Nightmare

Evacuation

I sigh, hearing Loki's confident footsteps without turning to see it's him. "No."

"What?"

"Please, go away. I'm tired." I groan, turning around on the cold, dusty metal bed of my cell. I curl up in a ball, closing my eyes and trying to fall back asleep.

"You need to come with me. Now."

"Why?" I wail. "I want to sleep!"

I'M SO FUCKING TIRED.

"Would you like to learn how to control that fire, or would you have it explode during the Chitauri attack and unnecessarily kill hundreds of people that the Chitauri weren't supposed to?" His eyes are green.

This gets me. "Hundreds of people? I've only ever killed one before, with the fire."

"Well, the sheer amount of power locked away in you is enough to kill possible a thousand, but given that you have little to absolutely no control whatsoever over your fire, you could only kill at least three to five hundred mortals. Now if you could control, let's say, the beginning  of your power, the simplest bits, then you could choose to kill around three hundred to five hundred mortals. 

"However,  given that you have no control over that fire whatsoever, it would take weeks, maybe even months or a year, to use your power to the fullest. By then, you could incinerate maybe twenty thousand Midgardians, is that many of you even exist, which you don't. Or you could easily kill off that many others with the same amount of weakness.

"Did you know none of this?" The professor finishes his lecture.

"No, of course I didn't. We didn't even know Asgard existed until last year; how do you expect me to know everything about my magic when it's showed up like three times in my life?"

"Come on." Loki sounds imaptient.

"Why?" I ask, burying my face in my arms, trying to block him out.

"We're evacuating," Loki says simply.

"Oh, shit, why?" I shoot up.

"We're going to do this often until Barton finds the items he needs, but some of us are staying here." Simple, yet so careful not to give away any information. Yet I already know what he's talking about. Iridium.

"Oh." I was hoping for something more exciting.

I get up, stretching and shoving my iPod into my pocket. I slip the mask on and grab my crutch. Then I grab the plastic bag my catsuit and boots are in.

You know what's really weird?

My stabbed leg hasn't hurt since the last time my fire blew; day before yesterday. But the fucked up ankle was good since then too, and now it's getting stiffer.

Well. It was nice while it lasted.

"Why do you always wear that mask?" I see Loki looking at the skull on my face (It's fake, don't worry) with distaste and curiosity. But mostly distaste.

"You wanna try it on?" I can't wait to see his reaction once the built-in glasses on the mask fuck his eyes up. My eyesight sucks.