Your Way Out

The Fall of Loki of Asgard

        Who are they compared to a god? Loki thought. Twigs and crisp brown leaves crunched beneath his feet as he marched through the thick Scandinavian Forest. Autumn leaves scattered like pencil shavings with a thin veil of frost. He'd been following a babbling creek for half an hour. The stench of the planet offending his sense for far too long. Even in a remote place like this, he could smell the foul odor of mortals and their ilk. Miles from civilization, Loki still stumbled across a lost wrapper and empty plastic bottles. A reminder that humans will ruin anything when given the chance. "Disgusting," he mumbled to himself.
If only he had his sword. It was here somewhere. Lost by some fool who had no business finding it, let alone wielding it. How dare some simple human touch my sword. Loki thought. How weak do you have to be to wield such power and still end up a rotting corpse in the ground? No one even remembers the idiot's name. He deserves to be a feast for worms. I hope his ending was as unremarkable as he was. His jaw tensed with anger at the though. Some peasant playing warrior, swinging his sword only to lose it along with their life.
He could feel the sword. A low hum echoed in his head, like tuning fork being struck against glass. The closer he got, the louder it rang. Loki held out a hand and slowed his breathing. His nerves vibrating. There was magic in the wind. His magic. It was like the air was made of silk. The breeze circled around his fingers, ensnaring his hand with an invisible force.
He closed his eyes and drank the breeze. Visualizing the hilt in his hand, Loki took a long deep breath. The faint charge of magic tickled his fingers. Slowly, something manifested. It was just within his grasp. "Come to me, Laevateinn," Loki commanded.
Green smoke curled around his hand and up his arm. A chilling burn stung his skin. The familiar frost-bitten flame.
The soil here was rich with power. Somewhere deep below his feet, the ancient Asgardian relic laid in waiting for him. The waiting was over now. He'd found it. It was right there, so why was it so hard to summon?
He coiled his fingers, pressing his nails into his palms. Loki imagined the leather grip closed in his hand. He imagined it's smooth finish. The cold enchanted gold wrapped in expertly crafted Asgardian leather humming in his hand. "Come to me," he demanded, his frustration laid thick on his voice.
The soil buzzed with vibration. He rooted himself to the ground and cried out in vexation through clenched teeth. Sweat appeared along his furrowed brow. "Come to me!" he shouted. The humming stopped. The smoke disappeared as if it were never there. The flame was gone. He was just standing in a pile of dead leaves. His chest was heavy with resentment. His heart full of lead.
He creased his lips in disappointment and sighed irritatingly. "Fuck," he muttered.
The sky became loud. Whirling blades sliced through the wind in obnoxious pulsations. Dark blue helicopters descended from the clouds, scattering the leaves around him. "Loki of Asgard!" a voice boomed from a sound system inside one of the choppers. "We have you surrounded. Please do not resist!"
The white eagle emblem of S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled into view as the helicopter tilted to the side. "Fuck," he mumbled again. Daggers slid into his hands.
From the trees, three dozen agents clad in their black armor vests appeared, pointing their guns with the intent to kill. They were given the orders. One wrong move and they would unload on him. More agents descended on ropes from the sky. He counted three. Thirty-nine agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. They underestimate me. He thought.
He readied a dagger. Before he launched it through the air, a pair of heavy metal cuffs clasped around his arms. An unseen agent with a dark brown bun secured them behind his back. The daggers disappeared. "Get your hands off me!" Loki griped.
She slapped something flat and metallic across his mouth. A mechanical chord latched around his head, securing the gag to his face. He yelled more, but it was all muffled.
"Loki of Asgard, my name is Agent Katherine Hanna. You're under arrest for the invasion of New York in 2012 and you're a suspect in the disappearance of Thor Odinson," the woman exclaimed.
He couldn't protest despite the burning desire. A metal rope descended from a helicopter. Agent Hanna tethered it to Loki's cuffs and gave it an affirming tug. The prince was hoisted into the air with a quick and painful jerk. The woman smiled and waved as he was pulled into the clouds.