Loki opened his eyes and slowly rose from his knees. He had finally reached Earth; travelling to Midgard became difficult after the unfortunate instances in his last visits to the realm. The gods' trust in him was drastically lower than the average low, but as usual they gave him "one more chance." He heard those three words a lot.
Another measure taken was the fact that he could only travel directly into the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, and he could only leave once interrogated about his reason for his travelling and how long he planned to stay. Loki found this to be a waste of time, those events had happened over twenty years ago, and he hadn't even done anything since then.
The god of mischief rose his hands up above his head and onto his long black hair, rolling his eyes as agents patted him down. Finding nothing, they allowed him to pass through all of the scanners and devices that he was all too used to. Nick Fury, sitting in his old office behind plates of glass and steel, gave Loki a menacing glare. Loki returned it with his signature cunning smirk, striding on with his green cape flowing behind him.
He entered the large, open, warehouse-like room where they kept the old tesseract scepter. Typical stupid humans, he thought. This almost destroyed their world, yet they keep it. Why? As a souvenir of a battle they narrowly won? Do they suppose they can still use it to their advantage? He laughed at the thought while he worked open the intricate holding case.
The guards in the room weren't paying attention, unaware that the Loki in the room behind was a mere copy. Years and years of observing the petty humans' technology had finally paid off as the god picked up his old weapon, feeling the weight and power in his hands. The tesseract still glowed brightly, the glint of the blade matching that in Loki's eyes. Sharp, and dangerous.
Feeling the supremacy build inside him, he turned around, prepared to kill every man in the room. Instead, quite shockingly, he saw a girl.
She had long brown hair, Dutch-braided down her back. Her turquoise eyes looked at him through large, black-rimmed glasses. Her brow was furrowed, but a slight smile showed that it wasn't anger, but interest. She wore a t-shirt, sleeves rolled up slightly, and tight-fitting jeans. She had socks that didn't match under white canvas shoes. She couldn't have been more than 15 years old, and only a couple inches over five feet tall. She was quite pretty, but not overwhelmingly so.
Loki was taken aback at her presence.
"Who are you?" he asked, stepping forward to show dominance.
The girl stepped forward also, apparently oblivious to his aggression.
"You are beautiful, aren't you?" she asked to no one in particular.
The god was rendered speechless.
"That power…in your eyes. So much anger, little fear. But there is something you fear. I wonder what it is…"
"I demand you tell me who you are!" Loki said, not overly loud, but still angry.
"My name is Teagan," she said with friendliness, holding out her hand. Quickly remembering that Asgardians didn't shake hands, she put it back at her side. "I'm just one of those useless wastes of space you refer to as humans."
Loki thought this sounded like a joke, but her face was dead serious. "Who do you think you are, getting in my way?" he commanded, wondering how she got in.
Her brow furrowed again, looking left and right and then back at him. "…Teagan?" she answered. "And I'm not really in your way, am I? You could easily get past me."
Loki's face flushed. "You have some nerve approaching me. Do you even realize how easily I could kill you?"
"Well, obviously," she said, speaking to him as if she were his equal. "That magnificent scepter you're holding could kill me in a second. But, if you really wanted to kill me, you could've done it right when you turned around and saw me."
"You don't sound scared."
"What's to be scared of? It's just death."
Loki smirked. "I like you. You're not like the other…apes." He sneered at the word.
"I try, I try." Teagan winked. "Oh, gotta run. You might want to, also," she smiled, nodding her head toward guards who appeared to be realizing that that the god of mischief was, indeed, being mischievous.
He watched her run, long, graceful strides before facing the small army heading towards him. He threw his head back, laughing, as he raised the scepter.