All characters are copyright and owned by Stan Lee and Marvel. This is an alternative ending to the first Avengers, think of it as a totally different timeline with some similarities between the two. More to follow, I want to make Loki more understandable, giving the reason for his actions that were unknown to the rest. I want him to find his way.
…
Today was the day. The day his purpose would finally be met. He'd waited many months for this. Soon the world would realize they are not alone, and nowhere near the most dangerous thing out there. There was no doubt today would mark a defining time for mankind and nothing will ever be the same again. The prudence populous would soon learn how insignificant, insufficient and powerless they were against foreign entities. Composed of flesh and bone, they remain blind. Robbed of insight and intuition.
Content creatures simply going through the daily motion, as if preset and hypnotic. Unaware of the endless stretch of unknown. Everyday was meticulously planned out, running mindless tasks until the end of time. An insistence to keep busy, preoccupied with mindless tasks. So long as their pleasant lives were uninterrupted all is well. Spending each day on repeat, oblivious to the broad spectrum encompassing them. Still they were okay with that.
Most didn't ask questions, uninterested in the world space outside their sheltered bubble. So long as nothing interrupted their routines they were overall happy. They remained placid, foolhardy and easily swayed. Truth be told, humans pale in comparison to the unknown. Ignorance is bliss. They were unequipped to deal with such oddity. They fear what they do not understand and underestimate what they deem to be inadequate.
This invasion would make them realize just how fragile they were and how easy it would be for an evil force to take over. Pathetic to a fraction of true power, it would be enough to enslave the masses. It was only a matter of time. He realized this. It was the basis of their attack. The reason Loki was left alive. Humans had always been such naive and weak beings. Unaware of how vast the cosmos really was and what lurked in the darkness just above. Detached and complacent, it was only a matter of time.
The tension hung in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. The tesseract bore a hole into the sky. The beacon of light it produced caught the eye of every citizen as unimaginable horrors were unleashed. The people of New York had no idea what they were staring at. That a portal opening up above them, leading to the black void of space. The massive alien armada pouring out was the only thing looking up for them.
It didn't seem real. They stood in collective shock as these creatures emerged from the sky and descended upon them causing mass hysteria. The calamity on the surface raged in full force and soon their city became overrun by monsters. Things were looking rather grim. As though New York was doomed to fall. Nobody realized the city had been condemned. That those entrusted to protect the innocent had long given up on them. The people hadn't the slightest clue that a nuclear missile was aimed for the great city and soon it would be nothing more than an unfortunate circumstance that met extreme measures.
…
Even with the invasion in full swing, its instigator remained absent. It was at the top floor of Stark tower where Loki resided. He remained cradled in a perfect form fitting crater, courtesy of an angry green giant moments prior. How ironic it would end In the very same place it all started. He never realized he was staring up at the fractured ceiling. He blinked his drying eyes heavily as the room slowly came into focus. He'd forgotten for a moment where he was, any trouble or drive left him.
Everything around him was left in absolute shambles. The top floor of the building was all but obliterated. Shattered glass littered the floor, scattered amongst the reminisce of expensive decorative pieces, an unfortunate casualty.
There was a slight haze that hung in the air as the tiny particles played in the sun's reflective rays. It formed a shimmering curtain effect as it caught the settling dust.
The wind whipped eerily in the open space carrying with it the clamorous sound of battle, unhindered by the lack of window panes. Loki's head throbbed vigorously against the rubble, drowning out any thought other than the pain signals. His mind drifted back to the fight, short lived of course. He traced the crumbling cement structure above. Vaguely remembering how he was hurled across the room.
He glanced over to the dent in the wall where he'd collided moments prior. The sight of it made his entire body ache. The memory of being swept off his feet, dangling upside down before colliding with the floor over and over again. Until driven into a jagged hole where he remained. Cradled perfectly in the cement, unable to catch his breath. Everything happened so fast. The last thing he expected was to be tossed around like some ragdoll. At some point he must have passed out. He hadn't the slightest idea how long he'd dozed off but slowly it was coming back to him, as did the painful ache associated.
After a while he tore his attention away from the strange chandler above him, allowing his eyes to wander around the room. The ringing in his ear subsided slightly, just long enough for him to comprise a thought. Slowly piecing together what happened, retracing the memories that led him up to this moment. He vaguely remembered landing back here, the same place where it all started. How ironic. His eyes traced the cracks leading up to one of the broken windows. It just so happened to be the same one he'd hurled its owner out of.
The last thing he expected was to see that man survive. An unrelenting force that hadn't grasped the concept of giving up. Even after all of that, he came back. He was tougher than he gave him credit for. They all were. He thought back to moments prior. It still puzzled him how he was able to resist that magic. It didn't make any sense. He didn't understand how he managed to forgo the influence. Something in which he was unsuccessful. He grinned at the thought, they eluded him time after time. These humans were quite resourceful, and he'd underestimated the lot of them.
He did not think it wise to move just yet. Shifting his aching neck as fragments of granite prodded him in the back
He furrowed his brows, reflecting on his pitiful position. Left in a strange limbo of discomfort and unwillingness to move. He desperately wanted to mend with the floor and disappear.
His eyes shifted in different areas of the room ensuring his solitary. He looked at the bar where he'd had his pleasant conversation with Stark before their altercation. Which just so happened to be adjacent to the wall he had come through. He let out a groan as he shifted against the rubble. Strangely morphing into a broken chuckle. He truly believed this was his karma. After everything he did, he deserved to be beaten into the ground.
He sighed, reflecting on the trouble he'd caused. Because of him there was a rift in the balance. Enacting chaos was what he was good at afterall. His personal specialty, believed it to be his only purpose. The god of mischief. He scoffed. Perhaps he should stop fighting it. Accept the fact that he was a lost cause. After all, nothing he could say would make a difference.
He could see part of the battle from his position but not enough to make out a distinction. For he knew the armada was bound to wipe out most of the area. Still something told him otherwise. He had a gut feeling things were not as they seemed. Even though his body ached and his back creaked with each inhale, he noticed something strange. Despite all the commotion going on outside. It was abnormally quiet. Except for the occasional blast toppling buildings and the ringing in his ears it was eerily calm.
He'd hit his head pretty hard, several knots were forming against his temple. The constant sound of static, paired delightfully well with the smell of copper. Other than the dizzy spell and vigorous throbbing at the back of his skull. He could say he'd felt better than he had in a long time. Oddly enough that thrashing gave him a moment of clarity. The blue hue behind his iris was fading.
He didn't understand it. He was about to lose, he couldn't move or do anything else to delay that inevitable truth. Yet he was totally okay with whatever the outcome, thrilled even. In actuality he was rooting for his defeat. He grinned with giddy, silently cursing those demons for pulling the strings. His adrenaline spiked and something compelled him to call out to his captures.
"Do you see? This is defeat! Relish that bitter taste. Well deserved you vile, putrid monstrosity!" He cursed the air, only to be greeted with silence.
He was confused. He laid there waiting for a reply. It was quiet. Only the subtle chime of broken glass falling caught his ear. His head was pounding but it was surprisingly quiet. He wondered if that thrashing was enough to sever the connection. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to not have those voices echoing in his head, coercing his every action, watching his every move. Suddenly his eyes widened in realization. Was he truly alone?
The only thing louder than his rapidly beating heart was the stagnate ringing in his ear. He blinked heavily, listening to the calamity carrying on in the background. He couldn't believe it, after spending many weeks under a trance. He checked to see if that looming entity had ceased. Although it was without certainty he seemed to be alone. It'd been a long time since he could hear his thoughts clearly, without unwanted interruption. He hoped for the possibility that his mind was his own again.
Even though he was in bad shape he could honestly say for the first time in a long time he felt good. He was beginning to realize there was a certain serendipity in failure. This feeling bubbling up inside of him wasn't of anger like it had been for so long. He was free, almost like all those emotions ceased leaving him with this strange feeling. LIke a weight has been lifted. Even though he knew he would have to deal with the aftermath soon enough. It felt like he was in control. Something that felt foreign for so long. He'd forgotten what it was like to have unhindered thought.
Still it seemed too good to be true, being skeptic by nature. Knowing that the only certain truth was pain is the only constant. He was sure a few of his ribs were cracked and shifted slightly as he pulled himself up. It always hurt to breathe, months spent isolated in a filthy chamber with poor air quality didn't pair well with the constant beatings. The memories of his torment blurred together. Afterall he hadn't been in particularly good shape to begin with. Those bastards were cruel, they did something to him, playing around with his head was only part of it. The faint memory of being subjected to experimentation linger just out of reach as if it were a figment of imagination. Still his body retained the memory.
He sat up lanky and rigged, his back cracked loud as he straightened up taking the wind out of him. There was a steady wheeze ever present with each inhale. His whole body ached as he pulled himself up. It hurt to hold this position but the pain reminded him he was alive. He would get used to the discomfort like always.
He glanced around wondering why they left him alone. Perhaps they didn't consider him much of a threat anymore. He scoffed, relishing in the pitiful position he'd been put in. He remembered pieces of his last altercation with Thor, bringing with it feelings of regret. When he met up with him for the first time after a year something he said got to him. Whatever methods they used to sway his emotions wavered as the two of them spoke. Thor's plea was sincere, and it managed to slip past the barrier. It made him feel some type of way. Ever since then he silently conspired against his master.
He still wasn't strong enough to resist their influence entirely but thanks to him their connection was slipping. He managed to come up with a plan. He couldn't tell him the truth then, not yet. Even if he wanted to. If there was ever a chance it would be too late, there was no working around it. He had no other choice but to roll the odds. Loki knew what he was doing. He had to trust they would be able to pull it off.
Thor gave him a fleeting chance. He never expected him to be so willing to take him back after everything. Sure enough he'd ruined any chance of that after everything he's done. Loki didn't like the way things ended between them. His eyes were sullen and empty as he remembered their last interaction mere moments ago. He silently apologized for stabbing him in the back like always. He'd be lucky if they buried him at the end of this. He narrowed his brows with a solemn smirk. Whatever comes next, no matter the punishment he would embrace it. Anything would be better than what was waiting for him on the other side.
Every image of that place was blurry and dark. It was hard for him to recall anything more than a silhouette of a monstrous figure, towering over just out of sight. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember. His body ached with anticipation. They did something to him, blacking out his memory with some sort of magic. He couldn't recall many things, as if he'd lost time. They did so much to him in the process to cover up their tracks.
Even though his core memories were locked away, there was a familiar sense of fear and anxiety that would arise everytime his mind would wander. Just the thought of returning to that place would make it fester. It made his heart sink. He could feel his breath hastened with the distant memory of his capture lurking at the edge of his mind. A constant reminder that he would always be just out of reach. He'd rather die than go back into the dark. That worry would never leave, but for the first time in a long time he felt free. He just hoped they figured out how to close the gate, he made sure to include that little detail in the process.
He scoffed painfully, never once thinking he'd be generally thrilled to lose. He had to make it convincing. Which was never an issue, the pain he felt from the fight however was every bit as real. That thrashing he received was a grueling reminder how truly weak he was. His body ached with every subtle move. The roar of the battle outside those walls did little to ruse him. He was so tired. Tempted to close his eyes and succumb to the feeling.
Suddenly there was a massive explosion that shook the foundation. On the opposite end from where he lay there was a gaping hole in the side of the building granting a perfect view. He watched from where he remained in the rubble as fiery debris lit up the sky.
In sync with the explosion in the sky his whole body tensed up and he was hit with a searing pain. He clenched his jaw in an effort to stifle his cries however futility. His vision blurred as the pounding in his head worsened. He felt like he was going to be sick. His body arched back against the rubble. Suddenly his veins flushed with the blue, escaping from his eyes and skin in the form of vapor. It felt like his flesh was on fire.
He clenched his teeth, holding in his need to protest to no avail. He squeezed his eyes shut, convulsing as he let out a wretched scream. He knocked his head back, feeling that cursed magic vacate his body. He'd been under their influence for a long time and now there was nothing left to keep him grounded. Without their cursed magic, there was also no barrier left to protect him and soon he would feel everything. All the terrible things they'd done to him would come back in time. As would the weight of his actions.
…
An unknown amount of time passed and slowly the light in his eyes dialed to a natural pale green. The way it was supposed to be and had always been. Even though it felt like his head was about to burst he couldn't help but crack a slight smile. In the end that bastard will lose.
He laid there for a while, allowing the gravity of the situation to settle in as if waking up from dormancy. A piece of him hoped all of this was just a false reality. That none of this was real and the past few weeks didn't actually happen. Although he knew better it felt like waking from a dream with vague remembrance of its contents. As if sleepwalking in a simulation.
The only difference is he'd lived through those events with his eyes wide open and lips sealed. It would be easier to believe he'd died long ago and that this was all part of his hellish experience. That was more believable than his body acting on its own for so long. His breathing evened out and although he set him back quite a ways. He'd only delayed the journey, the direction never deviated and he'd long come to terms with his fate. Still he never imagined things would end quite like this.
Unleashing absolute destruction upon this peaceful place. There would be no redemption. Setting forth utter disarray for what? He had no good answer. But he had no choice. Even he didn't believe himself. He knew it was true but who would believe him? It was his hand that set all of this in motion. What difference were the details?
Suddenly Loki forced his body to move, fighting through the pain. He dug his nails into the crumbling foundation and managed to pull himself out of the rubble. He panted heavily, too stubborn to lie still and accept the feeling. He hunched over partially out of the hole, his hand pressed firmly against his temple as it throbbed vigorously. He closed his eyes hoping it'll pass.
Without much thought he leaned forward, setting his forehead against the cold granite in an effort to soothe his affliction. To his surprise it actually worked and after a few moments the feeling dulled into something more manageable. He picked his head up, disoriented and wondering if the worst of it was over.
That's when he noticed it was quiet. If he held any survival instincts he was sure they told him to flee. He wasn't too eager to join the calamity. He would surrender, seem bummed out over the outcome and make it convincing. Not that it would be an issue. Anything truthful from his mouth would be considered a lie regardless of what he said. He accepted his impending fate.
Honestly, he wanted to rejoice. Celebrate his own defeat and dance upon the bodies of the Chitauri. He pushed that urge to the pit of his stomach and pressed on. It would be too good to be true. Still he wanted to see it for himself, this grand moment of failure. It was time for him to accept his fate.
He attempted to stand tall, feeling the weight of his injuries. He inhaled deep, hearing an audible creak as his lungs expanded. Until he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He paused, his heart fluttering in distress. He set his hand on his chest, carefully exhaling. He was having issues getting enough oxygen considering his airway was restricted from damage done to his lungs. He absentmindedly latched his arm around his midsection, clutching loosely as he pressed forward. His body was sore but he pressed forward, one foot after the other.
Darkness crept into the edges of his vision as he shuffled towards the stairs. He ignored the constantly growing headache, the scent of soot lingered as did the creeping lightheadedness. The taste of blood was sure to make his stomach turn. He took a few steps forward until his legs became wobbly. The weight on his weakened spine was enough to cause him to buckle. He stumbled and fell pitifully on the tile at the base of the stair.
He began crawling up the stairs. But he never realized the fighting had stopped. The ordeal didn't take long at all. The intensity turned twenty minutes into a decade, then in the blink of an eye it was over. The world stood still and suddenly everything was calm. The birds were chirping and a cool breeze whisked through the broken city with placidness. People slowly emerged from their hiding spaces and soon the ground was an uproar of commotion and heavy conversation.
He missed it when the Avengers were gathered in the streets. He especially didn't hear the sound of the elevator reaching the top floor. Or the isolated steps of those he'd wronged. It wasn't until he glanced up to meet their weapons drawn. The arrow aimed at his face wasn't very inviting. Loki hung his head for a moment collecting his thoughts, wondering what he should do next. He remembered what Stark said before the battle started. The sheer oddity of the request brought him a bit of joy. So he repeated it.
"If it's all the same to you…" He cracked a smile, settling on the floor with a huff as he looked up at them with big worn out doe eyes. "I'll have that drink now."