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Loki went over it in his head multiple times, deliberating and plotting as many eventualities as he could imagine. Should he explain to his cellmates? Having allies during an escape was a good strategy, and it wasn't as if they were so brainwashed they would try to stop him. Probably.

So, with that decided he came to a halt from the usual endless laps of the never-ending corridor. To his left, Loki's two teammates sat, propped up against the worse-for-wear wall. Hon Dör appeared to be sleeping, but it was hard to tell with her ever-present mask, and he was almost certain she could twiddle her thumbs like that whilst asleep. Moth, however, had a hung open mouth and was snoring in that soft, near purr they had. Loki stared for a moment and his neck twinged with sympathy.

"I need to talk to you," He said, and then louder when they refused to wake or, in Hon Dör's case, ignored him. Eventually, Moth twitched their neck out of the broken-looking position it had been in. Finally, some signs of life.

"You're pregnant?" Hon Dör muttered, void of the slurring which normally gave away someone had only recently awoken. Moth straightened slowly, rubbing at their eyes.

Loki rolled his eyes and sat opposite the two, leant back against the wall, allowing his aching legs to rest. "I know a way to escape."

That put an end to her sarcasm. Instead, they were identically shocked - body stiff and, in Moth's case, eyes wide.

"You're joking," Hon Dör replied after a few moments. Then she laughed, forced and too loud. "Funny."

Loki felt his eyebrows attempt to merge with his hairline. "I'm not."

Moth laid a hand gently on Hon Dör's knee and her mouth snapped shut behind her mask, undoubtedly about to inform him of how wrong he was. "You're sure?" They asked.

"Yes," Loki said, expression as trustworthy as he could make it.

"Okay."

Silence as the two processed what he had said. He would have reacted the same way if someone thought they could break out of Asgard's dungeon, so he just sat and waited.

Eventually, Hon Dör spoke again. "You are certain?"

Loki couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes and the masked woman tensed in response. "Absolutely," He replied.

Both watched him quietly, studying his expression. Not that it would give them anything, but Loki understood the effort. Eventually, Hon Dör's shoulders relaxed and she dipped her head at him in a small nod.

"Do you have a plan?"

Loki smirked. "How low do you think of me to ask that?" He said, but with no force to it.

Moth leant forwards and fixed him with an unshakable stare. "Tell us."

And he did.

It took some explaining, but, thankfully, his cellmates weren't insipid.

When Loki had been launched into the air like an undignified doll earlier that day, he had seen the Valkyrie's ship docked rather haphazardly on a jutting out slab of metal. The same sort as where they had landed when he was brought to this hell-hole.

It had been, from what little was visible, rather close to both the arena and where he guessed the armoury to be. And, since the Scrapper had been on a delivery errand, she would have set down as close to the entrance as possible, meaning that the exit from the tower was very close by. And then his knowledge of purpose-built castles came into use. Servant corridors were made to be discreet and minimise travel time. Therefore, the particular pathway Valkyrie had used must have had an entrance close to, if not in the armoury, which would then lead directly to a (hopefully) unguarded exit.

Once he had explained, Moth simply accepted his logic, but Hon Dör was giving him a look from behind her mask, he could somehow tell.

"That's convoluted," She said. "How do you know you've predicted correctly?"

Loki sighed. "I won't till I try," He replied and ran a hand through his hair, absent-mindedly chewed at his knuckle. If it didn't work and he was captured… The Grandmaster was genuinely quite terrifying and he didn't want to find out what the tyrant did to attempted escapees.

Silence descended after that. The Prince rested, already exhausted from fighting and his legs trembled from the laps he had just run. Opposite him, Moth and Hon Dör seemed to be thinking, perhaps deciding whether or not to sell him out. Would they be rewarded when they did?

"We won't till we try," Moth spoke up, interrupting his train of thought.

Loki blinked at the dimwit. "Not everyone talks of themself as if they are multiple people," He scowled - being corrected on his grammar by someone who so clearly lacked even the ability to spell rankled him.

Hon Dör huffed a short laugh. "You are unbelievably stupid."

Brilliant, now she was making fun of him as well. Just what he deserved for thinking these imbeciles would know a decent idea when they heard one. Escaping by himself was sounding better by the minute. "Please, tell me your ingenious plan to get out of here?" He hissed before he could stop himself, the words spilling from his mouth.

Before Hon Dör could retort, Moth cut her off. "Luke," They said in a calm voice, expression relaxed but with a slight tilt up at the corners of their mouth. "We are coming with you."

Retorts died away behind his lips and Loki blinked. "Oh," He said after a moment. Then promptly recovered, "Good! I'd be questioning your sanity if you weren't." He had to be getting soft for such a small thing to throw him visibly.

With that, awkward silence reigned and Loki felt his lids slowly beginning to droop as his muscles relaxed.

It took days for the opportunity to present itself.

Days in which Loki ran his laps, improving all the while - he had built up nearly all the muscle he had lost to Asgard's dungeon in barely a week, which was incredible. And left him feeling less like a walking twig and more able to do what undoubtedly would need doing. Namely, unleash his inner Thor in the absence of his seiðr to help him find out what had happened to the aforementioned Asgardian.

But, the guard arrived and they trailed along after to the armoury once again, hopefully for the last time.

Loki glanced behind him and made a point of scowling when Moth nodded reassuringly. If his magic wasn't locked away, he would have certainly caused irreparable harm to the green creature. Instead, he huffed and turned back round to study the walls, doorway, everything. He wasn't hoping for much - if the servant's entrance was obvious, he wouldn't have needed Scrapper 142 to give it away.

Nothing had changed since the first time he had been here. A subtle door or conveniently placed wall covering hadn't manifested now that he knew there was a hidden escape route. Loki entered the armoury, and the trio split, dissolving into the hectic crowd of gladiators. With practiced ease, he navigated to the weapons rack and selected his usual weapons - the rapier, throwing knives, twin daggers and hunting knife. He strapped them on, double checked the buckles and then set out again for the exit. After being cornered by that Dokkalf, he didn't particularly want to hang around, especially since he had fought in the ring and was no longer protected by the odd customs of this even odder place.

Just as Loki was heading to the exit, he saw the Valkyrie from the corner of his eye.

She held the same bag, bristling with blades. His hand reached up and brushed the 'obedience disk' still clinging to his temple and felt the anger, usually a tight knot in his stomach, rise up and settle in the base of his throat.

She had sold him like livestock to a madman. A madman who had wanted certain acts to be performed, but sent him to fight like an animal on a whim.

An outburst would not solve anything and Loki glanced about, careful to continue on his previous course to the exit. Moth was already staring in the Scrapper's direction, making their way over to where Hon Dör's blank mask was visible through a gap in the crowd.

Hopefully, his cellmates would remember to stick to the plan, but there was nothing he could do now - everything had been explained to the best of his abilities.

Loki continued walking to the exit as he had been before noticing the Valkyrie. If he slowed down too much, she may realise something was off. He himself had caught many wannabe assassins and thieves simply because they had quickened or slowed their pace upon seeing him; not an easy thing to spot, but glaringly obvious once you knew what you were looking for.

So he continued onwards, one eye on Scrapper 142 and the other waiting for Moth and Hon Dör to make a rookie mistake. Thankfully, they didn't and soon all three were standing together by the exit, apparently waiting for their guard to collect them.

If they were whisked off to the mess hall before the Valkyrie left and revealed the exit, it wouldn't be a great loss. Yes, every extra second on Sakaar was a second he could have used journeying to Asgard, finding out what happened. But, if it wasn't to be, Loki would bide his time and wait for a more opportune moment. A successful escape was infinitely better than a half-arsed one which ended in heads rolling.

Moth and Hon Dör were talking softly and the Prince nodded along at all the right times. Occasionally he looked over at Scrapper 142, for barely a moment to note her position, then back to pretending to be engaged in conversation.

Metal clanked onto the floor, followed by the duller thumps of armour and softer weapons. Scraping as they were picked up and an increase in the clanking of boots as the gladiators swiftly cleared the pile.

Loki glanced over. The Valkyrie held an empty duffel bag, shaking it upside down to dislodge any remaining items. Then it slung over her shoulder and the hip flask from last time made an appearance and she took a swig, adam's apple bobbing. He turned back to their conversation, nodding absent-mindedly.

Footsteps, scraping and stumbling, passed them. A strong stench of alcohol followed and the Valkyrie appeared in his line of sight. She was still drinking from the small flask and, without a backwards glance, disappeared through the door.

Moth's overly-muscular elbow found its way to Loki's side and poked him in the ribs, as if warning him. The Prince glowered down at them; "You're not the only one possessing eyes."

They shrugged, as if to say 'just in case' and then they were walking confidently towards the door, appearing to have just seen their guard.

Loki glanced down at Hon Dör, who had started after the green creature. He ran a hand through his hair and followed after a beat - at least something interesting would happen.

The three walked together to the exit, Scrapper 142 disappearing down the hallway ahead of them until she came to a blank section of wall. With a quick flick of her fingers, a silver oblong was held a few centimetres from the surface until a low, barely audible beep sounded. Just as she was stuffing the fob into one of her undoubtedly many pockets, a crack appeared on the blank white, spreading down in a straight line as it grew wider and wider. In moments, it was big enough and the Valkyrie impatiently shimmied through, flask clanging on the metal walls.

Hon Dör made to jog forwards and slip in before the entrance could close once more, but Loki held out an arm to stop her. A hand batted him away, but she stayed put with a grumble.

If they were too quick, they could stumble in to find Valkyrie still there, which would not be good for their longevity, let alone the escape attempt. Loki's fingers went back up to the disk at his temple - he would need a way to remove it once leaving this forsaken planet.

Waiting in tense silence, Loki watched as the doorway widened, widened, then held for a few seconds. This time, Moth made a move forward, but he shook his head minutely. A few more moments and he set off, moving as quickly and as quietly as possible, until he made it to the slowly closing crack in the wall.

Peering inside, blank white gave way to grey and stained; evidently kept in a state of ill repair.

Thankfully, the Valkyrie was nowhere in sight.

Loki sucked in a breath and quickly strode through, almost expecting an alarm to go off. When none did, he swiftly stepped aside. The masked woman was next through, her small frame easily slipping in. She glanced about, but said nothing and moved away immediately for Moth to enter. Their bulky form only just managed to make it, but there was no worry on their face.

However, that quickly changed when Hon Dör went stiff as a board, shoulders up to where her ears were hidden under the mask and hair.

Confused, Loki glanced back when he heard her involuntary gasp and peered through the closing doorway.

In the corridor they had just entered from, there was a person of similar height and build to Hon Dör being escorted by a guard.

Before he or Moth could react, the small, masked woman was running through the gap without a backwards glance, gloved hands holding the spear before her, as if about to impale the guard. Loki's eyes felt as if they were about to pop out of his skull at the sheer idiocy she had just displayed and he backed up against the wall right next to the closing entrance, in a bid not to be seen by the guard.

Moth stood in the entrance, brown eyes confused as they glanced between Hon Dör and Loki.

"Hide," He hissed as quietly as he could whilst still keeping the commanding malice in his voice. "You eejit that bastard will see you!"

But, apparently they were as stupid as they were green and Moth held open the closing door as they squeezed back through. And Loki was alone inside the servant's passage, gobsmacked at the ineptitude he had managed to become surrounded in. He had previously thought that nothing could top the Stooges Three, Sif and his brother, but he had to admit to himself that this was setting a new record.

As he waited for the crack to close, he could hear what might have been a fight occurring outside.

An unfamiliar, deep voice called out in an unknown language with a lilt up at the end, as if in recognition or question. Moth was talking loudly, calmly and the clang of metal on metal rang throughout the corridor.

Perhaps he should go out to help them.

Obviously, whoever that person was, they were important to Hon Dör in one way or another. And, if they subdued the guard, maybe there was still a chance of escape…?

But that was a ridiculous idea and he squashed it into the dark corners of his mind like such a thought deserved. The wall closed next to him, muffling sounds of fighting and angry yelling, he sighed with relief.

If those two couldn't stick to a very simple plan, then it was their fault for being idiots and he was in no way to blame. Even if they had saved his life… But there was no time for the - almost remorse - which settled in his stomach. With a last glance at the entrance to ensure it was closed, Loki turned away from it to start down the corridor.

The floor was scuffed and stained, the walls had suffered a similar fate and lights hung from the ceiling by swaying wires. Evidently, the Grandmaster cared little for whatever bootlickers served him.

Outside, the cacophony of shouting and fighting had died down so that the only sound was his own breathing and heartbeat. Not even Valkyrie's footsteps echoed down the corridor, which was probably a good thing. Except that it could mean she was waiting somewhere along the way.

Loki pulled in a deep breath, felt the stuffy air fill his lungs. Slowly let it back out. His knuckle had found its way into his mouth again. The Prince pulled it away after a moment and straightened up. He needed to go.

Every second waiting was wasted and he set off with that in mind, one step after another.

Above, lightbulbs swayed and occasionally flickered, making the already ominous passage even more so. He walked straight on, no branching corridors opened up about him and there was no end in sight.

Loki strode on. His footsteps echoed quietly and then there was a subtle change in how the sound bounced back to him; more open. A wall appeared out of the dark ahead of him. He approached, slower now. As he grew closer, small scratches and imperfections in the metal became visible.

Loki stood before it and slowly reached out a hand until his fingertips brushed it. Sensing his movement, the solid wall split beneath his touch. No need to guard the servant's exit, apparently. If such an inadequacy had been displayed by any of Asgard's architects, they would have been fired and possibly even charged with treason.

Thankfully for him, the Grandmaster didn't have such high standards and the door opened, allowing light from outside to spill in.

And then skull-splitting pain seemed to set fire to the side of Loki's face, and he collapsed into darkness.

The first thing he knew when light re-entered the world was that he was outside.

Wind was blowing against his face and the sky spread out above him, filled with grey, stormy clouds. He was lying on unforgiving metal and light was glaring into his eyes.

A shadow fell and Loki blinked, adjusted and suddenly he could make out a woman's face.

The Valkyrie's face.

"Oh. Shit."

Her lips crinkled upwards. "Yeah, 'oh shit'."

"If you wouldn't mind, I was just leaving."

"So you were pretending to be brain-dead," She grinned down at him, teeth showing and face paint distorting from how her skin stretched. "I thought you were playing it up."

Loki wrinkled his nose in response. "It worked," He replied with a mocking smirk. "Besides, I thought the Valkyries weren't all too smart. Isn't that why you all died gruesome deaths?"

She froze. Her mouth opened to speak, but clicked back closed. Instead, a fist slammed into his nose, then his cheek, then his stomach in quick succession.

He gasped for breath and rolled away in an attempt to dodge the sudden attacks, but the Valkyrie just grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pulled him round to face her. Cool liquid trickled down his face, dripped off his chin.

"Don't you fucking talk about that," Scrapper 142 snarled in his face, spittle flying and eyes narrowed into slits.

Loki pulled in a gasp of air, then spat a gob of saliva mixed with blood onto her face. The Valkyrie recoiled, reached up to wipe it away in disgust, and he shot up a hand, latched onto her forehead. Dug in his nails, long and sharp after so long without care and he flung her away.

A dull thump as her body hit the floor and rolled, giving him just enough time to stumble to his feet. Without his seiðr, fighting a Valkyrie was most certainly not something he wanted to do - even Thor would have hesitated. The battle maidens had been in bedtime stories and songs of the Great Conquest since before he was even born. To face one in such a weakened state would be suicide, and Loki had already tried and failed at that. It would be the height of irony if, the one time he didn't have a burning urge to leap from the highest tower, he was murdered by this bitch.

How the Norns must love him.

Already, she was getting to her feet, spitting insults and stinking of alcohol. Loki took one look at the unadulterated fury on her face and any resolve he had to escape that day fled him. Instead, he turned tail, sprinted at the wall he had entered through.

It was closed.

The Norns probably cherished him, if only for his entertainment value.

Loki banged his hands against the metal, but it remained unresponsive. Glanced over his shoulder to see that the Valkyrie had risen to her feet, blood trickling from the marks his nails had left on her face. Her expression nearly surpassed Odin at his most furious and Loki hit the wall again.

He was going to die in agony if she caught him, of that there was no doubt. A head of gold hair, laughing blue eyes and a warrior's stance entered his mind's eye. Would he never see Thor again?

Then something in him seemed to pop, burst and power shot through his fingers, into the metal and it slid open, he fell through. The Prince gasped, stumbled forwards a step into the corridor and the wall closed swiftly behind him, sudden power fleeing back to wherever it had come from.

He stared at his hands for a second, but then a loud clang on the door behind him sent him sprinting forward, fast as he could despite the sudden exhaustion which overtook him. Whatever he had just done, it felt as if someone had sucked the very life-force from him.

After only a few pounding steps, his face seemed to ignite once again and Loki's hand came up to hold it, muscles seizing as electricity shot through him. But this time, he had been expecting it. Having Thor as a brother had led to being struck by lightning quite a few times, and Loki just clenched his jaw and straightened out of the hunch he had slipped into. Continued running after a few moments. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But being caught by the furious Asgardian he could hear screaming curses behind him would hurt far more.

With one hand clutching his temple and the other trailing on the wall, in case his trembling legs collapsed, he ran under the swinging and flickering lights. Out of the dark before him, the distant door appeared and he stumbled up to it, planted his palm against it. Behind him, pounding footsteps.

The wall split down the middle and Loki squeezed through as soon as he could, chest and back scraping both sides as they slid slowly open. Sprinted down the hallway, still clutching at his head, muscles twitching.

Once he got his magic back, that Valkyrie was going to eat her own entrails.

Feet pounding, he sped down the corridor, pushed past a guard and kicked open the door to the mess hall, only to stop short.

Whilst he had been fleeing with his tail between his legs, he had completely forgotten that Hon Dör and Moth had been in a predicament of their own when he left them.

The masked woman stood atop a table, yelling at the top of her lungs in a foreign tongue, spear poised and ready to strike at the creature she had seen in the hallway. He was screaming back in a surprisingly deep voice for his size, gesticulating furiously with the odd weapon he held. Both wore the exact same mask; the only way to tell them apart was how Hon Dör's hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the new one wore his down, whipping about his head.

Loki slid to a halt until he heard furious feet stomping behind him. At which point he dove inside and slammed the doors shut, grabbed the nearest bench and yanked it out from under whoever was sitting upon it and slung it across the entrance.

Whilst his back was to the mess hall, pandemonium broke loose with a flurry of screeched words, followed by the furious clang of metal on metal.

Before him, the double doors bowed with the force at which Scrapper 142 barreled into them and Loki jumped back, hands flying to his belt, resting on his twin daggers. As if they would help him in a magic-less fight against the Valkyrie.

Another resounding bang on the doors and they shook, but the bench held and he let out a soft breath. At least he probably had another five minutes until she broke through and brutally murdered him.

He turned back to the more immediate threat, which was the room filled with bloodthirsty gladiators he was now trapped in with. And not to mention the raging fight Hon Dör had undoubtedly started, which everyone else had somehow become involved in.

Bodies were literally flying through the air, tumbling head over heels and crashing down, rolling to a stop. At the centre of the chaos, Hon Dör stood atop the only table which wasn't on its side or smashed to smithereens. She was twirling, lashing out at anyone who came near with her spear, using her small size and incredible speed to her advantage. Opposite her was the being who had set this all off, hair whipping back and forth in a frenzy. They were fighting viciously - everyone else as well as each other.

Moth was the only person standing still, a look of confusion evident on their face and Loki felt a flash of contempt for the green idiot.

But even as he was assessing what sort of Hel had opened up before him, the fight seemed to be drawing to a close. Hon Dör was suddenly gasping for breath, small form hunching over and large hands reached up, grabbed her in a tight grip - too tight not to hurt.

Another flash, but this time of grim pleasure. It served the idiot right for being insipid enough to completely abandon the plan! If he had had them both with him when he encountered the Valkyrie, he would be already long gone from here!

Loki snarled angrily, mind made up that whatever was going on, it was just deserts.

And then Moth's confused brown eyes found him from across the room. For a moment, the fury persisted, but then the creature was making their way over, yelling at the top of their considerable lungs. "Masked woman will die!" They were saying as they approached Loki.

"And why, exactly, should I care?" He hissed back, shoulders hunched up and hands still gripping the hilts of his daggers.

Moth blinked and looked up at him, as if confused by such a simple thing. By Asgard he hated naïve idiots. "New gladiators are safe. She is fighting one. She will be killed for it."

"That's my problem now?" Loki raised an eyebrow, trying to calm his still-racing heart. No matter how much exercise he did, sprinting as fast as he could from certain and agonising death would never be pleasant. "She got herself into this."

"You owe a life debt," They said, as if that explained it all away. And unfortunately, it seemed that there weren't as many cultural differences between them as he had hoped. Equally as unfortunately, the tiny masked creature had, indeed, saved his life. That bout with the Dokkalf had been markedly unpleasant. Remorse from earlier, partially forgotten, decided now was the time for a rather strong comeback and he snarled.

"I am going to regret this," Loki scowled, running a hand through his hair.

Moth rolled their shoulders, more of a stretch than a shrug. "We thank you," They said somberly.

"Thank me if the tiny idiot gets out of this alive," He muttered back.

Up on the table, Hon Dör was desperately weaving away from attacks in every direction, clothing already torn and mask riddled with cracks. Loki wracked his brain for what he could possibly do to stop it. Fighting an entire room of gladiators was not the best idea, especially with his legs already about to give way beneath him.

Instead, Loki grabbed a nearby, turned-over table and righted it, scrambled on top.

Even as he began to straighten out, Frigga's face was layered over the world about him, like how she would lock eyes with him when trying to dissuade her son from whatever recent bout of mischief he was planning.

Please, don't. There are other ways!

Loki couldn't see any of her 'other ways'. If there was one, it didn't include freeing his idiot teammate from her current predicament and despite how much he wanted to leave her to her well-deserved fate… He had acquiesced to Moth; indirectly said he would help. And, whilst it was like getting blood from a stone, once Loki agreed to do something, he became as stubborn and mule-headed as his brother. No matter that he had no idea why he had agreed in the first place.

You will die!

He hadn't expected to live very long, anyway.

Loki sucked in a breath, straightened his shoulders and locked his path in.

"I am challenging the Champion!" He roared, loud and carrying. Below him, the fighting stopped and Hon Dör wriggled free, clothing in tatters.

The crowd all turned to stare up at him, completely forgetting the fight they had been so caught up in, allowing their target to slip away.

And then there was an armoured hand wrapped about his bicep, pulling him away and out the mess hall.

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