"Of course…Coulson. Unlike your eye-patched pal, you were never very good at sneaking up on people," Christie muttered as she casually sharpened her silver handled dagger against the edge of her jagged stone table. Her long straight white-blonde hair curtained her pale face, those steely grey eyes darting across the room to see Agent Coulson standing casually in her doorway.
"Wow, thanks Christie. Such a warm welcome as usual," Coulson hummed as he stepped across the room to sit down opposite her. She watched him with confused eyes, internally questioning why he was even there.
"I didn't say you could sit down," Christie muttered through gritted teeth.
"Well, I bought the apartment," Coulson raised both eyebrows, sitting down anyway. "So technically, I can sit where I want."
"You've still got no right to enter without warning," Christie shot back smoothly, "and when you handed me those keys, you literally promised me you wouldn't do that."
"Yeah well, the severity of the situation presented to me at hand meant I didn't have much choice. Waiting for you to answer the door wasn't really what I deemed necessary," Coulson told her, reaching for a pear from the small fruit bowl in the middle of the table and casually biting into it. The filling wasn't what he expected, though.
"It's not a real pear, genius," Christie tutted under her breath, rolling her eyes as she watched his face contort into one of disgust. Coulson spat the paper mache filling onto the table, shuddering slightly at the rough dusty taste before wiping his mouth on his suit sleeve.
"Why the hell do you have fake fruit on your table?"
"I'm hardly ever home. No point in me trying to keep up appearances anymore. I buy stuff, it just expires by the time I get back."
"Makes sense. How's your sister?" Coulson smoothly changed the subject.
"She's good, cheers. How's yours?" Christie shot back.
"Christie, what is wrong with you?"
"Nothing. Just on edge, I guess." Christine slipped her dagger back into her pocket and looked at Coulson properly for the first time since he arrived. "You're sitting here in my house at 3 in the morning - you ate a paper pear even though you have never known me to have food that's edible. Which means you're here for something. And honestly, whatever it is? I'm not doing it. Fury should've come for me himself."
"Oh come on, Christie," Coulson suddenly groaned, fiddling into the pocket of his jacket. "I've come all the way to England to pick you up. You could at least hear me out…you owe me one, remember? Or have you forgotten?" Christie snorted in response before resting her chin on her palm.
"That was such a low blow, but also a good point. Hit me with it," she muttered. Coulson's eyes lit up as he pulled a small sleek metal device from his pocket. He gently pressed a button and a large blue hologram appeared hovering in the air. It was of a tall man with shoulder-length blonde hair, with impeccable muscles too.
"Well, this is Thor," Coulson explained. "He's a demi-god. We think so, anyway. But he could potentially be a serious threat to our world. The dude is…huge. Powerful, you know." Christie studied the man and touched the hologram in wonder, meaning to zoom in but accidentally changing the picture to another man. This one looked abandoned, lost and lonely. He had beautiful green eyes and soft looking black hair, but his face was so…stoic. She was intrigued.
"So who's that?" she asked with a nod.
"That's Thor's brother apparently, his name is Loki," Coulson sniffed a little carelessly.
"Is he a god too?" Christie frowned. Gods, magic, supernatural things - nothing could faze her anymore.
"If Selvig's right, he should be the god of mischief. This whole mission is a complete shot in the dark but one that we'd be foolish to let slip by."
"Right…and how have you gotten pictures of these guys?"
"They're not actual pictures, they're digital remasters based on word of mouth. We've had Asgardians end up on earth before, we've kept them secure on our base to get as much information as possible. You know, the usual protocol," Coulson waved it off.
"Right, so what do you want me to do exactly?" Christie blinked, leaning back in her chair without taking her eyes off Loki's digitally remastered picture. Her question led Coulson to clear his throat and straighten up a little, ready to recite the speech he had been preparing the whole way here.
"Well, you're a British assassin-"
"French," Christie corrected him swiftly.
"Right. Sorry. You're a French assassin-"
"I'm joking Coulson, do I sound French to you? I'm British."
"Christie. You are an assassin, a spy, the smoothest we have. Selvig has been working with us to perfect the mission's outline, but Fury and I both think you are the best to execute it. So far, there's no target. We need you to get to the royal palace where these guys reside and keep a secure eye on them. Just to make sure that nothing…bad…happens that could be a threat to our world - because if something goes wrong there, it could easily go wrong here," Coulson explained flawlessly before zapping the hologram back into the device and popping it back into his pocket.
"Okay…and what if I do find a threat? What do I do then?" Christie questioned him curiously, tucking a loose wisp of her shoulder-length white hair behind her right ear.
"Well ideally they'll turn into your target, but we need to know on Earth first. You ask Odin if you can come back, you pray to God that he says yes, and then when you land you come down here and warn us," Coulson answered simply. "Whether it'll actually make a difference or not - that's the ques-"
"Sorry - 'Odin'?"
"Yes…apparently he's The Head Chef. The Big Guy. The god of all gods. The main man-"
"So the King?" Christie interrupted his analogies with a tired guess.
"This is all well and good but I still don't get it, Coulson. I mean, I understand the mission and it sounds simple enough but why me? I heard the whole 'I'm amazing' speech you made but why not your beloved Natasha? Why not Barton?"
"Natasha's still working with Stark, Barton's gonna be working with us on the same project, but on land." Christie huffed, now understanding - basically, she was the only one left.
"Understood. How exactly am I gonna do this?" Christie asked a little helplessly. "I can't just say 'hey I'm an assassin, but I'm really here to spy on you! Don't ask me how I got here but anyway, as you were!'" Coulson bit back his smile at both her typical sarcasm and the fact that she appeared to be genuinely considering it.
"We've thought of that too. Here's the best we could come up with - you're gonna be a maid, or any kind of help. Beg Thor's mother to let you in as a cook…apparently it works and it's happened before. Say you're from…Midgard, that was it - and make sure you tell whoever's in charge that you'd be honoured to work for them for as long as they need you. Be smart but be humble, Christie," Coulson smirked, knowing how self righteous she could get.
"'Midgard?' What the hell is a 'Midgard'?" Christie blinked.
"Right, about that. The place you're going is called 'Asgard'," Coulson winced a little nervously, knowing this would be the make or break factor.
"Asgard?" Christie repeated slowly.
"Yeah. It's in a different part of the universe…completely."
A/N: Hello all...! This story was originally written by me aged 15 - now I'm 22 and I've returned to rewrite it chapter by chapter, giving it the care and attention it deserved. I'm not changing the overall concept of it at all either - so if it feels a bit cringy at times, please remember that I was seven years younger :/ the storyline hasn't changed but the writing has! For all my old readers - welcome back...and for all my new readers, welcome!