FALLING INSIDE THE BLACK (!)
OLIVIA’S EYES OPEN TO THE INKY BLACKNESS OF THE VOID. She pushes to her feet, seeing Loki standing barely two feet away; the only thing that exists besides her and the endless darkness.
“So, this time it’s just… nothing?” she wonders, looking around for anything else that might exist. Loki’s attention immediately turns to her, and he nods.
“So it seems,” he agrees. Olivia’s stomach drops with dread; this gives her a bad feeling. Not just a bad feeling, a really bad feeling— a growing dread that gnaws at her insides and twists her heart.
“Something’s wrong,” she vocalizes breathlessly, drawing a look of confusion from Loki.
No sooner than the words leave her lips, the endless expanse of nothing suddenly bursts into smoke, swirling and consuming them. Then, all at once, it vanishes, leaving them in a familiar room with a familiar woman.
Olivia instantly goes numb, her face dropping into expressionlessness.
Fox is crouching in front of a man who is tied to a chair, beat-up and bloody. His head lolls slightly. Fox reaches out to lightly pat the side of his face with one gloved hand, and his cheek comes away sporting a new bloody handprint.
“—ask that. Tell me, did you ever grant anyone… mercy, Johnson?” her partner wonders, his entire face obscured by a blank white mask. The door opens behind them, and they turn at attention to the prim, businesslike woman in the doorway.
“Fox,” she greets cordially. “You’re being relieved. The boss thinks you’ve done enough for one night.” Fox nods once, sharply.
“Go get some rest,” Dagger suggests amiably. “You’ve earned it. I just got here, I can handle this guy for the night.” Fox nods again, but turns back to the prisoner to crouch in front of him again. Hazily, his attention focuses on her.
“You don’t want to know what I’ll do if you see me in the morning,” she whispers to him, warningly. “Talk before then.” Then, she straightens and turns to leave.
Loki watches with rapt attention as their perception follows Fox as she walks down the hall and up some stairs, turning left into a rundown little bathroom. Olivia stiffens.
Fox tugs off her gloves, dropping them easily into the sink. They leave behind little streaks of blood, but she ignores it well enough. Then, with her bare hands, she pulls off her mask and blonde wig at the same time, and Loki stiffens like a board.
A younger Olivia— 5 years at most— leans forward to look at herself in the mirror. She runs a hand through her hair, which is cropped short. She frowns distastefully at the ends of her sleeves, which are lightly soaked with blood. Thankfully, it’s a black hoodie, but still.
“You?” Loki wonders, astonished, as he looks over to Olivia. Her face remains entirely blank, but her hands curl into fists. A ring cuts through the air.
Younger-Olivia pulls her phone out of a duffel bag lying on a stool in the bathtub. She chews her lower lip at the contact name, but pulls the phone quickly up to her ear.
“Hey mom,” she greets, a little nervously, as she leans against the sink. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
“Hi honey,” Olivia’s mother’s voice greets warmly, echoing through the small bathroom. “I was just calling to see how work was going! I know you told me they’ve been asking you to work later recently; are you there now?”
The mirror behind the sink begins to grow at an alarming rate as Younger-Olivia looks down at the tiled floor.
“Um, yeah, I was just leaving,” she replies slowly. “It’s uh— everything’s… great.” The mirror, which has spread to cover every wall like an invasive species, cracks.
In the cracked reflections are a dozen different Olivias. Some are soaked in blood, covered head-to-toe in red so thick their skin is hardly visible. One is visibly dead, limp against the sink like a zombie. Another is just a frightened child, clinging to a stuffed rabbit. Some are someone else entirely; most a stranger, but one of them is Bruce. One is just Fox, in her mask, holding a knife drenched with blood instead of a cellphone.
“This… surely this isn’t what happened,” Loki manages, still glancing around with mild horror. One of the Olivias is a slightly younger woman with long hair, holding a gun like she’s never even seen one before and shaking like a leaf.
“No,” Olivia confirms, her voice quiet. “Just what it felt like.” Olivia’s mom chuckles through the phone.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you if you’re busy,” she hums. One of the mirror fragments flashes into an image of Bruce, slaving away over a lab table.
“I’m not,” Younger-Olivia reassures her quickly. “Not— not too busy for you, anyways. Just… give me ten minutes to get home and I’ll call you back?”
“Of course, sweetie!” Olivia’s mom exclaims, the smile audible in her voice. “Drive safe, I love you.” Olivia smiles, a slightly bittersweet smile, and the images in the mirrors flicker; some more childish and some more monstrous.
“I love you too,” she promises quietly, in a tone that speaks of absolute sincerity. The phone clicks off, and she raises her head.
All at once, the room is a normal bathroom again, and she turns to grab the duffle bag off the shower bench.
The instant her fingers brush the fabric, the world explodes into smoke.
Loki turns slowly to Olivia, who watches him. He blinks a few times, but takes a deep breath.
“You’re Fox,” he points out, wanting to start with the basics. She sighs deeply, but squares her shoulders and nods, leaving no room for uncertainty.
“I was,” she confirms. He doesn’t miss the past tense, filing that tidbit away for later use.
“What was that, and why?” he finally inquires. She nods, as though she was expecting that question.
“It was… kind of like the mob,” she replies slowly, considering her words and choosing them carefully. “I joined because I needed money, and because they didn’t really give me a choice.” He absorbs that information, and nods.
“The mob, yes; Barton told me about that,” he hums. “Organized crime.” He pauses. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She blinks in bewilderment.
“That’s your first…?” she trails off, and understanding crosses her face. Finally, she looks away. “I don’t really like to talk about it.” His mouth quirks into a small smirk.
“Are you ashamed?” he taunts lightly. Olivia manages a small smile.
“Let’s get something straight,” she sighs. “Torturing people— even shitty people are who torture other shitty people in the service of even shittier people— is bad. I’m aware of that. I did bad things. But I don’t think I made the wrong choice, especially considering that my other options were starve alone in the streets of New York or starve with my mother in the streets of Gallipolis, Ohio. So, no. I’m not ashamed.” Loki looks at her in bewilderment.
“Were there not other jobs?” he inquires, confused. She scoffs, shaking her head.
“Once those guys set their eyes on you, nobody else will even think of hiring you. Nobody wants to piss them off. I didn’t have the money to move out of the city, either, so…” she trails off with a small shrug. “It was my only option.” Smoke fills the void once again as Loki falls into a contemplative silence.