As a side note, you should really watch Ironman (series), Avengers (series), Guardians of the Galaxy, Captain America: Civil War, Doctor Strange, Thor (series) and Supernatural (season 5). This covers a lot of the Marvel movies and I've kept to the timeline, if a little sped up. The line-breaks generally symbolise time-skips and stuff like that.

First story on FanFiction!

Enjoy.

When Loki escaped prison, there was general panic.

The guards were left scratching their heads at the blown out barriers. Frigga retreated to her chambers silently while Thor wasn't even on Asgard. Odin was angry. Within a day and a half, Thor was summoned back, the ruined cell barricaded off, two small notes penned in Loki's elegant script found and Thor redeployed to Earth to inform his new comrades.

When the Avengers were informed and thus, SHIELD, they went on high-alert and practically ignored almost all the minor cases that were floating around while waiting for another invasion (hopefully not from the top of the new Avengers Tower but Loki was an ass like that). They remained on high-alert for another two months until their cost-cutting started to catch up on them and dropped it, finally returning to normal.

Loki was not sighted once.

It was admittedly weird. Eventually they deduced that the demigod was recuperating elsewhere, in hiding or still on Asgard or something. A guy with illusionary magic wouldn't get sighted easily after all so the Avengers gathered in their newly named Tower, riding on their new fame and Stark-improved tech and costumes and all that. They had to deal with other things, okay!

That's probably why the…minor (comparatively) incidents went unnoticed.

There was no compiled file on it yet of course.

SHIELD was too busy trying to scavenge up funds, keeping alert for Loki (invasion no.2), and other spy things like informing their various branches of their organisation, a new permanent base, dealing with the World Council and sulking about losing the Tesseract once and for all. So it was huge mess for the global spy (and assassination, and hacking and all sorts of crap) network who simply could not spare another man.

Back the point, not that no one noticed, was that the 'incidents' started around about half a month Loki escaped from his ultra-security prison on a mythical plane with godly guards – right under the noses of practically everyone else. Even Heimdall.

The incidents varied. They were small and easily overlooked. They were wide-spread over all sorts of big and small towns and cities in America some of them didn't even reach official records. All in all, by the time someone noticed the start of a pattern, it was months after the initial invasion and the incidents numbered in the hundreds.

And a file was finally made.

By the time the file actually lands on Fury's desk, it's after a murderer SHIELD was chasing stumbles into some police station downtown in the middle of America, sobbing pathetically, soaking wet in freezing water and his own blood, rambling about voices in his head and ghosts.

For someone who drowned his victims, it's darkly ironic and no one pities the man.

They start tracking a suspect – short, expressive, American, blond – called The Trickster.

Witness accounts are a little unreliable (an abused four-year-old with a new bitch isn't all that helpful) and since half the victims are maimed, already dead, or getting there at the very least (they'd say 'poor guy', but the poison is very fitting) – the only details are listed above.

And the candy wrappers. Never forget the candy wrappers.

It's luck, when they catch up to him.

A man has just choked to death via paper money shoved down his throat and it isn't hard to find that the guy who had bribed half the local police department was a general asshole. The-Trickster-guy has been hanging around the area apparently and when he passes an overlooked camera, it's called in. And of course, since the Avengers are free, they fly out to confront the new minor supervillain.

Thor isn't there, having returned to Asgard without results in months and Bruce is for emergencies so he's staying in the plane.

Tony confronts the man who's dressed casually and fits all the witness accounts. He's smirking slyly as he saunters out of the hospital building, holding a big bag of skittles and slows to a stop in the assembled group of four. "Hi," he drawls, chewing irritatingly loudly on his sweets. "What's the occasion?"

"Trickster, right?" says Tony. "You got an actual name?"

The Trickster waggles his eyebrows and pops another skittle in his mouth, blatantly ignoring the gun and arrow pointed in his direction. "I never thought I'd see the day when Ironman talked to me," he grins. It's sharp and Tony's reminded of a shark. "Or that I'd be accosted by a group like this. What did I do?"

"You caused the deaths of ninety-four people and traumatised another eighty-two on record," informs Steve, stepping forward confidently. "Trickster – whoever you are, you're coming with us. Please put your hands behind your head."

The Trickster in question tilts his head, examining the scene before shrugging and does as he's told. The rest of the skittles is dumped in his mouth unceremoniously and he drops the bag on the floor as careless litter. Steve nods at Natasha and she stalks forward, not holstering her gun as she somehow manages to handcuff him in under five seconds.

He's still smirking but compliantly walks into the newly landed ship and sits in one of the many uncomfortable metal seats wordlessly. The flightless Avengers join Natasha while Tony flies ahead. Bruce stares at the unassuming man before him and is already frowning.

"Just like that?" he murmurs incredulously to Steve. "No fight whatsoever?"

"I don't like it," says Clint, gripping his bow tightly. He keeps the cuffed Trickster in his sights at all times and the atmosphere is tense as they fly back to base.

The Trickster in question is lazily studying the entire ship as if he's never seen the inside of an aircraft before. He's completely relaxed and his eyes are alight when he spots Bruce. He stares for a long while and Bruce shifts nervously. He feels as if the Trickster isn't actually staring at him but through him and he's undeniably creeped out.

After a moment of consideration and bird-like interest, The Trickster hums thoughtfully. The Avengers tense but he doesn't do anything remotely threatening. Steve blinks, realising that The Trickster actually hasn't done anything hostile to them at all and either he's very good actor, just that relaxed naturally or innocent.

But he's too unsettlingly confident to be entirely innocent. It's in his eyes.

Steve shakes his doubts out of his head. He's a leader. He can't doubt himself about this. He turns and heads for the cockpit.

He doesn't see The Trickster staring at his back in bemusement.

The Trickster is shoved into another chair after being escorted onto a truly impressive piece of aerial technology. SHIELD, the organisation as a whole, is hurried and there are agents doing all sorts of things. The Avengers team hadn't bothered to escort him to his new interrogation room and he hadn't expected them to. There's two guards outside his room and the man in front of him seems to be very important.

The file hits the metal table with a slap and draws his eyes to it. The black-skinned, one-eyed man is staring aggressively at him and he blinks at the papers. "So?" he prompts.

"That's all the information on you," growls the man. The Trickster pauses and blanches dramatically at the thin folder and turns his hands palms up in a disparaging 'what-can-you-do' gesture.

"I'd say 'impressive' but my Dad thinks it's a sin to lie," he grins.

The man scowls at him. "Trickster. Supposedly pagan gods or spirits. That what you are? A god or something? A wannabe?"

The Trickster wiggles his eyebrows. "What's it to you?" He peers into the man's hardened, secretive, blood-stained soul and plucks a name. "Ooh. Fury, huh? How ironic, Nicholas Joseph."

Nick Fury twitches. "Do you know of Loki?" he asks, ignoring the previous comment. "Norse trickster god." The Trickster blinks at him. Then he looks down on himself, as if unsure of his costume (a collection of black and grey denim) before going:

"Huh." Again.

He looks back up and leans forward, just enough to grab the file. His wrists are chained to the table and Fury doesn't stop him when he flips through it. "You really did some research." He whistles, slightly impressed. Even with its few pages, there's a suprising amount of detail. This organisation is way more sophisticated than he first thought. Of course, there's a few mistakes, but he has some new ideas now for other pranks. "What you wanna know, Nicky?"

Fury glares at him. He fails to make sense of The Trickster's motives (or origins really) but if he can get information on the demigod, the disrespect can be ignored. "Everything you know about Loki. Recently."

The Trickster doesn't react to the order, eyeing the file without sympathy for the victims listed. "Uh huh," he says absentmindedly. He flips another page and pictures of sightings are printed in colour of him. He pauses and looks back up, grin still firmly planted on his face. Even with all his experience, Fury isn't entirely sure if it's deceptively fake or cruelly genuine. "Well I know Loki is from the Norse pantheon, goes by Loptr sometimes, has a bad rep around here and is a damn good Trickster."

He grins wickedly at Fury dark expression. The man calmly places his hands on the table. "Trickster. Who or whatever you are, I don't care right now. You give us relevant information on Loki and his current whereabouts and we'll let you go. Just like that."

The Trickster gives him an amused look and leans back on chair as far as he can comfortably. The chains rattles as he stretches them. And he snickers. "Wow. You really are that desperate, ain't ya, Nicky? What makes you think I know 'relevant information' about Loki?"

"You're telling me you do know," Fury points out dryly. "When did Tricksters start keeping each other's secrets?" His eyes – err, eye – hardens. "Loki is a war criminal and while threatening isn't really my style, I can bring down the God of Thunder to demand answers from you if I have to."

The Trickster shrugs dismissively and there's a devilish glint in his hazel eyes. "Threats, Nicky?" he gasps theatrically. He holds it a moment and the expression drops. "I don't live under a rock," he huffs. "I know what he's done. Personally, I'd say that he was going through a bit of teenage rebellion." He pauses. "God knows he needed it."

"'Teenage rebellion'," repeats Fury incredulously. "He tried to take over the planet!"

The Trickster shoots him a dead look and leaks disdain like a damaged drain pipe. "My brother stabbed me in the chest because of a millennia long temper tantrum," he says, scowling. "Trust me, this Loki is a walk in the park."

Fury frowns. "And what brother might that be?" The Trickster makes a face.

"Funny enough, his name was Nick," he says thoughtfully. He smirks at the look on Fury's face. "Anyway, I think I've made my side clear." Before Fury can question him further, he snaps his fingers. The cuffs vanish and he stands, stretching with a loud yawn.

Fury suddenly has a gun in his hands but The Trickster pays it no mind. "See you round, then, Nicky."

The elusive Trickster snaps his fingers once more and vanishes.

"Shit." Fury's grip on the gun slackens and he puts a hand to his mic. "We have work to do."

Even as SHIELD and the Avengers put a whole lot more attention into tracking The Trickster, nothing came up. He'd effectively gone underground and while he was their only good lead on Loki, The Trickster simply didn't want to be found. He had vanished, not even pinging on cameras.

There were no strange, tall tales or mysteries spotted and The Trickster evaded even Thor's attempts to find him, when the god returned. It was as if that one meeting with Director Nick Fury had made The Trickster cease and desist through words alone.

None of the higher-ups liked it. An unknown force – a Trickster, enough said – that effortlessly dodged SHIELD, the Avengers team, Tony Stark and even (unknown to them) HYDRA was not good news. Especially since the last Trickster around had tried to subjugate the Earth. They searched and waited for him to resurface but two months later, there was still absolutely nothing on the radar.

Then Loki of Asgard himself showed up.

And The Trickster was forgotten.

Thor is informed and the Avengers are at the site within minutes.

Loki in question isn't actually paying attention to the team when they arrive, instead intensely focused on something. He ignores them as they assemble and find vantage points and there's a pause while they wait for Thor to arrive after a short debrief upon travelling to Earth. In the meantime, they try and figure out what he's actually trying to do.

It's a warehouse (it just has to be). It's clean and smells like musk and old storage. There are numerous windows on the second floor which can be reached by a metal staircase and the place is utterly empty. Loki, the only enemy there, is fiddling with something that's hovering just in front of his face. He looks unexpectedly relaxed and doesn't seem to notice his audience as he studies the bright blue, glowing gem just two inches off his palm. "It's the Sceptre," spits Tony in shock. "Where the hell did he get that?!" The gem had been removed from the rest of the weapon which lays on the floor by his feet like some broken toy.

"You mean the one SHIELD is supposed to have?" Steve asks slowly into his microphone. He's circling around, ready to bash Loki's head in at the first sign of trouble.

"How's he making it float?" says Clint, ever the sceptic. The bowman crouches, an ugly frown on his face as his arrow never wavers from the demigod's chest.

"No idea. Thor's incoming." Natasha, being helpful with her super sensitive senses.

Thor thunders through the wall like a bolt of lightning .The wall in question caves in dramatically and the caped figure steps through, eyes dark, hammer raised and too prepared for a fight. He pauses at the sight of Loki still ignoring the group of superheroes and when he speaks, his voice is gravely and tastes like ozone in the air, for his fury speaks. "LOKI!" he roars. "YOU COWARD!" His hammer bashes away flying pieces of rock. Miraculously, Loki is completely untouched by the debris. "YOU MUST RETURN TO ASGARD TO FACE YOUR PUNISHMENT, BROTHER!"

He is promptly ignored. Loki in question is now frowning at the gem as if it is the most interesting thing in the world. Maybe it is. Who knows? The demigod is acting really off and no one knows what the hell is going on. After a moment of deliberation (and an echo from Thor's offensively loud voice), Clint takes relish in firing a 'warning' shot.

Whoops, it was an explosive arrow. Eh.

It goes off at Loki's feet, engulfing the demigod in flames and after the smoke fades away, the demigod is quite literally standing there as if nothing happened. There's a stunned pause as the Avengers ask each other what-the-actual-hell-is-going-on-with-this-lunatic and Thor steps forward. "BROTHER!" he shouts again.

"Dear Dad, shut up. I'm concentrating," snaps Loki finally, piercing his 'brother' with a deadly glare. Thor looks taken aback by the venom in his green eyes and the word choice as Loki has never called Odin such a name. Loki returns to his…whatever he's doing and seems to come to a decision after another moment of confused, tense silence.

Then he closes his fist and the gem fades out of reality. There's another stunned pause at that and Loki's visage quite literally flickers when the excessively bright power source vanishes. It's too fast to see the differences between the two forms but the Avengers are suddenly wary that the Loki in front of them is just another illusion. It's not an unfounded thought and when Loki straightens, yawns and stretches in a very un-Loki-like-esque, the Avengers realise they've been played.

Loki's smirking. It's not his 'I'm-superior-so-bow-to-me-dumb-mortals' smirk but more like a 'I've-done-something-incredible-and-I'm-feeling-victorious' sly twist of the lips. His eyes are a bright green and he regards the heroes like old friends. "Avengers," he acknowledges. There's a strange lilt to his voice, as if he's actually happy to see them. "I knew you'd catch up eventually," he says irritatingly smugly. "Anyway, I have places to be, things to steal. I'll see you round."

He snaps his fingers and vanishes in a puff of smoke.

"What the f-rick?" blurts Clint.

Thor is frowning at the space where Loki was. "That…that was not my brother," he says slowly, uncertainly. "He…there's something wrong." He gains confidence and holds his hammer tighter. "I must convene with my mother Frigga for advice." He nods regally to his allies and departs abruptly via the ultra-flashy light of the Bifrost.

"Dammit!" snarls Tony. "Should have hit him while he was distracted!"

"That's not very heroic," comments Steve, jumping down.

Bruce snorts, emerging from outside. "The jet's ready if you wanna go, then." He eyes the team and then at the carcass of the Sceptre on the floor. "Err, what's that?"

Steve is the closest. He picks it up with a pensive frown. "Loki was after the gem. Might as well take this with us." He pauses. "How the hell did he get his hands on this? What was SHIELD doing?"

Natasha and Clint exchange looks. "We'll look into it," manages Natasha. "You can try tracking it with the stuff you got from last time…?"

"If the gem is leaking the same stuff, then yeah, we can try," nods Tony.

And a plan is made.

The Trickster returned to the database in a stream of reports from London of all places. London's a big place and The Trickster moved around quite quickly, choosing obvious targets with big, lethal encounters with various urban myths. For one, a terrorist cell was slaughtered with one survivor who vomited slugs trying to say that they were attacked by masked, black-robed people with wands.

It was blaringly flashy and the spy organisation took the invitation to move their search from America to London. Unfortunately for them, The Trickster travelled to practically all points of the city and even with amount of undercover agents in the area, didn't get spotted once. A few witnesses (and one or two traumatised victims) later, they found that The Trickster still had his obnoxious American accent on British soil and looked exactly the same.

Not the mention the bloody candy wrappers at each scene.

They didn't manage to catch up to him, even after a bewildering case where an unassuming woman was splattered in the street by a blue police box from absolutely nowhere. They eventually chalked the kill up to a shady past involving human trafficking and slavery which led to another giant investigation with help from British services to dismantle the entire thing.

The thing was that SHIELD was getting nervous. They had a rogue Trickster and an enemy trickster running around and neither could be tracked. One of the said Tricksters even had some brain-washing gemstone with him and the other was a bit more powerful than expected. Thor had asked his mother for advice about his brother's unique personality change but nothing came up.

It was frustrating to have such a setback but they would prevail.

One of the many agents on the case (who shall be named Agent Z for such purpose) deduced that The Trickster was looking for something. Agent Z suggested that since The Trickster had moved on from America, he was searching for the 'thing' in London. The main plot holes were covered by saying that The Trickster probably wanted to cover up his actual motive (the, err…search) by killing grade A douches all over the country and then city.

And Agent Y contradicted that by saying that any entity with the power to give a rapist nine different STDs (one of which had never been heard of before and thus named 'Trickirius' because no one had any creativity) should be able to find some weird, random thing if they really wanted to find it. Agent Y continued with the note that The Trickster had travelled an entire country and sticking to one city was a complete change of his former habit. It didn't share a pattern and the idea was then scrapped.

However, Agent X came up with the idea that since Loki could clone himself and (apparently) shapeshift, another Trickster might be able to as well. Of course, it didn't really explain the motive, but weren't Tricksters supposed to enjoy chaos? The Trickster was dragging SHIELD through the mud (hah, the prideful spy organisation was being reminded at their uselessness in the investigation) and other than the first sighting, The Trickster hadn't even been seen since his first debut in London.

The sulky Agent Z countered this argument with, "But it isn't chaos. Loki caused chaos with the invasion. All this guy is doing is killing the bad guys. No innocents at all." Not to mention that every super-powered being had to have a motive. Some powerful (like really powerful) being with black humour wouldn't just suddenly get up and decide to go on a killing spree some Monday (and the first case actually was on a Monday) morning.

Agent X complained at that, reminding them that The Trickster was a Trickster. It was an old god (or spirit or creature) that lived for pranking and sugar highs and was fed by belief. Or something. Realising that the Asgardians' disregard for the belief system completely demolished that idea wasn't a good thing for Agent X's moral. In the end, the point still stood that a Trickster needed sugar and that a great many myths around the world included Tricksters like Puck, Eris, Dolos, Coyote, and Loki. Not to mention the races or creatures that were based around Trickery like the Kitsune, Faeries, and inexplicable Chimera beings without a name.

Which was all true, seeing as Tricksters were quite widespread. Hell, The Trickster could be any one of them and seeing as the Norse pantheon reigned, it made them wonder just where the other gods like the Greeks, Finnish, Celtic, Chinese, Japanese, Western, Oriental – where all of them existed. Agent Y stewed over this until declaring that a coffee break was a necessity since they were going in circles again.

In another group in the cafeteria, Agent W from the science department was throwing around the idea of the multiverse. Again. Agent W was a ditzy agent and often ignored. But the tired Agent Y listened, merely because Agent Y needed something to listen to without going crazy. As Agent W was saying, the multiverse was a completely sound idea. After all, it revolved around reality being shifted. Having a closed timeline meant that they probably would have gotten word from some time traveller or something already. Since they hadn't, it meant that each time someone played with time, another timeline splintered off, creating another timeline which eventually would form the entire multiverse. Ta da.

After the break, Agent Y, upon returning to the cramped room with dozens of notes, screens, victims' accounts, autopsies, obscure cultural references and more, sat and thought about the idea. Sure, The Trickster did not share any looks with Loki (and Loki, as many psychologists had agreed on, was too prideful to go gallivanting around in a body that was not his own) and seemed to have different powers but there had never been any reports of other pantheons aside from the Norse.

And no one knew where the portal in Manhattan had really led to. Because really, the aliens they had dissected all came up with classified results and no one could get in. Other than Tony Stark of course, but no one was going to ask him. So there was a huge chance that it could have broken time and space to another universe. Agent Y pulled up records from Project PEGASUS (best thing about being a former scientist for that) and looked over the data from the blue Tesseract.

The portal was powered by the Tesseract, right? The unlimited power source?

Agent Y smiled. It was farfetched, yes. A Trickster crossing the multiverse to their own (hell it could even be another version of Loki…maybe) and causing havoc for the sake of it. Agent Y recalled Agent Z's original deduction of 'searching for something' and hummed contently. It was really farfetched. But then again, a murdering hitchhiker getting run over five times by ghosts of the past (and somehow surviving long enough to be treated) was pretty damn farfetched too.

After sharing, Agent Y started going over the notes from the Tesseract.

Agent X set about doing extensive research on Tricksters with a huff.

Agent Z merely sighed, drank some more coffee and went back to work. By visiting Agent W.

Ultimately, The Trickster vanished in the end. The only other sighting of him in London was his apparent last (leaving a somewhat mauled, castrated paedophile behind) case until he up and vanished once more. The Avengers were still distracted with the new device they were engineering to track Loki and his mysterious blue gem and the higher-ups predictably blew up at losing the Sceptre in the first place.

And 'rogue' Trickster was quickly replaced by 'enemy' Trickster because the Sceptre had quite literally been stolen from underneath the entire Project's noses during his capture and escape. It was infuriating to know that they had been one upped by some upstart and they quickly put together all sorts of motives and potential predictions for The Trickster's current faction into the new file. It was getting a little bigger by this point and soon they would need to put it completely into the database.

Paper folders be damned.

Naturally, SHIELD went on high-alert for both Tricksters and waited for their resident genius billionaire to create that much needed device to track the gem.

In the meantime, Thor visited Heimdall.

"You truly saw nothing, Heimdall?" inquired Thor with a pensive frown. "Did he deceive you?"

Heimdall stood vigil at the entrance of the restored Bifrost. "I saw a flash of light," he revealed. He paused, almost hesitant. "So bright it was, when it first appeared, I thought I would go blind."

Thor wasn't the first to question the All-Seer. The Dungeons of Asgard were not closed to Heimdall's sight and Odin had even demanded answers naught but a week after the escape. He had said very little about it and only repeated what he knew about Loki's disappearance. "Blind?" echoed Thor in surprise. "Whatever could do such a thing?"

Heimdall didn't as much as twitch but he grimaced at the painful memory. "I do not know," he said, voice deep and gravelly. "I cannot see Loki anymore. It is as if he fell from the Bifrost once more. There is nothing to see or hear from the former Prince."

Thor winced at the memory of Loki letting go and falling to his believed death. "None at all?" Thor paused at the mute response and recalled the reported cases of another Trickster on Midgard. "Have you seen any strange happenings on Midgard, mayhap? Of a…Trickster?"

Heimdall blinked, gold eyes searching. "I have heard many instances of such a being mentioned of times late on Midgard but he hides from me."

Thor looked surprised. "Does this Trickster hide from your senses as Loki does?"

Heimdall looked almost uncomfortable. "…I don't know," he said finally. "I cannot see as far as I once could. Loki cast many illusions before the light flashed in his cell and I could not see anything else during his escape."

Thor was vaguely disappointed but nodded all the same. "I thank you for this information and shall depart. I bid you well," he declared.

Heimdall nodded regally and the Prince and Heir of Asgard left, shooting into the sky with a whump of Mjolnir's leather strap and a crack of thunder. The only sound left was of the crashing waves and the endless fall of water from the edge of the city. Very few ventured all the way to the very end of the Bridge and he sensed no one around.

Heimdall waited.

"You Asgardians really do pay your debts," remarked a familiar voice behind him.

Heimdall carefully did not jump and searched for the presence but there was nothing there whatsoever. "I would be blind and relieved on my duties if not for your aid," he allowed solemnly after a moment. "I am bound by honour to repay this debt until released."

Heimdall could hear the clack of rubber soles on the floor of his Observatory but he could see no one. "Ah well, it's kind of my fault anyway," disregarded the being. "I didn't realise you could actually see all until you were kind of bleeding out of your eyes afterward."

"Nonetheless I am thankful," said Heimdall. "Whether it was luck that you chanced upon my fallen form or Fate perhaps, you saved my eyes and my life. If I must omit my admittedly little knowledge of your abilities and presence, I will do so."

There was a pause. Heimdall could instinctively feel shrewd eyes at the back of his neck and mentally calculated what the humanoid might actually look like. "Alright," he accepted eventually. "Don't worry, All-Seer," he drawled. "I won't play on your loyalties or anything." A tenseness in his shoulders that Heimdall hadn't even noticed relaxed a twitch. "Just need a little time. To settle in."

"I see," acknowledged Heimdall. He paused. "How do you hide from me?"

He couldn't see it, but The Trickster smirked. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

The device was scrapped after four months.

Eight different prototypes were created and each one tested dozens of times. Tony proposed a couple different theories to SHIELD after pulling out half his hair and rubbing his eyes lethargically a hundred or so times. He commented that the three designs that he'd thought would work the best all noted that the only trail (fading as it was) was a dead end.

He had made eight different attempts and each of them worked a little differently. For one, the first was a lot more flexible and meant to scour the hundreds of other connected machines to search all over the planet for a trail. It didn't work. At all.

The second was smaller and based in the same warehouse that they'd 'confronted' Loki in. It detected some traces but was overly weak. The third and fourth were improved versions and while the third failed spectacularly, the fourth actively tried to pick up some traces.

Nothing beyond the same bloody warehouse.

By the eighth, Stark called it quits, phoned SHIELD and told them that unless the gem randomly fell from the sky, it was effectively gone. As he ranted into his hand-held, he distantly recalled Loki making the gem vanish into thin air in his palm and wondered if the gem had been its own illusion to make them all run around in circles for months.

Well it had worked.

He hacked into SHIELD moments after turning his most recent phone into a blackened mess and pulled up Loki's psyche profile. With JARVIS's help, he translated all the unfamiliar terms and eventually concluded that Loki was being… off.

It wasn't exactly a scientific term but Tony wasn't stupid. According to his profile, Loki was a bitter, resentful asshole with dreams of being a King and proving his worth to a dismissive father figure. Stark distantly connected that to himself but erased the thought before it could take hold.

Overall, in the past year (and when did that happen), Loki was evasive, surprisingly self-assured and…very different. Thor's comment about Loki not being…well Loki suddenly had a larger meaning. Tony pulled up more records from SHIELD about The Trickster and noted that it all started half a month after Loki's escape.

Tony, after sitting back and examining his holographic workspace, had the feeling that he was missing something. Something big.

The Avengers are officially disbanded of course.

It's been a year and a bit since the alien invasion and all the members of the Avengers generally swan in for a visit every now and then. Sure, they're all superheroes and huge topics for the media but they've 'split up'. Steve, Clint and Natasha work for SHIELD. Tony is furthering his company. Thor is jumping back and forth because of Loki and Bruce is hiding out in the Tower.

The SHIELD agents are just…on loan sometimes to the Avengers team. They're superheroes after all. And friends. Nonetheless, Loki is still around (but not at large) so the Avengers are generally a team if he surfaces.

And not to mention The Trickster. The guy hasn't been seen since London and nothing has come up on any radar. No excessive candy wrappers, no tall tales and no mysteries. It's a little unnerving, having a being just pop into existence every now and then and go on a killing spree that usually ends in blood but no one can do anything.

But an entire year passes and neither Loki nor The Trickster have been sighted.

An entire year of silence.

Tony unveils a big terrorist plot, what with the Mandarin and the organic bombs and the whole shtick with Advanced Idea Mechanics. Loki and all-too-much old pagan lore and mythology gets flushed out of his all-too-fast mind as he figures out that just because Loki was the most hands-on attempt at taking over the world, there's other threats out there.

In the end Tony gets a makeover, Pepper gets 'fixed' and everything goes back to normal.

Sort of.

Pepper isn't privy to all the hacked files that Tony has. She's smart, sharp, clean, kind and a hard-worker as CEO of the company. She's a little devious, yes, but she knows her boundaries. So while she knows about someone called The Trickster, she doesn't know what he looks like and just what he does.

"Hello," says the man with an impish grin. "You must be Pepper Potts."

Pepper swallows her shock and clicks the button under her desk for security. He's chewing on a jelly bean as his bright hazel eyes stare at her. Pepper is quite certain that she had never seen him before and that he most definitely had not been there a moment ago.

"And if I'm not?" she says slowly, buying time. Security (and the ever reliable Happy) should be there within half a minute.

The man pauses, as if confused, and squints. "No I'm pretty sure you're Pepper Potts. I don't get things wrong."

"I'm sure everyone gets something wrong every now and then," she demurs with an almost chastising, tight smile. "How might you be any different?"

The man makes a face. "You're Tony Stark's girlfriend, right?"

She pauses. "That's a personal question. This office is for business-related topics please." Where the hell is security?

He snorts. "I'm here on business," he says, surprising her. "I'm just doing my job."

"What job is that, stranger?"

He smirks winningly at her. "Delivering just desserts of course." She doesn't seem to get the reference, nor the actual meaning behind it and he sighs theatrically in a forlorn gust of air. "I really just wanted to know how you and Stark actually became a thing. Everyone says he's a dick."

Pepper stares. "I'm sorry?"

He shrugs delicately. "I mean, I've been researching. Stark is like…everywhere. And everyone says he's this giant, prideful, douchebag playboy. How'd ya score a guy like that? Let alone change him?"

Pepper really doesn't want to have this conversation. She wonders if security is actually coming or if this strange man did something. Her resolve hardens and she gets to her feet to hide the fact that she's speed dialling Tony. "You have no right to say that," she snaps indignantly. "Tony might…might be cocky and damningly frustrating but he's a good man! Barging in here and telling me that someone I care about is a-a douchebag is just hypocritical!"

"Whoa tiger," placates the man. His smirk is still on his lips but his eyes are hard and when she glares straight into that hazel, she feels unbearably small. "So you're telling me he's changed? He's killed people, Miss Potts," he tells her calmly. "He's directly and indirectly killed hundreds and thousands of people with his inventions, innocent and otherwise. Even you, Miss Potts have been attacked, merely as a way to get to him. Is that really worth it?"

When Pepper next speaks, it's rough and sarcastic but her anger simmers powerfully beneath her words. "I don't know who you are," she starts quietly. "But I won't tolerate you speaking that way about him. Tony has been through a lot and your petty judgement over whatever wrongs he's done is nothing compared to all the good things about him and the changes he's made."

The two stare at each other, one provoked and the other impassive. His smirk falls away and he glimpses her soul for half a moment before inclining his head regally. "Alright," he says. "You've convinced me. That's some strong resolve, Miss Potts. Keep a hold of that and you'll go places."

He grins and with a snap of his fingers is gone.

The aftermath was a broken down door, a fried connection between her office and security and Ironman himself flying through the window. Later, Tony filled her in about the man called The Trickster and his dark, dark humour on the wicked.

Delivering just desserts of course.

Pepper swallowed down her fear and hugged the life out of the man. She remembered the powerful, dangerous glint in The Trickster's eyes and how the man was all too confident.

You've convinced me.

Pepper was a smart woman. When Tony revealed a few of The Trickster's cases and the massive investigations left in many aftermaths of less fortunate victims, she realised that the one meeting she had with the elusive entity was just the beginning of The Trickster's return.

And she was right.

The Trickster returned, an entire year of silence later in the more rural, quieter towns of America. Comparatively, his cases were tamer than usual and all revolved around the fact that each victim were prideful, arrogant assholes. They aren't major though and there was no underground fighting ring to dismantle, no serial killers, no drug cartel… It was all very simple.

Nonetheless, The Trickster was still a major pain in SHIELD's ass and needed to be…dealt with.

If they could catch up to him.

His pattern strayed from the other two sprees again. The Trickster had initially gone after random people all over America in an erratic, over-the-top manner without a pattern. At the time, it'd seemed as if he teleported all over the place (which he could, as evidenced) and never strayed too long. He also gave the sense that he was reckless and didn't care to be recognised.

(And he effectively did not exist beforehand, just like Thor and Loki.)

Instead he would go after one to two people per town and then vanish, usually appearing across the country to lead the Avengers in circles. However, the second spree, in London was where, while still uncatchable, he kept parameters and limited himself to a single area. In London, The Trickster had gotten far more violent and the amount of survivors of his crazy, inexplicable attacks dwindled.

But upon his return, The Trickster rarely left his victims dead.

Most of them had strange tales (like getting probed by sci-fi aliens) and some got admitted to a local psychiatric hospital. Some were maimed or abruptly lost their voice and overall, the pattern and M.O of the Trickster suddenly was much harder to track. Only the endless amount of candy wrappers (and even they were getting harder to find) connected each dot.

Luckily for SHIELD, The Trickster stayed in each town for a little longer than before. While some didn't really get reported (or victims just went missing) and left holes in his trail it was still there. Thus, SHIELD with all its branches, new base, support from the World Council and increased employment rates put a few more agents on the case.

They needed a proper, organised file.

Now it could have been Fate, or happenstance or even a completely obscure technological failure (depending on how you looked at it) but of all the agents to have been assigned to it, it had to be three in particular.

Agent X was ecstatic that The Trickster case was reopened. After six months of silence, SHIELD had packed it all up and decided 'Screw it. Case closed.' and that was that. But with the return of The Trickster, it meant that the-awesome-team could throw around more cool ideas about the strange being with a great sense of humour.

Agent Y sighed and got ready to head out to the latest town with three reported attacks (two of which were animal attacks apparently) and the robbed candy store. The Trickster was a pain in the neck. It was a sentiment that was shared by a great many of SHIELD agents. Overall, the case was well known in the organisation and many showed their sympathy for the deployed group.

Agent Z groaned at the news and mentally suppressed the traumatic, endless stream of words from a voice that sounded suspiciously like Agent W. Multiverse theory aside, The Trickster was a powerful individual who could warp reality. Agent Z, while liking the possibilities of such a thing (the confiscated blue police box from London was completely normal unfortunately) did like the living world and, while not admitting it, was afraid.

In the end, SHIELD demanded it.

And so the three went.

He's somewhat eager.

He knew that they'd send someone after him and the three people at the diner are way too obvious. It might sound a little cocky but he's probably the best actor in the world and they're really easy to spot. So when he fashions himself as a rather charismic waiter in the local diner, it's all too easy to peek into their souls, mark them and then play.

He's not exactly a kind person, as some might wish to believe and years and years of living amongst humans have taught him both sides to a truly silver coin. Humans are capable of so much and even though he calls himself a judgemental Trickster, he knows that he respects every single one of them.

Free Will is a gift after all.

Well sure, he kills a couple and traumatising them is really fun sometimes but he is immortal.

What'd you expect?

In recent years, he's been a little bit more obvious than usual, he knows, but that's because it's a little discouraging that he's quite literally the only one of his kind around. He's lonely and he's afraid and he had died so he's allowed to kind-of-blow-up. London is a little bit of a black smear on his resume but he's got a long one. It can be looked over.

As he hands a pie to one of the agents, he can't help but grin charmingly at the group and mentally thinks of a dozen different ways to mind-fuck with them. The last time he actually got to do such a thing was years ago after all.

"Candy wrappers," says Agent X. "That's the main connection."

The meat pie is admittedly good and a glance around shows that quite a few people also go to the diner to for the large but cheap pie. "The only factor," corrects Agent Z. "We don't even have any proof that the guy is actually here if there's none. Besides, this lead is pretty bad. A robbed candy store? Like really?"

Agent Y laughs. "I'm telling you. The Trickster is here. I'm sure of it."

"Oh yeah?" drawls Agent X. "Like you were sure of Agent W's theory?"

Agent Y shrugs unrepentantly. "Don't dismiss it. The Trickster did show up after the portal did. He might have spent all that time getting used to being in an alternate world and eventually freed Loki after figuring out that he's another Trickster."

"Here you go," says the waiter, placing another salad on the table. They thank him and he turns to leave but pauses. "Err, I heard you were talking about a…Trickster?"

The agents pause and looks back at him. "Yeah we are. Do you know anything?" Agent Z asks. The waiter blinks bright green eyes and glances around before chewing his lip.

"My shift's over in half an hour. Hang around," he tells them. Then he swings around and heads back to the kitchen.

The agents all shrug at each other. "No rush right?" muses Agent Z. "If he's got info…"

"Half an hour," agrees Agent Y.

And they settle to wait.

Half an hour later, the green-eyed man slides into the empty seat next to Agent Y. He's got a cheeky smile, dirty blond hair and he's surprisingly tall. "So?" prompts Agent Y.

"What do you want to know?" he says thoughtfully. "I mean, I've heard of The Trickster but I thought that was just some rumour going around."

"Nope," says Agent X eagerly. "The guy's actually real…um…"

"I'm Jack," says the waiter. He pauses. "I was the one who found Helen's body," he says quietly. The agents dole out their condolences. He waves them away. "It's not that Helen's a bad person. Mother of three kids. But…well, there's some nasty rumours about her."

"Like?"

"Well apparently she abused her husband before their divorce," he reveals. He sounds vaguely disapproving and there's a strange confidence in his words. "And when he filed for it, he got the short straw." He frowns. "I talked to him about it and he said that she threatened him with their kids to get what she wanted out of it."

The agents exchanges glances. "Anything else?"

"Well Erin worked as part of the local vet," he says hesitantly. "And when the local police investigated it, they found that she was experimenting human drugs on pets. She…died to an animal attack, right?"

Agent Z nods solemnly. "Yeah. Do you know about the robbery at the…candy store?"

"No. I got no idea about that," sighs Jack. "That's kind of all I got." He quirks his lips. "So The Trickster is real, huh? Are you like…hunters or something?"

"Hunters?" echoes Agent Y in surprise. "No. We're reporters. We're interested in The Trickster for our next article."

Jack grins. "Cool. If you get lucky, put my name in it."

"Sure," says Agent X agreeably. "Thanks Jack. Your help is appreciated."

"No problem."

They have a few pictures, videos and recordings of The Trickster.

He's elusive and he's smart, but he's not an invisible ghost like the legendary Winter Soldier. The Trickster likes getting nice and close to his victims and always does his research on each of his targets before dealing out the appropriate 'punishment'. There's sheets of profiling, lists and more lists of motives, investigations and potential things to look out for.

"Jack," concludes Agent Y after looking at all the police records. "The guy started working at the diner just a week before the first victim."

"That's not proper evidence," points out Agent Z childishly. "The Trickster probably already moved on. We've been here for weeks."

Agent Y sends Agent Z a disproving look. "Don't be stupid. The Trickster knows we're here. Jack is the first guy we met upon arrival and…he gives me a bad feeling."

"A bad feeling?" repeats Agent Z incredulously. "Is that the same feeling that made you drive us around the entire day yesterday like retards?"

Agent Y bristles. "The Trickster is Jack! Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're stupid!" spits Agent Z. "What kind of person just wastes an entire day staking out a completely normal guy?"

"He is the most likely person," the agent grits out. "You're the one who practically invited the damned Trickster into our rooms when you lost the bloody keys!"

"Guys…" calls Agent X.

"Are you mentally degenerative?! The guy can freaking teleport! You're the one who brought him right to our doorstep, stalker! And don't even get me started on the coffee machine you thief! You're just setting yourself up as The Trickster's next target and you're going to put this entire mission down the bloody drain!" hisses Agent Z.

"Excuse me?" snarls Agent Y. "You're blaming me for everything now, are you? The coffee machine broke! How the hell was I involved with that-?"

"You were the only person in the room, moron! Of course it's your fault!"

"Guys…" says Agent X, a little louder.

"You're only blaming me because you can't deal with the fact that you're all buddy-buddy with the stupid Trickster!" accused Agent Y. "I have all the damn evidence you could possibly need, dumbass! Jack. Is. The. Trickster!"

"He's NOT!" exploded Agent Z.

"GUYS?" cries Agent X.

"What kind of guy just happens to know all about the victims and just decides to offer up all that information to three random strangers in his workplace?" snaps Agent Y pointedly. "And like you said, The Trickster stopped after we arrived! The only person we talked to is Jack!"

"GUYS!" yells Agent X, completely done. "Calm down-!"

"NO!" shouts Agent Z. "I am sick and tired of this! We have freaking pictures of The Trickster and Jack doesn't match the description! There are no candy wrappers whatsoever around the entire town and you made us drive around to check! What the hell is wrong with you?! The Trickster is gone! He LEFT already! Why are we still hanging around?!"

"Because we have bloody orders!" roars Agent Y in pure frustration and pent up anger. "Because you are being a dense prick and because JACK IS THE TRICKSTER THAT WE'RE SEARCHING FOR!"

A gun shot BOOMs in the air.

"ENOUGH!" bellows Agent X. "For God's sake, shut up! Both of you are just embarrassing yourselves! What the hell is up with you two?! You've been at odds with each other ever since we arrived and our team is just falling apart! Explain yourselves!"

The only reason they decide to listen is because Agent X is holding a handgun at the roof looking completely furious. The two agents stop, panting. Agent Z points a trembling finger at Agent X. "I don't want to die," Agent Z growls. "Do you idiots have any idea what kind of powers a Trickster has? No! You don't! The guy warps reality! He could do all sorts of shit to us and you keep acting as if this is-is some sort of fucking game!"

"But he IS playing with us!" counters Agent Y. "I'm playing his game so I can catch him! Or is there nothing but air between your ears?! It's us against The Trickster and we are losing because YOU are too stupid to see what I'm doing!"

Agent Z snarls but Agent X cuts in. "So it's a problem with miscommunication! The point of this mission is that we're supposed to catch The Trickster," the agent says. "While unlikely, if we find him we're supposed to find his motives and predict his next move so we can help the heavy-hitters like the Avengers team catch and properly detain or kill him. You two aren't doing that. Think for a moment. What are you two doing to achieve that objective?"

There is a long pause.

Agent Z swears loudly and stomps out of the room, slamming the door with a bang. Agent Y slumps into a space on the couch and Agent X sighs, looking over all the sheets scattered around the motel room. "You think it worked?"

"It fuckin' better," snaps Agent Y angrily.

In all honesty, he didn't think that they'd explode that much.

In hindsight, it's good since he knows what they are supposed to do but he feels kind of guilty for all that shit he put the team of agents through. He hums to himself as he walks away from the motel that the three were staying at, ready to actually leave the area. He snaps up a lollipop and his illusionary form fades back into his default – a short blond with hazel eyes.

And when he hears footsteps behind him, he smirks. "Trickster," says a familiar voice.

He pauses, as if surprised and slowly turns around. Agent Z is pale and a black, standard-issue gun is held in trembling fingers. "Hi," he drawls. "Are you the muttonheads who have been trying following me around lately?"

"Trickster," repeats Agent Z. "You're The Trickster."

"Don't wear it out, kid," he says, rolling his eyes. "What do you want?"

"You…you're really here," the agent says, stunned. "But…but you…"

"You three are pretty obvious," he says blandly. "SHIELD right?"

"Y-you're under arrest." There's no conviction behind the words. No confidence.

The Trickster smirks. "Says who?"

"Says me," says a woman, stepping out of the shadows.

The Trickster whirls around and blinks at the redhead. He squints. "Avengers person, right?"

The redhead deadpans at him. "Yeah," she says. "Trickster."

The Trickster shrugs with an unrepentant grin and bows shallowly. "Well it's nice to see you again and all but I have a few-"

BANG!

"-things to do," he finishes without flinching. He looks down at the bloody hole in his kneecap and up at the sniper nesting on the top of the motel. "That was rude," he remarks, healing instantly. "I thought we were starting to get along." Avengers-person seems to be waiting for him to slump to the ground while Agent Z swallows.

Agent Z in question can see where the bullet landed in the ground and watches wide-eyed as the hole heals instantly. Agents X, Y and Z are not field agents. They're smart and they know how to research but while they have the appropriate training, Agent Z, as said, is absolutely terrified of The Trickster.

A shocked, trembling agent with an unsteady gun isn't good news in any situation and this is no different.

BANG!

"C'mon guys, really?" says The Trickster, turning around to face Agent Z who's just shot him in the back. "I liked this shirt."

BANG! BANG! CRACK!

There is a stunned pause as some sort of pendant hidden in The Trickster's shirt cracks with the force of the bullet and snaps. The Trickster's visage shivers and in an abrupt second, the short blond man is replaced by an all-too-familiar figure of Loki Laufeyson.

"Holy shit," breathes Avengers-person. A dozen guns are cocked and The Trickster – now revealed to be Loki all along - sighs loudly. "Loki?"

"Seriously?" he complains, sounding most definitely not like Loki. "Do you know how hard it is to create a permanent disguise these days?"

"Loki," growls Avengers-person. "You can come quietly or with a couple more bullets in your chest. Your choice." She is already aware that there are no more bullet holes or injuries but figures that the sudden rapid healing ability must have a limit.

"Scary," he chirps before glaring acidly at Agent Z who drops the empty gun onto the ground in fear. He sighs, glances around and puts his hands up in surrender. "Yeah fine. Game over."

There is outrage when they realise that The Trickster has been Loki all along.

The three Agents are congratulated and Loki is bound with the best manacles they have with them before he is shipped off to the Helicarrier (because everyone loves the Helicarrier). The higher-ups are informed and when Loki is brought in, they shove him into much better cuffs. Thor is called down and the rest of the Avengers are all very wary.

The Trickster and Loki are the same person? Impossible, screams SHIELD. The Trickster has a completely different M.O compared to Loki and when they send the fragments of the necklace that Loki had been using to the lab, they shove the actual demigod into the same, ironically familiar glass cage. They're understandably tense. The Trickster can teleport. If they're the same person, why hasn't Loki just vanished anyway?

It's something that Natasha is planning to ask.

When she appears, Loki is lying comfortably on the single bench on his back. He's staring at the ceiling in boredom, hands cushioning his head and seems blissfully unaware of the fact that he's being watched. In his mouth, the lollipop that no one managed to get off him is still dangling from his teeth. "Loki," she says. "Remember me?"

"Avengers-person," says Loki without faltering. "I dunno your name."

Natasha crosses her arms. "For the God of Lies, you aren't selling it."

"What am I supposed to be selling?" drawls Loki, craning his neck to stare at her. "If you mean the Walking Dead look…well that part wasn't my fault."

"No, I mean the fact that you are lying, badly, might I add, to my face," she retorts.

Loki, in one smooth move, sits up and pivots to face her properly. He squints, twisting his face thoughtfully. Natasha is surprised that he doesn't actually seem to recognise her all that well. "The guy you're thinking of is unfortunately dead, Natalia Alianovna Romanoff," he says, perfectly seriously.

Natasha is not surprised that he knows her real name but she hesitates at the 'dead' part. "What are you talking about?" she frowns. "You look pretty alive to me."

Loki looks down on himself and at the torn shirt. "Loki of Asgard is dead," he repeats. "This is just his body." Natasha is thoroughly confused.

"What…"

"You see," not-Loki explains, "I'm not Loki. Well…I'm not your Loki. Loki was a little ball of resentment, angst and magic. Me? I'm The Trickster. The guy you're looking for gone."

Natasha doesn't know what to say. "What are you?" she asks.

"I'm a Trickster," he replies cheerfully.

Natasha rolls her eyes. She puts a hand to her ear and listens to someone growling into her ear. Whoever it is, they sound very displeased and The Trickster is internally proud. "Yes sir." She turns back to The Trickster. "Explain how you aren't Loki."

Not-Loki makes an exaggerated thinking face. "It's pretty simple. This here-" He gestures to himself. "-is Loki's body." He then points to his head. "This is not him."

"So…you're…possessing him?" guesses Natasha blankly.

"Got it in one," compliments Not-Loki with an impressed bob of the head.

Natasha stares. "You really aren't Loki, are you?"

"Psh, little Loki disgraced the name of all Tricksters," dismisses Not-Loki.

"And you're the shining example of a Trickster."

"Sure am," smirks Not-Loki. "Where I'm from, I was the first Trickster."

Natasha gains a pensive look. She's about to say something when Thor strides in, nodding to Natasha but gaining a dark look when seeing Loki. Natasha stands back, not wanting to get between a god and …a Trickster.

"Brother," says Thor.

"Not your brother," contradicts Not-Loki. Thor doesn't look happy at that. "Look. Thor, I'm got butterflies in my tummy about your familial love for your adopted bro-"

Don't make me do this, brother.

"-but the person you're looking for is dead. He died when I escaped from prison."

"Loki-" starts Thor.

"God of Thunder," interrupts Not-Loki in a formal tone, getting to his feet. "I am not Loki of Asgard. My condolences for your loss." He pauses, staring intensely at Thor's hammer in a strange, bird-like interest before glancing at Natasha and then at the camera. Thor looks torn and a bit confused, hand tightening on his weapon.

And then Not-Loki turns over a palm and the bright blue gemstone from the Sceptre appears. The two Avengers tense at the sight of it. "Here," he offers after a moment. "I don't really need it."

He pauses and lets it hang in the air before blinking and snapping his fingers.

And with that, Not-Loki, The Trickster, vanishes into thin air.

They stopped looking for him.

A month and there had been no word.

Thor was distraught and hadn't returned to Earth.

SHIELD was wary of the unknown but couldn't do anything.

The Avengers were well and truly scattered and weren't available.

Loki of Asgard was dead.

And the ultimately powerful, unpredictable Trickster was gone.

"You unbalance the multiverse," said a voice.

The Trickster regarded the woman and gestured for her to take a seat. A picnic blanket, a small table, a hot teapot and two cups were snapped into existence and the woman made a small noise in her throat. "You are very powerful," she noted.

The Trickster sat across from her on the picnic blanket and glanced at her stretched, weary soul and the black veins that ran through it, keeping her alive. "And you are very old," he countered. "For a human."

The woman inclined her head. "You are older than me."

"I'm older than all humans," said The Trickster. He frowned at her. The state of her soul made him rather uncomfortable. "Why do that to yourself?"

The woman smiled bitterly, knowing exactly what he was asking. "For the greater good," she said serenely. "Someone must protect the Earth from other dimensional travellers who may wish ill."

The Trickster narrowed his eyes. "Like me?"

"No. Not like you," sighed the woman. "You are beyond my ability to handle."

"You here just to leech off free tea then?" deadpanned The Trickster. She smiled at him and took a cup for herself contentedly.

"You seem very lonely," she commented quietly, shifting topic. "Why would you isolate yourself in this war-torn dimension?"

The Trickster blinked in surprise and cast his gaze down. "I don't really know," he admitted. "This is my second chance, really. It seems a waste to just go back and lose everything again."

"You think that you'll fail again?" asked the old woman. "That seems very cowardly for such a powerful being like yourself."

He made a face. "Where I'm from, I'm not that strong."

The woman gestured vaguely around them. "But here, you are too strong. There are no contenders. Even I know that being all-powerful can be a very lonely existence."

"I managed," scowled The Trickster. "For longer than you've been alive."

"Of course," nodded the woman, infuriatingly calm.

There was a pause as she sipped her tea quietly and he examined her soul extensively.

"I like it here," said The Trickster abruptly.

"Do you really?" The woman set old eyes on his and it was almost taunting. "Or are you trying to convince yourself that you do?"

"At least I won't have to choose sides," he grumbled.

She smiled in amusement. "Do what is right, not what's easy."

"Stop with the Harry Potter references," he hissed. She laughed at him.

"Nonetheless, the meaning is the same," she said not unkindly. He glared and snapped up a chocolate bar, eating it quickly.

"I am not proud of what I did," she revealed quietly after a moment. "But I will live with the shame of my decision to the very end. Hopefully you will not make the same poor decisions." She finished her tea and got to her feet. "Thank you, old one, but I must return."

"Wait," called The Trickster, looking away from her soul. "What's your name?"

She blinked in surprise before a tragic smile returned to her features. "I don't remember."

The next time The Trickster shows up is during the Convergence.

Asgard has just been absolutely totalled by the Dark Elves and Thor is desperate. Frigga is dead. Odin is spiteful. And Loki is…gone. Jane is imprisoned and slowly subsuming to the power of the Aether and Thor does not know what he can do to help both his people and his beloved.

Until Heimdall comes.

"There is someone who may help you," discloses the All-Sear quietly. Thor eyes him. "But you will not like this alternative."

"Tell me," demands Thor.

Heimdall sighs. "The Trickster," he says after a solemn moment. "The Trickster may help you."

"The Trickster?" repeats Thor in shock.

"Yes," nods Heimdall. "He may not hold any loyalty to Asgard, but he wishes no ill upon our people. He can be convinced to help, as Malekith seeks to destroy the universe as we know it."

Thor, as much he hates the idea of it, does not dismiss it. "Can you contact him?"

"You already have."

The Trickster shows up in his chambers when he returns to the palace wearing his brother's face and Thor has to keep himself from striding up to him for a hug or demanding that his brother is released from the foreign being's hold.

Loki of Asgard is dead.

"Trickster," says Thor.

"Thor Odinson," says The Trickster, glancing around. "What happened here?"

"We were invaded," he informs flatly. "I need your help."

The Trickster makes a face. "Why me?"

"Because our-my father is unfit for the throne and unable to plan for the greater good of Asgard." The Trickster shoots him a weird look. "There is a Dark Elf named Malekith who plans to use a source of power called the Aether to destroy the Nine Realms."

"And what do you want me to do?" asks The Trickster, smirking.

Thor hesitates. "Malekith has retreated for now but he will return and lay waste to Asgard if the Aether remains in the city," he says slowly. "I…would like your help to stop him." And take revenge, goes unsaid.

The Trickster studies him for a moment, glancing at the ruins just outside Thor's window and takes a moment to weight the odds. "Tell me the whole story."

Thor does.

The Trickster is a lot more powerful than Thor believed.

Loki, his dear brother, is nowhere near as strong, and when Not-Loki snaps his fingers, apporting the love of his life out of captivity, Thor takes an entire ten seconds to gape.

The Trickster has an annoyed look on his face when he examines Jane Foster but cannot remove the energy from her without killing her. Thor acknowledges it and asks if he can take them off world.

"No," says The Trickster. "The…Aether messes with my mojo. Getting her out of there was hard enough." The energy feels familiar.

Thor doesn't really understand the term but Jane does and thanks him anyway, unsure about his different personality. "Jane. This is The Trickster," he introduces warily.

"Hi," says Jane. "Err, isn't that Loki?"

The Trickster rolls his eyes, snapping up a bag of skittles and shoving a handful in his mouth. "Nope. But you can call me Loki if you wanna."

Jane doesn't seem to understand why but decides that calling him 'The Trickster' is a mouthful. "Okay. Loki. What's the plan?"

The Trickster turns to Thor. "Ask him."

After a precarious escape, the three of them soar into the depths of Svartalfheim. The Trickster doesn't mention how he knows where to go and Thor, knowing that their alliance is tentative, wisely does not ask.

When Malekith and his minions land on the wretched planet, The Trickster watches apathetically, no candy in sight and no smirk on his lips. His eyes are hard and old and Thor knows that fighting the ultimately stronger being would mean his end.

Thor marvels at the very realistic creations The Trickster makes and gets ready to attack.

The Aether is shattered and it seems like the plan is successful. But when it reforms, Thor is shocked and he realises that he has just handed an unlimited weapon to the enemy. Jane has passed out from the transfer and when Malekith absorbs the energy, he tells his minions to get rid of them once and for all.

He only registers fingers on his forehead before he joins his lover in temporary oblivion.

The Trickster places one hand on the Elf's face.

Malekith glows a red (and underneath, darker veins are visible) and screams inaudibly as the Aether under his skin writhes. The light brightens and sizzles considerably and with a brilliant flash of light of burning, holy power, the Dark Elves as a race are eradicated and purged from the universe.

He returns Thor and Foster to Earth and places the Aether into a pocket dimension. He makes sure the fluid-like power doesn't leech off of him.

Then he sits back on the roof of some library in Greenwich to watch the show.

The Convergence is truly a sight to behold and he feels a pang in his very being that urges him to find his own way home.

But he doesn't know where home is.

Death is a primordial being.

It signifies the end of all things and without it, life as it will would cease to exist. It balances and serves as a warning to all that live, that you cannot hold your own existence above others. Humans fear death as all humans instinctively fear what they cannot understand.

It's something that Death always finds laudable as it's something that holds a powerful drive for all those who respect their own mortality.

As a being of balance and the continuum of the act of being, Death is fully aware of the anomaly that spears through Fate's plans and the hole its arrival leaves beyond time and space itself.

But Death, no matter how endlessly vast, does not intervene on the matters of life.

The anomaly lives and while it does not breathe as humans do, the anomaly breathes life into Death. Fate unravels in the face of the being that stands in its way and Death wonders just how her self-proclaimed champion and lover will fall.

The Trickster grins impishly while chewing on a Hershey chocolate bar when Sam Wilson opens the door. "Hi," he says. "I'm Loki."

Sam stares dumbfounded for a moment and something clicks in his mind. "As in Loki from New York?" he asks numbly.

"As in The Trickster on a killing spree all over America," intrudes Steve, stepping into view. "What are you doing here?" he demands. "Actually, how did you find us?"

The Trickster rolls his eyes. "You really wanna have this conversation at the door?" he drawls.

Sam trusts Steve's judgement. He actually doesn't actually know much about The Trickster other than a few rumours of a hundred strange deaths (and a cover-up plot) on television. Nonetheless, Steve invites the Loki lookalike in.

"Oh," is all Natasha says when she sees Loki. "You again."

"Me," confirms The Trickster with a wide smile. "You look like shit," he comments. "Bad day?"

"Bad day," mutters Natasha sardonically.

"Bad luck," smirks The Trickster without sympathy. He cranes his neck at Sam who's watching the scene in something akin to confusion. He then turns Steve. "Heard the legendary Captain America became a fugitive," he remarks idly. "All this chaos and you didn't invite me."

Steve glared. "Chaos is not a good thing!" he snaps. "Are you just going to sit around or do you plan on helping us?"

The Trickster frowns at him. "Who said I'm going to help you?"

"Why wouldn't you help?" counters Sam, picking up bits and pieces about this 'Trickster' character. "These baddies might go after you next."

The Trickster snorts. "I'd like to see them try," he smirks darkly. "Either way, I'm just here 'cause I got nowhere else to be really."

"Of course," mutters Steve. "If you ever get off your ass and do something, it'll be appreciated."

"Big 'if' there, Steve-ee," he replies breezily.

Steve throws up his hands in something akin to disgust while Natasha scowls at him. Sam hesitantly starts up the planning again, unsure as to the new dynamics but quickly discovers that all the guy does is snap his fingers and eat candy. Everyone basically ignores him when he (unhelpfully) chirps in every now and then.

When they head out, The Trickster vanishes and Natasha assures Sam that he'll be back.

Unfortunately.

"I'll do it," says The Trickster, suddenly leaning against the wall.

"Holy shit!" splutters Sam, leaping back. The three SHIELD agents lower their weapons as they realise that Loki has indeed returned and Steve scowls at him.

"What do you mean 'you'll do it'?" mutters Natasha.

The Trickster has an unfamiliar anger simmering in his tone when he speaks and his smirk is absent. "I mean I'll destroy the three Helicarriers."

Hill stares. "How would you manage to do that?"

The Trickster regards each of them carefully before rolling his eyes. "No trust in my abilities, huh?"

"Not when there are millions of innocent lives on the line," counters Steve. "That one of your 'Trickster' abilities?"

The Trickster frowns and his green eyes shift to shiny blue that makes them tense up. "I guess you could say that." He pauses and stares at the three chips. "I don't kill innocents," he says lowly. "HYDRA is the opposite of what I stand for. You might not trust me but I'll help you."

Fury is surprised that there is nothing but honesty in his tone. The rest of them seemed to note the pure, genuine note to his voice and he finally got to ask something that he been drilling into his head for years.

"What's your actual name?" he demands. "I'm so sick of hearing 'Trickster' everywhere."

Not-Loki huffs. "You can call me Loki."

"You said you weren't Loki," counters Natasha.

"I said I'm not your Loki," he corrects.

There's a pause. "You're another Loki?" spits Fury in his namesake.

"Alternate universe," shrugs Alternate-Loki nonchalantly. "I was known as Loki there."

Sam chokes on air while Hill crosses her arms in disbelief.

"You just proved the multiverse theory…" says Natasha in a dead voice.

"Yep," grins Alternate-Loki. "I crossed over here and found the alternate version of myself."

"Your murderous, sociopath of one," adds Hill judgmentally.

"And you just so happen to be strong enough to take out three Helicarriers," drawls Natasha.

"Yep," smirks Alternate-Loki. He blinks, as if just realising something and the blue fades away to reveal his usual green eyes. "But if I did, I'd probably end up accidently destroying half the city." He sounds almost sheepish.

"…We'll go with the chips," sighs Steve. "You can teleport right, Tricks-Loki?"

"Yeah. But I dunno where to put them," says Loki with a shrug.

The group exchange glances. "We still need to worry about Pierce," reminds Hill.

"And the rest of the HYDRA agents," sighs Steve.

"We need to flush the rest of them out from SHIELD as well," interjects Sam.

Loki snickers. "Looks like we've got work to do then."

The team doesn't trust him all that much. They don't want to give him too big of a role since they're wary that he might double-cross him but if they want to take down the Helicarriers quickly and safely, they need his teleporting ability. Sam remains pretty sceptical of his abilities until Loki snaps his fingers and makes the Captain America's previously locked up suit appear out of nowhere.

Nonetheless, Loki is given the three chips with explicit instructions about timing, place and engagement. He listens (surprisingly) and no one can spare another dubious comment about him possessing an alternate version of himself.

And the plan is set in motion.

Captain America speaks through the entire base and loyalties come into question.

Agents X, Y and Z know exactly who they're going to fight for (even if they're inexperienced) and a battle breaks out between the long-time enemies of SHIELD and HYDRA. The three Helicarriers are slowly rising from the water and Loki quickly teleports in and out, avoiding attention.

He knows just how important his role is and if he messes this up, he'll be held accountable for millions of dead innocents and never regain any credibility again.

So he does as he was told and he slips the chips into the correct slots, snapping his fingers to hold his potential enemies unconscious. They probably won't wake but Loki can't bring himself to pity them.

And then things go wrong.

Sam gets shot down and Loki watches as he falls through the air in an uncontrolled descent. His engines are completely demolished and just as Loki contemplates saving him, the damn Winter Soldier of all people sprays bullets at him. Loki grimaces as his skin is torn to shreds.

He heals instantly but the Winter Soldier is already reloading, quickly advancing on him as well.

If you see the Winter Soldier, I don't care what happens, get him out of there.

Loki snaps his fingers, forcefully teleporting the Winter Soldier out of the Helicarrier and grimaces at his excessive use of Grace in the past hour alone. Sam is still falling from the sky and it's pretty obvious that even if he lands in the water, he'll die.

He can't teleport him out since he's gained too much momentum and the only option is to fly him out. However, if he uses his wings, the supernatural energy of his own essence would overpower the delicate chip he still has remaining. Making a split-second decision, he bolts over to the system and calls down the one he needs before shoving the chip inside and informing his allies (unnecessarily) that it's finished through his com.

Then he quite literally wings it.

Sam doesn't have the time to be thankful because he's puking his guts out by water. His mechanical disgrace (hah) of wings clack behind him, smoking and weighs him down. Loki scratches the back of his neck and wonders where the Winter Soldier went.

He can hear the Helicarriers groaning in the air as they take aim at each other and mentally congratulates himself. "Loki! Look out!" shouts Sam, eyes wide in shock.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

It's actually quite disorientating to realise that your face is completely shredded and your head is basically more metal and shrapnel than actual organic pieces. In fact, this has never happened before in his life. The shock factor and the power of the bullets is enough to knock him over.

He hits the floor and instantly starts regenerating his skull, vanishing the numerous pieces of metal in his brain and pulling his face together. With his not-so-human senses, he can tell that the Winter Soldier (dick) is engaged with Sam and is quite thoroughly beating the Falcon up. Loki knows that he's going to raise more questions with his miracle recovery but he can't just let the guy die after saving his life, can he?

So he pulls himself together within half a minute and with a wave of his hand, slams the assassin into a tree. He spits out a glob of blood and is at Sam's side in a second, knocking him out. The Winter Soldier picks himself up robotically and frowns at Loki before advancing once more.

"Screw you," he grumbles and is suddenly in the assassin's face, fingers on his forehead and a pulse of Grace sending the soul (weary, thin and disturbingly blank) into a deep sleep. He blinks at the two unconscious men before deciding to erase Sammy's memory of him getting back up.

And when he turns to the Winter Solider, pity spears him.

While his body is young, his soul is so very tired and aged. It's scarred and screams, split between being a programmed, obedient soldier and a simple war-weary brother. Loki makes a decision after a close examine and a heavy dose of sympathy.

He crouches down by the poor man, examining his aged soul and puts two fingers on his forehead.

His com is destroyed of course and there's just the right amount of blood and brain-matter on the ground. He personally doesn't like having bits and pieces of himself drying in the dirt but in the end, he just snaps up a body double and leaves it there. It'll decompose pretty fast so he doesn't have to worry. A little tweaking of memory and everything is set.

Loki has done the KIA act before. He's even done the Missing-Presumed-Dead act with his thousands of siblings and he knows how to pull it off again.

And in a flutter of wings, he – quite literally – vanishes off the face of the planet.

"You collect, huh?"

The man stiffened, shocked into silence and turned (faster than his usual, lethargic pace of mystery) to see a tall man with sly, bright green eyes, black hair and a general scruffy look to him standing in the middle of the museum. He most certainly didn't belong there and had a certain sharp tang in his aura that was entirely unfamiliar. In his hands, a large plastic bag of confectionary is being steadily consumed before his eyes.

"And…who might you be?" he asked elegantly.

"An interested party," he replied instantly, turning his back on the 'ancient being' and started wandering through the museum. "What do I call you?"

"I am the Collector," he said, eyeing his new (never-before-seen) specimen that did not yet have a display in his collection. "And you?" He followed behind the man as he drifted between the rare objects and beings on display.

The man wrinkled his nose at a partially decomposed corpse in a glass box and quickened his pace. "I'm The Trickster," he said after a moment.

"Trickster," repeated the Collector thoughtfully. "I have never heard of such a thing."

"I'm glad," retorted the Trickster. "If you had a Trickster in one of these…cages, I'd demolish this place. Just on principle."

"I see," allowed the Collector evenly. "May I ask how you found your way into my museum?"

The Trickster glanced back at the Collector before shrugging. "I was looking for somewhere safe to store something but this place is really starting to creep me out."

The Collector was understandably offended. "This the largest collection of interstellar relics, fauna and potentially endangered species in the universe. This is not…creepy. This is a museum."

The Trickster didn't share his sentiment. "Right…"

The Collector blinked, realising something. "You wished to store something here?"

"I did," drawled the Trickster. "But I've changed my mind."

"And why is that?" questioned the Collector. "I can assure you, it would be quite safe here."

The Trickster gave him a drool look. "That's what I'm worried about." He spun around lazily at the intersection. "This universe is weird. What the hell is that?" He points to an ancient-looking tome with some indecipherable text.

"That speaks of an extinct race," he sniffed. "It was quite a prize and has been with-"

"Blah, blah, blah," interrupted the Trickster rudely. He quirked an eyebrow at the affronted look on the Collector's face and finished his candy. He scrunched up the packaging and threw it behind him. The Collector was about to comment when it promptly burst into flames in mid-air. The Collector's interest peaked.

"What are you capable of, Mr. Trickster?" he implored.

The Trickster snickered. "All sorts of things."

"I bid you to tell me all about your kind."

The Trickster paused, swinging around to face him. "Why you interested?"

"I have never heard of a Trickster before," he said. "I have lived for a very long time and never has such a thing reached my ears."

"I can assure you," smirked the Trickster. "I'm one of a kind."

"How fascinating," mused the Collector. "May I collect some samples from you, Mr. Trickster?"

"Of what? My brain?"

"If you'd volunteer samples of your brain I would happily accept them," said the Collector brightly.

The Trickster rolled his eyes. "No thanks," he snorted. "My brain stays in my head." He blinked thoughtfully and pondered the state of his body double.

"I see," acknowledged the Collector. "Perhaps you could tell me about yourself, then?"

"What do you wanna know?"

"Your origins and unique abilities would suffice," noted the Collector.

"What do I get out of this?" he drawled.

The Collector paused. "What would you wish? If it is money I could pay you handsomely. I might even part with a few rare specimens should your tale satisfy me."

The Trickster stopped, halfway up the metal staircase to the second floor. "You seem to think that I want something from you," he said sourly. The two olde beings regarded each other for a heavy moment. "I think I'll take my leave," he announced, coming to yet another decision. "Your hospitality knows no ends." His voice was deeply sarcastic but neither commented.

"Very well," allowed the Collector after a terse second. "Would you allow me to see you to the exit?"

"If you will," said the Trickster.

They made their way to the arching exit when a red-skinned girl made her way inside, quickly followed by a ragtag group of four individuals. The Collector and the Trickster blinked at that and the meticulously dressed guide bowed to the man, trying to hide her fear.

The Trickster's presence was not received well.

"Who's that?" demanded the raccoon creature. The Trickster eyed them with bird-like curiosity and the Collector cleared his throat.

"Ah, Mr. Trickster I believe I have clients now. Thank you for your visit and I hope you will return in the near future," he said, inclining his head.

The green-skinned woman reminded him of a certain redhead back on Earth and as he studied each of them inquisitively, the expectant silence drew out. "Mr. Trickster," repeated the Collector.

The Trickster flicked his bright green eyes to the Collector and shrugged. "Yeah fine. Don't expect me to be back though. I made my decision."

"Unfortunate," accepted the Collector. "It was a pleasure then."

"Right…" he drawled. He smirked wider and snapped his fingers, vanishing.

There was a burst of shock from all of them and the green-skinned girl glanced around warily. There was a general round of what-the-hell-was-that but the Collector had no answers, just a cold, calculating curiosity.

As much as it looked like it, he wasn't actually gone.

It wasn't hard going invisible and he was admittedly curious about what the Collector was planning with the group. He hadn't liked seeing the fear on the red-skinned girl's face but there was nothing he could do about it yet without making a powerful enemy.

The group quickly got on with their business and he followed them back to the main aisle where some sort of machine hummed. An intricate orb was placed in the Collector's hands and was then pulled apart to reveal a shockingly familiar power.

Another one? I've got one, SHIELD has one, Asgard has one and now these guys?

He was instantly cautious though. He of all people knew how powerful the ingot could be and the way it pulsed in its raw form did not sooth his fear. The Collector recounted the history of the 'Infinity Stones' and he narrowed his eyes as it generated about the Infinity Stones' cataclysmic past.

And the red-skinned girl walked forward, mesmerised.

"Ow," he groaned, rubbing his skin. "That was some explosion…"

He wasn't heard of course and the completely demolished museum rumbled.

The Trickster sighed and left, feeling out the presence of the aptly named 'Orb' and deciding to follow it. There wasn't much else he could do and he most certainly wasn't planning on letting millions of innocents die to some power-hungry fool.

Until the place was abruptly surrounded by an invading force and The Trickster observed just for the sake of it.

He'd seen some space battles before, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, so he finds that this is somewhat boring.

The end result was almost predictable and when the apparently last member of the team was retrieved, The Trickster wondered if he could ever be part of something like that.

You seem very lonely. Why would you isolate yourself on his war-torn dimension?

"Hi," he drawled, appearing with a snap of his fingers.

The racoon jumped in shock and the tree-being groaned at the speed that it turned to face him. The last member of the group merely coughed out more yellow syrup and spluttered. "Who the hell are you?" growled the racoon waving the large gun.

"I'm The Trickster," he said blandly. "You looked like you could use some help."

"And why would we want some help from someone like you?" snapped the creature.

He shrugged with a bored smirk. "Why not?"

"I am Groot," said Groot. Rocket cackled.

"He does, doesn't he?" he agreed spitefully.

The Trickster sucked on a lollipop and ignored them, going over what he knew from the Aether. Unlike the other 'Infinity Stones', it was fluid and seemed to based more on transforming reality from one to another. The purple one, as shown was purely an infinite amount of power that couldn't be harnessed.

Well, not easily at least.

Personally, while he wasn't the epitome of 'careful' he didn't really want to try his hand against something that was supposedly infinite in power. Yes, he regarded himself quite highly (oh give it up, he's allowed to) but he could already warp reality to his own desires without the easily corruptive power of the Aether.

In the pictures from before, he'd quickly deduced that the red stone had to be the physical form of the Aether. Absently, he wondered about the Celestials, as well as the original creators of the singularities. Comparatively, his true form would obliterate a Celestial but he wasn't entirely sure how to go about actually attacking a physical form that large.

"Oi, Tracer," called Rocket. "What are you doing?"

"Trickster," he corrected absentmindedly.

Rocket scoffed and waved a dismissive hand...or paw, really. "Answer the question."

"I'm thinking," he said. "Something you don't seem capable of doing."

Rocket squawked indignantly and ranted about how he was a guest on their ship and that they would readily throw or sell him out if they found any profit in it. The Trickster huffed. "What's the plan then?" he reminded pointedly.

Rocket closed his mouth and then grinned wickedly.

"Mr. Trickster," said the newly introduced Gamora. "Did he send you or something?"

"Who?" spat Quill in confusion. "Trickster?"

"How are you males so forgetful?" sighed Gamora irately.

"Why would you think creepy Collector and I would be anything near friends?" The Trickster huffed. Gamora studied him carefully.

"Why were you there?"

He blinked. "Same reason as you actually," he said. "Wanted to see if an item was safe in his hands." They had no idea just how alike the 'item' was.

"Not very," she commented. He nodded sagely.

"Yeah I had a five minute conversation with him and he was asking for samples of my brain," he shivered. Gamora gave him a vaguely pitying look.

Quill eyed them, bewildered. "Err. Hi," he interjected. "I'm Star Lord."

Gamora glared at him while Mr. Trickster blinked. "His name is Peter Quill," dismissed Gamora. "A stupid Terran." Quill shot Gamora a dirty look.

"The Trickster."

"That's not your name," deadpanned Quill. "If I call you 'Trickster' then you call me 'Star Lord'."

The Trickster shrugged. "Sure. Quill."

The man scowled and Gamora laughed mockingly.

"Not so fast," demurs The Trickster, snapping his fingers.

Ronan goes flying into a wall, much to everybody's shock. The straining magical (or whatever it is) wall of the Corps' fleet is desperately trying to keep the giant ship from crashing into the city and The Trickster stands tall (this time he can actually say that) between the soldiers and the empowered but crazed Kree, a shiny, short but wickedly sharp sword in hand.

The Kree pulls himself free quickly and roars in outrage. The Trickster snaps his fingers again and the entire ragtag group of allies are transported from the ship in a flash of light. "Now it's just you and me," The Trickster smirks.

Ronan glares darkly at him and laughs tauntingly. "You think that you'd win a fight against ME?"

"I sure do," retorts The Trickster. "Like this."

And before Ronan the Accuser can act, there's a hand on his face and his very existence his screaming in pain before imploding into a blinding flash of light.

The hammer – or Cosmi-Rod – booms when it hits the scorched floor and the Power Stone slams into the ship. The Trickster doesn't even have time to say 'oh shit'.

The Dark Aster erupts into an explosive purple mass of bits and pieces and the ship is groaning as the engines cut out and falls to the ground by sheer gravity.

And the destruction is incalculable.

There are no survivors from the Dark Aster and the city is partially demolished.

The Power Gem is never recovered in the aftermath and The Trickster's ultimate sacrifice is officially thanked. They have eye-witness accounts from the Nova Corps fleet of his sacrifice. After all, the being had died in the ship.

Right?

"You little shit," hisses Quill after he's able to scrape his jaw off the floor.

The Trickster smirks and waggles his eyebrows. "You mean tall, right?"

"Trickster," blurts Gamora in shock. "We thought you died."

"Psh," scoffs The Trickster. "As if. Anyway, I thought I'd give this back," he grins cockily, throwing an orb at Quill that hadn't been in his hand a second before. Quill catches it through reflex and his brain explodes out of shock.

Make that the Orb.

"You retrieved it?" breathes Gamora, staring at the item in Quill's hands.

"Well I couldn't leave it lying around," dismisses The Trickster. "And I can't look after two so I'm giving it to you for safekeeping."

"Two?" repeats Rocket faintly, holding his Groot-twig's pot.

"Well yeah," affirms The Trickster. "What did you think I was going to give the Collector when we first met?" he asks rhetorically. There's a pause.

"You have an Infinity Stone?" shrieks Quill.

The Trickster rolls his eyes. "It's more trouble than it's worth," he assures blithely, ignoring the actual problem. "Eh, give it to the Nova Corps. They look like nice chaps."

The self-proclaimed Guardians of the Galaxy can't bring themselves to speak and The Trickster smirks widely. "See you round then, heroes."

And before they can stop him, he snaps his fingers and is gone.

Heimdall stands silently when he appears.

"Hey Heimdall," greets Loki cheerily, standing behind the gatekeeper as usual.

"Good afternoon Loki," intones Heimdall. "I see your vacation was fruitful."

"It was very purple," allows Loki. "How's Thor and rest of the family?"

"Thor has returned to his allies on Midgard and is being prepared for Kingship in the near future," announces the All-Seer. There is a rueful tone in his voice. "The only remaining heir to the throne doesn't want his own inheritance."

"Can't blame him," says Loki breezily. "This place is boring."

Heimdall has an almost annoyed tone when he next speaks. "Even so, Asgard keeps the peace throughout the Nine Realms and without it, trillions of souls may fall into jeopardy."

"Not their souls," corrects Loki. "Their lives."

"Is there a difference?"

"Where I'm from, souls are very different from lives," notes Loki, revealing a rare tidbit of information.

"How so?"

"Well when you die your soul goes to another place," drawls Loki. "Souls are quite literally power to some creatures." He shrugs but Heimdall does not see it. "The lines between life and death can be cheated where I'm from."

"That does not seem fair," says Heimdall quietly.

"No it's not," agrees Loki. "But that's the way of things. The Natural Order."

"Not here," counters Heimdall.

Loki smirks. "Not here," he echoes. "And I'd like to keep it this way."

When he returns to his favourite planet, he is invisible.

Loki is not a subtle guy.

He's used to being epic, flashy, bright and cheerful and he's always considered himself the 'freest' of all his many siblings. It's not just cocky arrogance that fuels his own identity but the self-assured experience from his age and his own self-imposed judgement on those he thinks deserves it. He's hidden amongst humans for the better part of six millennia and while he knows how to keep the attention of the supernatural eyes away from himself, he's perfectly used to hiding in plain sight.

But being invisible…it's just so…boring.

He gets the sense that he's waiting for something to actually meet his own power strength and wonders if the Infinity Stones really could destroy him. He's not used to the thought. In this universe, he has no weaknesses. His simplest skills are considered godly and while he doesn't voice it, he feels almost afraid of his own power.

No one makes us do anything.

This universe is weird. He's not entirely sure if it's a good weird or a bad weird but he's sort of desensitised to the horrors that humans can inflict. The universe breaks its own laws of existence quite often, he muses. Like his own existence here, the Infinity Stones must be THE hacks of the universe. Or if you want to be picky…the multiverse.

That's the only explanation he has when he decides to check up on Stone he'd lent to SHIELD and finds two siblings in cages in a place that most definitely is not a SHIELD base.

"Stop the war?" she repeated. "How would you help us?"

The man smiled. It was slimy and she had already pegged him as someone she did not want by her side. He gave her the sense he had seen- done -terrible things and had viewed it as a miracle.

"I can give you power," the man said. "The power to change the world."

"I don't believe you," she spat. Her brother put a hand on her shoulder and stepped forward, a frown on his features. But the moment she saw the desperate, tired glint in her brother's eyes, she knew that she couldn't say no.

"That was a bad idea," said a voice.

Everything froze, stopped in time, and Wanda startled, swinging her hands around and almost giving herself whiplash to face the newcomer. The intruder.

"How did you get here?" she hissed, nervously glancing at her frozen brother. The man looked strangely familiar with glinting green eyes and a sharp smirk. His build was lithe, she noted and she couldn't help but internally appraise his pointed features as a rather handsome man.

"I was curious," said the new man, leaning casually against the wall. "It's not every day that a human becomes psychic through the use of a stolen artefact."

"You don't know what it's like," she spat, nose upturned. "My brother and I have been waiting for this for years!" She couldn't help the anger. It was questioning and belittling of everything she stood for and she was tired of it. She could finally do something about the evil Avengers and 'avenge' not only her family, but her people and her pride.

The man shrugged and made a placating motion with his hands. "No offence, but accepting that offer was just reckless," he judged, jutting a thumb in the scientist's direction.

Wanda swallowed and took another glance around, mentally trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "What…what are you? How am I here?"

The man smirked. "They call me The Trickster," he said. The name struck a familiar chord in her but she didn't know where it was from. "And I'm not the one who brought you here."

Wanda frowned, looking around before it clicked. "I'm dreaming," she realised, stunned. She stared at The Trickster and at her own surroundings once more. "Are you my…conscience?"

The Trickster snickered. "If I'm your conscience, you know you have problems," he laughed. Wanda didn't appreciate it. He waved a dismissive hand and stood straight. "Anyway, you have more…err, tests to do. I might hang around."

The wind howled outside and the house swayed slightly.

The two children could hear screaming, crying and a hundred, if not thousand footsteps outside but they were too afraid to speak. It was another slow day and even without speaking, they could tell that they were dying. It was an instinctive thing, to know that you were dying and they were no different. The house was slowly falling apart around them and there were dozens of holes in the floor. They did not risk moving.

In the distance, devastation hurled smoke into the sky and rescue teams scurried around, desperately trying to keep up with the dwindling amount of survivors.

Sirens screeched by and Wanda could feel the fear settling in that horrible pit in her tummy. "Someone," she whispered. "Please help us."

Pietro held her tighter in response.

Someone whistled lowly and Wanda's neck almost snapped as she turned to look at the vaguely familiar man in her house. "Now that's what you call traumatising," he said, flicking the inactive bomb with a pensive look.

"Trickster," Wanda recognised, desperately wondering if his extra weight would cause the house to cave in. If it did, the bomb could go off and then everyone would die. It meant that they had been hiding, staring at the words seared into her mind for a day and a half for no reason and-

"That's me," nodded the man swinging around casually. In his hands was a Cadbury chocolate bar and she stared uncomprehendingly for a long moment.

"It's a dream," she deadpanned. The entire dream froze at her acknowledgement and she stared at the destruction outside the window. "I didn't think that I'd remember this so well."

The Trickster shrugged. "It's a dream," he said as if it explained everything.

"You're here again. Why?" Her voice was stiff and there was no trust in her eyes.

"Why not?" countered The Trickster merrily. "You looked like you were dead on your feet before."

She scoffed bitterly. "We're learning. I…will master my powers."

She raised a hand and red energy writhed in her palm. It quickly faded away. The Trickster regarded the sight in interest. "Telekinesis is pretty simple," The Trickster told her after a moment. "You just need to want it."

Wanda frowned at him. "It's not like that."

"Sure it is," contradicted the figment of her imagination. "Most psychic abilities are all based around wanting things. If you want to move something with your mind you need to visualise it properly." He shrugged at the look on her face. "I'm just saying. You still need practise of course," he continued. "But the concept is really simple."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked rudely.

He blinked at her and snorted. "Again. Why not?"

The man was begging.

He was chained up of course. The scientists didn't want to have an actual fighting simulation yet so Wanda walked into the room, looking stubbornly determined to get it right.

The man in question seemed to realise that he would not be able to convince anyone to free himself and escape and started to pray. She strode up to him and almost lovingly caressed his face.

Red sparked around her fingers and-

The man's head exploded in a shower of gore and Wanda stared in shock at the warm, sticky syrup that dripped down her face. Another failure.

"You don't understand what you can do," said The Trickster, appearing by the door behind her. She twisted to face him and swallowed at the thick covering of red on her body. She felt utterly disgusting. "That's why you keep failing."

"I'm doing this to understand my abilities," she said with conviction, scrubbing the red from her eyes.

"That's not what you're doing," he said with a frown, stepping into the room properly. None of the guards or scientists had come yet and she didn't want them to come anyway. "You're thinking about your ability too much," he said. "It's about what you want. Not what you want your ability to do. You powers might not be natural but it's still a part of you."

"I don't understand," she said quietly.

The Trickster huffed. "Stop thinking in boxes," he tried again blithely. "You're psychic. You aren't 'Wanda' and 'power'. Your power is you."

"Whoa," muttered The Trickster. He blinked at the vast land before him and back at Wanda who was sitting by a tree. "This is different," he commented, walking up to her.

"I was feeling happy," she said. She gave him an almost grateful look. "I took your advice."

The Trickster gave her an appraising look. "And it worked."

"It worked," she echoed, pleased. "It was much easier."

"Now you're learning," he complimented.

"Thank you for your help," she nodded. "Trickster."

The Trickster paused. "Call me Loki."

"Loki?" she repeated, pretty sure that she knew that name. "The Loki who fought the Avengers?"

"No. Another Loki," he sighed with a long-suffering scowl.

Wanda squinted at him and leaned back against the tree. "Okay. Loki it is then."

"I used my powers today," said Wanda. The Trickster shot her a look.

"You use them every day," he drawled.

"No. I mean I used them properly," she huffed. "On the Avengers."

"Like that's any different," he muttered.

"It is!" she insisted. "They are horrible, terrible people who kill indiscriminately and get away with it!"

He squinted at her. "You really believe that," he realised in surprise. Wanda's face went dark. "Wanda," he began. "The Avengers are people."

"They're evil people," she countered stubbornly. "They killed my parents. They-"

"You can't blame six people for all the wrongs in your life," he interrupted forcefully. "They were doing their jobs. They saved the world. Multiple times."

"And they sacrificed thousands of people to do it!" she snapped. "Why are you against me on this?"

"Because you're learning," he said quietly after a moment. His tone was very serious. "Because while you have the right to make your own decisions, you need to be prepared for the consequences."

She blanched. "I know that."

"Sure you do," quipped The Trickster mockingly. There was an ancient, old abyss in his eyes that Wanda was afraid to look into. "Wake up kid."

"Leave me alone," she hissed.

The Trickster studied her with a raised eyebrow and shrugged. "You don't want to be alone."

"You don't know that," she snapped. "Traitor."

He shot her a bemused look. "I do know that."

She grimaced. She couldn't fight a figment of her own imagination now could she? "Are you here to lecture me?"

"Lecture you?" repeated Loki incredulously. He laughed. "No way."

She stared at him. "What are you here for then?"

"Just checking in," he smirked.

There was a silence as Wanda figured out what she could say. "I chose my side," she summarised.

"I know," he chirped. "Always a good thing."

She sighed. "A better world."

He paused. "Is that what they're call it these days?" He gave her a hard look. "Look around, human. This is what you're fighting for."

He gestured to their surroundings and Wanda's eyes went wide at her the dead fields in Ultron's vison.

"I think I understand now," she said, standing at a crossroads. The train tracks went on endlessly in four different directions and she stood right in the middle.

"Hmm?"

"This is a dream," she accepted, looking into the distance. "'A better world'. That's a dream. But...it is not my dream."

He said nothing.

"I'm going to wake up and we're going stop Tony Stark," she told herself. "Because his dream of peace is the same as Ultron's. Because I know that what I am fighting for isn't what he is."

The Trickster, unnoticed, just smiled. It was a proud smile. "Attagirl."

"Why you?" she asked, settling into the dream quickly. The Trickster noted that she was getting too used to his presence and mentally decided that he could not visit so often anymore.

"What about me?"

"You're a figment of my imagination," she said, sure of herself. "Why in the form of…Loki?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "You really napped just to ask me that?"

"Yes."

"…Well-" He stopped, alert and swore. "Sorry Wanda. Gotta go."

There was a flash of yellow and red light and he was gone.

Wanda Maximoff woke up violently and drew the attention of the Avengers as she gasped awake.

"Wanda?" cried Pietro, zooming over. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she panted, blinking away the dots in her sight.

"A dream-walker," said Vision, striding into the room. The Avengers looked over at the being in confusion. "I purged it from your mind."

"What?" she breathed. Loki? Dream-walker?

"A dream-walker," Vision repeated. "A being entered your dreams. I could feel its presence and thought that it would be best to remove it."

"Dream-walker?" echoed Pietro, staring at his sister.

"It's nothing," she said quickly. "I'm fine."

She got to her feet quickly, shrugged off the confused, cautious auras of the Avengers and walked away, planning to hide out. Pietro stared at her back in shock.

"What's a dream-walker?" asked Pietro when she disappeared.

Vision studied the exit that Wanda had left through. "A being that invades someone's dreamscape."

"Did it hurt her?" hissed Pietro.

"No," said Vision. "But it can influence the dreamer."

"I have never heard of such a thing," said Thor with a frown.

"They are widely believed to be a myth," allowed Vision. "It…was strange."

"Strange?"

"It felt…familiar."

The Aether rips free from its pocket dimension and screams at him.

Loki hisses and winces at the darkening colours of the red Infinity Stone before pulling holy light into his palm and pushing it back.

"Damn Infinity Stones…"

The Aether is wild, angry and severely weakened, desperate for a host. It's angry that it was pulled from its last host so violently and strikes out at him. He resolves to prove just who is stronger to the sentient energy. The thing is, the Aether isn't all that different to the Darkness, just a little different in nature.

It rewrites reality to its own or its wielder's selfish, power-hungry gain or desire and for any primordial being of infinite power, it really is limited to what it can do comparatively. Loki adjusts reality to his own amusement every other day and he outdates the universe itself.

So he will not lose.

After all, he technically is beyond reality itself. Sort of.

And that is how he misses the epic fight between Ultron and the Avengers.

Ultimately (read: childishly), Loki blames Vision for the distraction but he knows that's pretty unfair so he blames his naivety. The Mind-Stone-Powered AI is very young by Loki's standards (especially Loki's standards) and in the end, it really isn't Vision's fault for driving him out of Wanda's dreams and freaking the Aether out like that.

Loki cannot visit the 'new' Avengers with Vision around since the Aether doesn't respond well to the other Infinity Stone. While he's a little upset that he couldn't say goodbye to his little psychic protégée, he knows that in the end, he will most likely see her again in the future.

And that's good enough for him.

Unknown to him, Wanda delves deep into the newly restored SHIELD files and brings up everything she can on The Trickster and Loki.

When she sees the images of his dead body, she frowns and makes yet another decision. She twists the red energy around her hand and smiles gratefully.

Time in itself passes.

Wanda doesn't mention the dream-walker and no one asks.

The new Avengers team gets sent out after a few tipoffs about some new uprising of The Trickster but as it turns out, The Trickster is considered quite the urban myth and copycats arise. The actual Trickster hasn't shown up but unknown to them, the real one occasionally puts the fear of the true Trickster in the copycats, especially if the prank was plain bad or the casualty was innocent.

Thor never mentions what Loki did on Svartalfheim and the new giant crater on the distant planet is enough for the Asgardian royalty to let him go. The Aether is believed destroyed by Thor's hand.

The Guardians of the Galaxy hand the Orb, deflecting questions expertly, to the Nova Corps and set out to find The Trickster and their next great adventure.

Heimdall keeps the Tesseract hidden within the secure vault of Asgard's depths, far from its siblings.

Vision knows the ancient history of his crown and vows to aid humanity with its power.

The Aether finally bows to its new master and accepts that its power is not needed.

The Time Stone waits.

And the Soul Stone seethes.

"Longing," murmurs Helmut Zemo in Russian. "Rusted."

James Barnes glares at the man from inside his restrains but says nothing.

"Furnace," he continues, "Daybreak, seventeen."

The Winter Soldier peeks through but is squashed down.

"Benign, nine, homecoming," growls Zemo, eyes narrow. "One. Freight car."

The Winter Soldier stares out of one eye and James Barnes stares out the other.

"You will not control me," he breathes. "Never again."

Zemo knows that he has run out of time and bangs a fist on the heavy-duty glass of the cage in pure frustration. "Why didn't it work?!" he snarls. "What happened?"

"I came along," chirps a voice. The two swing their gazes around to stare at the man who's mysteriously appeared in the corner. "And I didn't like how he was brainwashed."

The Trickster slurps loudly on a can of soft drink and Zemo blinks, utterly bewildered. The Winter Soldier calculates uncomprehendingly. "I thought you died," he said lowly – his first proper words since his capture.

"Psh, as if," snorts The Trickster. He steps into the light and snaps his fingers. The Winter Soldier flinches but it is Zemo who is teleported away. "Now the electricity grid is down. So tell me. What's the big deal?" He finishes his drink and throws it at a wall over his shoulder.

Barnes isn't sure if he can trust the being but he knows that the only reason he isn't on a rampage right now is because of him. After the fall of HYDRA there as a strange dichromatic clarity to his own thoughts and he differentiated between the Winter Soldier and himself. "Super Soldier Serum," he reveals after a moment. "Like me. But stronger."

The Trickster blinks. "That's it?"

Barnes glares at him. "They are unstoppable in the right circumstances."

The Trickster smirks. "They haven't met me." The Winter Soldier knows that The Trickster – Loki – can teleport but he doesn't know much else about his abilities. There is a lot of different controversy about his skill set and most believe that he can create life or objects with just a snap of his fingers.

The Winter Soldier decides that it's feasible.

"What are you going to do?" he then asks.

"Depends," grins The Trickster. "Where's the evildoers?"

He shakes his head. "Take me with you."

Loki pauses. He eyes the captured man for a long moment and sirens shriek in the background. They are running out of time. "Alright. I'll take you," says Loki. He snaps his fingers and the cage cracks, glass and metal parting neatly in half. An application of strength later, the Winter Soldier is free. "Where to, Captain?"

"I'm not the Captain," Barnes says automatically. The door bangs loudly and draws both Loki and Barnes' eyes to it. "HYDRA showed me your file," mutters Barnes. "You don't want to...?" He studies Loki. "Siberia," he discloses eventually.

Loki's green depths are shrewd and there's a strange kind of respect that shines through.

You're willing to die for a pile of cockroaches?

"Siberia it is." He snaps his fingers and the two of them are gone.

The Trickster knows that they'll figure it out quickly.

With Zemo trapped in an endless Trickster's Box of Torment and Trauma and the Winter Soldier gone, they'll look for answers.

Only a Trickster can teleport out so easily and the can of orange Slice shouts his presence to the universe. Wanda probably had already figured it out and it's not exactly the first time he's faked his death.

First things first, he needs to get rid of the next threat that could kill millions of people.

Loki brings James Barnes along because of two things: his knowledge, and, more importantly, the fact that he can always respect someone who fights and dies for something they believe in.

"Look!" calls Agent X. "Here." The former SHIELD agent shows the investigative group a can of soft drink lying abandoned on the floor. Already, Agent X has a bad feeling about this.

"The Trickster?" screeches Agent Z. "He's back?!"

"Loki is dead," says Steve warily. "The Winter Soldier killed him."

"Another crime to add to the list," mutters Ross. "Wait. Did you say Trickster?" he splutters. "The guy who killed hundreds of people in America and London a couple of years ago?"

"Yes," says Agent Y. "But he helped take down the original SHIELD during the HYDRA purge and was killed by the Winter Soldier in the aftermath."

"And you're saying he's back because…?" prompts Ross.

"High sugar diet," explains Agent X, pointing at the can. "Trickster thing. And The Trickster is the only guy who could really do this anyway."

"What about the interrogator?" demands Ross.

"Guys!" calls another agent. "You're gonna wanna look at this."

On the floor, abandoned, is an old red leather book with a star on the cover.

"What did you do to me?" asks Barnes when they get inside. "After I…he shot you?"

"After you shot me in the head?" summarises Loki in amusement. Barnes grimaces. "I cracked the programming a bit. Restored a few memories."

Barnes blanches. "How?"

Loki rolls his eyes. "As scary as HYDRA might seem, they barely scratched the surface about the mental arts. They suppressed your personality to make the Winter Soldier, kiddo. You, as James Barnes, are the one who buried your memories."

Barnes swallows and keeps walking, effortlessly navigating the dark, damp place. "I don't remember everything," he says. "Bits and pieces." He pauses. "Steve."

Loki sniggers. "Someone's got a man-crush."

Barnes growls. "I do not."

"Eh, I know the truth," says Loki breezily as he saunters behind his guide.

"Shut up."

"This guy, Zemo, he put a shit ton of notes in this," reveals Steve darkly. "He's controlling Bucky." His fist hits the table hard and the more fragile objects on it tremble.

The glass meeting room is considerably full and the pieces of evidence lay on the table. There's dozens of pictures, preliminary investigation reports, expert opinions on the explosion and more. The actual interrogator had been found dead after a call from a hotel and there were images from the scene. "Controlling him through HYDRA programming," specifies Sam in disgust.

Tony isn't taking it all that well. While Steve is angry, Tony is a mix of horrified and enraged. "It's got information on my parents in there," he says, repeating the same sentence for the tenth time. "Murdered."

"I think you need to focus on the fact that there are more bloody Winter Soldiers out there!" growls Ross. "I can't believe this."

"Avengers," suggests Steve, giving Ross a sharp look. "We can take them down."

"And me," interjects T'Challa, eyeing the book in distaste. "I will bring this…Zemo to justice."

"And him," adds Steve. Ross glares at the few Avengers-plus-King.

"What about The Trickster?" asks Agent Z as one of the foremost experts on the being. Ever since they'd caught the Trickster years ago, the three Agents are seen as the most knowledgeable about the being. The promotion only did bad things to Agent X's ego.

"He's dead," insists Sam. The Trickster did save his life but he was there when the guy's head caved in. If a person can survive that, Sam isn't sure if someone like that should exist.

"If he's still around, he's undoubtedly helping Bucky," explains Steve. "He doesn't hurt innocents."

"Neither of them are innocent," snaps Ross pointedly. "And this…trickster needs to be brought to justice." His face tightens. "Just like the Avengers."

"Seriously?" drawls Tony. "We're handing you our services on a silver platter, Ross. I think we can all agree that more Winter Soldiers are bad." None of them mention Loki or the slight against the Avengers as a whole.

The Avengers-persons all agree with him. Each for a different reason.

Ross scowls. He's well aware that he probably wouldn't win this. Siberia isn't part of the Accords, or who'd signed on either. And the fact that HYDRA was still around unnerves him enough. This trickster itself is already a concern. Ross is backed into a corner with this decision.

There's really only one thing to do.

"Thank you," says Barnes. "For what you did."

Loki blinks. "No problem-o."

Barnes shoots him a look and Loki sighs expressively.

"Look. I didn't do it because I wanted something from you, kid. I just don't like brainwashing."

He remembers the thousands of siblings and their devolution from a family to a military campaign. I must obey.

Barnes is quiet as they reach their location and the two step into a large, dome-like room with five cryostasis pods. "What now?"

Loki hums thoughtfully. "Catch," he says, snapping his fingers.

A bazooka appears in his hands and Barnes struggles under the weight of the sudden object. "You can do the honours," he smirks.

The first and original Winter Soldier stares at the weapon in his hands and shrugs. "I'll need to do it point blank. One for each as well."

Loki snaps his fingers again and more rockets appear at his feet. The Winter Soldier doesn't really like how the Trickster can so easily snap things into existence. But he can't complain. He hadn't really had much of a plan when he'd directed the entity to the facility anyway.

He walks up to a glass cage, aims carefully and fires.

They call in reinforcements. They aren't entirely sure if Loki is good or bad, no matter what Steve and/or Sam says. Nonetheless, they have five evil Winter Soldiers, a wronged Winter Soldier and an 'unknown' that they have to face – maybe even a huge undiscovered HYDRA base, insists Tony.

So they call in a bit more than expected.

Ironman and War Machine go first.

Falcon hangs behind in the Quinjet with Captain America, Black Panther and Black Widow.

Vision and Scarlet Witch are called to Siberia in another craft after a fierce debate that falls in Wanda's favour after mentioning a certain dream-walker.

Falcon picks up some guy called Ant-Man while Ironman asks for some guy called Spiderman. Hell, even Hawkeye is called out of retirement from a debt owed.

And a bunch of superheroes from all over the place convene in a single location.

Loki snacks on some ice-cream.

Barnes reloads after checking that the first victim is paste.

"They're coming soon," alerts Loki after a thoughtful moment.

Barnes grimaces, grits his teeth and fires again.

Unnoticed in the mess, an important feed to the pods ruptures and starts an automatic, emergency process. Barnes reloads for the second time. "Two down," he reports. Loki nods.

"Better hurry," he says. "They're here."

Ironman and War Machine, having arrived first, follow follow the explosions. There's no blueprints so they have to scan for life signs themselves.

Outside, the jet lands and more people enter the facility.

"Three down. Two to go," reports Barnes, swallowing roughly.

He reloads and Loki blinks, mentally considering each possibility. They can both hear the metallic thumps as the two men step into the facility's center.

Ironman stares at the destruction and watches bewildered as James Barnes reloads a bloody bazooka. "Wow," he comments, carefully shielding the anger in his voice. The suit whirs and Ironman catches a glimpse of Loki, chewing on a bag of skittles.

I mean to rule the Earth. And why should I not?

"Welcome to the party," greets Loki, looking back at Barnes who has paused.

No one notices a weak flutter of eyelashes.

"You're blowing them up?" spits War Machine in shock. "What kind of plan is that?"

Loki shrugs delicately. "You know: 'don't leave evidence' and all that."

Barnes finishes reloading and heaves the bazooka onto his shoulder when the glass shatters on the last cryostasis pod and a man tumbles out. There's a stunned pause as the new Winter Soldier gasps for breaths outside his cryopod and Loki groans. "And it was going so perfectly," he sighs.

"Err…" says Ironman. The Winter Soldier recovers surprisingly quickly and Barnes makes a decision. The bazooka goes off and destroys the fourth and second last pod before he drops the device and lunges for the last of the Super Soldier Serum's legacy.

Loki knows this isn't his fight anymore and that the Avengers need to fix their own problems and loyalties by themselves. With that thought, he snaps his fingers, depositing an unconscious and slightly traumatised Helmut Zemo by the railing.

Barnes continues to fight the other Winter Soldier and the rest of the Avengers-plus-King-plus-other-random-people slow to a stop by the entrance. Loki mentally sighs and thanks his Dad that Wanda and the other Infinity Stone dude aren't there yet (but quickly approaching) before waggling his eyebrows at the assembled Avengers, smirking and vanishing with a snap of his fingers.

The final Winter Soldier falls to the combined might of the Avengers and then it's time to face the music with the Accords and for fighting not only for what they believe in, but ultimately for their freedom.

While Loki doesn't hang around for that but he does know that the Avengers team splits between accepting the Accords and eventually breaks up the entire team.

He feels vaguely sorry for the other 'specially-enhanced' people who were dragged into this but in the end, the Accords are a massive hurdle that they all need to get over. Eventually it'll affect everyone so they might as well work on it now.

It's pretty explosive.

In the end, the entire HYDRA facility is levelled, Ironman's faction returns to being part of the Accords and dumps Zemo in prison while Captain America's faction secretly 'hides out' in Wakanda under the rule of the Black Panther.

All in all, Loki feels that he's done a good job keeping out of this mess and also managing to alleviate his boredom.

He smirks and drops a bunch of candy wrappers.

And The Trickster returns to America's streets.

He's careful this time and they don't ever catch him.

You won't catch a Trickster when they don't want to be found after all.

"Nameless," said the Trickster.

The woman startled, dropping the olde book in her hands and blinked at the man that appeared in the empty courtyard. "Traveller," she acknowledged evenly. "It has been a long time."

"A couple years," nodded Loki. He glanced around Kamar-Taj and whistled. "Magic, huh?"

"Yes," she said, examining him. "This is the main base of the Masters of the Mystic Arts."

"Inter-dimensional threats, right?"

"Yes." She collected her book from the floor and turned into a room. "Follow me."

He shrugged and followed, snapping up a toffee-apple.

It turned out to be a library and the woman handed the book to an Asian man (who frowned at the newcomer that he didn't know they had) and went near the back to a bunch of chained books. She closed the door for some sort of privacy and finally turned back to fully face him.

"You felt it, then?" she sighed.

"Yep," smirked Loki. "Pretty hard not to."

She walked to the chained bookshelf and pulled out a book. "They stole a page from this book," she explained. At his look, she continued, "Former disciples. They are trying to bring Dormammu to Earth. A signal went out when they pulled energy from the Dark Dimension."

"Like you do," he accused without feeling. She paused and nodded slowly. He frowned and leaned over the book, reading the title. "Who's the evil guy?"

"The Lord of the Dark Dimension," she explained, looking vaguely chastising at his colloquial term. "It feeds off planets and stars from the Material Dimension that it consumes. Earth has been protected from its grasp for many millennia."

"How will it get through then?" he asked.

"There are specific enchanted Sanctums in the world," she said. "If they fall, the protection falls with it." She flipped through a few pages to show him a picture.

"You're gonna look after this, right?" said Loki pointedly. "I'm not part of your Mystical apprentices cult."

"But you care for the world," countered Nameless. "And Dormammu threatens this world and all its inhabitants."

Loki heaved a sigh. "Why does everyone think that I'll help them out every time?"

"Because you are obliged," smiled the woman not unkindly. "By your morals."

I know you think you're doing the right thing...

Loki sent her a severe look before scowling. "I'll hang around but don't expect me to do anything."

Someone screamed.

It wasn't an 'oh-shit' kind of scream. It was an agonised, pained scream that echoed throughout the entire building and its surrounds. Everybody froze and turned to stare at the man who was bleeding from the gapping, scorched out holes in his face where eyes should be.

Various people burst into action at different times, calling for a medic or some form of help while others stared uncomprehendingly. "Dear God," whispered someone. "What just happened?"

The bloody man without eyes was sobbing pitifully into the floor, trembling and holding the remains of his face. And a man groaned loudly. Said man clutched a lollipop and eyed the scene in plain annoyance. The current Master of the enclave strode out to see what the hell went wrong and even she looked vaguely shocked.

The victim was bustled into a medical wing and the Ancient One called over the man holding the lollipop with something akin to furious resignation.

Stephen Strange felt as if he should recognise the offender but couldn't get a good enough look to tell.

For the rest of the day, rumours were flying around the apprentices but no one could tell what the hell went wrong to make someone's eyes literally burn out of their skull. He was lucky to survive apparently and hadn't told anyone what had happened.

Nameless' face was frigid and cold, eyes hard and mouth twisted into an almost ugly sneer. "What happened?" she hissed.

Loki was annoyed himself. "The dumbass used an Astral Projection," he growled.

She faltered. "That does not cause a man's eyes to burn out!"

"No, he glimpsed my true form," he snorted. "He's lucky to be alive."

"You true form?" she repeated stiffly.

Loki huffed, vexed. "Tell your kids to use their little astral technique a little more wisely."

"I…" spluttered the woman. "That…" She gave the powerful entity a long look. "Do you any way of hiding your true form? The Astral Dimension is a powerful tool that my students need to learn."

Loki scowled. "No. Hiding my form like this is already hard enough."

There was a long pause.

She frowned at him. "What's the simplest explanation of your nature?" she asked.

Loki hummed thoughtfully. "I think one of my brothers called it a 'multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent', but that's not entirely true here." He snorted at the stunned look on her face. "Basically my true form is just a sentient planet-sized ball of Grace and sass."

"…That breaks the laws of physics and magic," she said slowly.

He shrugged smugly. "I outdate physics and magic and its petty little laws," he retorted.

"I see," she lied faintly. "And the effect on human eyes?"

"Well I have to fold time and space to make myself fit in this." He waved his hand in demonstration. "So if you look upon my form on a spiritual level, you'll see really bright light." He paused. "Really dense, bright light."

"...How long are you staying?" asked the woman in something akin to resignation.

"Until you deal with the threat, Nameless."

"…I will tell them to avoid you in the meantime."

The Trickster snorted. "Go do that."

And time passed.

The Trickster took a visit to Heimdall.

"Why so glum?"

Heimdall frowned and hesitated, used to his random visits. "The King of Asgard has fallen into the Odinsleep once again. We fear that he will join the Queen Frigga in the stars before long."

"Aa," hummed The Trickster. "Death comes to all."

"Indeed," acknowledged the All-Seer solemnly. "There…is a darkness that approaches," he said. "It obscures my Sight and consumes all it touches."

"Darkness?" repeated Loki. "What do you mean?"

Heimdall peered out into the stars. "A being of great power has been released. I do not know where it is from…"

"I see…" said The Trickster quietly. Internally he hoped that they were thinking two different Darkness'.

He really hoped.

This universe is quite different compared to his original.

While time was fluid and can be bent in his original, in this universe, each temporal anomaly would result in a splintered timeline. In his original timeline, time was fixed and each was a closed event that had been already recorded and kept on score by the being known as Fate.

As a being that predates time, he can tell when time is being played with – especially in such a…violent manner. It's not like he doesn't dislike it, but time loops are just annoying for those who have to live through each loop itself. Not to mention the things it does to his stomach.

They're pretty short loops too. Around about two to three minutes each – maybe longer and while he notes them, as the work of an Infinity Stone, he doesn't want to put the Aether in too much of an excited mood so he stays away. Time loops are okay.

Until it just gets too incessant.

"Would you please stop?" groaned Loki, snapping himself over to the origin. There was a stunned moment as the giant ugly purple thing turned its massive face to face the newcomer and the other one – someone he'd somewhat seen before. And then the green light hanging from his necklace. "Are you kidding me?" he squawked. "Nameless had it all along?"

"Who…are you?" thundered the face thingy.

Loki blinked back at the creature and squinted. "Hey you're that Doom person/thing that Nameless told me about." He whistled. "You really got the short straw when dad was handing out looks, huh?"

"Who are you?" grumbled the wielder of the Time Stone, brushing himself off warily. "…How are you even here?"

"Well when some guy like you plays with time, someone like me tends to get a little annoyed when it goes over and over," drawled Loki. He jutted his chin out at the glowing green stone and mentally strengthened the pocket dimension where the Aether resided.

"You can sense the time loop?" concluded the sorcerer in surprise. He frowned. "You're the one that burned Wallace's eyes out."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever. Why, exactly, are you looping time, pray tell?"

"I'm trapping Dormammu in an endless loop until he agrees to my demands," the wielder said kind of smugly. "Apologies for the inconvenience," he addressed Loki politely. "But the fate of the world is at stake."

Loki stretched his neck as he looked around. "If I got a gold coin for every time I heard that, I'd be richer than Tony Stark," he grunted. "Look, Doomama-Doomammu- whatever your name is – Earth is not going to go to your precious Dark Dimension. You can agree to this guy's demands or you can say no and I'll get rid of you."

Dormammu roiled angrily at the threat, clearly not believing that Loki could do anything to it. "I am the Destroyer of Worlds!" it roared, releasing a giant beam of purplish light from his mouth-thing.

The Time-wielder died instantly. Loki did not.

"Dormammu! I've come to bargain for the protection of the Earth," called the guy with the Time Stone. "Again." He blinked, spotting Loki standing there, holding a dense ball of purple energy in his hand. "What is that?"

"Dark matter," replied Loki. "It's pretty gross." He threw it back at Dormammu's face and Dormammu shook itself free from its shock.

"What are you to negate my power so easily?" boomed the being.

Loki yawned. "Just agree to Time-Stone-dude's demands and leave already."

"I will claim the Earth as is my right!" bellowed Dormammu, killing the still-nameless-guy again.

Loki sighed at the lurching feeling in his gut. He ignored the repeated lines and turned to face the man. "Close your eyes and turn around." The guy would die. Again. Multiple times, depending on his control. But if he didn't know who killed him… Anyway, since Dormammu was outside of time, he wouldn't get rewound with everyone else and be the only one to know what he was going to do.

The guy eyed him suspiciously but did so anyway.

The almost-most-powerful-being-currently-in-the-universe turned to the Lord of the Dark Dimension. "Alright, Doom-u. I've faced a lot of megalomaniacal asswipes in my time and you aren't even the scariest," he taunted. "Since you seem to think that you actually have a chance at obtaining this planet, I think it's about time I show you why the Earth is still free."

And with that, he slipped out of his vessel.

Luckily for the Time Stone wielder, he didn't really notice that he was resetting time about a hundred times a second and the Infinity Stone was pretty much overheating. Because if time hadn't reset, the surface of Earth would be completely gone. As would a bit of the Solar System.

Well it would be scorched and the surface of the planet would be hotter than the core at least.

He stayed out of his vessel for around three seconds, relishing the feeling of actually being free to stretch his wings before packing himself back up into the vessel and allowed the Time Stone wielder to repeat his lines in his couple hundredth or so reset in the past four seconds.

The ultimate ruler of the Dark Dimension didn't so much as twitch for half a minute and it's fiery purple eyes rested on the tiny figure that hosted the being of undiluted holy power. He studied the being the entire time, as the only one who had experienced (and impressively enough, survived) his true form.

"I will leave," growled Dormammu finally. "I accept your terms, pathetic little human."

And the Dark Dimension retreated.

Loki rubbed the back of his neck as the Time Stone wielder reset time on the Hong Kong Sanctum. The Asian librarian recognised him and the other sorcerer eyed him cautiously but they seemed to think the green Stone's usage of time manipulation as a truly bad thing.

So he was disregarded. Temporarily.

When the still-name-guy finally started time up properly, Loki breathed out a relieved breath. "Finally. Oh my Dad that felt terrible."

"Your what?"

Loki scoffed. "Nothing. Are we done here? I've got places to be. Things to do."

"Thank you for your help," said the wielder of the Time Stone, nodding respectfully to him. "Whatever you did was the turning point in all this."

Loki shrugged dismissively. "Cool." He huffed at the closed eye-thing pointedly. "Look after that."

And with that, he snapped his fingers and was gone once more.

"Is that Darkness you saw gone?" asked Loki upon arriving back at the observatory.

Heimdall blinked. "Could you repeat that?"

"The Darkness that you saw. Is it still there?"

Heimdall looked to the stars. "Yes. It is still there."

Loki swore and the Bifrost trembled slightly in his frustration. "Can you point me to it?"

Heimdall turned for the first time ever to properly look at the elusive Trickster.

"It is in the Void," he revealed after studying the all-too-familiar green eyes of Loki of Asgard. "Where the original Loki fell. A great darkness has settled there."

Loki looked out to the stars, not seeing anything with his eyes but with his not-so-demigod senses. "Thanks." There was a comfortable pause. "You debt is repaid by the way." Heimdall blinked and inclined his head.

"Thank you for your continuous aid throughout these years," said the All-Seer quietly. It felt a strange lot like a goodbye.

"No problem," hummed The Trickster. "See you next time."

...But I know where your heart truly lies.

Heimdall nodded mutely, golden eyes solemn and so very ancient.

"Hello Wanda," said The Trickster, walking into her dream.

The psychic took a moment to stare at the black-haired demigod and another moment to realise that it was in fact a dream. "Loki," she said. "…You're back."

The Trickster rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Sort of. I just wanted to apologise for walking out on you last time. And ask you to pass a message for me."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked instantly.

Loki blinked. "You'll do it? Just like that?"

Wanda frowned at him. "You taught me how to use my powers," she said, remembering her decision. "I'm repaying the favour."

"Oh. Right," huffed Loki. "Well…I never did answer your question."

Wanda wracked her brain to remember what he was talking about. "You mean when I asked why you chose me?" she confirmed in surprise.

Loki nodded distantly. "You reminded me of what I lost."

"How is that?" questioned Wanda.

"I…I was a coward," he admitted. "I ran away from my home and family because I couldn't do anything. I didn't fight for what I believed in and went into hiding for thousands of years."

Wanda blinked at him, swallowing at the timeframe and she was reminded that the being in front of her was far, far older than he seemed. "You fought for what you believed in," he said slowly. "And when you faltered, you got back up to try again." He looked away, far into the endless distance of her dreamscape. "That's what I lacked."

Wanda stared and smiled slightly. "Have you learnt that now?"

"Yeah," sighed Loki. "…I've made my own decisions now."

An incalculably long time ago, The Darkness and The Light fought a furious battle.

They fought so long and so hard but in the end, The Light prevailed and sealed The Darkness away.

And eternity was quiet.

Then The Light became 'God' and He created what He wished, and sculpted the universe with His four loyal pillars of Grace. Eventually, one of his beloved creations turned on Him in jealousy, forcing the being to lock him away, just as He did with The Darkness.

And all was quiet again.

Until thousands of years later, when the Apocalypse was nigh and wants and dreams came alight.

An ancient war came ahead and two humans and a fallen angel stood fast for what they believed in.

This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family!

The Darkness returned, and with it, so did his purpose.

Gabriel flies in nir true form.

The Void is still and empty. All that lived there has been consumed by the endless misty form of an olde being that ne still recognises. "Darkness," ne says. The Darkness is so much bigger than ne and ne knows that this was a stupid idea in the first place. But ne's faced worse odds.

"Archangel," replies the Darkness, shifting restlessly. "Have you come to fight me?"

"I would not win," ne retorts. "I wish for this universe to remain free."

"I will destroy everything He has built and I will pave a trail of destruction in my wake. You cannot stop me."

And if ne could smirk in nir true form, ne would. "But I can. Like this."

Ne pulls the Aether out of the pocket dimension and the energy recognises its master's desire. It grows blindingly fast, consuming the Darkness and the archangel and shifting the both of them entwined into endless Infinity in one swift, mechanical strike. Usually neither of them would really be affected by the reality-changer but the archangel grips The Darkness and pulls the mist into interchangeable reality. The Darkness roars but the Aether is infinite now and in the Void, it is very much in its element, blocking the Darkness from countering the ultimate attack.

Ne doesn't fight, knowing what ne wants and the Darkness quickly realises that the strange red fluid is flushing both the primordial beings out of the Material Dimension and out of reality itself.

The Aether pulses one last time, as if saying goodbye, and they are shoved through The mother-verse uncontrollably, eradicating all traces of the Darkness from universes that it does not belong and into the original – the first.

...Here.

And with a flicker of light in the dark, Gabriel knows no more.

Avengers-persons,

Oh wow, you're getting a letter from the infamous me. Astonishing, eh?

Unfortunately, I can't keep gloating since it seems I'm running out of time. I don't suppose you really know what this is for, do you?

Well. This is me saying goodbye. Checking out of the hotel, if you will.

I was never one really one to sacrifice myself for something that might just kill me (for good). I heard it's called cowardliness. But then again, being the top of the food chain makes me rather sceptical about 'change' and whatever else you humans (or not-so-human/s) have made up.

I think...I know why Dad left us now.

I've stepped in a lot. I don't even know half the time. You guys call yourself heroes, but you don't really deserve to be called that at this rate. I've helped you – saved you – and Nameless tells me it's a good habit. But, err, I'm finding that it's…it's a lot like clipping your wings.

So, here's me stepping back.

(Well, back and shoving my nosy aunt back. Back home. You get the point.)

You'll probably never see me again, if I'm really honest. Auntie's a bit violent.

I figure you got your chance now. To change shit, or whatever. Kill some assholes. Deliver desserts. Sacrifice yourselves for America. Guns blazing.

You got things coming for you. Go be heroes. Or something.

From. Well.

Yeah, my name is Loki. It's Loptr; it's Trickster.

It's also Gabriel, Messenger of God and youngest Archangel.

Peace out.

At the edge of the Void, Death walks.

"Aether," she rasps.

The light red energy twists like a massive spider web over the far reaches of Infinity.

-carved out my own little corner of the world.

"Return my champion," she orders. She doesn't so much as 'speak' as imply and force her desire to the sentient energy. The Aether pulses and shrieks violently in defiance. "Return him to me."

It's strange, knowing that your own creation (which does not have Free Will) has so freely given its loyalty to an anomaly that is gone. The Aether is a far lighter colour than Death remembers and there's an almost gentle peace to the way it slithers over its recreated reality in the distant Void.

The red pulses again and shifts. Death waits expectantly, certain that the Aether will obey her as a primordial being and doesn't notice a sliver of light, mercury silver flying through the misty red liquid until it's too late.

Death screeches as the metal blade lodges itself to the cylindrical hilt in its current host form and there's a brilliant flash of murky black, white and dark, viscous red. A million colours not even on the spectrum ooze out of her body and she pulls it out with a furious hiss.

It's an archangel blade.

"You dare?" she roars.

The Aether fluctuates, as if pleased at her reaction and conveys the sense that, "Y-O-U W-I-L-L N-E-V-E-R G-E-T H-I-M B-A-C-K." And it settles, fully in control of the Darkness-turned-Infinity/consumed-matter-of-the-Darkness. Death cannot wrestle control of such a complicated reality from it without damaging the goods.

Interestingly, the Aether has absorbed enough Darkness to be far crueler and furious, yet still balance with the archangel's light.

It's feels very, very victorious and satisfaction blows a rosy red across its lighter colour. Its master is a devious being and he gets off on irritating others. Loki is patient, powerful and while he accepts his faults, he takes every advantage and trick in and out of the book to his own gain.

You can't take a trick out of The Trickster.

The Aether is vaguely happy that it's stopped the Apocalypse. Or the closest thing to it in this universe. After all, isn't that what Gabriel wanted?

No doubt endings are hard. But then again, nothing really ends, does it?

God.

So yeah, the tenses change between past and present.

There's a few things you may or may not have noticed:

1. Agents X, Y, Z are indeed OCs and since they're not important they don't have genders (I messed up a few times and called Agents X and Z male and Agent Y female because that's what they seem like in my head).

2. Gabriel, as a name, is not mentioned until ne's in nir true form.

3. If you didn't get it, people thought Loki and The Trickster were two different people until he was proved to be the same person. But since Gabriel never told the Winchesters that he was Loki, I figured that The Trickster sounded cooler.

4. I've edited a lot over time.

Thanks for the adventure! Or keep going. :P

Review if you want - makes me happy and all.