I quote here the (absolutely wonderful) idea of AkiraRedTiger so that you can enjoy the original creation (because we must give credit where credit is due):

"If I can keep suggesting ideas, I dream of seeing Loki as a vigilante. By that I mean real vigilante, in the sense that the entire population would overlook his crimes and cheer him on for taking down a seemingly invincible and merciless enemy.

I'm referring, of course, to the New York Postal Service, which could break the will of steel and subdue the entire city with a snap of its fingers.

The only mistake they made was to delay the delivery of the flying shoes. This of course was not acceptable to Loki.

After a fierce battle, which ended with the largest post office in New York being replaced by a crater 250m wide and 50m deep, all the packages in the city started to arrive strangely fast.

And the sanity of the citizens is spared, the Avengers become has-been and nobody noticed that Namor came to start talks at the UN. The End."

Now that you have the basic idea...


"LOKI!"

The god woke up with a jump and stiffened in his seat as soon as he realized what had woken him up. And especially who had woken him up. He passed a hand over his face, having in mind the vague idea that it would assure him if this situation was not a simple nightmare. However while he still caressed the hope that this awakening was only a dream, he heard the noise of the heels of Amora which clacked on the floor of the corridor and this, in spite of the very good insulation of the walls. Nothing resisted the power of the voice or the heels of the enchantress when she was annoyed. There was not much time left for the Jotun before the blonde walked through his door.

The dark-haired man flickered his eyes as Amora's footsteps approached his lab irrevocably. His vision was slightly blurry. No, he hadn't stayed in front of his laptop for too long last night... Or maybe he had, until not so long ago. His anger against humans rekindled, he had decided to foment. Logically, he had created a Twitter account. It had occurred to Loki that in his plan to become president, Twitter would have been a real opportunity. No sooner had he thought about it than the door opened with the usual muffled hiss and his web designer stormed into his lab.

Loki suppressed a yawn and let his back rest against the back of his seat while stretching his legs. He wondered if he had time to get a coffee to wake up for good, but a file crashed in front of him. He looked at his employee with an angry look. He didn't like this attitude at all. Who wanted to be attacked by a document as soon as he woke up? Nobody.

"What?" he barked with all his bad mood.

And God, well Odin, knows that after a wake-up call like that, it was particularly lively.

"Look," Amora replied coldly, placing both hands flat on Loki's desk, "this is the report of our 'wonderful' community manager slash after-sales service."

"Did you say 'slash'?" realized Loki as he judged Amora emphatically with his eyes.

"I wasn't going to write it to you!"

"Get your hands off my desk. You're keeping me from reading."

With an exaggerated sigh, Amora retrieved her hands and sat down in the slightly wobbly chair that waited wisely by the desk. Loki raised an eyebrow and opened the file. He didn't understand why his community manager wasn't satisfied with a simple e-mail. He always had to do a lot.

"I don't like it," the enchantress muttered, watching her nails as Loki lifted the first sheets of statistics.

There was otherwise nothing to report on them. Loki's box always had more visibility and ordering. He continued reading diagonally to get to the interesting part as quickly as possible. He wanted his coffee and this history made him obstacle. The brown man turned a last page and was attacked by the numerous strokes of colored highlighters which crossed the sheet: the customers' opinions.

"Dormammu knows what he's doing," Loki sighed as he read the first comment.

"This guy's not clean," the Asgardian decided firmly, backing up her assertion with an aggressively slapped index finger on the desk.

Loki gave her a threatening look and Amora calmly crossed her legs. She had understood, no touching the desk. Mister god looked more irritable than usual today.

"He's bored in the dark dimension," said Loki, "you can't blame him for wanting to pass the time. Besides, he's there because of that damned doctor, so I understand him."

"Doctor?

"Strange," Loki muttered, frowning as he read.

Amora looked down at the documents.

"I know that, that's why I brought it to you."

"I was talking about the "doctor". That's his name."

"Strange?"

Loki nodded vaguely as he tapped his desk. Something was wrong with his company and it wasn't his fault.

"That's... Strange indeed," Amora admitted.

The god looked at her for a brief moment, wondering if he should tell the enchantress that her name was something strange as well, but he held back. He'd rather keep it under wraps. If one day she went on fire, however, he would throw a jar of mustard* in her face. It would bring her back to earth brutally.

"I hate him," Loki grumbled, coming out of his thoughts. "That so-called supreme sorcerer. You bet. He's just a beginner!"

Amora stood up and crossed her arms over her corset.

"Can we get back to our problem? Because I don't want to lose my job. But if it goes on like this..."

She finished her sentence with a look on the papers that the god had taken in hand. Loki rubbed his chin. The overall rating of his site was falling and all for one thing: the delivery times.

What was with the delivery time? Packages were shipped the same day they were ordered - thank you magic - and yet that wasn't enough? No, definitely, something was wrong... Something was wrong when the packages left the Tower. So the people responsible were... Loki's eyes darkened and it was a dark look that came over a comment.

"Thank you USPS" the person who made the comment quipped.

The USPS of course... The United States Postal Service. Loki should have known better. Like all the postal services in the world, the USPS was unreliable. Between incredible delays, lost parcels and delivery men deciding, without even checking, that the customer was not at home, it was difficult to have a reliable service.

A dull rage filled the god. How dare these wretched mortals interfere in HIS business? Was he interfering in... Okay, okay, bad example.

"I'm going out," Loki announced in an icy voice.

Amora followed him with her eyes until he disappeared into the corridor.

"Great," she grunted, putting her hands on her hips. "What do I do now? Video conference with Dormammu? "

At this simple idea the enchantress shivered. Everything but that. It's a good thing Loki didn't organize a seminar to bond the employees. There were only two of them anyway, so it would be rather pointless. The Asgardian still wondered how she ended up being a co-worker with the Lord of the Dark Dimension. It was quite incongruous.

She walked out of Loki's lab and came face to face with Clint who was staring at her from behind his sunglasses, the straw of a smoothie between his lips.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Amora rolled her eyes and promptly avoided the archer. There was no way she was going to communicate with this strange midgardian. Who wears sunglasses indoors anyway?

Clint followed her, sipping his drink until she left the Tower. By teleporting. Right in the middle of a hallway. The archer was stunned and stared at the floor where, only seconds earlier, Amora's heels were still on.

"What are you doing?" asked Natasha who was passing by.

"The alien who works for Loki was here," Clint explained, pointing to the void in front of him. "And she disappeared."

"I see," replied the redhead without paying him any more attention.

She left her teammate, still perplexed, on these words. Clint looked around.

"She's gone! Disappeared! Why is no one reacting?"

For the time being, there was no one next to the archer who could have reacted, but he still had a point. Since Loki had been living in the Tower, no one reacted to anything. Everything, absolutely everything, had become normal.

A donut flying by in the middle of the living room and then levitating in front of the elevator to finally take it to Loki's lab? Normal.

Thor using Mjölnir to fly and distribute flyers for his adopted brother's shoe brand? Normal.

In the end, apart from Morgan's progress, nothing surprised the Avengers anymore. Our poor Clint was left to deal with this kind of situation on his own. And Clint didn't know how to handle it. Could he remain perfectly sane after seeing someone suddenly disappear?

It was true that he'd seen other things since Loki's arrival, but some things were hard to swallow. Like teleportation, for example. The archer's sanity was being challenged these days.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Loki could have flown/raced to any of the USPS buildings. However, driving his Jaguar soothed him. Why did he want to relax before going to demand explanations? Simply because, exceptionally, Loki had decided to handle this story in a peaceful way. He thus decided to take out his car, in more that that made a moment that it waited in the garage.

Loki slammed the car door behind his back and walked briskly down Eighth Avenue. He ignored the aggressive honking of horns from drivers who blamed him for parking in the middle of the road. It wasn't his problem. He had a more pressing matter to attend to at the moment. He finally stopped in front of the huge USPS building. The god looked at the stone façade and the columns for a moment and judged the place to be far too prestigious for such a shabby postal service. With an angry step, he climbed the steps and entered the building.

Without taking a moment to observe the interior of the building or the superb ceilings, he passed a huge queue to stand in front of an open counter. The only one open.

"Hey! You can't do that! Get in line like everyone elmph."

Panicked, the woman who had tried to intervene put her hands over her mouth. Where was her mouth?! It was only an illusion of course but only Loki knew that. In an instant, the New Yorkers began to evacuate in order not to attract the wrath of the god. Meanwhile, behind the counter, the USPS employee was finally taking his eyes off his screen.

"What do you need," he sighed slowly, which exasperated our dear Jotun to no end.

"My deliveries go through you and never arrive on time."

The man stared at him blankly for a moment, then looked down at his screen and the schedule displayed just below it. He looked at the legend on the schedule and then slowly looked up.

"I'm not the one to talk to about this, sir. You have to check with the delivery service. Here it's only the reception of the customers."

Loki took a deep breath.

"And where is the delivery service?" he asked in an acid voice.

"At the very end on the left over there after the packing area. But they're closed today."

"Why?"

"It is Thursday."

"And?" said the god who didn't see the connection between his question and the answer he was given.

"There is no delivery service on Thursday. It's written there," said the man pointing to his schedule.

Suddenly, Loki felt an urgent need to blow up this hellhole. In a peaceful way of course.

Did he have to do it?

Yes.

Was he going to do it?

Of course!

The question was: when and how?

Loki looked at the employee, as useful as a pigeon in the streets of New York, who was no longer paying him any attention. The god took a brief moment, very brief, really very brief. In fact, he didn't think about it for more than a quarter of a second. Did this man's life matter? Not really. And there was a small probability that he was related to the Beach Child. Very, very small, but still there.

When and how?

How about now. Now. Right now.

As for the how, Loki was always a big fan of explosions: simple and effective. Plus it was pretty to look at. The dark-haired man looked around him. Nothing better than a masterful explosion to cheer himself up after a rather gloomy day.

Loki left the building with great strides, terrifying just by his presence, the poor mortals who simply wished to buy a nice stamp to send their postcards of vacations in New-York. Yes, it was still done. It was quite unbelievable, especially with such postal services.

Outside, he looked down at his shoes for a moment with a small smile on his face. Always there when you need them! And the fact that he wore them six days out of seven was just a coincidence.

Within seconds, Loki was in the air, overlooking Eighth Avenue and the USPS building. The god took a moment, remembering the explosion on Fifth Avenue. It was time to do better, to do bigger! With the Eighth.

It would still take a lot of energy. First, because unlike last time, he didn't have a car to sacrifice in a truck. He had to do everything himself. Right.

No one was there to watch him, he could do whatever he wanted. As long as he could figure out how to create his explosion. Unfortunately, that was not one of his specialties.

His phone vibrated and he took it out of his pocket.

From WebD: What are you doing? We have to find a solution for the delays...

A smile, almost evil, lifted Loki's lips. Explosions were not his specialty... But on the other hand... He answered Amora's message asking her to join him as soon as possible. The message itself was more raw but better to censor it slightly.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"So. Let me recap your "plan"."

"Don't mime the quotation marks," Loki interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "It's a real plan. And it's a very good one."

Amora blinked, not in the least convinced. However, she did not show it. Loki was still the source of her income. And, suspended dozens of feet off the ground, in shoes of his own creation, she doubted this was the best time to stand up to him. Even if in the worst case, teleportation could get her out of any trouble.

"I go into the building and blow it up with an explosion you call that a plan?"

"Yes. I wish I could do it myself... You couldn't... Lend me your explosive power?"

"I really don't think that kind of thing is "on loan"."

"I'm going to fire you if you keep on with your quotation marks," threatened the dark-haired man.

Amora lowered her hands and Loki looked at her for a moment, realizing something.

"There must be a huge generator in this building."

"Like everywhere else I suppose."

"It would surely cause a terrible explosion if an energy discharge was accidentally thrown against it, wouldn't it?"

"Eldritch energy?"

"Eldritch energy," confirmed Loki. "I won't need you after all. You can go."

"Sorry?"

"I'll see you when I've dealt with this problem," Loki said as he began his descent.

The enchantress clenched her fists. Loki was unable to realize how much one could want to hit him with a chair, or anything else, like an explosion. Yes, hit with an explosion. Amora in anger was particularly dangerous. She gave a middle finger to her boss and went back down to the ground, ignoring the crowd that was strangely watching her. Even though Fly Dragon sales were increasing, it was still far from common to see someone flying around town.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Loki once again entered the USPS premises. This time with a determined step. All anger was gone from his walk. Peaceful Loki was about to solve a problem.

It was very easy to find the generators. Many of the signs told the public not to touch them, not to go near them, under the risk of being electrocuted. So all you had to do was ignore the signs and push the "forbidden" doors. Nothing less than what Loki had done all his life.

When he pushed the umpteenth door, after having delicately and peacefully broken it down, the god found himself in front of what he was looking for. An enormous potential of explosion was condensed in this room. And it would only take one discharge to release that potential.

Unlike his classic magic which was green, when Loki used eldritch magic it was red and orange sparks that flew from his hands. Which, in his humble opinion, would be more suitable for an explosion. He cracked his knuckles, smiling, and sparks crackled on the ground.

"Here we go."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

If the fear that had driven all the visitors out of the USPS had subsided and New Yorkers were passing by again as if nothing had happened, the huge explosion that threw a large number of them to the ground set off a wave of panic. Under the frightened eyes of the inhabitants, the windows of the building exploded, projecting shards of glass to the surroundings, walls half collapsed but yet, while everything announced a memorable explosion, the building strangely ended up imploding.

An old man watched the people running in all directions away from Eighth Avenue with a sigh. He bent down and picked up the newspaper that had been knocked from his hands by the blast that had blown out the windows.

"Frankly, these young people are afraid of everything," he grumbled, dusting off his newspaper. And these heroes are never there when we need them.

"But what are you doing?" a man in a suit said, passing in front of him. "Go away!"

"Huh! Since I've been living in New York, it's not a simple explosion that will scare me."

And he left with a steady step towards the subway.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Well," said Loki, contemplating the enormous crater where a few minutes ago a gigantic building stood. "It's been a long time since I destroyed anything at the same time. It feels good."

Crossed arms, he observed the midgardians who ran in all the directions under his feet. Indeed that made "a long time" that he had not destroyed anything. Added to that this destruction was of public utility one could not hold it against him.

"Quite a crater," whistled the brown while admiring a little more its splendid destruction.

And for good reason, a hole of almost two hundred and fifty meters long was far from being negligible, even less so in the city center. A few pieces of debris littered the deep crater, the only traces proving that a building was indeed present a short time ago.

Satisfied with this peaceful way to solve his problem, Loki went down and leaned nonchalantly against a wall. His green eyes following with some satisfaction the ball of firemen and policemen that was starting in the eighth avenue, he took out his smartphone and launched Twitter. The god had to take advantage of this beginning of notoriety on social networks.

And so his subscribers saw pass in their TL:

GodOfMischief: "I'm keeping my eye on the USPS for you New York."

Moments later, Loki received a private message.

From NYCWallCrawler: the role of neighborhood vigilante is already taken mister Loki (。ŏ﹏ŏ) leave this kind of business to me (つ≧▽≦)つ

And there he goes again with his strange symbols that the teenage spider was so fond of. The god put away his phone without answering. Perhaps it was more prudent to move away from the scene of the crime. Even if the numerous notifications that harassed his phone were enthusiastic, the police might not be of the same opinion. And Loki didn't have time to waste with them. He had to deal with the second part of his plan. Now that the USPS was partially destroyed, it would rise from the ashes. And it was Loki who would light the fire.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Have you heard the news?"

"On the USPS? Yes !"

"Someone finally took care of their case!"

"I received dozens of packages in a few days that had been misplaced for years by their services."

Loki who walked, incognito, in the city center was delighted. Everywhere in the city, people were blessing the man (or god) who had caused this miracle. Everything that passed through the postal service arrived on time. Often even in advance.

"I heard that whoever did it is on Twitter. Are you following him?"

"Not yet. Give me his username!"

"You saw, he's the one who attacked New York with the aliens."

"The one who fought against the Avengers?"

"Pff frankly they could have done something before those ones. Every time they destroy the city, they always trash the USPS sorting center.

"That's true. It's weird though that it always falls on them."

"They must have had a deal with them, it gave them a good excuse to be late."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The Avengers in question didn't really know how to react to this astonishing wave of popularity for Loki. And they found themselves out of work, with New Yorkers looking to Loki to solve their problems.

Tony had felt bad at first, and for good reason, he was being robbed of the spotlight. But after enjoying his daughter's smile more regularly, he concluded that it wasn't so bad. Besides, Loki would now have the whole city on his back if he made the slightest mistake, and he didn't mind.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Not so far away, at the United Nations headquarters, Namor was stamping his feet. He was supposed to be received for talks to calm the war (because it was still time to deal with this story) but he had been kept waiting for hours. The cause? Most of the congressmen were obviously raving about "flying shoes".

Angrily, Namor turned his back on the UN and joined the small delegation of his people. He ordered the withdrawal of the troops and the return to the city of Atlantis.

"These humans are too stupid anyway," he muttered when asked why he had given up.


*I have no idea if we export our mustard (and I haven't really looked into it) but in France we have a brand of mustard called Amora.

Yep. Imagining an inter-dimensional, immortal and black magic mastering entity - nicknamed Lord of the Dark Dimension or The Eater of Souls - linking humans not satisfied with their order with a Loki businessman made me laugh. Can you imagine this gigantic monster in front of a tiny computer trying to help Geraldine (who gave up her Scrabble game to order shoes online)? XD I find it very funny!