DAYWALKER | n.romanoff

FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE
'I'LL LET YOU GARGLE YOUR BLOOD.'

In-person, Loki's prison was more imposing. Not that the Blade would voice it. But then again, with the things she'd seen and endured, it was a godsend if she compared them. Quickly, she pushed it away, the shadows crawling around her feet like sharks smelling blood, and her vision narrowed.

The Blade kept to the darkness surrounding the outskirts of the room, the reflection of lights on her helmet only just shining and revealing her presence. She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest as her grey eyes watched Loki pace.

He suddenly stopped and turned to look at Romanoff, who stood fully in the light. "There's not many people that can sneak up on me."

"But you figured I'd come," she finished.

"After." Loki approached the edge of his cell. "After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate."

"That can still be arranged," the Blade drawled with a tilted head, the light reflecting off her helmet, but the rest of her merged with the shadows.

Romanoff inclined her head in agreement and crossed her arms over her chest.

Loki only smiled. "I sure it can."

"I wanna know what you've done to Agent Barton."

The Blade watched the interaction closely, eyes flickering between them. She could gain information from both parties during the exchange and find the knowledge to get as far away from the Helicarrier and the band of misfits as quickly as possible.

"I'd say I've expanded his mind," the god replied with a tilted head.

"And once you've won, once you're king of the mountain, what happens to his mind?"

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

"Love is for children. I owe him a debt."

Loki slowly lowered onto the bench which surrounded the circumference of the cell. "Tell me."

With a short glance behind her at the Blade, they locked eyes. The woman's eyes filled with an odd form of interest, which Romanoff couldn't place, but she turned back to Loki and crossed her arms over her chest. "Before I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., I uh...well, I made a name for myself. I have a very specific skill set. I didn't care who I used it for or on. I got on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar in a bad way. Agent Barton was sent to kill me. He made a different call."

The Blade's eyes flickered over Romanoff's back.

"And what will you do if I vow to spare him?"

"Not let you out."

A quiet laugh left Loki, and he leaned forward. "Ah, no. But I like this. Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?"

"Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian, or was."

"What is it you want?"

"It's really not that complicated. I've got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out."

The Blade wasn't surprised by many things, and the exchange wasn't as groundbreaking as expected. She knew about Romanoff's past. She knew a lot about everyone. It wasn't difficult to learn things in her line of work. And even if she didn't, an agent as ferocious as the redhead wasn't something borne of natural talent. Sinful intent always bred serial murderers like themselves.

Murder always seemed too light for what she did. The Blade was someone else under her helmet, but she'd worn the metal and fabric for so long that the moment she removed them, her true self would trickle out like rotten mush.