Jailbait

1

Hi there! So I saw Avengers (Assemble) and it gave me plot bunnies, when I really should be focussing on revising for my exams and my other stories that I'm neglecting. Here's a Loki/OC story, set mainly after the movie that will probably run to no more than ten chapters. The whole story is dedicated to Jen, who is wonderful and I love her and she loves the Hiddleston. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review! (I reply to all signed reviews, and if you don't have an account, leave me your Twitter/Tumblr and I will respond to your review via those).
I'm going to try to keep this story quite humorous, but there will inevitably be some parts where either a) my funnies will be unfunny or b) there is a need for angst and whatnot.
I own nothing but my OC (who is in fact based loosely on Jen, on her insistence and who I most certainly do NOT own) and the plot. No copyright infringement intended. Rated for swearing and some snogging (tee hee, snogging).
Saskia x

Two gunshots rang out, echoing around the house. I sat bolt upright in my bed, instantly awake. The smart side of my brain told me to stay where I was, call the police...anything other than tip toe down the stairs to investigate, but 12 year olds very rarely listen to the smart side of their brain. I cautiously made my way out of my room and downstairs, avoiding the two creaky steps on the way. I turned the corner into my kitchen, and was assaulted with the sight of my parents' dead bodies, their blood spreading across the tiled floor. A red haired woman was searching the drawers for something, and I took a step back, holding my hand over my mouth to stop myself screaming. I went to my dad's office and took out the loaded gun he kept in the desk and clicked off the safety. I approached the kitchen again, avoiding looking at the dead bodies on the floor. I levelled the firearm at the woman.

"Why did you kill them?" She spun round, two guns flying from their holsters into her hands and aimed at me. Her face softened slightly as she looked at me.

"Because they were bad people who needed to be stopped." She said simply. I shook my head.

"They weren't bad people to me."

"We didn't realise there was a child. They clearly were very good at keeping you a secret."

"Clearly." My eyes strayed compulsively to my parents lying on the floor, and I choked on a sob. I begged them with my mind to jump up, and to be as alive as they were five minutes ago, but it was futile.

"My name is Natasha. What's yours?" The red haired woman – Natasha – lowered her guns, but didn't put them away.

"Lily." My gun stayed trained on her face, and my hands barely shook. Barely.

"Well, Lily, come with me. I can't leave you here, and I doubt you have any family to look after you." I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head towards the floor. "Well...you know. My organisation, S.H.I.E.L.D, we can take care of you." I could see that she was uncomfortable with the situation.

"What, like you took care of my parents?" She frowned. I looked to the side. "Well, it looks like you didn't do a very good job of 'taking care of them'. They're still alive." She whipped round, her guns trained on them again and I took my chance. I knew they were both dead, and the last thing I wanted was to be taken care of by the people who ordered their execution. I ran up the stairs two at a time, and grabbed the bag Dad had packed for me and insisted I keep under my bed. I suppose that they always knew this might happen. I wish I knew why it had. I thrust my feet into some trainers and pushed my window open as far as it would go. I could hear the woman scrambling up the stairs, so I didn't hesitate in swinging my legs outside and jumping lightly down onto the grass. Clearly the years of ballet classes had made me more graceful than I look. I took off in a run, leaving behind my dead parents and home for the past 12 years, with nothing more than a rucksack, the contents of which I did not know.

I blinked sharply as the chiming of my computer pulled me from my past. An error message popped up on my screen and I impatiently shot it down with a couple of clicks, watching the lines of code appear and disappear as quickly. I barrelled through the firewalls and locks with ease, marvelling at how little S.H.I.E.L.D cared about their security. It wasn't long before I had hacked my way into their interface, and honestly, it was hardly challenging. About as difficult as hacking into the White House's comms (one of the President's body guards likes naughty phone calls, tee hee). I leaned forward, scanning my screen. I'd seen the portal opening on TV, and the monstrous Chitauri, but I wanted to know what was really going on. Naturally, S.H.I.E.L.D was my first port of call. The moment I had seen Black Widow on the news, I opened my laptop.

The situation wasn't great. I listened in to the Avengers' conversation, and could hear the panic in their voices. I was surprised to see Thor again, but that's a story for another time. I sat for hours watching S.H.I.E.L.D's newsfeed, caught up in the invasion in Manhattan. I was so focussed on it, I will admit I freaked out a little when the nuke was sent from the Helicarrier, but then I remembered I was two states away from the danger zone. As the Chitauri died on the streets of the city, I stretched and rubbed my face. That was interesting.

I debated offering my services to S.H.I.E.L.D while I opened the fridge and searched for some edible food. I mean, if an 18 year old (with no instruction in computer hacking since her mom taught her the rudimentary skills when she was 11) can manage to log into one of the most secret...secret services on the planet (and beyond), then they are definitely open to attack from those with more than idle curiosity. I could offer to fix their security for a sizeable fee, and not have to work again for the rest of the year. Or I could leave it. Honestly, if they were that stupid, then let them be vulnerable. I had long since moved past them killing my parents (after reading the files, I can even see why they did it), but I didn't need money right now. They could stay weak.

My eyes lit upon the battered rucksack in the corner. I don't know why I kept it. Sentiment, I suppose. That rucksack had contained everything that had enabled me to live beyond my parents' deaths; a new identity, money that kept me going for a year, a laptop, clothes, contacts for if I got into difficulty. The rucksack itself was useless now – the bottom fell out a couple of years ago – but it was a reminder of the last protection my parents could offer me, and I couldn't let that go.

I sat on my battered desk chair with a theatrical sigh. My life literally revolved around computers. I could fix a couple of companies' security for cash, and live comfortably in my small flat for the year. I could hack into the White House for fun. I could watch breaking news before it broke. And I was sick to death of it.

But what else could I do? I didn't want to have a solid job that would restrain me, but I had little or no talents other than with computers. I could do ballet and play piano, which would clearly lead to a kick ass career...not. I knew some martial arts and how to fire a gun, but my clumsiness rendered that nearly useless. I was just an 18 year old girl with no one in the world. I had blonde hair that fell half way down my back, and a fringe that never did exactly as I wanted it to. I couldn't wear makeup because of my allergies, and I seemed to be doomed to a life of perpetual shortness. There's nothing I could do asides from fire up the internet and carry on with my kinda pathetic virtual life.

~X~

What am I doing here? Seriously, what? What on earth compelled me to travel to the warzone Manhattan on the day that Thor and Loki were travelling back across the realms to Asgard? Why would I do that? Was I deranged? Mentally retarded? A complete fuckwit?

Apparently, yes.

I walked calmly across the park to where the Avengers had assembled and leant against a tree, unlocking my iPhone so it looked as though I was just a random person doing random things. I doubted that Natasha Romanoff would recognise me, but I was wearing big sunglasses as a precaution. I saw Thor turn to speak to the mismatch of heroes, and Loki standing with a funny muzzle thing strapped to his face. Even with the gag...he was pretty good looking. Why is it that the bad guys always are? He made eye contact with me and I quickly looked back down at my phone, blushing furiously, scrolling through the information I had stolen from S.H.I.E.L.D on the Tesseract, some sort of not-so-mythical power source that was currently in a casket held by the God of Thunder. The aforementioned turned away from the so-called heroes and offered a handle of the casket to Loki.

Now.

I sprinted across the distance between us and wrapped my hand around Thor's wrist as he rotated the handle, barely registering his cry of alarm and Loki's muffled exclamation as the Tesseract's power engulfed us, and I left the realm of Midgard for the first time.

Okay, promise the next one will be better. Reviewers get (metaphorical) cookies!