Sorry for the delay! I needed to get the lines exactly right since I'm trying to be movie-compliant here, and I found out my new DVD player won't play my Avengers DVD. And then my computer that usually plays Blu-Ray discs decided to fritz out for a while. (Loki, u mad, bro?) But youtube eventually came to my rescue and it was completed in the end! There's just a couple lines not in the movie. I'm sure you'll forgive me.

Enjoy, my lovelies! Of course all the movie stuff is not written by me, but by the brilliant Joss Whedon, and all the credit for that goes to him. Because he is a GOD.

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Loki closed the door behind him with all the gentleness and care he hadn't just employed inside the room, a murmured spell sealing Taryn inside with more than locks and steel, and tried to convince himself that his emotions were just as sealed away. They had to be locked away now. He'd had his precious stolen time, his taste of peace–but now it was time for war. His master plan.

All the while his chest ached like he'd taken a blow from Mjolnir straight to the heart.

Restless, furious, bitterness choking him, Loki abruptly strode from the penthouse and out onto the balcony. The wind whipped his cape about his shoulders and stung his eyes but he welcomed it–the strong, sharp gale would raise tears from anyone who looked into it as he was now. That was all it was. Nothing at all to do with the death of the only dream he'd allowed himself in centuries, no. Nothing to do with the devastation on Taryn's face, the shock in her eyes, the shame he'd seen there as if that too-short taste of a bliss he had never known and would never know again (not even a single hour, curse the Norns) had been something vulgar, obscene. No, it was merely the wind that made his eyes stream as he stared unseeing over the vast city he would soon control.

Now if only Stark would get here so he could bury that damned ache in a fight! What was taking the blasted man so long?

His eyes and face had dried by the time a mechanical roar notified him that Stark had finally arrived. Loki turned as the engineer (a term unfamiliar to Asgard, where a man such as Stark would be renowned at least as a warrior-mage) landed on the circular platform to Loki's right. Stark matched Loki's slow, confident stride as they locked gazes and walked back toward the penthouse and metal arms rose from Stark's walkway to peel away his armor piece-by-piece.

Well, that was a surprise, at least. Stark had balls, Loki had to give him that. Though many had mocked the god for his use of magic, there were very few who would dare to face him unarmed. Still, despite the display of bravado, he could see the wariness in the man's eyes as he watched Loki pacing across from him, and it pleased him.

Fear, of course, would please him better, but he had time. Loki smiled. It would come.

They entered the penthouse almost at the same time. Loki caught the way the mortal scanned the room as if searching for something–did he know Taryn was here? At the mere suspicion Loki fought the urge to just blast him to pieces right now, remove the warrior from the equation. No, that would not be sufficient, he finally decided. He needed a battle, an actual blood-rushing, fist-pounding fight to erase the pain of losing his one chance at peace, and for what? For creatures just like this. The miniscule chance that Stark might know Taryn was here made no difference the retribution Loki would wreak on Midgard for that.

Any trace of a smile gone now, Loki greeted Stark with a low, "Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity."

"Actually, I'm planning to threaten you," Stark replied without hesitation, and Loki's respect for the man grudgingly rose. Yes, he definitely had courage.

But he was foolish all the same to face Loki with nothing but his wit to protect himself. That was a game at which Loki had never been bested. He hadn't earned the kennings Silvertongue, Wordsmith, Sly-One without reason. "You should've left your armor on for that," Loki said, mocking.

"Yeah, well, it's seen a bit of mileage," Stark admitted, to every appearance unshaken by the implied threat, "and you've got the, ah, the Glow Stick of Destiny." Loki glanced at his scepter, amused despite himself. Perhaps his wit wasn't entirely lacking. "Would you like a drink?" the man went on as he crossed to the bar.

"Stalling me won't change anything," Loki warned, his brief interest already starting to fade as Stark's path took him closer to the bar where Loki had so recently held Taryn, kissed her, tasted her skin. It was a reminder he didn't particularly welcome since he was trying so hard to put it completely out of his mind.

"No, no, no, threatening," Stark replied easily. "No drink, you sure? I'm having one."

That bar held far too many memories and Stark's repeated offer of refreshment galled him. Did humans no longer honor the laws of hospitality? To offer Loki a drink as though he were a guest when Stark knew they would soon battle was a perversion of the ancient code that angered him. In Asgard, a man would not only lose his life for such a thing. His entire family line would be extinguished to cleanse the shame from the land.

Loki turned his back and stared out over the city again, no longer amused at the mortal's insistence on threatening him. As if he could! "The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that," he said quietly. Then he met Stark's gaze again. "What have I to fear?"

"The Avengers," Stark replied, still calm, still unruffled as he poured his drink. Then he glanced up and, when he saw that Loki wasn't following, he clarified, "That's what we call ourselves–sort of like a team, Earth's mightiest heroes, kind of thing."

Loki's smile was full of derision. "Yes. I've met them."

Stark responded with a little laugh, acknowledging that. "Takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that," he admitted as amber liquid filled his glass. The scent of it was unfamiliar to Loki and not pleasant. "But let's do a headcount, here. Your brother, the demigod–" Loki stifled a hiss at the reminder of Thor; it was always Thor in his way, ruining his plans, taking credit for what achievements Loki had managed on his own, even healing Taryn after SHIELD–

–Loki cut that train of thought off brutally and fixed a mask in place as the mortal continued to name his fellow warriors–a gentle, unworried, amused smile. But even so, he knew that the man had seen his reaction to the mention of Thor and had noted it, and that didn't sit well with Loki.

Stark was still talking, wrapping up the list of Midgardians Loki was apparently supposed to fear. "… and you, big fella, you've managed to piss off every single one of them."

Loki smirked. "That was the plan." Divide and conquer, you fool, surely even you wretched mortals have heard of that tactic?

"Not a great plan," Stark scoffed, and Loki raised an eyebrow to hide a brief surge of anger that this mortal, this lesser being, would dare to criticize the plans of a god! But he wasn't done. Leaving the bar behind, he stepped closer to Loki. "When they come–and they will–they'll come for you."

Ahh, finally the promised threatening had actually started. Loki stopped his pacing and faced Stark squarely. "I have an army."

"We have a Hulk," Stark shot back, and it was all Loki could do not to roll his eyes.

"I thought the beast had wandered off," he mocked.

"Yeah, you're missing the point," Stark interrupted, finally seeming like he was losing patience. It was something Loki was good at provoking others into doing. "Look, there's no throne. There is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you." Stark paused, meeting Loki's cold gaze and holding it with determination. "Because if we can't protect the Earth," he said, every word ringing with menace, "you can be damn sure we'll avenge it."

Loki wasn't moved by his speech. If anything, it only angered him more that this insect, this brief animal would dare to judge his plans–to presume he could even understand them! As if standing alone against all of creation was something new for Loki! Dropping all his masks, Loki let his anger show as he closed the distance between them in a predatory prowl. "How will your friends have time for me," he snarled, raising his staff and letting it fill with power, "when they're so busy fighting you?"

The sudden fear in Stark's eyes pleased him as Loki raised the tip of the staff and touched him just over his heart–

CLINK–

Frowning as the power dissipated without effect, Loki repeated the action, and again instead of the staff touching flesh and seizing Stark's heart and will, it was interrupted by–

CLINK–

Loki stared. "This usually works," he murmured, momentarily derailed.

"Yeah, well, performance issues, not that uncommon," Stark murmured, and Loki looked at the mortal in shock that the man would actually mock him–mock him!–while Loki held a blade to his chest! And then Stark said, "One in five men, actually, and incidentally, where is your girlfriend?" and the abrupt mention of Taryn brought it all into focus. Loki realized exactly what Stark was implying, that Loki was less than a man–flashed back to that all-too-brief interlude with Taryn, her moans and cries of pleasure and how she'd made him come undone–and rage swallowed him whole.

Stark knew she was here. He knew she'd come to make a deal, to spare him and his insignificant planet. And if he knew that, did he know what she'd offered? Did he even now suspect what Loki and Taryn had done? Would this hubristic, arrogant mortal also make it sound cheap, tawdry? Would he call Taryn a whore and mock her for her failure?

No. Loki would not endure that.

With those few words, Stark had just sealed his fate.

Loki seized the mortal by the throat and lifted him off his feet, then flung him bodily across the room. Stark landed hard on the marble floor and the sound both pleased Loki and fed his need for more violence. "JARVIS, any time now," Stark groaned as he struggled to his feet, but even after getting thrown like a rag doll, the stupid man did not shut up. "Is this how you greeted her, too? No wonder you're in a shitty mood, not the best way to make a girl fall for you–"

Loki strode over as the mortal stood and grabbed him by the jaw, stopping that mouth. His rage was a living thing inside him now, seething and roiling. "You will all fall before me!" he growled, thinking Taryn chose this man, these insects over me, and as Stark choked out, "Deploy, deploy!" Loki threw him with all his considerable might.

The bright smashing sound of glass and the rush of wind were sweet as Stark vanished over the side of the tower and plummeted to his death.

A sound behind Loki made him spin around just in time to duck as a large metal capsule shot out of the wall. It caught him a glancing blow on its way out the broken glass after Stark. Loki rolled to his feet in one smooth motion and crossed to the shattered window. He looked down after it but it was already too far down for him to catch sight of and discern its purpose–it was too large to merely be something to knock Loki down, and its lack of a follow-up attack when he'd dodged the first left him doubtful it was only a weapon.

No matter. He dismissed it as he spun away to retrieve his staff. Weapon or not, he would destroy it just as he'd destroyed its creator.

"Oh yeah, and there's one more person you pissed off."

Loki's head snapped up to find Stark floating before him, armored once more, and anger warred with reluctant admiration as he belatedly realized the projectile had caught and armored the man before he could hit the pavement–this mortal was nearly as clever as Loki himself, it seemed. "His name was Phil," Stark said, and Loki raised his staff to blast him out of the sky just as Stark held out his hand. Stark got his blast off first and Loki snarled as he took it full in the chest and was knocked across the room.

And then the portal opened, and the Chitauri swarmed down into the blue Midgardian skies. Iron Man shot away to engage the sudden barrage of foes and Loki smiled, eyes narrow with wrath.

Now the true battle would begin.