Sweet Sinful Revenge

Chapter One

The tall man in the beautiful bespoke suit looked decidedly out of place on the crowded beach.

All around him, semi-naked people -- pathetic humans -- lay or sat reclining on sun loungers, their glowing, tanned skin glistening in the mid-afternoon sun.

He had absolutely no idea where in the world he was -- or more to the point 'when' he was -- as he could sense something was distinctly amiss.

The Tesseract felt decidedly different. As if it had somehow been influenced by forces that he had never felt before. Space-travel was just one of this Infinity Stones' many uses, but as for interdimensional time travel....well, that was certainly something he'd never experienced before during his dealings with the Tesseract.
He wouldn't have considered it being possible before. But the longer he thought about it, his articulate mind working on overdrive, the more he was convinced that all could not have been as it seemed back at Stark's Tower.

Something, or more likely, someone, had come into contact with the Stone and they had been from another dimension or time.

Only that could explain why when he'd used it to open a portal to flee, he had ended up here.

In a different time.

To his dismay, he was still on Midgard, having not given much thought to where he would've preferred to teleport to. His departure had been somewhat rushed after all. But as he'd travelled through space, he had been overcome with the strange sensation of travelling through time as well, and whilst he wasn't all that well acquainted with such an insignificant realm as Midgard, he felt certain this was no longer 2012.

His brow creased as his clever eyes swept his surroundings. This couldn't be the future. Surely even such a primitive, backward race would've evolved further than this?
The automobile vehicles he had passed as he'd crossed over the road, appeared outdated. Older than the ones he had seen during his time in Stuttgart and New York.

And this definitely wasn't America. That much he could tell. The distressed exclamations of the locals he'd startled upon his sudden 'arrival' had been in a foreign language. A language he'd heard various passers-by speaking, as he'd cautiously made his way along the side street, hastily casting an illusion over his leather armour in order to 'blend in' to some extent.

But he wasn't doing a very good job of blending in now. Nor did he want to. He may now be a wanted war criminal on the run, but he was still Royalty. A superior being, and he would not stoop to transforming his attire into beach-wear. The very thought of it was repugnant to him.
Indeed, having to mingle amongst sweaty, underdressed mortals was repugnant to him and he would have avoided such a place at all costs had it not been for her.

He was convinced it was her.

Agent Romanoff.

What were the chances? The likelihood of travelling back in time and stumbling upon one of his new foes from the present day seemed impossible.

Yet, there she was. Making her way along the white sand, clad in a simple black bathing suit, the sunlight enhancing the coppery tones of her auburn hair.

Loki had merely been taking-in his new surroundings when his keen eyes had spotted her, emerging from the crystal-blue ocean much like one of the tempting but deadly sirens of ancient legend.

He had doubted himself at first, thinking perhaps the blistering heat of the sun or interdimensional travel had effected his mind.
Then he considered the possibility of it being someone who simply looked like her. A doppelgänger perhaps.

But no, his instincts told him it was 'the' Agent Romanoff, and now his curiosity had been piqued he endeavoured to find out.

He had to find out.

The need to find out was almost maddening.
Why that was, he wasn't entirely sure.
But find out he would.

She'd made her way over to a sun lounger now, where she retrieved a glass containing a clear liquid, and stood sipping it from a straw, looking almost causal to the untrained eye.

But Loki knew better. As he slowly edged his way in her direction, his polished leather shoes annoyingly gathering a dusting of sand, he saw the way her eyes combed the area, eventually coming to rest on an older-looking man with thinning hair and what Loki could only describe as a hideously rotund gut.

Her interest in such a man surprised him a little, as she carefully started towards him.
But whatever her business was with the oily oaf, mattered not to him. All he wanted was to discover for himself if she was who he thought she was.
So, acting quickly, he hastened forwards deliberately colliding into her, as though it were a complete accident.

She had been so fixated on the other man, she hadn't perceived Loki's quick yet stealthy approach, so as he carelessly -- and rather roughly -- bumped her shoulder with his, she let out a startled little yelp.

Her surprise was quickly replaced by irritation though, as she responded with a curt, "Hey! Watch it!"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry." He said with convincing sincerity. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Obviously." She retorted, in the same slightly-cool and emotionless tone that was eerily familiar to him.

She looked down at her now-empty glass, the contents having been spilled onto the sand and herself.
His eyes followed her gaze then fleetingly came to rest on her bare thighs, where they lingered against his own will. But then he realised she was now looking up at him, so he quickly checked himself and flashed his most dazzling smile.

"Oh dear. I appear to have spilt your drink. How clumsy of me. Allow me to get you another--"

"No, that's not necessary." She said dismissively, craning her neck to look around him to where the older man still sat in the shade of a large parasol.

He was now rubbing himself down with some type of oil, a ghastly sight by all accounts, and Loki had to refrain from openly grimacing.

"Please, permit me to replace your drink. What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn't?"  He persisted, his smile increasing and self-assured.

But she shook her head and replied disinterestedly. "I've told you it really isn't necessary. I'm sorry if that offends your masculine pride, but that really isn't my problem."

His smile fell from his face, his features flexing slightly with irrepressible annoyance.
How dare she disregard him so dismissively and refuse such a genial offer.
Loki was not accustomed to being snubbed.
Even in the short time of being the Avengers prisoner, he'd found their lack of respect and impropriety towards him intolerable. Unaccustomed to such mistreatment, he'd naturally been incensed by it.
He might've been a prisoner, but he was still a prince.

Now as he found himself watching her walk away, resentment rising in his chest, mingling with barely-contained anger, his thoughts began spiralling in the direction of revenge.

"Offend me you have." He muttered under his breath, a twisted smirk curling his thin lips. "And it most definitely will be your problem, and you shall indeed be sorry....Agent Romanoff."