Beyla - Loki

Asgard's Reckoning

The elevator doors slid open on a smear of alarms and red light. Thor staggered out, propping Loki like a dying man, the younger prince going limp with operatic commitment.

"Get help! Please! My brother-he's dying!" Thor bellowed.

Sakaarian guards spun, blasters rising. "Get help! Help him!"

Thor obligingly helped-by hurling Loki like a spear into the squad. They toppled like pins. Loki rolled to a stand, armor spotless, dignity mostly intact.

"I still hate it," he muttered, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. "It's humiliating."

"Not for me, it's not," Thor said, already scanning the hangar. "Which one's the ship she told us to get?"

Loki pointed. "The Commodore." Sleek, new, too pretty for Sakaar.

They cut toward it-and Loki's image peeled away from Thor's side like shed skin. The "Loki" with Thor dissolved: an illusion. The real Loki ghosted for a wall panel, fingers dancing over security glyphs. Every alarm in the palace armed beneath his touch.

"Oh, Loki," Thor said behind him, not surprised in the least.

Loki glanced back, rueful and unapologetic at once. "I know I've betrayed you many times before, but this time it's truly nothing personal. The reward for your capture will set me up nicely. Beyla and I... we're settling." He tapped the final sequence. Sirens howled to life.

Thor's smile was small and private. "Never one for sentiment, were you?"

"Easier to let it burn," Loki said-and then saw the tiny fob in Thor's hand. Realization hit the same instant the current did. Thor had slipped an obedience disk onto him during their "heart-to-heart."

"I agree," Thor said, and pressed the button.

Loki dropped, body bowing under invisible lightning. He writhed, breath burning out in rough, helpless sounds. Thor stood over him, pained but firm.

"Oh, brother, you're becoming predictable," Thor sighed. "I trust you, you betray me. Round and round we go."

He crouched, voice low. "Life is about growth. Change. You seem to prefer the loop. You'll always be the God of Mischief... but you could be more." Thor set the fob on the panel, maddeningly out of reach. "I'll just put this here for you." He straightened. "Places to be. Good luck."

Thor sprinted for the Commodore as Loki shook against the deck, jaw clenched, fingers scraping uselessly toward the fob.

-

"Alright, gents-through this door and we should have our way out!" Beyla led the gladiators at a run, Korg and Miek bobbing in her wake, a river of freed fighters behind them. The garage yawned open-rows of ships, scaffolds, sparks-and two long legs jittering on the floor.

"Loki!" Beyla skidded to her knees, hands hovering. Korg plucked the fob off the panel and thumbed it. The red glow died; Loki hit the deck, sucking air like a drowning man.

He blinked up, a slow grin unfurling. "Thank you."

"Hey, man," Korg said cheerfully. "We're about to jump on that ginormous spaceship. You wanna come?"

Beyla opened her mouth. "No, we're going-"

"Actually," Loki said, rising with effortless poise, "you do seem in desperate need of leadership. Let's tag along, Beyla."

She stared, startled by the pivot. "Really?"

"This isn't home," Loki said simply. "I won't build a family in a slaughterhouse. We'll start it in a house. One we make."