As the Avengers personal witch you were bombarded with task and favours daily. Most of the time you didn't mind but took joy in causing chaos and pranks when bored.
Loki being the god of tricks himself admired Y/n's skills in sorcery and mischief...
Loki had continuously said he had a bad feeling about you going out today. But of course you played this off as him worrying too much. "Stay safe, my darling,"
"I will, don't worry too much," hanging up the phone, you look down at the groceries before walking down the street. Mama had run out of a certain ingredient so you had to go to the nearest witchy supply shop.
It was in a shady part of town but it was the closest so it would do. Each time you took a step it seemed a second pair echoed off the alleyway walls, moving closer and closer. Stopping suddenly it seemed the pair of steps did as well, checking your reflection in a conjured up mirror, there was a looming figure just around the corner behind you.
Shit
You started to pace faster, just reaching the end of the alley when- Tires screeched, a white van now in front of you. The supplies you bought shattered against the ground as a pair of cuffs locked against your wrists, your body flung into the vehicle.
"Let go!" You struggle against the bonds earning a blunt hit to the head knocking you out.
~~~
"Friday, has Y/n returned?" Loki asked the AI.
"No sign of her, Mr Friggason,"
"Thank you," He pulled out his phone and dialed yours. In the quiet alley, as water dripped from pipes and streamed down mildew brick walls, your shattered phone buzzed, shining it's light through the cracks.
"Any luck?" The rest had become quite worried as well when Loki's fifth call was still not answered.
"None," his voice fought back trembles as he ventured to your room.
"What are you doing?"
"Tracking spell,"
"I'll track her phone as well," Tony left as the group watched Loki set up a map from the many you had just for the reason of tracking someone. Delving down to the cabinet containing everyone's blood, Loki took out yours, thanking the gods for your intelligence.
Loki mixed your blood with other items before dropping it on the large map, just above New York. The blood dribbled, splattering across the parchment before circling the state... stopping just above central park before zooming across the map all the way to Australia, Peru, Japan, Indonesia, Canada, Argentina-
Then it started to fizzle, burning up each country in a bubbling red flame.
"What's happening?" Bruce asked in fear.
"The spell isn't working... Something is blocking it from tracking her,"
"Is that possible?"
"Yes, but it's very old magic," It was evident from Loki's cracking voice that he thought the worse had happened.
~~~
Cobblestone walls converged into a long arched hallway, shrouded in darkness except for the dripping wax that lit the way. Warm glows from each flame barely let sight reach past the third torch.
The rickety chair you were strapped to wobbled against the uneven ground, spaces between stone filled with dirt. Before you stood a fair few men, all conversing amongst themselves.
"So, what's the deal?" You were still a little dizzy from the literal bang to the head. "Want money or something?"
They turn to face you. "We have no need for money, we are wealthy in the eyes of the almighty judge!"
"Of course..." you sigh. "Let me guess, you're really religious people who want to threaten me to stop my craft?"
"You are a witch! Worshiping Satan will send you to hell!"
A groan filled the space. "Seriously? People like you still exist? Everyone has moved on and respects other people's religions and beliefs!"
"We are part of no religion, we are part of the hierarchy!"
"And the hierarchy consists of middle age men in black doublets, breeches and capes?"
"Tradition is key, wench!" A curly haired fellow yells in your face before collecting himself.
"The hierarchy consists of elevated members who are willing to rid this world of evil," could this be anymore funny? The man who spoke this time had a French moustache from the 1600s!
"And I'm the evil?"
"You are the devil's whore,"
"Watch it, buddy," you growl at the man at the back. "So what's this secret nerdy club called?"
"We are called the Order of Parris,"
"Salem fan club then..."
"We are ordered to remove the evil, purify your soul for heaven, sinful one," one of the men bend down to your height. "We will succeed and you will be freed from the demon's grasp.
"Cute, but I have a boyfriend who's deathly worried about me and you also owe me a vial of goat hairs, two bottles of frankincense and the scales of a dead 100 year old snake fermented in Florida water,"
"She speaks of ingredients for a hex!"
"Actually it's for a hair loss potion," you mumble making one of the man slap you across the face with his gloved hand. "Ow!"
"Stop your lies, hag,"
"We will begin the extraction," the shortest member brought out a tray, metal objects glinting, though the odd shapes were unrecognizable at this angle.
~~~
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