33. Gamora's Gambit

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'One.' Loki tapped the butt of a re-purposed broomstick against the floor with just enough force for the thud to be audible to everyone in the room.

The lines of Exian soldiers moved a step forward.

'Two,' Loki called out and brought down the butt of the broomstick handle once more. The Exians moved another step forward. One more tap. 'Three!'

The Exians exploded into an attack, striking down their imaginary opponents. Loki waited a moment, giving his pupils the opportunity to assess positioning of the various parts of their body and to make adjustments accordingly, then tapped again. The Exians returned to their starting position.

'One,' Loki called out, starting the footwork drill from the beginning again. The Exians hadn't yet earned their break.

The double doors behind Loki were flung open, cutting him off just as he was about to bring the broomstick handle down for the second count in the exercise. He turned on his heel. A trio of Chitauri had positioned themselves to completely block the doorway.

'Something I can do for you, gentlemen?' Loki asked.

'Are you Captain Loki Odinson?' the tallest of the Chitauri responded. The insignia on his uniform marked him out as an equivalent to a sergeant, but his tone offered no deference to Loki despite his superior rank.

'I am.'

'Then you are to come with us, sir.'

'By whose orders am I to do so?' Loki said as he lowered the broom-handle. He had ripped the actual broom part off, so at a pinch, what remained could serve as a staff. The Chitauri weren't the brightest when they weren't under the direct control of their hive mind, which seemed to be the case right now. It was best not to provide opportunities for them to misinterpret the situation.

The Chitauri sergeant wrinkled his nose, then squared his shoulders. 'General Glaive's.'

That didn't clarify matters for Loki. He hadn't even been formally introduced to Corvus Glaive, who seemed to be wholly focused on preparing for some campaign. And the previous time around, he had exchanged all of twenty words with him.

Loki forced a smile. 'I cannot refuse the general's orders.' He turned back to the Exians. 'In my absence, move onto sparring practice. Evaluate each other.'

He tossed the broom-handle into the corner of the room on his way out. The untreated wood wouldn't last long in a fight against proper weapons, if he had to resort to physical confrontation, he preferred to have his hands available to make use of other implements of defence. Behind him, the noise coming from the Exians rapidly rose in volume - they weren't the best at organising themselves without the detailed orders of a superior officer. It was another weakness Loki had to drill out of them.

Loki bit his lip in an effort to stop himself chuckling at his preoccupation with the performance of the company assigned to him. The Exians didn't matter, yet here he was spending hour after hour making them better soldiers.

'Hurry on,' the sergeant muttered. He gestured for the two soldiers accompanying him to fall back behind Loki and make sure he wasn't dawdling.

It wasn't a long walk. What really distinguished Sanctuary City from the typical urban settlement in the universe was the inhabitants' constant proximity to an interrogation room or a prison cell. Loki soon found himself in a poorly-lit, grey cube furnished only with a table and three chairs. Two were vacant. Brunnhilde occupied the third.

Are you fucking kidding me?

'You look well-rested,' Loki said while he took stock of the bruises on Brunnhilde's skin and the dried bloodstains on her clothing. The garments themselves looked to be in a far worse state than it had been the last time he had seen Brunnhilde wear it. Behind him, he heard the Chitauri withdraw and someone else entered the interrogation room. 'What's going on here?'

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