AN: Anyone else a fan of character studies? This story idea was a combination of wanting to play in the Loki universe while also giving insights to the character's perspectives. This is my bread and butter y'all, and I hope you do enjoy as well!
02 First Contact
He was most definitely going to burn this forsaken place to the ground.
Loki was having, by and far, the strangest day of his life. Granted how long and eventful said life had been, that was more than saying something. Truthfully, he never thought himself one to prefer being bound and tied like some common swine—but compared to the restrictions this impossible foundation laid, he'd take those wretched chains any day. There could be no greater punishment, no worse torture than whatever bureaucratic nightmare he'd somehow been dragged into.
It was something completely disorienting and utterly out of his control, two things the Prince of Asgard severely resented. And those who gained his wrath would pay dearly. As they should.
The collar dug harshly into his neck, an unfortunate reminder of his current situation. No matter what he tried the wretched thing refused to budge. The unorthodox practices at this glorified corporate swill tank were proving to be rather irritating. And having the majority of his questions being utterly ignored only added insult to injury. These people seemed to know far more than necessary, so didn't they realize who he was? What station he held? For Norn's sake, he'd practically overthrown Midgard just hours before! Didn't that garner some response besides dead silence and pathetic grunts demanding anything of him?
Putrid worms, the lot of them. Nothing more than a stumbling block in his ascent, one he would soon remedy. Of course he would. He was Loki of Asgard, and there was nothing and no one that could hold him for long. Not even this ridiculous excuse of an organization parading around like they owned the whole universe because three space lizards said so.
And I thought Midgardian legends would never meet their impossibly idiotic matches.
A sudden grasp at his forearm brought an irritated eye roll from him, words stuttering in his throat as the trickster was practically shoved through a pair of large wooden doors. Well that was wholly unnecessary. Not only were they incompetent, but rude as well. Brutes, the lot of them. At least he gave the people he threatened a chance at decorum. This was just barbaric, to say the least. Not to mention what the one grunt pulled with that odd baton back in the waiting room. And they called him a harbinger of chaos.
Not for the first time Loki considered the TVA to be some odd governmental branch hidden in the depths of Midgard. The only faces he'd managed to see were humanoid in appearance, though given the nature of the universe, it didn't prove anything. Frankly Asgardians could, and had, easily passed for Midgardians in countless situations. And the strength he felt through the grunts tight hold suggested something far too unusual for a typical Earth human. With the exception of Captain Roger's and the Green One he preferred to forget, the entire planet was filled with pathetic weaklings. Unless this was yet another secret somehow kept from the Allfather's sight, which wasn't impossible, but still—
Being thrust upon a rounded podium caused his thoughts to stutter, a fixed glare rising to meet the woman who sat so unrightfully above his current station. The sheer audacity of these people was beyond compare. The scent of hypocrisy laid thick in the air, and it took every last drop of whatever patience remained from this experience in attempts to reason with them. The contradictions should have been more surprising, truly, but in retrospect it matched their own indignant righteousness.
Cowards. The lot of you. Utter cowards .
Loki could spot manipulations and deceptions from planets away. He practically invented such things and was rightfully infuriated by this incompetent lot. Did they really think him so little? That even somehow suppressing the gifts he'd spent a lifetime perfecting would keep him bound? The God of Mischief possessed many powers, not all being magically rooted. Once he figured out just how to break free of their petty restraints and ridiculously outfitted soldiers—
"I think I know what he's capable of."
The new voice proved to gain his attention, blue eyes darting towards an odd man sporting office attire. Based on the reception of this man it was easily assumed he held some authority in this situation. The thought proved to irritate Loki further; the fact this apparent pencil pusher was viewed with more reverence than a literal god in their midst. Just how more ridiculous could this place get?!
The sound of hurried clicks interrupted his inward rants, gaze drawn to their source with a rising brow. He hadn't taken note of the man before the bench when he was dragged in; the propaganda lining these walls were far more intriguing than the faceless suits occupying them. Everyone here was practically the same. The idea that they accused him of not knowing if he could be robotic was laughable in comparison to the lackeys stuffed in this forsaken place.
Yet the woman hurrying towards the bench proved to cause him a double take.
She was rather small in stature, particularly to the man she currently resided behind. There was a fullness to her face and form that spoke of well health, color rising in her cheeks as the ridiculous judge gave her a passing glance. The pure emotion on her face was certainly an anomaly in these parts. A spark of curiosity lit in his affronted mind, gaze locking fully on this new development.
Of everyone he'd encountered thus far, she was certainly the most expressive. A soft fidgeting passed across her entire form, arms clutching tightly to clumsily stacked paperwork. Bright auburn waves sat in a frayed mess at her shoulders, the wildness nearly causing him to smirk. At least someone around here wasn't completely put together. Perhaps Midgardians were running the show after all. Particularly given the horrendous choice of wardrobe. It was obvious the woman wasn't comfortable in that stuffy outfit. It seemed to compliment the man whispering with the judge, practically a feminine twist on his suit and tie bit, yet provided no other comfort to her.
She looked for all the Realms that she'd rather be anywhere but here. Not that he could blame her in the slightest. In fact, it sparked the first shred of a new plan in his mind, thoughts racing quickly to attend the signs of possible mischief.
Perhaps someone here can prove useful after all—
Yet his trail of thought came to an abrupt halt as the woman's head jerked upward, gaze locking quickly with his own.
When he was far younger, Odin had determined to teach his sons the way of the hunt. The idea of being dragged into the forests alongside Thor wasn't a thrill for the trickster, by any means. Yet gaining his father's favor, even then, was something he wasn't able to resist, however loathe he was to admit such pointless sentiments. And while he understood the necessity of hunts, Loki wasn't chomping at the bit to join them. The early days of his youth were filled with harmless mischief and were one of the few things he could stand reflecting on from time to time. And the moment Odin tracked down a deer in the thickets, encouraging his sons to prepare for a battle, such sentimentalities proved to overpower the young prince. Where Thor was eager to shoot every arrow in his quiver at the creature, Loki couldn't help but get trapped in its gaze. The pure innocence ringing back at him stayed his trembling hands, and he turned away the moment his brothers aim rang true, unwilling to watch the light fade in the deer's eyes.
The same light that now shone from twin orbs bearing into his own, a swirl of brown and green wrapping about crystal blues.
Loki had literal centuries of learning how people worked. It was painfully simple how easy the creatures in this universe could be read. Perfecting his shape-shifting abilities required a great deal of experience and refining of his disguises. The universe was an open book and he eagerly absorbed their stories, putting them to good use for his own devices. He was the God of Mischief, chief purveyor of lies, and had lived up to such titles for countless years. Loki knew for a fact that in the end, one's eyes were truly the windows into their souls. If one couldn't hide anything from him, it would be within their own gaze.
There was a painful amount of innocence in this woman's eyes, enough to gain the rare staying of his hand. For now.
One must hunt to survive, after all. And I will be surviving this pathetic farce.
The strange man in his outdated suit managed to break whatever loop the two had been trapped in. Stepping into view and blocking the woman's further reaction allowed Loki a moments reprieve, shoulders straightening proper. If the lady was currently off the table, so to speak, the next best option would be the pencil pusher. He didn't particularly like the smile this man gave him, either; as if he saw right through the trickster, when he had no right to such things. At least the woman had courtesy enough to incline her head with downturned eyes, though the loss of her gaze caused the slightest twinge in his chest.
This place must really be getting to him if the first sign of sentient decency was so quickly missed.
Even as they proceeded out of that poor excuse of a courtroom, he found his eyes drifting towards the ginger haired female. She remained in a cowed position, staying at the right hand of this weird tie-clad man without a word between them. They seemed to fall into cadence with each other; steps gradually matching, the elder slowing pace for the younger and shorter companion to keep up. Even their postures mirrored one another, though the obvious relief taken over the woman had brought a welcome release of tension to her small form. It was beyond apparent that these two had worked together a long while, sharing a rhythm that, if he were a lesser god, Loki would be rather envious of.
Despite the male appearing as a Midgardian in his 50s, and the woman likely pushing her 30s, they had obviously been at each others sides for decades. To what capacity he wasn't yet sure. They didn't appear romantic by any means, and if it were the case, they hid it quite well. There was an obvious workplace connection yet it felt far more than that. Perhaps something platonic but meaningful? Like Thor and those ridiculous oafs he held for companions. Sentiments. Absurd.
Whatever the rope binding them together, Loki was sure he could yolk them into whatever scheme was necessary to escape this place. Affections were dangerous, no matter how deep they ran. Any connection could be exploited, guided to his will, if only in the proper fashion. Anger kindled low in his gut as they moved into a larger hall, plans already churning across his exasperated mind. At least he already had two potential pawns within reach—
She's looking at me again —
…one pawn and one increasingly agitating deer, who's gaze left mercifully quick as it came.
The only thing that managed to interrupt his growing rage was an impossible sight. There was no possible way anything out that massive window was real. Loki was a prince from a distant realm filled with the utterly fantastical, and even he knew the limits of such places. The TVA went on infinitely and then some; logically it wasn't possible. There had to be some kind of magic here, perhaps one he'd yet to learn. But there just…was no way—
What is this place?!
Whatever the explanation for this phenomena, Loki truly couldn't accept the idea of three glorified space lizards being behind it. That sounded far more like something he would invent in order to control others. The weak minded were easily influenced and he refused to bend a knee to such things. Absolutely not. No, there was something else going on here, and he was bound and determined to get to the bottom of it. Difficult to render such a place to ashes without ripping out its heart first.
Especially given this wretched place had elevators. Convenient yes, but not his favorite method of Midgardian transport. Particularly after the day he'd had. Somehow, New York never seemed farther away. He tensed at the thought before his attention was drawn, the greyed man offering him a lopsided smile and outstretched hand that was promptly ignored.
"I'm Agent Mobius, by the way." His hand lingered a moment before sweeping to the side. It landed with a soft touch against the woman's back, silently coaxing her to stand before them. Loki couldn't help but meet those widened eyes yet again, that unwelcome disarmament piercing into his gaze. To her credit she managed to straighten up proper, paper clutched protectively against her chest, head tilting back to meet the much taller god. It was oddly endearing, causing the trickster to incline his chin down to meet her. So small, yet trying to appear much larger, as if her eyes weren't compensating enough.
"This is my personal assistant, who can speak more than enough for herself, and us. Don't let her fool you, kid's a hopeless chatterbox." This Mobius gave a conspiratorial wink, not a shred of malice falling from his lips. If anything, he sounded rather fond of that fact. The heat rising on the woman's cheeks was evidence enough of his claims, waves bouncing as she shook her head at him.
"Thanks Boss, you always give the best first impressions of me. Can never take those back. So thanks."
The woman's voice was yet another oddity in this strange place. Everyone here had possessed a harshness to their words; like sand gritting upon all it touched. Yet she spoke in a softened tone, the faintest traces of an accent he couldn't quite place peeking through. Yet again she matched her companion in that regard; this Agent Mobius was at least attempting to sound cordial. Even more so did she carry a lighter resonance, appropriate given the doe-eyed look she sported. Compared to the other irritants in this unorthodox authority, she was admittedly a welcome reprieve. Perhaps her superior would prove so as well, though it remained well to be seen.
The paperwork shifted carefully in her arms, giving the trickster a formal bow before sweeping upward again. A warm smile broke across her lips as their gazes met, causing that faint twinge to sneak through his chest. That was a unnecessarily kind gesture rising from this woman, in a place filled with such severity. He couldn't help but wonder how she managed to get wrapped up in this insanity. Sticking out like a sore thumb was an understatement.
"Hello Mr. Laufeyson," Her head gave a slight tilt as she attempted to rightfully pronounce one of his many formal names. The effort was appreciated, whether he'd ever admit it or not. "My name is Hazel. It's nice to finally meet you!"
Hazel, like her eyes. At least one thing makes sense in this insane asylum.
Loki found he couldn't help but return that smile, albeit on a much smaller scale. "Miss Hazel. Thank you." He lightly inclined his head, holding back a smirk at her startled expression. Apparently she wasn't used to formalities, yet if nothing else could be said of him, at least Frigga had raised her sons on how to properly address a lady no matter her station. The thought of his mother nearly broke his countenance, quietly swallowing down that can of worms before turning to the man beside them.
Hazel was proving thus far to be of little threat to him. But this odd Agent Mobius still remained to be seen. It wasn't difficult for Loki to assess others; his perception skills were unmatched. Hence the rising irritation this strange greyed man was stoking in him was beyond frustrating. There was a mystery in his eyes and amusement in his words that didn't belong. As if they'd known each other their entire lives, when they'd never met once before. Loki certainly would remember someone as strange as him. And yet—
… what did she mean, 'finally' meet me?
The God of Mischief had a gut feeling he wasn't going to like where this was going. At all.
"Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?" It fell in a swift accusation; it wouldn't be the first time and, frankly, wouldn't surprise him. Yet the way Hazel openly flinched at the question, pulling back with a rather confused look, was unexpected. She looked horrified at the prospect yet managed to reign herself in, glancing questioningly at her boss. As if the thought hadn't once crossed her mind.
Loki turned abruptly away from that small deer, focus entirely on the odd man instead. This Mobius obviously had more insight to the TVAs practices than his assistant, a question to file away for another time. Apparently this place ran on a need to know basis, and right now, his need would have to be met by the smirking tie-clad agent.
"No, that's where you just were." The man's admission caused Hazel to look downward again; the woman deflated at the reminder of such things, and Loki mentally noted the guilt lining her reaction. Alright, so she wasn't completely ignorant of the process, yet it obviously bothered her. More so than anyone else here thus far, at least. Perhaps she was more of an anomaly than even he perceived. "Now we're taking you somewhere that we can talk."
"I don't like to talk." It fell quickly in a hard response. That was a severely dishonest phrase if he'd ever heard one. Each and every captor who's ever dared utter that lie always proved themselves wrong. No, there was nothing innocent in this beyond that woman's gaze, which was ever increasing with anxiety as the two bantered. Loki knew the prelude to an interrogation well as anyone that's lived a similar lifestyle. If this odd pencil pusher really thought he could fool a god—
"But you do like to lie." That irritating smile again, Mobius beginning to remind the trickster far too much of a brother he'd rather forget at the moment. "Which you just did. Because we all know you love to talk." His hand rose in a mock gesture, opening and closing for emphasis. "Talkie -talkie. Though Hazel could certainly run circles around you. The motor mouth on this one, I tell you. Out. Matched."
Something about the snarky tone this agent was taking proved to irk the dark-haired prince. It was one thing to mock him, something that would never go unanswered, but going after this meek woman for no reason was another. Wasn't this Mobius her keeper? Was he always so rude to her? At least Loki regarded his servants with a sense of decorum. Humiliation was for your enemies and those to be conquered, not the loyal ones already at your beck and call. He felt himself bristling at the comment, the stress of the day wrestling up his throat.
"It's true." Her voice fell quietly, bouncing off the small elevator walls. It proved to deflate the aggravated trickster and gain her boss' attention. A bright red painted her cheeks, matching her swaying waves in tandem. A note of amusement entered her tone as she glanced between the two men, a sheepish smile on her lips. "I-I'm pretty chatty, when I don't have work to do. I value my job unlike some people." She gave Mobius a pointed look, gaining a warm chuckle from the man. Her eyes returned to waiting blues, offering the taller prince another warm smile.
"Though given your reputation, Mr. Laufeyson, I doubt I could keep up with you. You're a master of the craft, after all."
…he'd spare Mobius a snarky comment for now. The man was lucky his assistant was by and large the most pleasant person in this wretched organization thus far. Loki was never one not to take a compliment, no matter the situation. And after the very, very long day he had, it was an overdue occurrence anyway. He managed a light smirk and a tilted head, acknowledging the woman's offerings.
"The most correct statement I've heard today. But I'm always up for a challenge, Miss Hazel." The way she brightened at his return caused that twinge to act up again. The lady gave him a warm nod before glancing at her superior, who was also regarding her with a look of approval. The link between them was a strange one, no doubt; the way he poked at his assistant, yet she didn't seem to mind? Loki couldn't quite define it. Yet something about it was oddly pleasant. And despite his current situation, he couldn't help but feel even more curious at their connection, decidedly filing it away.
Yet despite the one tolerable interaction between the three of them, Loki certainly hadn't forgotten why he was here in the first place. There were still too many questions left unanswered or decidedly ignored, and he wasn't having it. This place, these people, obviously required a long game. And the God of Mischief was far patient enough to see it through to the end, one move at a time.
"How long have you both been here?" His thoughts churned as the elevator began to slow, the prospect of where it would lead growing ever more unwelcome. Given the soft chuckle the agent gave that suspicion was growing more likely. The building, wherever and whatever it was, held a strange vibe to it. As if it were both ancient and new swirling in an opposing dance. And the longer he stood next to these two, the more that feeling applied to them as well. What was with this place—
"Th-that's a difficult question to answer." Her reply was more than hesitant, gaining an incredulous look from the taller prince. She offered a chagrined, lopsided smile, free hand reaching up to worry at her ascot. "We've always been here, Mr. Laufeyson, and we always will be. We don't really worry about things like that. I-I know they're important to others—" She was quick to gesture forward, a reassuring look overtaking her features. "Time means something to you, and that's how it should be! But to us, well, it's not really—We don't—"
Why does she sound like she's trying to convince herself as much as me?
Mobius interrupted that line of thought, waving a nonchalant hand as the elevator came to a stop. "Easy kiddo, don't hurt yourself. Existential crisis is another department, which you're also very welcome to burn down. Matches are in my desk." He offered a wink towards the unamused god. "Like Hazel said, we don't really know. Time passes differently here in the TVA."
Loki felt his thoughts grind to a halt. He'd been suspicious of that from the moment he watched the ridiculous animated propaganda. Yet to have it so easily confirmed threw a whole new wrench into whatever schemes he'd been attempting to plan. Were they frozen in time? Accelerated? Had the universe been born, died, and reborn in the ridiculous amount of time since he was dragged here? Or was this more nonsense falling from the mouths of obedient servants, shrieking within their own echo chambers?
"What does that mean?" It fell more anxiously than he'd ever intend. While he was indeed a superior being by design, even the God of Mischief could grow weary. And this day had been beyond draining, with no end currently in sight. Did these people never rest? Would that be yet another obstacle to face here? Just how on Earth did everything work—
The morbid curiosity mixing with his indignation was interrupted by the elevator doors, pinging open with a deft slide. Hazel was the first to move, spinning on her heels and lightly stumbling out of the way. Had he not been locked in thought, Loki would have found it amusing. The prince was attempting to process far too much at once, allowing himself a brief respite as the odd agent and his anomalous assistant led him to whatever awaited next.
"You'll catch up."
That's what concerns me.
