The Jotun's Daughter

Chapter 3

Coulson was on his feet immediately. It was only when he turned to me and said firmly, "Sit." that I realized, so was I. He followed the Brit through the door, shutting it tight behind him. I listened for sounds of anything, but I knew that I probably wouldn't be able to detect any noise of a fight. These were, soundproof walls-and not just soundproof; this cage was designed by Banner himself. 

        I sat back down in the chair and rolled the earrings between my fingers, but I didn't put them on. Finally, when ten minutes and thirty-five seconds had passed and no one had come for me, I began theorizing if I could somehow de-magnetize the door when it hissed and I turned towards it, expecting Agent Coulson to be back. Instead, I found a gun pointed at my face. 

        "Come with me and you won't get hurt," The man with the mask said. I stifled my laugh as I walked out the door, down the hall, and took a turn into a lobby-like area I hadn't been in before. Another man stood there, obviously in charge of the group, and looked me over.        

        "Well, you certainly look like him," was all he said.

        "Look like who-" The breath was knocked out of me as the soldier behind me brought his gun down on the center of my back. My knees hit the hard ground, and I gasped for air. The worst part about putting on a performance is always the residual injuries. 

        "Enough," the man held up his hand, and the masked individual behind me backed away, but kept his gun trained on me. I grit my teeth, wishing to high heaven that I could have blocked that blow but knowing full well I couldn't become prideful or ignorant. I didn't know who these individuals were or what they wanted, and until I had that information or one of the SHIELD agents indicated a move otherwise, I wasn't revealing anything. 

        "Just show us where it is, and none of your little friends will get hurt." The man in front of me demanded. It was then I noticed a small cluster of people tied around a support pole with duct tape, a group of men sectioned around them with their guns pointed and ready. 

        "Look at me!" the man ordered. I refused, feigning nervousness that was anything but. You will meet me on my terms. He hesitated, and then crouched down to my level. Good boy.

"My name is far to intricate for you to pronounce, so you can call me M. Now," He extended his hand to me. "Lets try this again. No tricks, no funny business. No images appearing behind me. Just a nice, friendly conversation about where it's hidden and we will be on our way."

Interesting, what it is you expect of me. I'll have to file that one away to ponder later. I glanced up at him; dark brown eyes peaked out from beneath his mask, hard lines scraping his skin framing them. He had to have been in his late forties, early fifties. Kind of old to still be in this business; you must be desperate for money-or someone's holding something over you.

        "Really, she's going to decline." May sprung upward, twisting mid-air, and brought down her boot hard on his back, knocking him onto his stomach. 

        It must have been a signal to the others, because at that moment all the men trained their guns on her and the crew broke free of their bonds. Within a few seconds, the place was an all-out brawl. Coulson took one man's gun and trained it on another. The Brit hit a man upside the head with a fire extinguisher, and then ran towards the front of the plane. It occurred to me that someone was probably-hopefully-flying this hunk of metal. Men with mask were being taken down left and right, and I was admittedly annoyed that they hadn't even proved to be a real threat. I had to acknowledge that I knew right away that they weren't going to last long-I mean, no one holds a gun like that.