Feel Something

Chapter 16: Fall Short of the Mark

"Our target is a seemingly abandoned warehouse about 50 miles west of Sacramento," Natasha explained, repeating what Loki had already reviewed in the mission brief several times before boarding the jet, "SHIELD has been tracking suspected HYDRA operatives for the last several months, and the most recent report identified an uptick of activity in the county. Our job is to sneak in undercover, collect what information we can on their plans, and get out without being caught. Think you can handle that, Agent Cooper?"

Loki looked sidelong at his partner as she turned back to the jet controls—though the plane seemed to be handling itself just fine without her help. "Where I come from, I am known as Loki Silvertongue. One does not earn such a title by being a raucous brute, so yes. I think I can handle that, Agent Romanoff."

Her teasing smile confirmed that she never doubted it, "We're about four hours from the drop site if you wanna catch some Z's instead of poring over the file for the fiftieth time."

Loki froze halfway through his fifty-first reread of the mission brief, chastising himself for wearing his eagerness like a diadem. "I've never been one for languor," he admitted, letting the folder fall shut in his lap and instead drawing a dagger to twirl in his impatient hand.

"I know the feeling," Natasha empathized, "Well in that case, why don't you take the wheel so I can get some sleep? I've been up for the last 24 hours and I'd rather not go into this physically compromised."

Loki raised his eyebrows in surprise, "You would have your life in the hands of an extraterrestrial who doesn't know the first thing about flying jets?"

"Oh please," Natasha rolled her eyes, "Are you honestly trying to convince me you're not the one who stole the Quinjet manuals that mysteriously disappeared days after your arrival? Besides, this thing literally flies itself most of the time. Just wake me up when we're getting close."

Before Loki could respond, Natasha had fully switched the controls to autopilot and retired to the empty passenger cabin, leaving Loki alone to watch their progress.

He still didn't know why he was here, of all the possible agents who could have been assigned to this mission. Naturally, he knew he was perfect for undercover operations—more so if he had use of his shapeshifting and illusions—but SHIELD still knew relatively little about him. Why would he be sent on such a sensitive mission? Why not one of the other agents who had actually dedicated the last several months to studying HYDRA's every move?

He couldn't help but suspect it had something to do with the locked laboratory. Perhaps it wasn't locked to the majority of SHIELD—perhaps only his ID was barred from entry. What are you hiding from me, Fury?

Loki's musings were rudely interrupted after two hours of blissful silence when a dreadfully charismatic voice abruptly blared over the Quinjet's intercom. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Stark speaking. We're seeing nothing but clear skies and sunshine, so it's looking like a beautiful day for flying."

A red and gold metallic man flew up parallel to the Quinjet's windshield and waved at Loki with the same irritating pep as the voice over the intercom. "Hey there, Rock of Ages! You must be the new guy. Where's Red?"

Right on queue, Natasha stalked into the cockpit, glaring daggers at their new flight attendant. "Back off, Stark. This is a highly sensitive operation. We don't need celebrities blasting in and blowing our cover."

"Aw come on, Coach, put me in the game!" Stark pleaded, "Fury's had me on the back burner for months. When are we gonna finally get this Avengers thing off the ground?"