by them. They are told to kill anything on site, so you'll need these," Coulson said as he moved toward the other table stacked up with numerous boxes and the like.

Opening one of the boxes, Coulson pulled out a handful of weapons and setting them down on the table. They looked like ordinary standard issue hand guns and pistols.

"These look like standard issue hand guns that I can get in any dark alleyway with the right connections," Emily commented flatly. "What makes these so special?"

Without saying a word, Coulson picked up the nearest gun and, after a few clicks, the side cover came off, and it was then that Emily knew that they weren't just any old hand guns.

"These may look like your standard issue weapons, but the ammunition is something we have been developing ever since the attack on New York. It's severely concentrated, and the bullets are encased in a lining of toxins that are extremely poisonous, even to the Chitauri."

Emily shot Coulson a look.

"After the battle, we took in a few of the alien bodies for further testing, and we've found their weakness, and have been able to get a hold of some pretty rare stuff that even I didn't even know existed until now," he explained almost sheepishly, handling the gun in his hand like a toy.

The interior of the gun was like a highly polished metal with sleek narrow barrels; something you'd see out of a Men In Black movie, but the black exterior made play that it looked like any other ordinary hand gun. He tossed it to her, and she caught it easily; it was extremely light.

"Be careful that this doesn't end up being pointed at you," Coulson warned. "This is an extremely powerful weapon, and if you do find it yourself on the other end, then it's all over."

Giving the gun a last look, Emily placed it back down on the table, eyes now focusing on the intricate schematics of the palace that were highlighted in different shades of reds, blues, greens and oranges, along with red circles and scribbled notes with dates beside them.

"So where do I start?"

Coulson turned his attention back to the plans in front of them. "Here," he said, index finger pointing to a place marked with a huge, red circle. "This is what we believe to be the weakest point – there is a brief time lapse of eighteen seconds before the next guard walks by. That time frame is all you have to infiltrate the building without being caught."

Emily placed her hands on her hips. "Is there anything else I should be concerned about?" she asked, and she watched as Coulson motioned for her to take a seat.

Emily obliged, and it was a few moments before Coulson spoke.

"With the last few infiltrations, we have learned of some… dark tendencies in regards to Loki," he began, choosing his words carefully. "All of the previous agents we sent in… ended up more than just dead."

Emily eyebrows furrowed together. "More than just dead?"

Coulson nodded. "We've only managed to retrieve one of the bodies thus far, and autopsy reports confirmed that there were several… unidentifiable markings on their bodies."

Emily frowned. This was starting to become weirder by the minute.

"What kind of markings?"

Leaning over, Coulson picked up a file from the desk next to him. Flipped the cover open, he handed it to her, where she began to pick out each photo, one by one, and her eyes went wide in shock.

"Loki isn't one to just flippantly kill his enemies – he likes to play with them, torture them to the point of death and bring them back again. That man," Coulson said as he pointed to the photos, "received some strange alien markings on his stomach that we believe to be some sort of spell to keep him from leaving."

Emily looked up from the photos, clearly confused. "What do you mean?"

"We don't know," Coulson answered honestly. "One of the last transmissions we had received from him was that he tried to leave, but couldn't leave – at all."

"And then?"

Coulson hesitated. "And then he was gone."

Emily leaned back in the chair, photos still in her hands. Upon inspection, the markings formed in a dark black circle, just around the belly button. The inscription was in a language she had never seen before, and she had to trust Coulson when he said that they honestly didn't know what it was – all they did know that it was obviously Loki's doing.

The thought of someone poisoning you with something not known of this world make Emily shudder internally. What that agent must have gone through…

"So this is why we've called you in," Coulson finished, leaning back in his chair, too.

Emily looked up from the photographs, somewhat disturbed. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked almost tiredly. "What makes you think that I can achieve what the others didn't?"

"Fury seems to trust you," he repeated. "He said that no matter the circumstance, no matter the cost, you always found a way to pull through."

Emily dropped the photos and rubbed her face tiredly.

"That doesn't mean shit, Coulson."

"Loki is a dangerous enemy, Stark – and very powerful, too. So whatever you do, and whatever happens, you can not let him get the better of you. He's extremely persuasive, intelligent, and more complicated and more dangerous than anything you were ever trained for. His powers grow by the day, and if we don't stop him now, we may never be able to."

Emily looked at Coulson, whose stern face seemed to age a decade in the last ten minutes.

"He's a cold-blooded monster, Emily, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants."

I also added in a few lines from the Avengers, in case you didn't catch it. Also, let me know if you guys think Emily's character is progressing properly; that she's not all over the place. Also, did you enjoy the little insight into Emily's past with that flashback?

Please review!

ALERT: Loki will be appearing in the next chapter!