EPITHET || [l. loki]

viii. For I'm As Gullible As Ever

──⇌•♚•⇋──

❝Priorities, dear god of mischief❞

"AGENT BARTON, ARE you in position?" Cyra sat, steel-faced as her hand hovered over the button of her comm, "Prepare yourself on schedule."

"Received, ma'am." The agent set an arrow to his bow, never wavering once nor fingers trembling as he angled it towards his base. It whistled through the air, leaving anticipation running through her veins as she silently counted the seconds it took until the engine combusted.

In due time, an explosion rocked the skies, knocking their aircraft to the side as the giant ship began its unplanned descent toward the ground. The eldest daughter of Thanos sheathed her twin daggers, allowing herself one last second of peace before launching out of the aircraft.

Her boots skimmed across the metal, screeching as she stopped before the circular panel which Cyra whirled out her laser-charged weapon to hack open. Her golden gaze glared, electrified, as she signaled the movement of the other soldiers.

Silence decorated the metal halls as the gunned infiltrators crept within, all guards up for the incoming battle that awaited them. Cyra personally debated on the loyalty of those influenced by the scepter before splitting away from them.

She looked into her own eyes as she approached the glass-like container. Gold as always. A little fatigue? That was new. A little hazy? Also new. She had never been stressed about a mission her entire life. They were always filled with ease.

"I do not believe it is an appropriate time to laugh," her shoes switched from stealth to clattering as she stepped foot within the chamber containing the cylinder, "But I really must help myself."

"Laugh all you want, daughter of Thanos," The god of mischief sighed as he stopped his pace back and forth upon the sight of her entry. A small, genuine smile spread across his face, showing his green eyes as the edges crinkled, "But it certainly took a long time for your arrival." Cyra scowled, visibly betraying her usual demeanor of hiding her negative reactions. "Oh look, so you're not laughing after all," Loki chuckled.

"You're the one stuck in this goddamn cage. Understand your predicament, god," She broke into a warm smile, laughter bubbling inside her stomach for reasons she couldn't identify. 'Relief? Who am I kidding?' her thoughts spun.

"There is no time to spare, Cyra," Her name was emphasized as he took a step closer to the side of the cylinder, "You need me to complete the final task."

"Do I though? You don't think of me as capable of leading my father's army like I've done since I was a little girl?" Her laughter continued as her ears perked up to the sound of another intruder. Cyra pressed the button on the control pad gently and watched with amusement as the door hissed open. 'If I cannot kill him, I must make him a trustworthy ally. Perhaps he can really be useful when the time comes.' Her thinking was brief and simple as she didn't wish to waste more time on a matter that kept her up the entire night.

"That took way too long," Loki didn't bother hiding his agitated mood as he duplicated himself, moving his illusion back into the container.

"Just perfectly long enough," Cyra whispered in reply before a tall, blond man came barging in. He took one glance at the doors, slid open and the god stepped out before charging with a roar, ultimately fooled by Loki's magic.

"Now!" he signaled her from the shadows as Cyra slammed her hand on the button again, shutting the container tight. "Are you ever not going to fall for that," he remarked as he moved back into sight, casting another illusion to move towards the door. "Big oaf, as gullible as ever," she heard him mutter.