The next chapter of this is killing me, but I wrote this little thing in one night. Such is the way of the world, I guess.

And yes, I'm back! See, I promised you it was just a hiatus. I bet a good chunk of you didn't believe me...man, it feels good to buck expectations. (And I know that many of you won't be able to review this interim because it's replacing my apology -PS that guest that left me a note saying they were going to report me, you can consider yourself my enemy and I am 100% planning to hunt you down and hit you in the face with a chair- but if that's the case for you lovely people just know that I appreciated all your thoughtful words so much, and that you can save any wise words for next chapter.

I want to dedicate a longer chapter of this (possibly the grand finale) to you, my wonderful readers and reviewers, so this one is dedicated to werevampwolf and Ferrel Drath for their amazing scenes for the school play that we're writing as part of a group. You two rock!

Interlude

There's someone in my office.

Taller than Barton, and broader than Romanoff. No afro like Yousif, and more hair than Coulson. It might have been Bobbi, if she wasn't in Malaysia with her on/off/trying to murder each other/on again boyfriend/fiancé/husband (it's complicated, even on the paperwork). Any spy from another agency would call ahead, and Fury would summon me to his location. Sitwell isn't brave enough, and Hand actually follows protocol.

There's someone in my office. Tall and lithe, with long hair and light feet. Skilled enough at spycraft to sneak into my office-

Everything clicks. I know who this is.

Because in this new crazy world, spies are no longer the most dangerous villains around. Not by half. And spycraft? Those are the tools of a generation now passed over in favour of more dangerous things, more magical things.

I move into my office -which is about to become a battleground of wit and will- with my head held high and a well-practiced smile pasted on my face. "Lady Loki, always a pleasure."

The goddess turns, ebony curls bouncing around her head. This Lady Loki is nothing like the reasonably average, blonde haired, grey eyed spy that stalked through the heli-carrier, spreading mischief and chaos on April Fools. This Lady Loki is taller than me, and as far from average as is possible to get. She stands in front of my desk decked out in layers of green and black and gold, hands clasped behind her back pulling her shoulders back in a proud stance. Her green eyes stand out like poison against her pale skin, black curls falling long past her shoulders, stirring gently under the air con's artificial breeze.

"Deputy Director Hill," she replies, her plush lips curling around the words with the faintest touch of derision.

I take a seat behind my desk, an unsheathed knife held ready out of view. Loki is framed by piles of paperwork, but her uncharacteristically restless stance holds my full attention. "I could have you arrested, you know. Incarcerated. Tortured. Executed for crimes against humanity. Showing up on my heli-carrier really isn't that smart."

"But you won't," Loki says, with a surety born from centuries of experience. "Because you know that I know what I'm risking in coming here to speak to you. Therefore, you need to know what I'm here to say."

I cross my arms -Loki is stalling for time and irritation is welling in my chest. "So say it. My patience has limits, and you're already fast approaching them."

Loki wants to argue, to draw out the conversation, to push and tease at the limits of my forced goodwill -I can see the urge to cause chaos burning in the back of her eyes. But she doesn't, and that in itself is telling.

She smoothes her hands together, gold-painted nails glimmering in the low lighting of my office. "The Earth is threatened."

It's always hard not to roll my eyes when people deliver blinding obvious statements. "It often is, Loki. You. The Skrulls. Malekith. Lorelei. Amora. A lot of aliens have picked out Earth as an easy target, and every one of you has been emphatically proven wrong."

"Foolish mortal. Do you think I would be here to warn you if I believed you could defeat your next enemy alone?" Her chest heaves with pride-fuelled anger under her elaborate armour, her mouth pulled into a razor thin line. "Even then, do you think I would be here if this did not also affect me?"

Unbidden, a memory springs to the forefront of my mind. Frigga, Queen of Asgard. A mother's concern for her son, and a queen's concern for her kingdom, mixed together into a fear of blue-turned eyes and a monster from beyond the stars.

"Thanos," I say, and know I've hit my mark when Loki twitches, dark memories flashing behind her eyes. "The Mad Titan."

Loki pulls a small black stick from between the folds of her robes, her expression telling me everything I need to know. The stick is knobbly and comes from no tree found on Earth; even as I analyse it the twig begins to glow, light emanating from tiny runes carved into the bark. The green hued light brightens until I'm forced to squint just to keep an eye on it, but when the light dies a sleek black memory stick lies in Loki's calloused hand.

I look up at her with a quizzical expression, and one of her sleek eyebrows curves into a graceful arch. "You people deal in information, do you not? I believe this to be a compatible source for your devices. Use it well -it is likely to be all the personal help I can give you."

My weapons belt presses snugly against my waist as I lean forward to take the memory stick from Loki's palm, carefully depositing it in a secure, technology-and-file free draw. I'll take intelligence from Loki -s/he is an incredibly intelligent warrior with a sharp eye for tactics and espionage- but I don't trust Loki as far as I could throw any of her forms. Her memory stick could just as easily be a bomb as a source of vital information on Thanos, and while my life may be worth risking, precious S.H.I.E.L.D. documents are not.

My brain whirrs ahead, picking apart Loki's words, connecting tenuous assumptions into more concrete hypotheses. "There are others, aren't there. Other things out there working against Thanos, other people who might be able to help Earth out."

Loki's expression solidifies, turning colder than the marble of Michelangelo's David. "Always scrabbling around for allies, you humans, searching desperately for greater powers to protect you." I continue to stare up at them, and her face softens, just a little. "But I suppose in times like these it isn't wise to separate out my allies for the sake of future plans. Yes, Deputy Director Hill. Earth has many allies against Thanos, some you may know, many more you will not know and will never meet. But there are a few more that will come your way in the coming months; you would do well to treat them with respect."

"Y'know Loki, when someone new lands on Earth, we're usually pretty hospitable. It's only narcissistic, murderous, God complex-ridden maniacs that get locked in cages and beaten into the floor." I smile sweetly.

Loki visibly struggles against the small smile that sneaks onto her lips, hands flexing and curling as her sides as her mouth fights to turn down at the corners. "You're a terrible person and, hopefully, an excellent ally, Maria Hill."

Lady Loki nods her head once, magnanimous in spirit if not in practice, and then disappears in a muted flash of green tinted light.

(*I*I*I*)

Days later, after several utterly thorough security checks in the fields of both magic and hacking, I will plug Loki's slick black memory stick into a tablet, with Fury at my side in an otherwise empty room.

We will watch, with bated breath (an unusual occurrence for two such experienced spies, though neither of us will acknowledge it) as the screen flashes green, then turns blacker than the clearest night sky.

We will watch the screen as a cursor blinks to life, white and clean and ready for action.

We will wait for the cursor to begin its crawl across the screen in utter silence, the only sound in the room the faint whooshing of the decontamination units built into every vent.

We will watch the files, hundreds of them, thousands, millions upon millions of them spring to life on the page; we will click through the first few titled in English, three more in Middle Ages Russian and a two others in Egyptian hieroglyphs. We will realise that the intergalactic spies behind this information have done their best to translate their knowledge into the Earthly languages they used to know, and wonder how long aliens have been visiting Earth.

Fury will whisper a tired, "Well fuck," into the clean dry air of the room, his one eye lit by the information that spells out our doom.

But before that, before all of that, Loki left my office decorated with a final message. Green flames burnt bright as the hung in the air, blinding my eyes and my security cameras alike.

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