Chapter One

New York City – May 4, 2012

Loki pulled himself forward, shaking hands grasping for leverage on the ruined floor, palm pressing uncomfortably against the edge of steel flooring as he braced himself on his forearms. He took in a shuddering gasp of air and closed his eyes against the throbbing blue headache building along his temples. Defeat—"you will long for something sweet as pain," as if Loki had not already endured enough, been torn to shreds and stitched back together like a broken puppet, Thanos' manning the strings—was of no consequence.

"Not a great plan," Stark had said.

Oh, it was a brilliant plan. The Avengers will send both Loki and the Stones back to Asgard, where they will be defended and far from the Mad Titan's greedy scheming. Of course, having Midgard would have been nice, but Loki preferred to think on his feet. This new turn of events would set him up nicely. The faint, almost imperceptible twang of a bowstring being pulled taught met Loki's ears, barely audible over the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. Loki reeled back, weight shifted onto his elbows, and finds himself staring down the pointed shaft of a notched arrow.

The threatening forms of the Avengers, all prepared to lunge should Loki make a wrong move, eclipse the afternoon sun that filtered in through the shattered window. Loki blinked away the blood that stung against his eyes from a cut on his forehead and weighed his options. Escape? No chance, but if he can manage to get his hands on the Tesseract…. Bear the humiliation for the sake of his broader plan? Well…what more did he have to lose?

Loki sighed, inclining his head in acknowledgment of his position, and his lips hooked into a grim smile. "If it's all the same to you—" He broke off to grunt in pain before continuing in a slightly breathless voice. "—I'll have that drink now."

Only Stark seems amused by Loki's comment, perhaps because he is the only one who understood it. For a brief moment, Loki reached for his depleted seiðr, suppressing a snarl when it filtered like water through his grasp, having planned to take advantage of the distraction, but Stark's smile was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came. "Get him on his feet," Stark ordered.

This must be what Midgardians call "karma."

Thor, with all the delicacy and grace of a lumbering bilgesnipe, seized Loki by his shoulders and hoisted him to his unsteady feet, ignoring the way Loki's mouth tightened in a wince and the strangled noise that catches its barbs in his throat. Loki allowed himself to be shoved and prodded over to the bar area, where Thor wasted no time shackling his wrists together. Steve Rogers swept past importantly, hand on his intercom earpiece.

"On my way down to coordinate search and rescue," he said.

Loki decided to waste his magic being petty. Letting a faint green glow sweep up and down his body, he took on the guise of Captain America and parroted in a perfect impersonation, looking as self-righteous as possible, "On my way down to coordinate search and rescue." These cuffs do nothing to restrain seiðr?

…Good to know.

Shifting back, Loki found himself sporting a ragged grin again, truthfully having a great time. "I mean, honestly," he began, "how do you think it would be—"

"Shut up," Thor broke in irritably. He slapped his free hand over Loki's jaw and from his touch sprung a constricting metal muzzle that snaked around Loki's head and stuck between his teeth, over his tongue, to silence his poison. Loki arched one eyebrow at Tony Stark's giggle and pulled back his Æsir glamor to reveal Jotun blue skin creeping up his knuckles, and as frost began to blacken and sparkle at his fingertips, Stark clamed up and resumed his pace.

Thor elbowed Loki's bruised, cracked ribs with more force than necessary, hissing, "Control yourself, Loki, before I do it for you."

Ooh. Consider me intimidated. Loki did not try to disguise his snort of mocking laughter as Thor led him by his chained wrists towards the elevator and nudged him inside. Had Thor not thought Loki would notice the care that is taken to assure he is blocked in on all sides, Stark and Thor in the front and SHIELD agents on all sides? If he wanted to leave, it would be all too easy—

The Hulk lumbered over towards the open lift doors. Loki's heart stuttered to a halt in his chest—that green could be gray and reptilian, the bare chest could be plated with orange and black armor, the heavy grunts and broken sentences could be that of Cull Obsidian's—the feeling of slamming into the floor, once, twice, thrice, bone giving away and head being split and not knowing which way was up and which was down—and he had to carefully blank his expression. Stark held out hand out placatingly.

"Whoa, hey. Maximum occupancy has been reached, take the stairs."

Thor pressed the button for the ground floor as Loki raised one shackled hand and waved, satisfied. As the doors slid closed, the Hulk surged forward—Loki reeled back, nearly tripping—and the steel bent under the force of an inhumanly powerful blow, metal cracking into the imprint of a fist. Gone. Loki exhaled through his nose, slowly, to avoid the sound of shuddering breath leaving his frantically aching chest. Nothing to fear.

The group stood in uncomfortable silence, no one daring to move, except for the guard to Loki's left, who seemed to take pleasure in stepping on Loki's boots, jabbing at his sides, crowding him closer to Thor. He stopped when Loki side-eyed him, gaze narrowed dangerously, irises bright and pupils cut into slits like a snake's. When the elevator finally opened, signaling their arrival, Thor and Stark took the lead, Loki mirroring their steps towards the glass front doors. SHIELD personnel parted to let them through, some regarding Loki with curiosity and others with apprehension. Loki held his head high and met no one's stares.

No matter that day's outcome, Loki was a king.

Loki walked on, hands resolutely at his sides, wondering if he should have left when he had the chance. But up ahead, walking towards Stark is another posse of SHIELD agents headed by a dour-looking man who has trouble dogging in his wake, and Loki grinned beneath his muzzle. Here comes entertainment.

"May I ask you where you're going?"

"Lunch, and then Asgard," Thor said. "And, I'm sorry," he continued, not sounding at all sorry, "you are...?"

Stark was the one to answer. "Alexander Pierce, Secretary. He's the man above the folks behind Nick Fury."

"My friends call me Mister Secretary," replied Pierce, matching Thor's tone. Loki coughed out a chuckle. "I'm going to have to ask you to turn that prisoner over to me."

That prisoner. A mortal wanting to lead him like a lamb to the slaughter. Unlikely. Loki bristled, hackles raised, nostrils flared, and brow taught in a snarl, his height and aggressive posture sending the guards flanking him a step backward. Thor jumped in before Loki had a chance to decide where Pierce's head could best be used as décor.

"Loki will be answering to Odin himself."

At this, Loki rolled his eyes and jerked his head bitterly. There is no answering. The merciful Allfather will never remove the Norns cursed muzzle to give Loki the chance at a proper trial.

Pierce seemed to disagree as well, but his reasoning almost made Loki laugh aloud. "Oh, he's going to answer to us. Odin can have what's left, and I'm going to need that case. It's been SHIELD property for over seventy years. "

The Tesseract? Try to claim it, Loki thought, fuming. Take it, wait about five years, and do not be shocked when Thanos himself is knocking on your meager planet's undefended door. Pierce's men descended on Stark, vultures diving for prey, and a scuffle for the case breaks out, Stark never once letting go. Loki allowed the Midgardians to fight and watched, silently betting on Stark. For a drunk, Stark had a mean swing.

Loki almost grimaced when Thor shoved an agent so hard the poor Midgardian fell flat on his back. I feel you, he tried to signal with a sympathetic yet sarcastic twist of his eyebrows. Stark snatched the briefcase back. Perhaps it would have devolved further, but at that moment, Stark suddenly gaped like a fish, body going rigid, and he collapsed into an undignified heap at Pierce's feet.

Well.

That was anticlimactic.

The briefcase laid unclaimed on the floor as everyone suddenly crowded Stark, moths drawn to a mildly interesting flame, and Loki considered reaching out for the Tesseract. Impossible, he would surely be noticed. If he leaves a double and cloaks himself—

An unseen force knocked the case halfway across the room. Loki followed the abrupt movement with his head, face pinched in confusion. How…? Another magic user? An invisible rope? He is shaken from his musing when another guard snatched up the briefcase and began to strut towards the stairs, moving all too quickly to blend in.

Oh, I don't think so.

Loki threw a net of his dwindling seiðr towards the stairs. The Hulk is on the sixteenth floor, thundering clumsily down, and Loki clawed his fingers out and pushed inwards. The results were instantaneous: the Hulk burst from the door that connected the ground floor stairs to the main level, sending the thief crashing to the ground and the case spinning away. The latches popped open and the Tesseract itself slid right to Loki, thumping against the toe of his boot. Loki's eyes lit up.

This was even better than he had been hoping for.

With a glance up to ensure that Thor is still preoccupied, Loki stooped and grabbed the Tesseract, holding it delicately as he straightened. No one had even checked on him—imbeciles. Now…where to go? Loki pondered a moment: Asgard is a sure prison sentence, Thanos is a death sentence, and anywhere on Midgard is just idiocy. He supposed he should decide quickly before the Midgardians and Thor notice what he was up to.

Hmm. Loki could go for the aforementioned drink he had been promised. And the best place for a drink—

The power of the Space Stone tugged him by the small of his back and he vanished in a cloud of gray and blue smoke, the smell of ozone stinging the air he left behind. Loki was not there to hear Thor's calls turn from an angry, "Loki!" to a desperate, "Brother?" Loki was not there for the ensuing manhunt. Loki was not there to watch the future versions of Stark, Rogers, and the man who had kicked the briefcase, Scott Lang, argue about their next move.

By the time the Avengers found a solution, Loki was nursing a Daiquiri, glass hanging casually between his index and middle finger, and sliding his bet across the table of a small Sakaar City bar, the Tesseract disguised as a thin, gold chain necklace.

He would like to see Thanos try and find him here.

I intend to continue this, but I dunno when I'll get around to it, honestly. But I hope you like it nevertheless!