Prologue
Note: I was thrilled to know others wished for sequel, so here is a glimpse because this time I am actually going to plan this story, edit it, and try some dialogue. I hope you all are in for some Loki and Tony Stark and eventually the Avengers. Enjoy.
The world spiraled, a bitter coldness biting against him as he fell down the dark abyss, with a sickening sensation Loki watched as earth raced towards him. Lungs twisting and breath stretching from him, it felt as if claws were reaching into him, stealing away the air. Meeting with the dusty ground in a splash of sand, his velocity made him tear through layers, sinking down into it with a sputter as that last grip he had on his breath was knocked from him.
Staring up to the blue cloudless skies with weak focus, Loki tried his best not to yell out to the sky out of frustration and pain, the wound at his stomach bleeding profusely as he lay there panting, his broken legs crying out in torturous burn, blackness trying to ebb into his line of sight as the world spun and he tilted with it.
It had all happened so fast, such split seconds that he felt lost as to what he was doing here. Closing his eyes with a squint he squirmed in the sand, rolling himself onto his back with small quirk of his lips.
.: - - - - - :.
"Do we have an accord?" Loki asked with a smirk, hand curled behind him with the bloody dagger held back from sight, other hand out stretched precariously as he approached his ally.
Little had he expected for Thanos to take his grip and pull him forward, thrusting the staff that seemed to be the father of the one he had granted Loki in aid for him to conquer the humans, into his stomach.
Driving it deeper, Thanos let it cut into the god, wrist driving in a twist to gut him open farther. "Yes" he uttered, letting the jut blade clutch onto Loki's stomach as he drove a powerful force into his knees, forcing them back in unreasonable manner till the bones shuddered and broke under him. "Do not fail me this time Loki Laufeyson."
Only slightly amused to his own reminder to the God of Mischief that he was a force to be reckoned with, he yanked back on the blade, only gaping the wound on the god even more as he cast him from his presence, into dark abyss to Midgard so he may fulfill his promise.