Chapter 1: In which Loki is a prat and Natasha gets it

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Avengers. I own nothing. Except maybe this story. But quite frankly, unless this makes me billions of dollars, I'd rather have the Avengers.

Clint: "I bloody well hope you never do own us, or we're all screwed…"

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Loki was back (dramatic music, please). He'd escaped whatever Asgardian prison they'd stuck him in, and was baying for revenge.

Literally. He'd brought an army of, not Chitauri, but alien-robotic-wolf things. With giant antlers. And scales.

"What the hell are these things?" Clint cried, shooting an explosive arrow at one. True to its name, it exploded upon contact, spraying wolf-guts everywhere. Smelly wolf-guts. The archer shuddered and tired to no avail to wipe it off.

"They are Bilgesnipes, my friend! Worthy foes, but perhaps a little disgusting to battle." Thor replied, spinning his hammer around like a helicopter. Watching him rise, Clint made a mental note to ask Tony if the genius could tamper with his bow so it would do that.

"Whatever they're called, we need to get them out of the way and find Loki." Natasha reprimanded. "He's the one controlling them, right?"

"No need, my dear Widow." She was interrupted by a smooth voice: Loki. He was standing victoriously on a rather charred Stark Tower, surrounded by rubble.

"You! Why does every bad guy have it in for my tower?" Tony moaned. "First you, then Doom, then that prissy-boy in tights, and then that-"

"No offense, Stark, but it is both ostentatious and hideous. Destroying it has many benefits for the people at large, not just us," Loki replied, showing a razor-sharp grin. Tony could see it because the god had chosen to teleport – right in front of Iron Man.

"Dude! Ever heard of personal space?" Tony yelped, leaping back.

"My… apologies… if I am unaware of local customs. I would think that you would be more worried about my army of Bilgesnipes laying waste to your city than my proximity, though."

"What army?'

Loki looked at him as if he were crazy. And then he looked around.

There were Bilgesnipes, yes… but they were all dead. The Avengers stood around, looking proud (and a bit smelly).

Loki blinked, but recovered quickly. "I am not so easily defeated! I have grown stronger since we last fought. Face me, and prepare to fall, weak as you are!"

"Oh yeah? Well, face this!" And Iron Man blasted his repulsors straight at Loki's face… Loki barely flinched.

"Shit."

Just then, a rock hit Loki in the shoulder.

"Oi! You prat!" The Norse god spun around.

"Yes, you!" He identified the speaker: a young girl marching… straight at him.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" They all got a closer look at her.

The girl herself was average. Not short, not tall. Slightly thicker than was considered attractive. Dark-ish brown, thick hair went a few inches past her shoulders, and under too-long bangs, olive green eyes glared. She might have been 14 or 15.

Her accessories were slightly unusual, though. Bracelets marched up her arms, almost to her elbow, covering her sleeves. They were varied, too: rubber bracelets proclaiming band names, silver charm bracelets, antique-ish gold bracelets, duct tape homemade bracelets; you name it.

"Excuse me?" Loki asked, bemused.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" She was pissed. "You waltz in here, again, and beat up my city, again! You already lost! Stop throwing temper tantrums and get on with your life!"

Inside the suit, Tony was biting his lip hard, trying not to laugh. Steve was biting his too, but for a different reason. He moved quickly next to her, shield raised to protect. The girl gave him a glare worthy of… someone who was very good at glaring.

"You tiny mortal! Who do you think you are, to speak to me this way?!"

"Oh, so just because I'm human, and I don't have superpowers, I'm nobody? I'm less than a little boy who can't get over his daddy issues? Okay, I'm sorry that you and father and brother don't get along, but blowing up cities isn't gonna help!" She stood on her tiptoes and shoved a finger in his face.

Loki's attention was focused solely on this girl now. "You will regret this, child!" He lifted his staff – and fell down, unconscious. Natasha was sticking two needles, one in each hand, into the god's neck.

"Oh, good." the assassin said, as if commenting on the weather. "It worked. R&D weren't sure it would on a god."

"Thank you!" The girl rolled her eyes dramatically. "Somebody finally got it! I mean, jeez, you people are slow!"

The collective Avengers stared at her. "Um, no offense, miss, but who are you?" Steve asked.

She blinked, then gave them a gigantic smile. "Nobody." She curtsied dramatically and started to walk away. Thor caught up with her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"My lady, we simply wish to thank you! You distracted my brother and saved many people who-"

Thor would have continued, but he noticed the pointed look aimed at his hand. He removed it.

"Listen, kid. Just tell us your name, 'kay?" Iron Man's robotic voice asked.

She smiled warmly and said, "I'm Jane Doe. I – hey, is that Bilge Sniper thing over there still alive?" The Avengers all turned around. She was telling the truth: one of the larger Bilgesnipes was getting up, growling and shaking itself off. Thor's eyes widened as it leapt for the targets that seemes least dangerous: Natasha and Clint. He, Tony, and Steve automatically attacked, and by the time the gargantuan beast was down, the girl was gone.

"That child has the same name as my lady!" Thor boomed. "Perhaps they are acquainted?"

"No, Thor." Clint sighed. "No one is named Jane Doe."

"Why?"

"It's a name police use when they don't know the name of a dead woman." Tony tried, and failed, to explain, already distracted, searching the ground for any alien tech at the same time he was assuring Pepper over the comm. that he was fine.

Thor was aghast. "She is dead?"

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Later, when Natasha tried to find out who the girl was, she discovered that there were way too many 14-year-old girls with brown hair and green eyes on S.H.I.E.L.D. databases.

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A/N

Thanks all for reading :) I'm trying to redo this story a little – it was already up here, but I wasn't too pleased with it.

Have a lovely day, and remember: People who don't review are orange crème.

No, I don't know what that means.