It was a cold, dark and stormy night. Lighting marched angrily through the sky and the rain hammered down onto the pavement as if the clouds were filled with deep sorrow. The streets of New York City were abandoned; nobody with half a brain was out during a storm like this. But, what did that make the one poor soul who was out and wondering the streets? Especially at this hour?

The poor fool, he had woken up in a daze with hardly anything to his name, and even that he didn't remember. So carelessly, he was left practically wobbling up and down the deserted streets with the rain drenching him to the bone. His clothes stuck to his skin, his hair was in disarray, and he had a slight fever starting to settle in his head. If he didn't find shelter soon, he was doomed to die. But he had nowhere to go, what was he to do?

When he came to edge of town square, he finally gave up. He fell down to his knees against a building and looked up at the sky. The rain was relentless and showed no signs of giving up. With a heavy sigh, the man closed his eyes as he started to feel his body go limp. He was cold, he was hungry, and he was exhausted. There was nowhere for him to go and noting for him to do except sit there and embrace death's grip. But on his behalf, fate seemed to have another plan in mind.

Parked just in front of him by a mere few feet, a silver car came to a sudden stop. The passenger side window was rolling down blocking most of the driver from view. Or that's at least how the man saw it. He was too far dazed to focus. But that didn't seem to bother the driver, nor did the rain. He existed the car with a coat over his head as he approached the man against the build asking him if he was alright, but it was all mumbles to the man's ears, for his fever was making his blackout. Though he was still aware of what was happening around him. The driver hesitated for a moment, as if something was wrong before finally wrapping something around the man's shoulders and with a big heave, lifted him up onto his feet. He staggered as the driver walked him over the car and placed him into the passenger seat and shut the door shielding him from the rain. The driver got back into his seat and took a brief moment to think about what he was doing. He turned the heater up to full blast and drove off. At some point during the drive, the man fell asleep, happy to embrace death at least in the warmth of kindness…

…

When the man awoke, he didn't really know what to expect, but he could surely tell what he didn't. He didn't expect there to be a fireplace, white carpet, black sofa, and sure a luxurious feel to wherever it was he is. Nor did he expect to be in dry clothes, on that black sofa with a gray blanket on top of him. He sat up slowly taking in his surrounds. Was this heaven? Or was he really dead?

Doors opened behind him and he instantly ducked down for whatever reason. A man, just shy of six foot came into view wearing a gray long-sleeve shirt, faded black jeans, and black fuzzy socks. In his hand, a glass of eggnog. His brown hair was short and just groomed back perfectly to match the goatee on his chin. He peered over towards the man on the sofa with a cautious look. "You awake?" The man didn't reply; he just sat up pushing the blanket back some taking in the surrounds more. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." He cleared his throat.

"So mind telling me what you, of all people, were doing out there in that storm?" The tall man asked the one of the couch, who turned his gaze over towards the window to find that the weather had mild out some now. "Um-you still there?"

"Where am I?" The man's voice cracked and only then did he find how parched and dry his throat was. The other picked up on the idea and moved over behind a bar in the corner and pulled out a nicely chilled bottle of water. The man nodded his head in thanks before chugging it down without time to breath.

"Wow. I thought I was the heavy drinker." The other man chuckled as the one on the sofa finished the water finally taking a breath. "And if you're that thirsty I can only imagine how hungry you might be." Before he could say anything, the man's stomach acted in hunger pains. "Good thing I ordered take-out. You don't mind Chinese do you?"

"So long as it's food, I don't care." He replied honestly, hoping that his words didn't come across being too harsh. He pulled of the blankets in a feeble attempt to stand, only to stumble backwards landing on the couch.

"I recommend you don't try and move too much." The other man said coming back to sit next to his guest, this time with a hotter beverage. "You had quite the fever earlier. Here, this ought to warm you up." The man took the cup of hot chocolate, the warm instantly setting his skin a blaze. He made sure to blow on it and take steady sips at it. "Now again, what were you, of all people, doing out there in that storm?" The man eyed him curiously and confused.

"What do you mean?" It was the other man's turn to be confused.

"I mean that you should know what kind of hell it is being outside in a thunder storm during this time of year. I'd have thought you'd kick some poor soul out of their home and made it your own personal domain." Silence fell between the two before the paler of the two spoke out.

"If I were you, I might want to talk to a doctor about whatever problems you may be having, or just simply not talk to the person you think you are currently addressing." The brunette's eyes just went wide. That was not at all what he expected, making him just drop the very question he just thought to be the absolute dumbest.

"Who are you?" The other man didn't answer. He just looked down at the cup in his hands and shook his head. "Do you not know, or just don't want to tell me?"

With a heavy sigh, the man sitting on the couch just spoke out a name that seemed familiar and right, yet wrong at all at the same time. "Loki. Loki Odenson." Again, a brief silence. "And you?"

The brunette was silent for a very brief moment before speaking. "Tony Stark." They looked at each other. The one calling himself Loki eyed Tony trying to figure out if that was supposed to mean anything to him. Tony seemed to catch on a bit to what Loki was thinking and just ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. You just look like someone I knew. Sorry if I came off the wrong way." He offered Loki a genuine smile. Though Loki wasn't too sure. There was a slight unsettling feeling about all this. He felt like he should know this person, felt like he should feel something towards this person. But he couldn't feel, nor remember, anything. He was just a person sitting on a rich boy's sofa drinking hot chocolate. Pretty damn good hot chocolate at that.

"So back to my question, where am I?" Loki asked looking at Tony, who had turned his back to him to look out at the city.

Tony took a deep breath. "Avengers Tower." Whatever Tony had hoped was going to be his response didn't happen. Instead, he got silence and the steady sipping of hot chocolate. He eyed Loki carefully. He had the same cheeks, skin color, and long black silky hair. But there was one big difference: his eyes. They were still the same color of teal that they could be either blue or green, depending on the light, but the cold cruelty and heated hatred that glowed so brightly the last time they had met was completely absent. Tony just kelp wondering if this really was Loki. And if it was, what happened to him? "We're kinda the superheroes that protect the city from anything deemed… threating."

"Why would you need something like that?" Tony just glanced away briefly avoiding the question. He really couldn't trust that Loki was being truthful or just pulling another scheme.

"Well, in the past few years there have been some problems with national security, so the government decided to bring together a group of superheroes to protect city." Loki cracked a smiled. A genuine smile. Tony had to take a few steps back. This-this person in front of him was really starting to creep him out. Something was really off about Loki. First, his eyes were different and now an honest human smile? What the hell was going on?

"You're staring." Loki blinked looking at the billionaire. Tony snapped out of his thoughts. He needed to know. He needed to make absolute sure that this was all real. That this Loki wasn't the same Loki that just recently threw the world into mass chaos.

"Do the words: god, Asgard, king, and kneel, mean anything to you?" Tony asked bluntly. Loki sat back for a brief moment and turned his head slightly with a cocked eyebrow.

"Mr. Stark, you wouldn't happen to be one of those serial killers that ask their victims utterly idiotic questions then kills them are you?" And with that question, Tony knew instantly that this Loki sure as hell wasn't the other Loki. He was someone entirely different…