LOKI IMAGINES

Like Real People Do

Inspired by Hozier's song of the same title!

Happy New Year!!!

NOTE: EDITING!

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Sakaar... is something.

That much you'll say in a vaguely positive tone.

It is utter chaos— its inhabitants, its atmosphere, the decorations of the buildings. Hell, even its godsdamned leader is a maniac. You have no idea how you stomached the planet for nearly three months. Perhaps, it was utter spite to say 'fuck you' to the world that treated you so harshly. Or maybe, you're just one of the luckier ones in this godsforsaken universe.

The Grandmaster— he calls himself— is the 'leader' of Sakaar. Well, he doesn't do much leading, more of hosting gladiator-esque battles to hoard bets and entertain the masses. You don't even know if he's imposed any laws among his people. It's a mere gamble to do whatever the hell you want, in the hopes that it passes his standards.

He initially wanted to put you in the ring to fight his champion, but thought you had more use than just one moment of crude entertainment. With how you intimately know the shadows like they were your friends, he knew you would be quite the formidable mercenary.

You really didn't have a choice to decline the Grandmaster's offer. It was either that or fight in the arena and die a painful death. Maybe, if the Grandmaster was feeling a bit more merciful that day, he'd starve you in one of his prisons, lock you in a cell with only gods' know what kind of creature.

It wasn't exactly a horrible job, you're sure you've done something worse in your past. Well, the little flashes of what you can remember at least. Often filled with blood and screams and misery. You don't know if the blood, screams, and misery were your own or from victims.

You don't have the guts to find that out for yourself.

What you do have the guts for, is finding, capturing, and delivering creatures the Grandmaster commands you to.

These humanoid creatures often have similar characteristics. Namely, if they can fight and if they look dispensable. It wasn't a hard criteria to meet really. But, you were wise enough to kidnap some of the more capable ones because if they won a bracket in the tournament, you'd earn a cut from the proceeds.

Something about man bowing to greed, or anything along those lines definitely speak to you.

Today though, the Grandmaster gives you a different instruction.

He beckons you over his ornate and tacky looking throne, pointing at the screen in front of him.

"Loki of Asgard," he announces with his usual flair. "Could you capture him for me— don't look at me like that— I actually want him to be part of my court and not to fight in the arena with those hooligans."

You stood before the Grandmaster with crossed arms and an arched brow.

"What?" He replies, growing more and more exasperated with your silence. "I'm being serious here. Now, go on. Shoo! Get me Mr. Golden Horns!"

You simply nod at him, a sly smirk forming on your face. "I'll do it, of course," you say before turning on your heels. "But, if he comes at you all hostile and angry, don't call for me to help. That's not part of my job description!"

The Grandmaster doesn't retaliate verbally, but you know he's mocking you soundlessly behind your back. You don't mind it at this point. If he makes fun of you jokingly instead of threatening you, then you're all the more comfortable with the rapport you've built with him.