Loki's plan isn't to be saved. He's content thinking that the last thing he'll ever see is the wounded looks on Thor and Odin's faces, and he even has time to imagine them living with crippling guilt for years to come.
It's a satisfying end, but when he closes his eyes, it turns out that it isn't for the last time. He collides with something and has the sensation of falling through a set of doors and the whole thing is thoroughly confusing.
It's probably for the best, then, that it isn't until later that he's left to comprehend the discrepancy between the small blue exterior of the vehicle that's collected him and the sprawling inside.
Loki opens his eyes to a shower of sparks and flickering lights. He takes a moment to look around, determining that this is some kind of machine (and one that doesn't appear to be operating at its full capacity, if the sparks are anything to go by).
"And people say I never do anything nice," a voice shouts. It's a bit ragged, like the owner isn't used to it.
"You saved me," Loki observes, assessing the short man who is currently dancing around the center of the machine, pushing buttons and pulling levers—there's a mad glint in his eyes and his clothes don't fit quite right, but aside from that he looks harmless.
"If you want to get technical," the man corrects, barely looking up, "it was the ship that found you. I opened the doors. Believe me, I wouldn't go out of my way to save a lost soul."
"I didn't want to be saved," Loki informs him.
The man lets out a laugh. "I didn't either. It was all rather accidental for me. But do you know what? I'm having quite the time of it so far. You see, I was a Professor until recently. I've since changed titles—I am a Master now. I am the Master."
He is neither Asgardian nor Jotun, Loki decides. He could probably be mistaken for human, but something tells him that there's more to the man than that.
"To what world are you headed?" he asks, hoping the answer might reveal something.
"This machine seems determined to return to a planet known as Earth."
Loki raises an eyebrow, recognizing the humans' name for Midgard. Perhaps the impromptu rescuing wasn't so terrible after all, if that is indeed where they are currently bound.
"And you go willingly," he observes.
"I have an old friend who's rather fond of its inhabitants," the Master says. "Personally, I find them dull-witted and tedious. I have a point to prove, however, and dull-witted and tedious may serve quite well under the circumstances." The mad gleam in his eyes returns—if indeed it ever left.
"You mean to harm them," Loki guesses.
"Not to harm them, exactly; to subdue might be more accurate." The Master looks up. "I know what you are, Asgardian; I've met your kind before. You fancy yourselves gods, if memory serves."
"They are not my kind," Loki corrects. He considers the Master's words, letting the pieces fall into place as he realizes what he is dealing with. "And would you deny that your people also believed in their own supremacy?"
The Master's face darkens. Loki meets his gaze coolly until the other man laughs.
"Then you know what I am as well."
"There are few who would dare name themself "Master.""
That receives another laugh in response. "There are many that would like to, but few who could live up to the name."
"Have you?" Loki has to ask.
"I intend to."
There's another violent jolt, one that locks them into place on a small (and for the moment insignificant) planet called Earth. Specifically, it's a city called Cardiff, but the two men have yet to concern themselves with details.
"Join me," the Master suggests. Loki raises an eyebrow.
"In your plan to conquer such a pitiable and useless world?"
"Of course not. The victory's going to be all mine, you see. I was referring to something simpler just now—have you sampled the local dishes? I hear they leave much to be desired."
It's a start; it's all either of them have for the time being.