DEATH OF RIGHT
By: Spiky Rhino Box
It was, at one point, a perfect day.
The sky was blue and cloudless, the traffic within the city not so bad. It was around the ending of summer when things were starting to get cool, and people were coming back from vacation. Back, as it turns out, to destruction.
Then the sky had ripped open above the newest and brightest tower in the city, unleashing... Things into the city. They were alien as alien could be, crawling and skulking lithe monsters with in-human cries of war. They rode of flying chariots and rained super-heated death from above. They did not target any particular building, organization, or creed of people. They slaughtered in the streets, gunning down innocents and police officers alike.
They swarmed over the city, killing with what was assumed to be glee on their part. But worst still was when the flying serpents arrived. The great beasts that hovered in the air, decimating entire blocks with wreckage and debris. Their roars were so loud that many who survived had become clinically deaf.
It was a dark day, as the innocents of New York City ran for cover. It was the darkest day, not because the sun was blocked, which it wasn't. It was dark because this had meaning. It wasn't some odd, random incursion of inter-galactic raiders.
It was a show of force. A show of force for the next would-be ruler of Earth, a banished Asgardian sorcerer. More than that, though. He was a killer. He was a madman. And he was, at one part of his life, a Brother.
–-
Loki stood before the panoramic view of a destroyed new York like an overseer at a factory. His pale hands gripped the reinforced glass of the Stark Tower. His face betrayed no emotions as his ice-Grey eyes looked upon total death and destruction at the hands of the Skitarii. The crude metal barbarians did their job effectively, he had to admit. But they weren't targeting enemies, really. Just the cattle that is the human race. While Loki had no love for the Humans, he felt a twinge of guilt climb up his back. The cries of the dead would haunt him, he knew.
It was possible that he could turn away. That he could step back from the railing, go into the den of this Man of Iron, pilfer from his somewhat copious cache of spirits and toast to his future kingdom.
"A kingdom built upon the dead and innocent." He muttered, noticing a cadre of Skitarii sky chariots running down several of the land chariots below. The battle-cries sounded when a man attempted to flee the burning wreckage of his vehicle but was cut down by laser fire. Loki's mouth tasted of bile at the sight. It reminded him of the Plaza in Germany, where at the time he would have been willing to lay low an elder to prove his superiority to mankind.
A flicker of light in the distance alerted him to some kind of battle going on to the east. Loki turned his head to see the Avengers. The man of Iron, the Soldier, the Assassins, The Monster and his brother of old times. Loki shook his head. The Skitarii were beginning to drop their massacring of innocents and were riding towards the East to meet enemies of more worth. Loki could foresee an outcome.
Bloodied and beaten, his brother would be surrounded by his dead allies and forced back to Asgard to weep at Odin's feet. Odin had once been Loki's father as well, but no more. Loki narrowed his eyes to see the twirling death dance of the assassin woman. Several Skitarii were being brought low. A tendril of doubt wormed into his mind, but was instantly quashed as he looked away.
"They will die. All of them."
But for what? This thought came from no where. Loki was seized by its' simplicity, but also its' gravity. Looking down, upon the blood shed he began to see the Skitarii for what they were. They were an unchecked power, not under his control. He merely summoned them from beyond, he had not given any orders. The Dark Ones from beyond had cheated him. He was no true ruler of Earth. Merely a gateway for their influence upon this world.
He cringed. His eyes closed as he began to imagine the untold horrors that would plague this world, all in his name, but under the control of others. He would be hated for crimes he had not even sanctioned. Despised for terrors he did not commit. The Throne of Earth, sat not by Loki but Lackey to the dark powers.
His thoughts were invaded by the sound of roaring rockets from afar. Turning back and opening his eyes, he saw the Man of iron flying towards the very Tower Loki stood upon. Though Loki could not see his face, he knew one thing: That the Man of iron would challenge him. Loki gripped his scepter and steeled himself.
So what if he was lackey to Darkness. He would at least be rid of these interlopers. And that, it seemed, was worth while.