We took a quinjet out to the Stuttgart Museum in Germany, where the gala was already underway. My job was to attend undercover as a party guest and scout for any trouble Loki may cause.

Fortunately, I was an expert at these things. Crashing galas was basically second nature.

In reference to the occasion, I dressed myself in a fine black, backless ball gown with a fluffy skirt to conceal the leg belt I wore over my leggings, as well as my combat boots. It was simple yet elegant, with satin sleeves that reached to my wrists, and easy to move in, in the event of a running, which I was counting.

Of course, Steve was no more happy partnering up with me than I was with him. He questioned me from the start, enquiring every detail of my plan of attack, as well as my daring, should there come to be one.

They dropped me behind the building, leaving the rest up to me. I could feel my heart pound harder and harder against my chest, anticipating the horror of what was to come.

This was it. My chance. My opportunity. I couldn't blow it. Not tonight.

I shuffled towards the edge of the building and peered around the corner to analyze my environment. Guards stood at every door, behind every pillar, just waiting for something to go wrong, such as catching a teenager trying to sneak in.

"Any sign of Loki?" Black Widow asked through my earpiece.

"Negative," I shook my head, sighing. "He must be inside already. If that's the case, I hope I'm wrong."

That was probably the only time I hoped that I, Jackie Stark, would be wrong about something.

"Did you stash your jacket?"

"Yeah, it's all stashed away with my gadgets."

Steve suddenly entered the line. "When are you going to change exactly?"

"There's a reason my dress is backless, so I can disregard it when I need to make a quick escape. Besides, all I need is the jacket. I'm wearing the rest."

"Aren't you a little young to be exposing yourself in public?"

I rolled my eyes. He still would not let this up. "My modesty will be retained. That is one thing I promise." That's at least one thing I can promise. Beyond that...

Working under Tony Stark for eighteen years had deprived me of two things: One - you will never have the simple pleasure of wearing pajamas to bed as a celebration to a day well spent, only sweats for midnight emergencies. Two - the last minute attendance to galas means rapid strip and dress, meaning never leave home without wearing a leotard of some caliber. This time was no exception.

"Alright, I'm going in."

As soon as my chance arrived I waded into the crowd, under no influence of suspicion, and flowed with the current of guests into the sanctity of the museum ballroom. They were checking ID's at the door, which was something I anticipated. I had slipped out a piece of film from the bosom of my dress, presented it to the guard, and passed through without any trouble.

My own invention: supernatural film. I got the idea from watching a Doctor Who episode when he used a gadget known as Psychic Paper. Same basic concept, and years worth of research.

"I'm in," I muttered under my breath.

My entrance into the ballroom was greeted by a lovely array of music from an orchestra, and dancing and drinking, glasses of alcohol clinked together like bells in a toast among friends. Ladies' dresses swayed and rustled over a marble floor as they glided or danced across a golden, marble floor with their partners in a waltz.

Pillars stood among the edge of the ballroom, holding up a balcony that lined the room on all sides. Towards the far back stood a grand staircase that forked off in either direction, leading to the upper level, unfortunately, it was roped off with more security.

Indeed the atmosphere was light and free from strife, a prime target for the god of mischief.

I was offered a drink upon my entrance, which I humbly accepted. It was the drink Schnapps, consisting of a minty flavor, gentle to the taste buds, although not as old as they claimed it to be.

My thoughts did not linger on this subject though.

The guests, I had learned from eavesdropping on snippets of their conversation, despite their lack of english, were a company of doctors and scientists, quite possibly specialists, of highly classified studies. Doctors that sought out cures for diseases that had none, the transfer of DNA all spoken in german - one of the many languages I held fluency in.

Wandering the scene, my height held no authority in this setting, but I managed well enough. I waded through the crowd, every instinct in my possession on alert for abnormal activity, searching relentlessly for a character of evil, scanning the faces of every guest within the premises.

Admittedly, I was nervous, my nerves slowly building towards the edge of fear. As much as I hated confession of my feelings, these being of private matters to me,  was scared; nervous; terrified. I couldn't settle on a word. Maybe I was all of them. Maybe there was a word that described such feelings that stood beyond my knowledge - which is not likely. My first time facing a villain, who wouldn't be?

His face was embedded in my mind. There were times I was convinced he was right behind me, and if I turned he would recognize me and... You're getting ahead of yourself.

Maybe it was the Schnapps getting to my head, or my overexcited nerves getting to the best of my thoughts. Either way, I had to fight these idiotic delusions.

Come on Jackie. Focus. This is  no time to let your emotions get in the way.

Outwardly I dared not reveal my feelings. Were Hawkeye there, he would have read my like a book, having known me so well for so long. Oh Hawkeye...

"Any sign of him?" Romanoff startled me out of my thoughts.

I breathed a sigh of relief, lifting the glass to my lips. "No sign of him," I muttered.

"Does anyone suspect you?" Steve asked.

"Not that I know of," I replied, sipping my drink. "Although I'm suspicious of their schnapps. It's not vintage."

"You're drinking?" Steve gasped so loud, I was sure everyone would have heard him.

I kept myself composed, smirking under my glass as I imagined him shaking his head in disappointment, losing all confidence in me, if there was any to begin with. If that weren't the case, I envisioned his feelings shift from doubt to hopelessness. Nonetheless, it amused me.

"It's a german party cap. You got to play the part."

"Don't get drunk kid," Romanoff warned. "You play a major role in this."

I snuck off to a corner where I could partially keep to myself while still projecting a decent view of the ballroom. "Don't worry. I know when I've had enough."

Fun fact: alcohol enhances my power.

Within the hour I wandered, my report of action remained at none. The music and dancing gradually slowed to a halt, as the head doctor - so I assumed him to be - strode towards the base of the staircase and took stance atop a small platform. The crowd flocked in his direction, joined by myself, positioned a few people back.

Everyone listened intently to what the doctor had to say, explaining achievements in the labs,expressing his gratitude towards a successful team, but my ears weren't in full effect.

My instincts were, however, dormant until the commencing of the doctor's speech. Every nerve of my body tingled upon the sensory of an apprehension not far from my being, or anyone else for that matter. My cautionary proclivity rushed to tips of my hands and spread to the base of my palms, anxious to ignite.

To put it short, there was a disturbance in the air (and no, I am not trying to subtly insert a Star Wars quote, although that would be awesome). Even my techno senses were going mad, my nerves tingling. They had detected a reading of something unfamiliar, a system I had never before crossed. No doubt it was magic, which was a first, and I could tell it was powerful.

I never had the opportunity to sense the abilities of any magical objects, let alone another being of magic. I wasn't even sure it was possible.

What better time could I have come across the discovery?

And yet, it was a familiar feeling. Not the power of the magic, but the magic itself was something I knew, something I didn't remember. A memory lost too far back in time I couldn't see.

But that couldn't have been possible.

I shook the idea from my head, deciding it was my nerves.

Even with this decision in mind, something wasn't sitting right. I trusted my instincts above all else. And they told me, there was something wrong.

My eyes wandered the ballroom in cautious analyzation of everything and everyone in the room.

To my left. Nothing.

To my right. Negative.

That's when I noticed movement out of place. Not at my level, but up above. It was no hallucination when I spotted a figure upon the balcony, moving at a constant steady pace. His face was obscured from view behind a pillar before I could glimpse his face.

But I had only one guess as to who it was crossing that balcony. Secretly I hoped it wasn't who I anticipated it to be.

Good thing my hopes weren't too high for that.

Seconds later he appeared at the top of the steps, dressed in a formal suit with a green and gold scarf. In his hand he held a golden staff with a glowing, blue orb on the hilt. There was confidence in his stature, and determination in his features.

Two things that didn't go together in that situation. And I wasn't too keen on finding out what show he had planned for the guests.

If he wasn't the god of mischief I didn't know who was.

"I found him," I whispered.

"Alright, this is all you kid," Romanoff replied. "It's your call."

My first fight, against a magical entity. What could possibly go wrong? Guess I was about to find out.

I snuck my way to the front, ensuring a clear path of my target. My chest tightened with every step he took, closer and closer he strode, descending the steps one by one. I could feel my heart pounding relentlessly against my chest, harder and harder it fought to escape. It told me to run away and forget the whole thing.

It was my first time facing a villain. Could you blame me?

Cowardice was not an option.

I stood my ground and awaited the moment to strike. I was going to do this right. He was moving fast, so I had to be faster. My hands balled into fists and slowly began to heat, preparing for a strike.

Just my luck, that plan backfired (no pun intended).

As Loki reached the base of the stairs, the security guard lunged at him for custody. Loki anticipated immediately and knocked him out with one blow of his staff.

A gasp of fear rose up from the audience, the whole ballroom suddenly aghast with shock, foreshadowing a realm of chaos.

Of course everything goes wrong immediately.

Next thing I knew, he had the head doctor by the neck and forced him through the crowd towards the center of the ballroom. I threw my arms back and pushed the crowd behind in protection. He flipped the doctor over on a marble slab and held him down easily, then whipped out some kind of device that did not look friendly, but torturous.

Of course he has mythical torture devices.

The crowd watched, strangled with suspense as the object hovered over the doctor's face.

Oh no.

I kept them back as best as I could, though they didn't need much help. Tension was shared on a common ground.

SLAM!

The crowd went ballistic, stumbling over one another towards the front doors for a desperate escape. Loki had plunged the torture device into his victim's eye. The sound was terrible, but the cry of pain was worse. He wiggled and writhed hopelessly under this oppressor's wicked deed.

My mouth fell agape, practically hitting the floor with disgust and panic. Blood dripped from the doctor's face to the floor. His painful twitching became less and less, until... there was none.

This guy meant business, and not the kind of business I wished to be affiliated with, nor anyone else for that matter. But this motivated my next call, replacing fear with determination.

That's it. No one else is getting hurt tonight. "Out! Everyone get out! Now!"

No one had to tell them twice. They pushed past each other as they raced for the door, escaping what was to be their fate. I assisted in pushing everyone out as fast I could, headed for the door myself.

"Get out! GO!" I ordered, then put a hand to my earpiece. "I'm getting everyone out. Now!"

"What's happened? What's going on?" Romanoff demanded.

"Loki. He's claimed another victim."

Steve, I knew already, was furious. He made it public to me without hesitation. "And you didn't stop him?"

"I was too late. There were too many people to get hurt. They still had a chance. Besides, I'm not risking any more unwanted eye exams."

As I went to make an exit myself, I peered over my shoulder to update myself of his doings. On his face I read the most malicious and vicious smirk, as if he were enjoying the fear. The terror. The chaos that had erupted from his own doing. A pride that disgusted me.

This was his form of entertainment. How could one be so cruel?

Evil at it's finest.

He removed himself from the marble slab and headed for the door, when he suddenly began to shimmer and glow. His suit began to vanish and was replaced with a cloak of green and a leather outfit of green and black with bronze armor. A golden helmet with horns covered his head. In his hand, the staff he bore became a golden scepter with a silver top and the same blue, glowing orb.

It it was possible, he looked even more powerful; more intimidating; even taller than before, and he knew it.

Magic at its finest.

An illusionist. One power noted.

What did I get myself into?