"Where is Loki?"
The voice boomed through the golden hall, which glinted in the low light.
"I know not where, father." replied a quieter voice, one deep, though brittle- for this particular voice, it perhaps, sounded uncharacteristically weak.
"Find him. Bring him back here to us...or..." The first voice paused for a moment, then continued in a much softer tone, "I fear we may have to do the worst."
There was a terrible, empty silence for a long moment.
"Yes, father."

The world had changed a lot in ten years, and there was much catching up to do. Of course, Loki's health was top priority, but that hardly stopped him from coaxing an unwilling Peter to show him around New York; from broadway shows to art museums.
This of course, left a certain Wade Wilson a jealous third wheel.
He slumped over on the dingy park bench, pigeons cocking their heads like the little fiends they were.
[Probably plotting to take over New York]
(Maybe they're working for Loki)
About ten feet to his side, an Asgardian god and the object of his affections stood in front of a rather expensive store, the former ogling over the Pea coats on display, seeming quite interested in the white one with golden buttons. The merc turned his gaze up to the sky, deciding that the evil pigeons were no longer entertaining, and watching the god and his almost-but-not-really-boyfriend look at clothes was annoying.
[White isn't his color, honestly.]
(Since when did you start knowing fashion?)
[Since I started reading the Sears catalog]
(Oh for the love of God.)
"Wade, we're going in. Be back in ten minutes?"
"Roger that, Cap'n Petey."
[Oh, real funny there. That wasn't even a joke, man.]
Wade rolled his eyes.
"It was totally a joke." he muttered, continuing to observe the sky. It was winter, and it was New York, but the way the clouds in the distance rolled in, dark and thick like smoke clouds struck him as a bit odd. He shivered, chilled to the bone in a way that had nothing to do with the frigid weather, briefly unnerved by how familiar they looked to him...no, he had certainly seen those clouds before...he just couldn't put his finger on where.
[Better stop there. Don't want to get too deep.]
(It'll be like that time I managed to remember-)
[NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE. NO. We are NOT going there.]
(Ok, ok...hey, look at that pigeon. What the hell is it doing?)
Unfortunately, being Wade Wilson, he was cursed with the inability to focus on something as boring as the clouds for more than a minute or two. Promptly, he began once again pondering how Loki might be using pigeons as his henchmen in exchange for little crumbs of bread. It amused him long enough for Peter and Loki to walk out of the store, calling for.
"C'mon, Wade!" Peter called, gesturing for the mercenary to follow. He frowned, stood, and followed after the two.
"But Petey, I wanted to tend to the pigeons. I ain't doin' nothin' bad." he muttered in response, glad neither Loki nor Peter caught the statement. Probably better for all of them, though it still cracked Wade up.
Unbeknownst to any of the party, a rather tall blond-haired man followed behind, about thirty feet back; he walked with a cane, and seemed nonchalant enough in the busy New York streets. His face was an easy face to miss, or simply forget upon seeing. Rather useful, it was. Especially to it's owner.
The blond man smiled, though there was no light behind it; it was the smile of a guilty man, or perhaps, a man about to do something he was less than proud of.
"Dear brother..." he spoke, voice a low rumble. "I am so sorry."

It was late afternoon when the merc left the tower, hands shoved in the pockets of the coat he wore. The sun was already setting, leaving the sky ablaze in the west. Not that it made much difference, it being NYC. The lights glowed a little more- big deal. And anyways, it wasn't like he payed any attention to the sunset very often.
As Wade turned down an alley– one he frequently took to get to his apartment quicker– a
heavy hand fell upon his padded shoulder.
[Oh shit. Not today please.]
Turning fast, Deadpool held up his hands as if to defend himself (or, perhaps, look nonthreatening. Ha ha ha. Right.)
"Look man, I don't want what you're selling, ok?"
"I make no attempt to sell you anything, other than information, Wade Wilson." The blue eyes of the God of Thunder looked at him with curiosity.
[Oh. Ohhh. Ok.]
"Heeey there Pikachu. Whatcha want?" Wade dropped his hands, falling into a more relaxed stance. The God relaxed as well, seemingly relieved.
"Hello to you as well," he patted the other man's shoulder a little too hard, causing him to wince. "But now is no time for salutations, really. I must be brief. As you know, my brother, Loki, has escaped to Midgard once again. However much it pains me to do so, he must be returned to Asgard. It is my solemn duty to do so, but..." Thor hesitated.
"Yeah?"
"I need assistance. I can not simply walk into Stark Tower and take him, especially when he is in such a weak state. No doubt Steven and Anthony will attempt to stop me from doing so, as well...or even young Peter. I do not wish to make a large disturbance in this realm, nor cause disturbance with any of my allies...Therefore, how ever much it pains me to do so, Wade Wilson, I ask you to bring him to me as peacefully as you can."
"What do I get outta the deal?" Deadpool cocked his head to the side, rubbing his chin.
"Gold from the treasury of Asgard."
[Gold = Money = tacos]
Wade pretended to consider for a moment, though his mind was already set. Getting rid of Loki the boyfriend-stealing-creep AND tacos?
[Oh hell yes.]
"Done." He took the god's hand and shook, a grin creeping across his face.
"Many thanks, Mr. Wilson. I shall expect him at the location this Saturday." The god passed him a slip of paper. "Here is the disclosed location and my contact information. Good luck to you."
Wade was already walking away. "Yeah yeah. See ya then big boy." He left a rather disgruntled Thor standing in the alley, watching his receding back.
"Until...then."