Our first encounter.

First impressions were made.

Mine had already been made upon the witnessing of his speech and during the battle against the now unconscious, Captain America.

There was no exchange of words, for there were none needed. His sarcastic posture expressed everything:

A hooded figure in the middle of the square, hardly holding an advantage of height, concealing her identity under the mask of a hood. For her sake it was to shroud her fear she held so boldly in her chest, heaving uneven breaths.

His thin lips spread into a cold, vicious smile of amusement, followed by a chuckle accumulating in volume and wicked enjoyment.

We stood at either side of the square, staring down one another, awaiting the other's first maneuver of attack, commencing the other's retaliating in means of defense. His green eyes seeped into mine, despite my face being obscured, he seemed to see right through me. The tips of my fingers twitched under agonizing suspense of the moment. I was distinctly presented as a minor threat if threat was a word brought into the frame. At the moment, he was taking delight in the spectacle before him.

To put it simply: an easy target.

Analyze:

Height, six foot five.

The weapon, scepter. Hands occupied.

Black hair.

Illusionist.

This should prove a challenge.

Deep breath. Don't panic.

Without warning, he drew back his scepter and sent a blast of energy at full speed in my direction. I responded quickly, diving into a somersault out of range from the line of target, regained my footing and charged at my oppressor.

First shot fired. My turn.

Once I was in range, I spun over my left shoulder for a good wind up and launched the first punch at his face.

Let the fight begin.

With his scepter he pursued, swinging first at my feet then just above my head. In a sense, he held an advantage, but my height allowed for easy dodges and accessibility to slide between his legs and hit from behind. He whirled around and swung once more. I threw my upper body back just barely feeling the cold blade as it whizzed past.

As he went in for another swing, when I grabbed at the scepter my fingers began to tingle upon the sensory of the staff. We wrestled for possession, face to face, though my hood still remained intact.

"Is this my greatest challenge?" he growled.

He attempted to throw me off, having no victory over my stubbornness, but I was starting to lose focus, not by his poisoned words, but something else.

"A masked rival from the shadows of little dexterity against the hands of ultimate power."

I couldn't hear him.

My techno senses began to race at my fingertips and spread to my palms, then surged up my arms and into the depth of my thoughts, throwing my head back as it revealed the power of the scepter.

It was too strong.

Too powerful.

I couldn't control it.

It hurt...

Loki seized this moment, launching me with a shove off the scepter and sent me rolling across the square. The impact shook me out of it, but the strain of the moment remained.

I snapped my head up with my hood still masked over my face. He launched another shot of energy at me, but missed and sent it towards a remaining crowd of people, nearly hitting a woman with her child.

Too many people.

This can't go on. Not out here.

Then an idea flashed to mind. I peered towards the Stuttgart museum, now abandoned of life.

I noticed, however, Loki no longer had his focus on me, but on the now reviving Captain.

Perfect. Now I needed his attention.

I retrieved a ninja star from within the folds of my jacket, hastily redeemed balance on foot and chucked my star at Loki. Just as I intended, it hit him in the back of the helmet and returned to my palm, leaving behind an agitated demigod.

"Hey, Loki!" I shouted.

I hit him again on the helmet, this time ensuring he knew from where it came.

"What's wrong?" I bellowed. "Can't handle a little shrapnel?"

He marched after me, a glare in his eye renewed.

Got his attention. So far so good.

"Kid," a voice entered my ear. "Kid, what are you doing?"

It was Romanoff. Her presence overhead had been neglected. "I'm leading the fight out of the way of danger."

"Where to?"

"The museum. There are too many people. This is my fight, and I'm not going to let others take the pain in my stead."

"Good call."

"Take care of Cap." And pray for me, I added for my sake.

I checked over my shoulder to confirm Loki's following, dropping last minute as he blasted me again.

Definitely confirmed.

I picked up the pace across the street towards the museum doors and raced inside, closed the doors behind, and took shelter behind a column.

A great blast sounded behind me, illuminated in blue light as a great pile of rubble took the place of the doors, at first concealed behind a curtain of dust. Every limb in my body trembled, my chest was pounding; heaving; not from lack of breath, but as a result of the impact from my pounding heart.

I peered around the brim of my column, spotting the silhouette of a figure parting the curtain of dust. Loki held intimidation in his outline just as much in his figure in person. Even his scepter was terrifying in shadow.

His face came into view, searching for a small figure cloaked in black with a death wish.

OK... Deep breaths. It's not over yet, I told myself.

I waited in suspense as he crept further and further into the dimly lit ballroom, his footsteps echoing off the walls, surrounding my ears. Once he was well into the ballroom, I could commence a further attack. My distance in jumping was abnormal compared to any human distance. All he needed to be was just within my range.

A few more steps.

Two more.

One more.

Perfect.

I launched myself once again, landed just before him and went for a roundhouse. My plan backfired instantly as he caught my ankle, twisted it easily, and spun me to the ground on my back.

"Ah!" I groaned.

He raised the hilt of his scepter, ready to strike me down. I snapped my head up, mounted on my elbows when my hood dropped to reveal my face.

Sooner or later my identity would be known. But I expected his reaction to consist of laughter, amusement, an expression of a joke, maybe even a sarcastic remark. Instead, I received an unexpected greeting of shock. He stood over me, his jaw agape; our gazes locked in. I could see his anger diminishing, little by little as if a memory had flashed to life... a painful memory. All within the course of a second.

I used the moment to ignite my fist and give this sorcerer the first taste of my power. I exposed my palm and blasted a fireball into his chest which sent him flying across the ballroom and smashed into a pillar, crumbling to pieces with him under the rubble.

Not bad.

But he wasn't down yet.

Only a moment later the rubble began to shift. I ascended to my feet. Loki emerged sitting up aghast, unharmed, and unscarred.

What the-

He bore the same look of shock he had worn before I sent him into the pillar, only bigger if that was possible.

That wasn't important. He was up.

I clapped my hands together, heated them well, and exposed a flame of even bigger caliber. He was blasted into the wall behind, adding to the rubble and his anger.

Now I was doing some damage. My confidence level rose from empty to full.

"You're not the only one with magic, Loki!" I yelled.

He burst through the rubble, anger flaring in his poisonous, green eyes. I lunged back, one hand extended in front, the other bent before my chest, ready to fight back.

Now he was angry.

Once again he raised his scepter and sent another blast.

Call me crazy. I ran in the direction of the blast and did an aerial over the blow. But he kept sending them. I dove under the next one and rolled into a somersault, then surged upward into a front flip over the next one.

At last.

One more.

He sent the final blast of energy I needed to get close. I rounded off over the blast, did a double twist in mid-air, landed perfectly in front of Loki, and sent my fist flying into- wait... through?

My hand met his face, but his figure vanished upon my touch.

"What..." I gasped.

But I didn't have far to look.

I whirled around to discover the real Loki just behind me when his hand lurched at my throat. His sudden grip left me gasping for air. My hands grabbed at his wrist as they attempted to loosen his hold. Below I lost contact with the floor as he lifted me nearer to his face.

"You may have magic, but you lack the meaning of power," he hissed, his tone as cold as his hands as they squeezed tighter.

With all the force I could muster I flung my legs up, wrapped them around his neck and with a single twist, threw him to the floor. He landed on his back with myself on top, my knee jabbed into his chest in a successful pindown.

"Now who has the upper hand?"

I bent my arm back and thrust a flame to his face.

No damage.

Then another.

Still nothing.

I went for a third when my hand began to-

Huh? I looked at my hands, finding in place of my flames, sparks of weak influence.

A glitch.

"What?" I gasped, panicking. "No."

My distraction opportuned Loki to grab my shirt and flip me over his head, landing with a thud, literally, knocking the air from my lungs. I gasped for air; panting; holding my chest; feeling for my heart; ensuring my lungs were working. All confidence was nearly lost and taken by fear.

Loki was already on his feet, looking down at me with a smirk of victory, pleasure in my pain. His wicked laugh filled the room, running a chill down my spine.

I mustered enough strength to get on my knees, but rested against my heels, still gasping for air.

"Your conviction brought you here."

He spun his scepter and went to swing.

A sensation of pain blossomed through my body. Again and again, he swung, weakening me, renewing the hurt. My pain tolerance was high, but it didn't prevent the perception.

I fell to my side, hardly able to suspend my weight on my forearm as the pain spread rapidly throughout my limbs. My eyes turned up toward the villainous man who committed this.

One final raise of his scepter and-

SMASH!

An iron suit crashed through the ceiling.

"Tony!" I sighed of relief.

Loki didn't have time to react.

Tony slammed into his being, the impact throwing Loki out the museum doors and into the middle of the square on his back, the scepter now deprived of his hands.

I slowly began to stand, stumbling as I suppressed any further grunts of pain.

Stark stood just feet from the god of mischief, urging him to make a choice as he held up his armor guns. "Your move, reindeer games."

Loki looked up as he met his match, defeated. Reluctantly he lifted his hands in surrender, shimmering as his armor and helmet vanished to reveal a leather outfit of green and black with a bronze crest over his chest. "Good move."

Steve had joined in the fun, standing at Stark's side, clearly recovered from his unwanted nap, holding up the scepter.

It's about time, I grumbled inwardly.

"Mr. Stark," he greeted.

"Captain."

I reached the doors of the museum, stumbling as I climbed through the debris as I used the walls for support, pretty sure only half alive.

"Stark!" I shouted.

He turned about to face me, his mask lifted away. "Jack, you OK?" he asked.

"F-Fine," I lied, stumbling to my knees.

"Oh-" He cursed. He was terrible at muttering.

Tony flew to my side, put an arm under my shoulder and escorted me towards the quinjet. "Don't worry Jack. We'll get you fixed up," he assured me.

"But I'm fine," I argued against my own pain. "Just a little bruised."

"Yeah right. Cap," he shouted across the square, "let's load 'em up. We have to get Jackie some help. Quickly."