entrancelogs | [OPEN] Ready or Not...

Entry tags:

[OPEN] Ready or Not...

Who: Natasha & whichever unlucky souls stumble across her!
Where: the kitchen
When: evening of 4/21
Rating: PG-13ish? There might be cursing but hopefully no violence. Probably. Maybe? >.>
Summary: Hello, Wonderland! There's a spy rooting through your drawers. Wait, that didn't come out right...
The Story:
Natasha knows something is off before she even opens her eyes.

She's slumped over a solid surface, her head cushioned on her arms, toes just barely reaching the floor beneath the stool or whatever it is she's perched on. She goes from the unawareness of sleep - or unconsciousness? - to high alert in the span of a heartbeat, although visibly she doesn't so much as twitch. Her breathing remains calm and even as though she were still deeply asleep, but she's already cataloging what her senses can tell her without the aid of her eyes.

This is not her sofa, where she's fairly certain she'd drifted off a short while earlier. Her thoughts are clear, not clouded or foggy, no telltale traces of a foreign agent responsible for missing time and changed locations. She's unhurt except for the lingering ache of still-healing injuries and as far as she can tell there's nothing restraining her. It's quiet - no hint of anyone else around, although she waits almost a minute to be sure before letting her eyes slide open.

The kitchen's unfamiliar. Large, well-equipped, tall windows letting in the warm rays of a setting sun. There's a bowl of fruit at the other end of the counter, simple and unassuming. Nothing is familiar and nothing stands out as obviously out of place, other than her. It's just a kitchen. One she's got no idea how she arrived in, but at least she's apparently been given the freedom to look around.

Natasha slides off the stool to prowl around the room, checking the windows first but there's no one in sight, just an ornate stretch of gardens outside. Her second task is rooting through the kitchen drawers in search of a knife or anything else she can use as a weapon.

She's not sure why she's here, if she's in danger or not, but she likes to be prepared for anything, just in case. And call it paranoia but waking up somewhere strange and unfamiliar - no matter how pleasant - rarely results in anything good.

On second thought, maybe she'll borrow a few knives...

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"No more than it makes you Alice. I'm merely another victim such as yourself. I'm Thomas, by the way." Very Midgardian. Snatched it right out of another book. He hesitates briefly before unfolding his arms and extending one to offer her a customary handshake. Whether she takes the proffered hand or not, he continues anyway, "Believe it or not, this entire realm is made of people like us. Ask around. Surely you have a communicative device, do you not?"

Loki can change his body language, his voice, his appearance, but his way of speaking, well... It was difficult to incorporate human slang when one knew not the first thing about it. "Ask any one of the many residents trapped here and they will all tell you the same. You're not a very trusting sort, are you?" Oh, how he smiles. Honestly, he's trying very hard to be as charming as possible without seeming fake.

Fooling those pathetic mortals when he arrived had been simple. Child's play. Currently, he faced a formidable foe when it came to deception. She was highly trained in the art, making her trained to detect it as well, and he knew that. What he was relying on to carry this act was the simple fact that he wasn't lying. Beyond the name, he'd been truthful with everything he said.

She doesn't bother disabusing him of the notion that she's a victim. If that's what he actually thinks, it still gives her more advantages than not. Not that she's buying his answer. All the same, she plays along, careful and watchful, stepping out around the end of the counter to take his outstretched hand, her touch light. Her other hand is behind her back, fingers curled tight, nails biting into her palm, the only show of tension she allows, hidden out of his line of sight.

"Natasha," she answers, letting the introduction fill the silence as she picks apart what he said. His way of talking was antiquated, but his use of 'realm' didn't slip past her. "Communication device. You mean a phone?" Freed from his handshake, her hand went to her jacket pocket where the weight of her cell rested, but the moment her fingers brushed against it, she knew it wasn't hers. She pulled it out with a wary look, biting back the sudden urge to curse.

"There are others trapped here?"

He grips her hand gently in a brief gesture that is separated in seconds. He was so very aware of the hand behind her back, guessing it might just hold a weapon. A fork or knife, something from one of those utensil drawers, if he were to guess. If it was indeed there, he also knew how easily it could end up embedded in his body if the notion struck her. He might actually be a bit surprised that it didn't. Leading him to guess that perhaps she wasn't yet armed. He lets his hand fall away when the introductions are over with, still smiling. Always smiling. Much like his new adopted surname.

"Yes, a mobile or what have you. They seem different depending on the origins of the holder." He reaches into his pocket and produces--not his phone. His phone is a Stark Industries model that he found on his person. Completely transparent. However, the phone he does produce, seems to be a blackberry. Something he saw when he was back on Earth and was able to quickly enshroud his own cellular device with the disguise. Honestly, he wasn't dumb enough to flash a phone branded with "Stark Industries" etched in the glass.

He toys with it for a moment then slips it away again. "Signal's very limited here. You can only make local calls." He joked.

"There are. Many others, actually. You'd be surprised. The entire community seems to be comprised of abductees."

"Figures," she retorted, eyeing the new phone with a studied frown. That probably meant contacting Steve was out. Not that she had many other options left to her these days. She slipped it back in her pocket for the time being, preferring to keep her hands free. She'd have time to investigate it further later on.

Her gaze flicks back to him, sharp and intense. "How many? Abducted why?"

She bit back the urge to demand if he were responsible. The man before her was pretending not to be Loki and she played along for the time being. Stranger things had happened. She wanted to understand who and what he was before she played any of her cards. So she treated him as an unknown named Thomas who smiled too much.

"I don't have an exact number, but an approximation? Well over a hundred." He answers with a bit of thought. "As to why? Well, I'm not entirely sure. Our delightful captors don't say much. I myself haven't been here long, but perhaps one of the older residents may be able to answer as to what exactly their motive might be."

Honestly, if he wasn't under suspicion, he would be sorely disappointed in her. But he has his reasons for choosing this face. His face. One of those reasons might just be because Loki has already shown his face to many here. And if she met Tom Hanniger and Dean Winchester... well, that might throw a wrench in her immaculately honed ability to grasp her situation.

"You might find your world turned a bit upside down now that you're here. Or, perhaps, you're used to such spontaneous and incomprehensible situations. Things like shapeshifters, children with unusual powers, magic... mind-blowing to say the least."

"I've had a very enlightening year," she drawls mildly, which is quite possibly the understatement of the century but what can you do. Even so, being dragged to a fictional universe and greeted by someone with the face of the villain who nearly decimated her city within that time span and being told there's all sorts of impossible beings trapped here with them... well even Natasha's bullshit meter only stretches so far.

She can already tell this place is going to give her a headache.

"Mind-blowing. Wonderful. So you don't know why we're here and I'm guessing you know no way home. Is there any other helpful information you can impart, Thomas?"

"Helpful? Why yes, I think I might have a snippet for you." He smiles, and he might really look like Loki here. He can't help it, but he's just having too much fun! Who knew he could be so entertained while being so honest?

"There are things here--things that were here before the lot of us--that don't follow normal rules. From what research I've done, some of these things are helpful. Or rather, they don't cause immediate harm. While others... are monsters that cannot seem to be slain. A creature known as the Jabberwocky terrorises this place. It's large... violent... wild... hungry... and seemingly unkillable." Each word was drawn out with brief beats between for effect. He hopes to instil a certain image in her mind. He might even be using a tiny bit of persuasive magic to encourage it to the forefront. Big and green. "I've also been told a pair of Queens struggle for reign over the land, as well."

And he backs off the intensity with a smile, leaning back as he'd gradually pressed forward for effect. "But I've not seen it, so they're just stories, for now. What I have seen is a land that defies logic. A library with countless sources of information. A room that shifts to suit the owner's preferences. And a closet that produces whatever you ask of it. With low accuracy, of course." He seems to have backed off considerably since his intimidation moments ago, as if it never happened. "Were you fishing for something specific, Miss Natasha?"

Of all the times for her not to have Bruce Banner on speed dial anymore.

"Yes, I read the book," she answers, arms crossed over her chest, still sounding otherwise unimpressed. If she's intimidated at all, or increasingly worried, there's not so much as a twitch in her expression to show it. She's being too careful for that. Although if she's going to take all this at face value... "Which Queens? The Red and White?" Her grasp is rusty, it's been a long time, but there are some things that stick with you.

"A reason would be nice but somehow I think all the answers I want to hear are none of the ones you're going to give me. No offense," she adds, allowing the faintest crack at a smile as she tilts her head in concession. She does make note of the rooms he described though, because that's useful information.

"The Red Queen and the Queen of Hearts. There was once a Queen Alice, but I have heard not of her fate. It seems the Red Queen and the Queen of Hearts are the only two with proper power over Wonderland, despite their wicked tendencies." A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn't dare let it grow further. "The Queen of Hearts seems to have control of the other half of Wonderland. The side beyond the mirrors. I have met, quite unfortunately, my counterpart peering back at me through the mirror." Yep, they don't like eachother. At all. The minute those words '!tluaf ruoy saw htaed reH' came to realisation on the glass, he was done. They lingered on every mirror he passed and followed him, fuelling his anger.

"You and the rest of this land, my dear. Not a single soul I've asked can answer that query. So, of course, no offence taken."

Great. Those two weren't even supposed to be in the same book, let alone the same universe. "The other half. There's things beyond the mirrors?" Of course there were, if this was Wonderland. This place just got better the more she learned about it. Her lips pressed into an annoyed frown.

"And according to you, that's a lot of souls to ask. So no one knows how we got here, Why we're being held or how to get home again. And everyone is just... making do in the meantime."

"Oh, but of course! This is Wonderland, after all. Tricky place, this. The mirrors lining the walls, any mirror you come across, is a window to the other side. We cannot hear them or directly communicate, but writing on the surface of the mirror seems to get the message across. That is, if you're skilled in reading mirrored writing. Even the network cannot penetrate the mirrors." He steps past her to lean against the counter, braced at his lower back, so he's still facing her.

"Making do? Some are. Others aren't. Many here will tell you that they are better off here, than there. You see, this place has been known to pluck you from the icy grasp of death. I myself experienced this." Oh look, there's the first bold-faced lie since his name, but it's delivered with no less honesty than anything else he's spoken. "So many don't wish to return to their fates. Others rally against the land fruitlessly while some bide their time in search of opportunities to present themselves." He glanced at her over the top of his shades. He was genuinely enjoying jerking the spider around in his web. He's sure she's suspicious, or possibly doesn't even buy a word he's saying, but she isn't acting on any of it and that in and of itself is a win in his book. How unfortunate that this persona will likely only be for her eyes.

"You don't strike me as the type to sit and wait for rescue, nor do you seem the type to outwardly make a scene without decisive planning. If you happen about an opportunity to escape, I do hope you will share the opening."

"Beware of mirrors then. Noted." Although now that's piqued her interest of what exactly lurks on the other side and that's something she's going to have to investigate for herself and soon.

She shifts when he moves, always facing him, countering his steps with a half-circle that leaves them just as evenly spaced as before he started, once he settles against the counter. "You were dying?" Yes she caught that, doesn't know it for truth or lie but either way it interests her.

She cocks her head at that request, gaze narrowed a moment. "You're observant," she answers, arms crossed over her chest, her tone mild and even. "And unless I had a reason for doing so, finding such a thing wouldn't be something I'd keep secret."

His smile was pleasant when she spoke. Had she asked, he would have answered, but she would also find out easily enough on her own. It also amused him how she followed his movements, keeping herself defensively facing him. He couldn't hide the grin.

Then she zeroed in on something he said and he pulled his lips tight for a moment and nodded. "I was. Stabbed, actually. Run right through." His hand moved to cover his solar-plexus rather instinctually. And maybe, for a moment, genuine discomfort flashes across his features but it's gone as quick as it came.

"As are you. Is that a crime on your world?" That smile twists across his lips once more. "Then I'm grateful for your aid."

If this was an illusion, if he was really Loki, then the swift surge of vindictive satisfaction was a totally understandable reaction in response to that news, lie or not. Because she had spent her own fair share of time stating at a bloodstained wall when no one knew she was there. None of this showed on her face of course, which only showed a wince of sympathy, still fully playing along with... whatever this was.

"Sounds painful," she commiserated. "I suppose escaping that to here would be an improvement, yes."

She merely cocks her head slightly when he smiles, shaking it slightly in the negative. "No, not a crime at all. Merely troublesome at times. And that still depends on if I have any aid to give."

This was a game. To say that Romanoff was just a good liar would be to say that Thor was kind of strong, or the Hulk was kind of green, or Stark was kind of annoying. Agent Romanoff was an incredibly talented lair. So it was a game as much as it was out of self-preservation. He wanted out as much as she did, and he hadn't the means to get there without aid, it would seem. Even deliberately calling for Heimdall had been useless.

"Well, it wasn't pleasant." But it also hadn't actually been fatal. "Is this a time in which it's troublesome?" The question was totally innocent, he swears on his father's life.

"I'm sure you will find something. And if I come across anything useful, I shall endeavour to do just the same."

"I haven't decided yet," she answers lightly, giving him a crooked smile, a hint of coy playfulness in her manner. She never bothered to claim she didn't enjoy what she did. She slipped between skins and identities as seamlessly as he cast his illusions, weaving truth and lies so intricately that it was often impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Besides, the easiest lies to tell were just the truth looked at another way.

"I suppose it will depend on if you prove useful or not. Or what you end up observing."

Her coy smile is met with one of his own, infinitely amused. They were of similar skill sets with many things intertwining to make them what they were. If they ever discussed their tricks of the trade, he would agree that the best lies contained the truth.

"Well, I can assure you, whatever secrets you have to hide that you wish not to be observed can be kept secrets if they are accidentally observed." He knew it was a bit cryptic, but it was also true. They can be. For the right price. Really, just so long as she proves useful to him, as well.

"As for usefulness, I can be very useful to my allies." And very, very hindering to his enemies.

"And what makes you think I'd let you see my secrets, accidentally or otherwise?" she counters archly even though the Asgardian she suspected he was already knew far too many than she was comfortable with. On a personal level mostly - there were many secrets out now that she wished otherwise.

"As assurances go, I suppose it will have to do. Are we allies then, Thomas of Wonderland?" A curious look to hide a dangerous play, but she was alone here as far as she knew, except for him. Not that she knew him, at all, and this could still be some terrible coincidence.

But Natasha had a hard time believing in coincidences.

To that, he just smiled. A knowing, infuriating smile, or so he imagined. Because he knows that she knows, but neither of them are saying it for one sake or another.

"I was quite hoping to call you my ally, yes." And again, he looked over the rim of his ~~douchebag~~ shades (because honestly, Loki, there is no reason for you to be wearing them inside. Who do you think you are, Stark?), bright green eyes peering out at her from the darkness. "Natasha of... would 'Earth' be appropriate?"

Coincidences? Wouldn't it be an equal coincidence to find Loki trapped in Wonderland with her?

Nope, she doesn't believe that's a coincidence either. That just seems to be her luck these days.

"Just Natasha is fine," she answers, meeting his gaze evenly, humor lingering in her own green eyes because this is a strange turn of events that not even she could predict. Not that she's at all sure this is wise, but she's always been talented at thinking on her feet and doing what needs to be done.

Besides, who would ever think to make a contingency plan for Wonderland abductions?

Well, if she had made a contingency plan for Wonderland Abductions, he would be incredibly impressed with her ability to plan everything, and wouldn't feel nearly as defeated about losing to a hand full of human (and one God) mishaps.

Loki smiled pleasantly. "Then do feel free to simply call me Thomas." The mischief sparkled in his eyes, because honestly, he wanted to say Loki. And he almost felt it was implied, but he didn't say it.

"Let this be the beginning of a mutual partnership." He'll keep true to his word and shoot her bits of information he discovers via text as peace offerings. Because he knows she knows.

He should be incredibly impressed with her anyway. Except not, because his continual underestimation of mortals comes in really handy when they need to find a chink in his armor.

He gets a soft scoff for his efforts, a knowing look in response to his mischievous smile because while it might not need to be said, it still hung there in the air between them.

"Indeed," she answers, soft and succinct. With how he's moved, she's now the one closer to the door, so she inclines her head and moves towards it, still keeping her eyes on him. "In that case, I'm off to investigate this place for myself. I look forward to hearing from you. Thomas."

"Do be careful, there are many dangerous creatures lingering about. And not all of them happen to be inhuman." Not all of them, but some of the worst just happen to be human. He's smiling, and it doesn't really mean much, but it seems that's his most prominent feature at the moment. A wide, Cheshire smile.

She can keep her eyes on him all she wants, but as soon as she blinks or redirects her gaze for any reason, he's gone.

"I'll be careful, no need to..."

She only glances away for the briefest of moments, making sure there was nothing in her way, between her and the door. It's still enough time for him to vanish apparently.

"...worry," she finishes dryly, staring at the spot where he'd stood. She curses once, low and succinct and Russian, before turning and striding from the room, not wanting to linger any longer than absolutely necessary.

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[OPEN] Ready or Not...

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