If it weren't for the countless demonstrations of extreme security and not wholly unjustified paranoia by both Loki and the Loki Crew, I would be surprised at the pains Johnson takes to guarantee that I don't see the exit of the compound. He goes as far as providing me with a blindfold, though he apologizes several times for it, explaining that it was on Loki's orders that I have to wear it.

Johnson takes me by the hand and carefully leads me out of HQ through an intricate tunnel system that-- just by listening-- I can tell is complete with coded and locked doors. It's several minutes before I can even hear the outside traffic and another several minutes still before Johnson removes the blindfold, and I find myself on a sidewalk in a busy city street.

The sunlight nearly fries my eyeballs in my skull. "I didn't expect it to still be daytime," I remark, trying to shield my eyes and my pride simultaneously.

"It's pretty hard to tell underground," Johnson allows. "Not to mention, you must have pretty bad jetlag. Do you want me to buy you some sunglasses?" He gestures to a little tourist shop across the street. "There are some over there," he announces, walking towards it.

I almost let him go until I catch the silver wristband-- identical to mine-- on his wrist and remember Loki's warning. Desperately, I sprint to catch his arm. "No, no, don't!" I instruct. "Loki said no shopping spree."

Johnson furrows his eyebrows. "What... Oh! You must have the 'no transaction' restriction on your band. It's alright. I can buy stuff without being zapped to death. I appreciate the concern, though."

When Johnson buys the glasses, a light on his band blinks green. I wonder why he would need a wristband to begin with. I mean, if he really is Loki's right-hand man (so to speak) why would he need that kind of supervision? Maybe I've overestimated how important he is in the supervillain hierarchy.

"Well," Johnson begins, slipping on his pair. "How do I look?"

"Like you just crawled out of an FBI compound," I answer with a smile. "But don't worry; it suits you." I take my pair and put them on. "What about me? How do I look"

Johnson appraises me and smiles. "Cute! I mean, good. I mean... they look nice. You look nice, basically."

"Thanks, I'd hate to look mean," I answer. Was that corny? I hope it's not corny. "So... what is there to eat around here?"

Corn, in your case, Abby, I tell myself.

That's not funny. Shut up, I answer.

"Well, uh, there are some fast-food places... Ditsch, Nordsee if you like seafood, Wienerwald..."

My eyebrows furrow. "I'm sorry, what was that last one?"

"Wienerwald..."

"Oh, okay..."

"It means Vienna Woods," Johnson explains.

"I believe you," I assure him. "Maybe let's try the first one instead?"

Johnson nods and walks out onto the sidewalk. "Great! Ditsch is one of my favorites. I know the owner, and if you say the right things, you can get a secret special bratwurst. It's really good."

"Sounds really good," I answer.

Before long, we're at the restaurant of choice, and I'm settled down in a booth with Johnson's super-secret special bratwurst in front of me and Johnson in the opposite booth. To his credit, Johnson knows how to order a decent bratwurst. It's got a strange flavor that's vaguely familiar but I just can't place...

"So," Johnson begins. "How did you find yourself tangled up with the likes of us?"

I shake my head. "Honestly, I was hoping you might tell me."

He pauses. "So, you have no idea?"

"None," I respond with a sigh. "Well, none aside from being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Johnson ponders this for a moment. "You're not being held for ransom or anything? No powerful connections, no brilliant mind?"

I scratch my forehead. "Hey, that's not fair. I mean, I'm not a genius or anything, but..."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that," Johnson apologizes.

"I figured." I take another bite of the delicious bratwurst and take a breath deep enough that it hurts. "As far as a ransom goes, I really hope he's not counting on a ransom. My dad is just an insurance agent, and he and my mom are the only people I know of who'd care enough to bail me out."

Johnson picks idly at his meal with a fork. "Must be nice..." he mutters.

"What, to grow up without friends?" I question, scratching the back of my neck. "Could've been better."

"No, I mean about your parents. Seems like a nice life."

I take another breath to say something, but it catches in my throat. And it takes some effort to get it back out again.

The struggle must be noticeable, because Johnson asks, "Are you alright?"

"Fine. Is it hot in here or is it just me?" I question then gulp down a swig of water. As I'm setting the glass back down, I notice a large red spot on my hand. And it's itching like crazy. "Quick question: what makes this super-secret special bratwurst so super-secret and special?"

Johnson shrugs. "Um, I don't know. I think they cook them up with peppers."

"NO!" I gasp in the middle of a restaurant, attracting lots of attention. "I'm not okay. I'm having an allergic reaction."

Johnson jumps up from the booth. "What, you- you mean from the peppers?"

"No, from the vinyl cover of this seat," I answer. "YES, from the peppers."

Johnson is beginning to appear slightly frantic. He grabs my arm and stands me up, then sits me back down. All this with a chorus of panicked "ums" and "ahs." He runs a hand over his hand. "Don't you have, uh, I don't know... Like an EpiPen or something?"

"Forgot to pack it in the middle of being KIDNAPPED!" I scream which is probably not the best idea after having attracted so much attention.

"Okay, calm down!" Johnson instructs, clearly not calm. "We'll just get you back to base."

It's getting harder to breathe now. "I'll put the blindfold on myself," I wheeze. "Just hand it over."

Johnson nods and reaches into his suit pocket. "Um..." He pats the outside of his pocket and checks a few more. "Uh..."

"Let me guess," I begin. "You misplaced it."

Johnson looks up at me. "I must've at the sunglasses booth."

I take another long sip of water and then a raspy breath. "That's okay. I'll just die. That's fine."

"No, no, no," Johnson says, and then stands me up again. "We'll just get you to a hospital. I just hope there's one nearby"

"Watch the ribs," I mutter, cringing.

In a blur, we're at a hospital, and I'm getting stuck with an EpiPen and asked a lot of questions by a nurse with broken English. Yes, I'm an American. I'm having an allergic reaction to peppers. No, I don't have any identification on me, unfortunately. My name is Abigail Brandon, etc.

When the whole ordeal is over, it's just me and Johnson sitting in a room, waiting to be cleared to leave.

"So, peppers?" Johnson asks.

"It's a curse," I mumble.

"Right..." He stands. "Hey, don't go anywhere. I've got to go make a call." And without any further explanation, he leaves.

Don't go anywhere... I almost laugh at the thought. As if there was anywhere for me to go. I'm stuck in a hospital with a killer bracelet on my wrist. But then it hits me. I'm in a hospital. They must have loads of records or at the very least a way to contact the proper authorities. And the proper authorities would be able to find out who I am, safely remove the said killer bracelet, and ship me back home.

I call the nurse in before I have a chance to think about it twice.

"How to help you?" she asks with a thick German accent.

I fold my hands in my lap and sit up a little. "Uh, yes, I was wondering if you might help me? I've been kidnapped."

The nurse is silent.

"Kidnapped," I continue. "Like, taken away. And I don't like it."

"This is joke, ya?" the nurse questions slowly, and begins to laugh, albeit nervously.

I interrupt her little funny moment. "No, nein! I've really been kidnapped. Look, I'm from New York and there's this Asgardian guy named Loki who's behind it all. Check records if you need to, missing person reports if you can. I just need to get in contact with the police."

The nurse hesitates and begins to turn away. "I check," she promises with a nod.

But before she has a chance, she is stopped by Loki sauntering in the room. He's dressed in all green, with a lighter button-down shirt and darker trousers. But, as casual as he looks, the hypnotic spear remains, and is aimed right at her chest. "I don't believe that will be necessary," he says as the nurse's eyes turn blue.

"Eh, not necessary," the nurse says with a shrug and walks away.

"Well, Abigail, what trouble have you caused me today?" Loki asks as soon as we're alone.

I stare at him with unadulterated loathing. "There is no way in all of creation that you could possibly have known what I was up to."

"Your beacon brought us here. 'Abby in a hospital?' I thought to myself. 'Now, there's a recipe for disaster.' I was already on the way when I received a call from Johnson saying we may have to clear a few medical records, and now I can do it myself. I believe I'm beginning to predict your moves a little better every day." He says it with a Cheshire grin that's almost unnerving.

I roll my eyes. "Oh, stop acting like you know me."

"Oh, but I do, and doesn't it just drive you mad?" he says. "Though, I will say that giving yourself a reaction was not something I expected from you."

"Hey, I did not give myself a reaction," I answer. "That was a total accident."

Loki stares a moment, then rolls his eyes. "By Yggdrasil, human beings are dense creatures."

"Then why even keep me around?" I spit out, bitterly.

"Just to bring a little personality to the whole operation, darling," he drones, and gestures for me to leave. As he leads me out, he half-turns to me and says, "You were little more than ten meters from the border, did you know that? Just think, you may have been killed."

"By you," I point out.

Loki shrugs.

There's a limo in the hospital drive-through, and Johnson is already inside, riding shotgun with the chauffeur. So, I'm stuck in the back with Loki and tinted windows.

"So, have you decided that I'm more trouble than I'm worth?"

Loki lets out a brief laugh. "If I had decided that, I'd have let you cross the border."

I put my head against the window, trying to focus on the vibrations the moving car is shooting through my skull. "I don't get it," I groan.

"You will, in time," Loki says, almost softly. "Your part in this theater is much larger than you could dream of." He clears his throat. "Though, I will say letting you out was far much more trouble than it was truly worth. I don't suspect I'll be much inclined to allow it again."

I sit up, slightly enraged. "Now, hold on," I start. "It wasn't all that bad. One mishap, that's all it was. What's the likelihood of me accidentally eating peppers again?"

"It's not your reactions that concern me," Loki explains. "You never do stop trying to free yourself. I've half a mind to hide those lovely hazel eyes and let them be blue again. Just think, there's now some ridiculous nurse going around, praising the truth of the Tesseract. Everyone who doesn't know a thing about it is going to believe that she's mad, and anyone who does know anything about it is going to think that I've stooped to recruiting nameless, pointless nurses. I mean, honestly, how humiliating."

I stare a little while at him. "There is something severely wrong with you," I say after a time.

"Nevertheless," he sighs. "Well, that's my word on it. We'll have to bring you your meals from now on, taking extra caution to avoid peppers."

"Seeing that you're dressed like one? Noted."

He shoots me a glare.

"Oh, go take all that tech and buy yourself a sense of humor," I instruct and look away from him. We don't speak for the rest of the trip.

Soon, we arrive back on the base; and the happy, colorful outdoors is replaced with the cold gray of the thick, cinder block walls. "Didn't miss this place at all," I mutter the minute I exit the vehicle.

"Glad to be back, are we?" Loki teases, following close behind.

"I'll murder you myself, Mr. Mischief," I answer with a smile.

Loki holds up a finger and shakes it. "Ah, careful now. We're required to take those kinds of threats seriously."

Before I can respond, Barton jogs up to us, crossbow in his hand. "Sir, there's an emergency. One of our agents has gone rogue."

"Can no one go two days here without hitting their head?" Loki sighs. "Let Johnson take care of it for you, all right?"

Johnson only exits the car just now. "Take care of what, sir?"

"One of your buddies skipped town," I explain to catch him up. No need for dramatics.

"That's not all though," Barton insists. "Sir... it's Sung-ki. She disabled the beacon a little over three hours ago and left. Jo's gone."