Loki's Cage
Who: Maria Hill/Loki
Where: Helicarrier brig/holding cell
When: mid-movie
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 506
Warning(s): Mild language, mention of prior abuse
Summary: Hill/Loki snark fest.
It was pure and simple anger that had drawn Hill to the lower decks at 0100. Loki's presence had rattled everyone on board the Helicarrier, and she was bound and determined to call him on the carpet. Not that Fury hadn't already made the Asgardian's position crystal clear. Something about an ant and a boot. Her own boots thudded dully on the metal catwalk surrounding the glass enclosure.
"Ahh, a soldier." A supercilious sneer crossed his face. "I do hope that you are better equipped to deal with me than the last one. Such a disappointment. Midgardians and their shields. So quaint."
"Cut the crap, Loki," Hill snapped. "Whatever mind games you're playing need to stop. Now."
"And what are you prepared to do to make me?" he challenged. "Give up the Tesseract? Lose what slim chance you might have at saving this wretched little rock? Where would your career be then, Agent Hill?"
"It's Commander," she corrected him. She had worked damn hard at a job she'd never asked for to earn that rank.
"Perhaps you can be more," Loki smiled. "More than the girl whose father beat her, blaming her for the loss of her mother."
She had been called many things behind her back, and "Hill the Chill" was probably one of the nicer ones. It was still apt, however, and her ice blue eyes had even made a USMC drill sergeant flinch. But not Loki.
"That is what you want, isn't it?" he asked, slyly. "To prove to your father that you are not the worthless creature he thinks you are."
An eyebrow lifted. "Personal experience much? I was debriefed about your little temper tantrum out in New Mexico."
Loki laughed, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. "But that is what makes us alike, you and I. I know the pain of that betrayal. I know what it feels like to want to prove that you are better than your abuser.
"When this world is remade, and it will be remade, Maria." Another of Loki's barbs hit its mark: she hated her given name. "I would count myself lucky to have a woman such as yourself by my side. You give orders every day, and expect for them to be obeyed. You are, indeed, a commander. Stand with me and the only orders you will have to obey will be your own."
"Is this the part where you say 'resistance is futile'?" Hill snarked. "I swore an oath to protect this country against all enemies both foreign and domestic, and I'm pretty sure you fall under the foreign category. So, I'll have to pass on that."
Again, her boots thunked on the metal catwalk as she walked away from the containment cell.
"What kind of soldier are you?" Loki's voice was quiet, confused, almost awestruck.
"I'm no soldier," Hill smirked as she pushed a button to open the brig's main door. "I'm a United States Marine. So, ooh rah you son of a bitch."
Where: Helicarrier brig/holding cell
When: mid-movie
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 506
Warning(s): Mild language, mention of prior abuse
Summary: Hill/Loki snark fest.
It was pure and simple anger that had drawn Hill to the lower decks at 0100. Loki's presence had rattled everyone on board the Helicarrier, and she was bound and determined to call him on the carpet. Not that Fury hadn't already made the Asgardian's position crystal clear. Something about an ant and a boot. Her own boots thudded dully on the metal catwalk surrounding the glass enclosure.
"Ahh, a soldier." A supercilious sneer crossed his face. "I do hope that you are better equipped to deal with me than the last one. Such a disappointment. Midgardians and their shields. So quaint."
"Cut the crap, Loki," Hill snapped. "Whatever mind games you're playing need to stop. Now."
"And what are you prepared to do to make me?" he challenged. "Give up the Tesseract? Lose what slim chance you might have at saving this wretched little rock? Where would your career be then, Agent Hill?"
"It's Commander," she corrected him. She had worked damn hard at a job she'd never asked for to earn that rank.
"Perhaps you can be more," Loki smiled. "More than the girl whose father beat her, blaming her for the loss of her mother."
She had been called many things behind her back, and "Hill the Chill" was probably one of the nicer ones. It was still apt, however, and her ice blue eyes had even made a USMC drill sergeant flinch. But not Loki.
"That is what you want, isn't it?" he asked, slyly. "To prove to your father that you are not the worthless creature he thinks you are."
An eyebrow lifted. "Personal experience much? I was debriefed about your little temper tantrum out in New Mexico."
Loki laughed, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. "But that is what makes us alike, you and I. I know the pain of that betrayal. I know what it feels like to want to prove that you are better than your abuser.
"When this world is remade, and it will be remade, Maria." Another of Loki's barbs hit its mark: she hated her given name. "I would count myself lucky to have a woman such as yourself by my side. You give orders every day, and expect for them to be obeyed. You are, indeed, a commander. Stand with me and the only orders you will have to obey will be your own."
"Is this the part where you say 'resistance is futile'?" Hill snarked. "I swore an oath to protect this country against all enemies both foreign and domestic, and I'm pretty sure you fall under the foreign category. So, I'll have to pass on that."
Again, her boots thunked on the metal catwalk as she walked away from the containment cell.
"What kind of soldier are you?" Loki's voice was quiet, confused, almost awestruck.
"I'm no soldier," Hill smirked as she pushed a button to open the brig's main door. "I'm a United States Marine. So, ooh rah you son of a bitch."