Let me out. Let me out. Castor repeated like a child.

"Fine," I huffed after giving in, after fours hours of repeating words one can give in quite easily. Castor's form flickered until she was almost non-transparent. She walked around the cell studying it, then tapped the glass.

Alarms started blaring and I covered my ears and yelled at Castor, "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Castor shrugged and studied the soldiers that came into the ring surrounding the cell. There had to be about twenty soldiers on each of the three levels surrounding the cell. Natasha, with Clint following quickly behind came to the door of my cell. A stormy glare on her face.

"Who is she?" Natasha almost spat and gestured to Castor.

"She has a name," Castor sniffed, "and a voice of her own,"

Natasha spun and her red ringlets followed in a semi-circle. "Take them to interrogation room 7.0,"

"Ooo, interrogations!" Castor seemed extremely excited for no reason, her sarcasm was really showing, "I love interrogations, especially the torturous ones. Actually, I don't, neither do you. Some interrogations are fun," Castor babbled on while the guards clasped handcuffs on her. She looked at them with distaste but continued her babbling.

"One time, we got caught, and they tortured us for hours. Did you know, Thanos has a personal assistant that tortures his people for him? He calls it the Red Room, like the place not the guy. Hey you guys seem really serious, do you need a Snickers?"

I rolled my eyes as our hands were clipped to the table, Castor continued babbling, "oh my goodness, this is totally like in the movies, with the reflective mirror and the creepy as interrogator."

"Has a teenaged girl possessed your body or something?" I asked curiously.

"Excuse me, your a teenaged girl,"

"Nuh ah, I'm nineteen..." My argument drifted off as I saw her point.

"Still a teenager," Castor sung, "even though your birthday's a few weeks away,"

I huffed and sunk in my seat as the door slammed open and Natasha walked in. She crossed her arms and gave a kill-worthy glare.

"Interrogation stereotype, nine-hundred and eighty-four, badass interrogator, Interrogation stereotype, eight hundred and forty-seven, interrogator has a difficult past," Castor paused from ticking them off on her fingers and looked at Natasha, "make that an unbearable past,"

"What's your name?" Nat asked Castor in a steely voice.

"Natasha Romanoff," Castor replied smoothly.

"That's my name,"

"Natasha?"

"Yes?"

"That's my name,"

"No it isn't,"

"Prove it,"

"I was born with this name," I saw Nat's lips press together slightly and knew she was lying.

"Natasha?"

"What?"

"Nothing," A smirk played on Castor's lips.

...

Some two hours later of bickering, between a professionally trained assassin and a spiritual being of a powerful Galaxy stone with eternity on her hands Natasha turned to me and asked. "Does she ever stop?"

"No," I answered bluntly, "try having her in your head,"

Natasha tried for a few more questions which Castor responded to mockingly. Her hand flew to her earpiece and she looked to the mirror, after a quick second she left.

Another entree of guards entered and pushed us out through the hallways and back to our cell. Once we were inside and the cell door closed, Castor sat down with a huff.

"They don't feed us food," she whined.

"It could be worse," I replied.

"How?"

"We could be at the Avengers Tower," I muttered under my breath.

"At least they would have food," she whined and flopped onto her back.

"But our situation would be a lot worse," I grumbled and sat next to her.

"I want food, I bet ya Hydra doesn't starve their freaking prisoners,"

"No, they kill them,"

"Woah, someone needs a snickers bar,"

"I don't need a snickers bar," I grumbled, refusing the snickers bar Castor had outstretched to me.

"We should make the hallways rain with snickers bars," Castor said with a mouthful of chocolate, "these government agents need some loosening up,"

I gave Castor a really? look, my head was slightly tilted forwards so I was looking disbelievingly through my lashes at her.

In a deep voice, Castor replied, "You're not you when your hungry,"

...

With revenge set upon his heart the Asgardian prince formed a plan in his mind. His isolated dungeon unable to show any light of the surroundings, pitch blackness hung in the area outside of his confinement. There were no guards, for the prince was buried deep beneath the planet's surface for him to be forgotten.

As Loki interpreted, "If the problem wasn't seen or interfering with Odin's sheep then it wasn't a problem,"

And the adopted prince was both, he was neither seen nor interfering. Neither seen nor heard. In his short time on Midgard he had learnt mortal phrases. From someone, he strained his memories for any indication of the person he had spent his time with.

But the Banner, Loki clenched his fists at the thought of her. Fury began to build, bubbling and popping within himself. He gritted his teeth and spoke her name once again. "Becky," So filled was the word, with hatred, resentment, embarrassment. So filled was the word that Loki had convinced himself that whoever belonged to the name was his ultimate enemy.

The rage weapon was related to her as they shared the same last name, but she was too young to be wedded to him. They must be siblings, or cousins of some sort. Loki drew the conclusion, either one of them would be useful in his revenge against the other.

A flash of a memory surfaced;

Her dark hair brushed over her pale face. He walked to the flying bird with her in his arms. Her normally angled face, soft and pure in unconsciousness. A small clot of blood hovered at the left crown of her head. Gained from the explosion which subdued her. Deep down he was greatful for it keeping her down, whatever cut or bruise was inflicted upon her only grew his guilt. I would take five times the amount of pain inflicted upon her.

For a moment I wondered about the worth of taking control of Midgard. It was a childish dream fuelled by rage and jealousy. But now... Now that that he had a-

He jolted from the memory, another wave of anger inflicted ran through his veins. How dare she play with his memories for her own benefit?

Spurred by his rage, he created a copy, which interacted with its surroundings. Loki let the flow of magic run through his veins, a copy appeared beside him. He pressed a hand on the magical barrier, created by his mother herself. He pressed against it, when it refused he summoned more of magic, calling on his emotions to push through.

The barrier hissed and allowed for him to step through.

A devilish grin spread across his face as he slowly planned his revenge on the young witch.

A/N: So like, Loki hates Becky *u* and this chapter is my pre-birthday gift to you guys. I'll also update tomorrow, cause I love yous that much. Shoutout to @Nashoba for filling my notifications with votes on both Avenger and sequel books. Cya tomorrow Avengers.