Havoc and Retribution

Scrappy Little Witch

Sighing, Loki braces himself. If he has to call the bridge keeper, he certainly doesn't have to do it on his knees, repentant. Sarcasm, yes, always the way to go.

"Oh lord of the sheep!" Loki intones. "I know you're watching and can hear because I'm sure that big golden helmet of yours functions perfectly well as a long distance radio antenna." He hesitates but plasters a smirk on his face. "I could use a ride into battle. I promise to give you five stars on your Asgardian Uber driver profile."

There is a flash of brilliant rainbow light, then Loki is facing down a chagrining icebeast on Jotunheim. "Ahhhh," he says regarding the beast philosophically. "Perhaps a little thick with the sarcasm," he admonishes himself.

Then he's running for his life and screaming up at the stars, his next "ahhhh" less prosaic and more practical as he slides and trips his way across the icy plains. He starts out with praise, but because he's Loki, slips rapidly into cursing and sarcasm. "Six stars on your profile!" he hollers, the icebeast closing in on him. "And a 20% tip!"

He is rapidly approaching the edge of the clip, the beast gaining on him in massive lopes like a tusked gorilla on some substance that is best not named. "I'll never call you Mr. Sheep again!" Loki screams as he skids to a stop at the edge of the cliff, snow crumbling over the edge from his boots. "Only ever Señor Ram," Loki yells, turning to look back at the warty, blue, red-eyed thing almost on top of him, unable to control his sarcasm despite being in mortal peril. Hey, he's pretty stressed out, give him a break.

When there is no change in the color of the air, Loki curses and throws himself off the cliff, narrowly missing being impaled on five foot claws. His eyes water as he falls and he flails in the air, never very graceful to start with. Although, how graceful can you really be when it comes to impromptu skydiving?

"Have I ever told you how lovely your helmet is?" Loki screams as the ground at the bottom of this ravine accelerates towards him.

Just as he is about to become a Loki-shaped splat in the snow, rainbow light zings around him in a wash. Instead of landing on soft snow at an ungodly velocity, he lands on his face in the transport room on Asgard, which if anyone cares, is much harder. He makes a similar sound to the one he made when the Hulk caught him monologuing in the Avenger's Tower. He tastes blood in his mouth and slowly looks up at a very smug Heimdall, who is just barely keeping his impassive look on his face.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Loki asks through puffy lips.

"I could ask you the same thing," Heimdall says, his normally impassive voice tinged with humor.

"Ow," Loki gurgles, which is not what he meant to say but suffices for the time being. Then again, with feeling. "Ow. Not sure that was necessary." He prods his swelling lip gingerly and winces.

"No, probably not necessary," Heimdall concedes. "But good fun regardless."

Loki gives him a scathing look worthy of Senna and levers himself to his feet. He heals himself on the way up, emerald light runneling down his arms and legs and finally erasing the swelling in his lips. He rolls his shoulders out and cracks his neck back and forth which flips his hair back dramatically. Heimdall raises one eyebrow with calculated care.

Loki narrows his eyes at Heimdall. He is suddenly noticing that there is no Aesir hoard here to drag him to the dungeons. No disapproving father, no chains and fake trial. It's just Heimdall and himself here in this space which is more unnerving than having to face down the might of Asgard. He was prepared to bargain and plead and basically demean himself to get to Jaycee across space but now it appears he doesn't have to and it takes him a minute to latch onto why that is.