The Cost of a Mortal's Captivity | Loki

Cinnamon Toast Crunch Party

The next morning, I wake up wondering why I'm sleeping on the couch. Then it all comes flooding back to me. The Comic-Con, Loki, Captain America... I remember it all, down to the last detail.

Needless to say, I missed my chance, but that's hardly my main concern. Nobody else had the privilege of missing their chance. As far as I know, the Captain and I are the only survivors. To confirm my suspicions, I fumble for the remote and turn on the news channels.

"A crazed terrorist by the name of Loki of Asgard attacked the New York Comic-Con last night and, out of approximately ten-thousand attendees, left no known survivors. According to our sources, Loki took hostages of all of the Comic-Con's visitors at nine PM. The last news from inside the building was that the famous Captain America was entering. Neither he, nor Loki, have been seen since." A very official-looking man appears on-screen next to the reporter. "We have with us Phil Coulson, an agent from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division to tell us a little bit of what's going on in the eyes of the government."

"Ma'am," Coulson begins. "There's not much that I'm permitted to say, but I can guarantee you that we're doing everything in our power to find both Loki and Captain America. Thank you." The man leaves, unwilling to say anymore.

"Well," I tell the TV. "You can stop looking for Cap. He's right here." I pause, contemplating my own words. If the government is really on the hunt for Cap, it's not going to be long before they can pick up where he is. Who knows what they would bring in? It could be anything from a nuclear weapon to the Incredible Hulk. I do not want that mess in my apartment. "Oh mercy, he's right here."

I run to my room, where Cap is still sleeping like a rock... or in his case, a block of ice. I grab his shoulder and shake him violently. "Captain, wake up. Come on, Cap, you can't leave me alone to deal with this! Please wake up!"

He has no reaction. Is he dead? There's only one way to find out...

I lean next to his ear, and muster up the loudest scream I have. "AMERICA!"

His eyes shoot open and he falls off of the bed, spewing obscenities. "What was that about?"

"Listen, buddy, if I had known you were a rock, I would've glued some googly eyes on you and called you Jimmy, but we don't have time for that now."

The Captain stares at me. "Who are you?"He looks around. "What am I doing here?"

"Hey, chill, alright? Well, you've already done that... Calm down, I mean. You remember what happened last night, don't you?"

"Does it have anything to do with the throbbing headache I'm experiencing?" He looks down. "Or the fact that I'm still in uniform?"

I sigh. "Memory loss must be so confusing. Why don't you come to the kitchen, you can get yourself some cereal, and I'll do my best to explain things. Quickly, if you don't mind. You have to get back to your people, or they're going to come looking for you here."

Cap nods and follows me to the kitchen. "The cereal is in the cupboard over there," I inform him, and seat myself at the table, waiting for him to get his food.

"I never did catch your name," Cap reminds me.

"Abby Brandon," I inform him. "And yours is...?"

"You can call me, Steve," he informs me, opening the cupboard. "Whoa..."

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing..." he assures me. "It's just... that's a lot of Cinnamon Toast Crunch..."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, that... I'm doing an experiment of how many days I can have it for breakfast without getting sick of it. I'm up to two months. That stuff is like crack."