One day. One day was all he wanted. Just one day without all the terrorised screaming and blood curdling wailing. One freakin' day.
But as he looked out of his bedroom window post-late night nap, gazing into war-torn, sullied streets, he had a strong suspicion that today wasn't going to be that day.
Loki explodes - red gore splattering on everything and everyone around. Amora smiles, pleased her art was improving as she aged.
That was the end of that annoying little loose end.
She walks off, the destruction and chaos she had caused adding to her smile. She had killed her plaything, she had killed her now useless emissaries and now all she had left were the burnt clothes on her skin, the greasy golden shine of her hair and the glossy pink fullness of her lips.
He was fun for a while, but he got boring. His laugh was growing dry, his eyes loosing their shimmer. Even his mouth hadn't teased her with their usual ferosity as of late. It just wouldn't do. She wiped the splatter of spleen juice from her cheek and pulled a stray molar from her hair, flicking it to the rubble littered ground. It bounced lightly off a slow roasting arm.
She thinks she is home free, taking time to drag her bare toes through the ash as if it were fine white sand. Then she was struck. The white energy burning into her skin. She laid where she had fell, dark charred flesh peeling as the skin beneath healed. That wasn't very nice.
"You bastard." She curses while sitting up, a colorful man of iron landing gracefully atop a semi-burning pile of what might have been a baby's pram, she wasn't sure. The iron man doesn't respond with words but another round of hand fire. This time it hits her square in the face, burning off her quite frankly alarming shade of eyeshadow.
He shoots again but this time Amora rolls away, jumping to her feet and to saftey in one easy motion. Amora gives him a taste of his own medicine, reflecting back the next power burst with the flick of her wrist. Stark stumbles on the ground, but does not fall. Pulling the brickwork from a collapsed building, Amora telekinetically smashes it into the bug beneath her boot. The red and yellow dust that ricocheted off coats the ground in what Amora thinks a pretty color. She giggles as the suited man groans, finally fallen. But before she has time to enjoy the fleeting moment, from out the still falling red mist, she see's something emerge but it hit her before she could see what. She almost cries out as the missile impacts her shoulder and explodes. Her burnt a tattered sleeve falls from the rest of her green mini-dress, waving itself to the ground in defeat. Amora however still stood and laughed.
"What next, big boy?" The dirty, mud and ash smeared machine stands up from the ground, plates of his armor falling as they let go from the others. She sees the bare flesh of his arms and thigh through said gaps, aiming her next attack there. Tony's following shriek comes as the daggers narrowly miss him. He fires off the thrust, propelling himself clumsily into the air with neither coordination or sights. Mid acceleration his mask flies off and flips to the floor, Jarvis deeming it necessary for some faulty reason. He flew to Stark Tower, taking this little quarrel home with him.
He lands on his penthouse balcony, and although not quite sure how, she had beaten him there. Amora pulls him towards her and hurtles him into and through the window. She walks over the glass shards as if it were snow, to where Tony was recovering.
She rips the helmet from his head and tosses it to the floor. It slides in a spin only stopping when it hits the side of the sofa. She then grabs a fistful of his hair, hoisting him to his feet. He claws back at her, trying to Bruce Lee his way out of this but god is she strong. She pulls him along, chuckling the whole way before crashing his head into the wall fitted fish tank. He choked as she held him under the water that came gushing out over him. It was all over quickly, her interest quickly turning to the fire place. She marches him over there, Tony still practically a puppet. Taking a stoker out of it's holder, she holds it in the fire, Tony prepared to do whatever it takes to get out of this death grip, even if that means scalping himself which it just might. He somehow wrestles free before she can stick that red hot poker through some rather unwilling oripheses.
He scutters to the stairway, half falling down each step but she appears ahead of him. She drags him back up and he's starting to feel a bit like a tit.
He had to change the order here. Which one of them was privy to the most advanced technological weponry and defences, and which of them was donning a mini dress and pigtails?
She pins him under some really crappy and unfair 'magic spell.' He almost cries as she starts taking a randomly appearing baseball bat to Tony's toys.
It's when she swings the wooden sports item into his speaker system that shit gets personal.
When Loki reforms among the ash and the flame, he's fresh faced and royally pissed.
