Saw the Avengers. Loki is so wickedly evil it provided me with inspiration.

FYI: go see the movie. It's so far beyond fantastic that I can't even describe it. More than lives up to the hype. You'll laugh, you may cry, and you'll probably sit on the edge of your seat a couple of times. Joss Whedon is a freaking genius for pulling it all together.

Loki woke restless and bored. The previous night had been immensely satisfying physically. He could have kept going, because he was a god, but he also didn't want to use his new toy until she broke. After all, she would be available to him whenever he wanted her to be. With or without the magic. She had been so in awe of him and his abilities. It was a welcome change from Asgardian women, who always made him feel inadequate, and there was always that unspoken comparison to his not-brother.

The mortal girl was still deeply asleep beside him. Terrible bruising had come out overnight on her face. There was additional bruising down her front on the right side of her body, and Loki knew there would be bruising on the back as well. It made him very angry that someone had handled his toy so roughly. If she became too damaged, he would not be able to use her to sate his desires.

He was also curious. The girl had not been damaged after her night of pleasure with the mortal man warrior. The damage had occurred later in the day, at her job. Darcy had not been lying about that part.

Loki had observed mortals long enough to know that violence in the place of work was frowned upon. He wondered what had prompted the outburst against the girl. He wanted to take steps to be sure it didn't happen again. Whoever had damaged her would need to learn they were not welcome to play with his toy.

With a few whispers, he settled a compulsion magic on the girl to obey him, and then commanded her to wake without waking. Darcy, eyes still closed, turned her head toward him.

"Tell me who damaged you," he commanded.

The girl's sleeping face contorted, and her mouth struggled to formulate a response, as if she was not quite sure. With a pained sigh, she finally spoke:

"Black Widow."

Loki twitched in surprise. The girl had had a run in with the female Avenger? She stood no chance against the deadly strength and purpose of the Widow. It was a wonder that she had escaped with only the damage she had.

Loki allowed the girl to sink back into sleep, noting the crusted blood that had run from the damaged lip. Along with the bruising, it gave her a demonic appearance. Fitting, he supposed, for her to resemble a demonic creature after lying with him. She was tarnished now. Marked by a monster. The taint would follow her through her short life and set her apart from other mortals.

He rose gracefully from the bed to take a shower. A part of him knew he was running away from the girl's taint, from the tarnish he had caused. He withered and warped everything he came into contact with. A monster, hiding in the skin of the Aesir. A monster who had killed the monster that had fathered and then abandoned him. He had hoped that the death of Laufey would ease the deep core of revulsion he felt upon learning that he was a monster. But it would never go away. Even if he had succeeded in destroying Jotunheim, there would still be one monster left.

The hot water soothed him, keeping the cold at bay, taking his mind away from the dark place where it had gone. So…the female Avenger had damaged his toy? He would ensure she could not do so again. He was the only one who could play rough with his toys. She would be the first hero he tested his lust spell on. It had worked remarkably well on Darcy, and that was at a fraction of the strength he could use.

Loki thoughtfully left a note for the mortal girl where she would not miss it, and headed out. He needed to create a disturbance large enough to pull the Avengers out of their headquarters. It would be productive in more ways than one, since he could then confirm if the rumors regarding his not-brother and the archer were true. Plus, he really wanted to indulge in wanton destruction to celebrate a night of indulgent pleasure.

The day was a mad scramble of planning. The initial decision to punish the Black Widow for mishandling his mortal toy had Loki rushing out to frontally assault the hero's base of operations. It was only when arriving at the fringes of the fan crowd that his mind began thinking rationally. It was unlike him to act so rashly. Even as a child he had always carefully thought things through before acting. There were specific goals he wanted to accomplish with this punishment, and haste would compromise those goals.

He wanted to demoralize the Avengers. The image of their teammate throwing herself at his feet, begging to be taken, would certainly do so, but Loki knew it could be used for so much more. It would take place in public, where others could see, so that the helpless sheep would lose faith in their heroes. Mortals would be so much easier to subjugate after seeing their heroes fall prey to him.

He was not prepared to engage the heroes until late night, and decided to wait until morning. He wanted the world to see their heroes falter in broad daylight. The rest of the night would be used to ensure a large crowd was gathered. Not at the heroes headquarters, but elsewhere.

A few compulsions easily granted the information he needed. The city had a tradition of holding a musical performance in the morning of the same day, every week. It was for one of the broadcast shows that Loki could not be bothered with, as they all seemed mindless, and encouraged sluggish thought. But this would present the perfect opportunity. A crowd always gathered at these functions, and it would be broadcast live, so the Avengers would be on sight almost immediately.

Loki scouted the area in the darkest hours of the night, and had to snort with derision. Mortals were so foolish. The location was surrounded by tall buildings and afforded very little cover. At the same time, he could easily attack from above in the most dramatic fashion. It would surely bring the heroes out quickly.

He settled on the roof of the building that overlooked the sight, slipping easily into a meditative pose. The remainder of the night was spent crafting various spells that needed only to be triggered, including the lust spell that he crafted with loving hatred. He would destroy the woman hero who had damaged one of Loki's toys.

Loki stared down at the ground in the light of day. It was too perfect. The gathered crowd was very large, and consisted of many young girls. Mortals, despite all of their other shortcomings, were very protective of their young. It would be an added incentive to the heroes.

The musical performer, when he made his way out a walkway cleared through the crowd, was also ridiculously young. Certainly too young to be worshipped. But the gathered young girls were screaming and swooning over the boy, who was dark-haired and skinnier even then Loki. The boy obviously enjoyed the adulation, because his hips swung a little as he traversed the walkway, occasionally blessing his worshippers by reaching out and allowing their stretching hands to brush his.

Loki's lip curled in a sneer. The young mortal was about to be humbled. No one in this miserable realm should be worshipped. They were not worthy of it. He would show them a being worth worshipping.

He watched the boy climb steps to a raised dais where he would perform for the crowd. The boy would also be providing a performance to the world, but it would be the last performance he ever gave. Loki called his armor, which shimmered into existence, along with his helmet.

The God of Mischief waited until the young boy was caterwauling, much like a feline in heat, and the crowd was staring and screaming in rapt adoration. Then he stepped off the edge of the building.

Air roared by his ears, tearing at his armor and cape as he plummeted. It blurred his vision and would have scraped his skin raw had he been mortal. It felt so much like traveling the Bifrost that Loki felt a powerful stab of longing to go home. To shoot around the Nine Realms with his idiot (not)brother pretending to lead them to glorious adventure while really only picking fights with the neighboring realms.

Ironic that using his body as a projectile weapon to start a war with his not-brother would make him long for home. Loki squashed that sentiment savagely. He had no home. Asgard would never welcome him back. He was the monster they feared and hated. He was a sneaky sorcerer who had never fit in. He had tried to kill their precious golden prince.

A roar of rage (or was it an anguished cry?) broke from his mouth. He was the monster. It was only fitting that he looked the part. The change rippled through him, and he tried not to flinch from the sight of his now-blue hands, pressed tightly to his side to minimize air flow.

He was falling toward the ground like a high speed harbinger of doom. Loki used magic to slow his descent, but only a fraction. A controlled fall would not hurt him, and he had a very specific target in mind.

The roaring in his ears was too loud to hear the screams as he hit the raised dais like a meteorite, caving it in and throwing debris into the air. He landed in a crouch, closing his eyes against the dust and debris. The foolish mortal boy fell against his shoulders and dropped to the ground.

Loki waited for the air to clear and then opened his eyes. For a second, he could only see screams in the open mouths of the crowd, but then sound caught up to him in a sweet chorus of terror. It was like a lullaby to his wounded soul.

Loki unfolded from his crouch, pulling the mortal singer up with him. The boy was dazed, shaking dust and debris from his eyes. He hadn't yet realized his danger.

"Holy shit, man. How are you not a pancake after that?"

"I am very resilient," Loki replied absently. The mechanical devices that captured and broadcasted pictures were still actively focused on them. Good.

The boy brushed himself off and looked up at his savior. His face went slack as he took in the armor, the helmet, the blue skin and the demon red eyes. He tried to back a step away, but Loki had a firm grasp on his arm.

"Are you…are you one of those mutant types?" the singer whispered.

Loki leaned over to get into his face. "I am something beyond what you are capable of comprehending. I am a God, boy. You are not, yet you play at being one. You bask in the adulation of your worshippers, and accept it as your right." He shook with his with a faint, regretful smile. "You are not worthy of your worshippers." He straightened to his full height, calling a blue, crystal-tipped spear into his free hand. It had served him well through the centuries as a focus for his magic, and it doubled as a fighting weapon.

"Dude…please let me go."

Loki laughed. "Mortal stories tell of a savior named Jesus Christ, the son of your god, who died for the sins of mankind, only to rise again. Shall we test the faith of your worshippers?"

The boy was quaking in his designer clothing. "Please…"

Loki cocked his head. "Well, since you asked so nicely…" He drove the spear right through the boy's body. For a moment, it was as if the mortal did not realize what had happened. He kept trying to say something, but could only gurgle as blood filled his throat and dripped from his mouth.

Time seemed to freeze. Loki stared down at the boy in a mixture of horror and malicious glee. This atrocity could not be forgiven. It was killing for the sake of sport. It served no other purpose. Asgardians had a different morality than that of humans, but the All-Father would not forgive this. Trying to kill Thor, trying to destroy Jotunheim, neither had been as irrevocable as the slaying of this boy.

In that blip of a moment between one heartbeat and the next, Loki was a child again, desperately seeking his father's approval. Knowing, even then, that Thor would always outshine him. He would only ever be a shadow. And the malicious sneer on young Thor's face was a prelude to years of subtle wounds that would be delivered to Loki's soul.

He told himself that it was the dust in the air that made his eyes prick with tears.

Time unfroze and screams exploded. The crowd started to scatter. Some stood in wide-eyed horror, watching as their false god bled out. Loki blinked furiously for a moment, and then donned the armor around his soul. The monster, inside and out, that was his salvation/curse.

Loki hoisted the dying mortal into the air so that all could see. "This is what I will do to those who allow themselves to be worshipped as false gods."

Then he threw his head back and screamed at the sky. "What about now, Father? Do I make you proud now? I have embraced the monster you sought to hide in shame. Will you welcome me home with open arms?" Rage finally closed his throat and spittle flew from his locked jaw.

A bullet pinged off of his armor, and Loki's attention snapped back to his surroundings. There was a ring of law officers slowly advancing through the fleeing crowd, guns at ready. The God of Mischief quelled his inner weakness, and hurled the body of the boy singer at them. He followed that with a blast from his spear, blowing the mortals off their feet.

A rush of air was not quite enough warning. Something hit Loki hard in the back, propelling him into the ground. He skidded several feet and crashed into a parked car. A metallic thump to his right told Loki what had hit him. He rolled to his feet and leveled his spear at Iron Man.

"I hated his music too, Grumpy Smurf." The playboy's voice was slightly mocking. "But don't you think impaling him was a little much?"

"Did you ever hear him sing live?" Loki countered. "I went easy on him."

Something else hit him from the side, tumbling him to the pavement once more. Loki lashed out with his spear even as he fell, and was rewarded with a grunt. Ah…the soldier. He jumped back to his feet, spear held ready.

"Nice costume."

The soldier shrugged. "You're one to talk."

Loki saw his target, dressed in her signature black, standing behind Iron Man, beside a harmless looking man with rumpled clothes and messy hair. Could that be…? No. There was no possible way that this unkept man turned into the green rage monster.

"Dr. Banner, would you like to join this fight?"

The messy looking man smiled crookedly, and then went through the most amazing transformation. The green monster literally bulged out of the confines of the man's body, and roared its displeasure. Loki was so fascinated by the transformation that he failed to react in time when the creature lashed out, knocking him into a nearby building.

Two could play that game. Loki pulled himself free of the building and blasted the creature with magic, propelling it backward. A small building fell in on it, and the Hulk did not emerge.

Loki surveyed the remaining heroes. It seemed the rumors had some truth. Thor was nowhere to be seen, and no arrows had been shot at him yet. Loki allowed a vicious smile to cross his face.

"Is that the best you can do?"

He could not have scripted it better. He swatted the attacking Iron Man into Captain America, and they tumbled off to one side. The Black Widow dodged a blast from his staff, and danced closer. Her eyes were fixed on him, her goal clear. Even as Iron Man took to the air, and the soldier jumped to his feet, the Widow ducked under Loki's staff slash and came up within his reach. Her hands shot toward him, impossibly fast, but Loki was faster. He caught her hands, and with a cruel grin, sent the magnified lust spell pulsing into her body.

The Widow gasped, twisting in his grip, then surged forward to wrap her body around his. Loki was nearly knocked off his feet, and had to fend her off as she tried to kiss him. The woman was panting, arms and legs locked shockingly tight around him. If it hadn't been for the armor, he might be in pain. The spell was even more effective than he'd hoped.

Loki looked up, needing to see the reactions of the heroes. Captain America's expression of open-mouthed astonishment was gratifying, and the Hulk hadn't yet resurfaced from the building Loki had swatted him into. Iron Man blazed down out of the sky to land beside the captain. "Tasha what the fuck are you doing?" he yelled.

The Widow groaned, a deep, guttural sound. She could not answer her teammate. Loki looked down at her in fascination. She had burrowed even closer in an attempt to climb inside his skin, but her face was twisted in revulsion. Trying to resist the spell, and what it was forcing her body to do, was sickening her. Even with the spell amped up, the Widow still tried desperately to resist. She didn't want to want him. Loki turned it up even more, and watched, gratified, as the woman shuddered and pressed her face into his shoulder.

"Oh my pet, have patience," he purred, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose into her neck. "I will be happy to entertain you." He smirked at the two dumbfounded men staring at them. "They will never trust you again," he whispered.

The Widow whimpered as she ground herself into his armor.

"Let her go!" Captain America shouted. He took a cautious step forward, but stopped when Loki's staff leveled at his midsection. "Release her," the man called in a softer tone.

Loki held both arms out, to show that he was not restraining the Black Widow. "She is free to go. I am not stopping her."

The captain snarled. "Take your magic off of her."

Loki raised one eyebrow. "What magic? I cannot help it if your teammate has been overcome with lust. I am, after all, quite a fine specimen."

"We dissect specimens around here," the iron one hissed. "You're nothing but a wannabe villain."

Loki sniffed disdainfully and flicked his eyes to the body of the adored singer. "There is nothing 'wannabe' about me, man of iron. I was born a monster. It is only natural to act like one." A low keening noise drew his eyes down to the woman wrapped around him. She was rocking against him, face still twisted in protest. If the spell loosened, even for a second, she would kill him. Her eyes promised that he would suffer untold miseries.

"I know what you would like to do to me," he whispered in her ear. "I see the hatred in your eyes. But you cannot do anything worse to me than my so-called family has already done." He smirked at the two men while running a hand up the Widow's back. She had lost the ability to verbalize words, but her body bucked against his.

Loki uttered a low, completely twisted, laugh. "Have a good day, gentlemen. I will be busy the rest of the day."

Before they could react, he sent himself and the Widow back to his hotel room.

A simple sleep spell had rendered the Widow unconscious. Loki took the opportunity to bind her to a chair. He had procured lengths of wire, wrapped in firm but flexible plastic. The sadistic bastard within him had scored the plastic coating with hundreds of tiny nicks. It would lightly shred the woman's flesh as soon as she tried to move.

When he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, he lifted the sleep spell. The woman's eyes fluttered open slowly, and then snapped wide. She stiffened, and immediately whimpered as the scored cord cut into her skin. She breathed heavily for a few seconds, sweat beading on her face, and then forced herself to relax. Then she looked up at him, face composed in a calm mask.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Loki smirked. "While the possibilities are endless, pet, I plan to stick to the basics. You were not really a part of my plans, but you called attention to yourself." He noticed her swallow and reached out to stroke a finger down her cheek. "Do not worry. While the spell could compel you, I prefer my bed partners willing of their own volition." He leaned down, placing his mouth near her ear. "I had a different type of fun in mind. Something you very richly deserve."

He took his time, drawing it out to several hours, giving back to the Widow every hurt she had visited on his mortal toy. For fun, he added some embellishments of his own. Fingertip bruises on her thighs. Pinch marks that looked like bite marks all over her lovely body. When she was returned to the heroes, she would look like a woman well used.

"You mortals need to learn to not play with a god's toy," he chided as he worked her over. "None of this would have been necessary if you hadn't damaged my latest toy." He thought he saw a flash of understanding in her eyes, but the woman said nothing.

Finally though, he grew bored with it. The Widow was not giving him the satisfaction of crying out, so it was time to end the fun. He turned the lust spell up and watched in satisfaction as the woman writhed in the chair, trying to move toward him. Blood ran freely from under the corded bonds, but the Widow only whimpered.

Loki bent over close to her. "Even I am not so cruel as to leave you in such desperate need." His talented fingers soon brought her to a screaming release so intense that she passed out.

Loki took full advantage of her unconscious state by clouding her memories. Then he transported her to a secluded alley near the headquarters, and released her. Someone would find her later, he knew, wandering the streets in a dazed and confused state. They would bring her in and confine her, since she would not be trusted. Not after throwing herself at a super villain.

It had been an enjoyable two days.

Okay, it was probably totally over the top, the killing of the mystery musical guest, but I couldn't resist. It was too…theatric. Does anyone know who the singer was?