"You have soul." He breathed as the scepter touched Hawkeye's flesh. Loki's whisper delivered chills up his spine and he froze as something else tensed his muscles, commanding he stay still. "You will do quite nicely." He heard – but the words came not from Loki's mouth. They resonated in the world around him, inside him as he felt himself moving without control.

Fear strangled Clint Barton as he stepped forward, his vision becoming sharper, his neck becoming stiffer. He commanded himself to step away or to kick or punch or hurt this…being before him. But his body betrayed him. And that damn creature that dared to call himself a god, Loki's voice narrated the process in calm, oozing words.

"Isn't this better?" he heard Loki without being able to see him, although Clint knew he was sitting behind him as they drove madly through the streets, going to god-knows-where.

Get out of my mind! He screamed mentally. But the words wouldn't go through. He didn't know if Loki could hear him or not, and the lack of response was infuriating. There was silence for a long time, aside from the screeching of the tires and Clint felt his hands gripping the steering wheel, flooring the car without his permission or desire. Suddenly, he felt Loki's presence growing in the space that he was trapped in, like he was inhabiting the borders of his head and closing in the way a serpent does. In a second, he could no longer see or hear any of what his mutinous body was doing under Loki's control. It was just blackness. And it was terrifying.