Lore: When a Trickster Meets His Match

Chapter Two: The Variant

The variants ate. They drank box wine. They commiserated their lot in life. Then, they repeated.

Boastful Loki regaled them with the story of his defeat of the Avengers. Only the new Loki variant seemed to pay attention as the man spoke. Whilst scratching in the curled, dark strands of his beard to pick out the ribbons of cabbage that had lodged there, he described a descent onto the lowly realm of Midgard. He used his words to weave a tapestry of how he'd looked at the moment of his glory: triumphant leer upon his face, streetlights falling upon his golden armour to make him look like a hero returned to them, and a radiance of power that came from Mjolnir as he raised it above his head and declared that he had come to rule them as their benevolent god. The bitter, north-easterly wind had tousled the fleece that covered his shoulders as he bade the humans of Stuttgart to kneel. Terrified, each one of them did.

"And then the Avengers arrived?" The new variant asked tentatively.

"Ha!" Boastful Loki snorted, "They did not come to me on their knees, but when I was done with them –"

Thirteen rolled her eyes. She wished that the new variant stopped prompting him to continue with this story. It might have been riveting to have listened to how Earth's so-called 'Greatest Heroes' had lost against a Loki – if this particular tale hadn't been told a dozen times. Yet no matter how many times the woman had heard it, the details had never been the same. That was the only interesting thing about hearing it anymore: how his words reformed and revised, making his victory more and more glorious with each retelling.

Either way, Thirteen blocked out Boastful Loki's voice. She had other things on her mind. Namely, her new pet frog. It was a long and arduous process to get her pet to eat, as it was so weak that it could barely do more than raise its head or shoot out a sticky pink tongue. She shredded a dumpling into pieces and dangled the strips over the poor creature's head, waiting patiently as it lapped it into its mouth. When she'd made sure he'd eaten enough and given it a small amount of water, she gently stroked the creature's head with the tip of her finger. It was so meek. So helpless. . .

"I could see anguish in Tony Stark's eyes as I lifted my hammer to crush him!" Boastful Loki barked harsh, forceful laughter, "But I did not bring it down upon him. Oh no! There would be far worse in store for the Man of Iron than a simple crushing. Taking charge of all six Infinity Stones, I - "

Thirteen rolled her eyes. Oy vey. She screwed shut the lid on the frog's jar and set it gently at her crossed ankles. Then, she reached over and took a sip from her goblet. She winced. The variant swished the wine around in the goblet before she hazarded another try. The goblet was cheap and made out of plastic, plastered with faded gemstones glued to the side and with peeling stickers on the rim. It didn't bother her so much because the outside seemed to reflect what was within: the acidic, vein-purple pinot noir from a box that was mouldy and smeared with dust. It was the best alcohol the Void had to offer. Boastful Loki had found it among the wreckage just last week. Or so he claimed.

Alligator Loki let out a low groan. It was a sound that perked her ears, one that she had started to recognise from her constant time around the reptile, and even though she thought it sounded like a scratched record player being thrown through a stone crusher, she preferred it to Boastful Loki's tall tale. This particular version included grovelling superheroes and a parade in his honour.

Classic Loki rolled his eyes, "If timelines branched as easily as your story changes, there would be a lot more Lokis in the Void."

Thirteen snorted, "There would hardly be a Void at all."

While Boastful Loki's face contorted sourly, either as an effect of their words or from taking a sip of the disgusting wine, the others laughed. It made Thirteen smile to hear Kid Loki laughing as she bent down beside the alligator pool. The reptile hissed in anticipation. When his long, pointed snout opened to receive the stream of the wine, his tail seemed to wag. Though she would never point it out, knowing how proud he was, she thought he looked adorable. After he was done, he snapped his mouth shut and submerged himself back into the water. Being careful, she scratched him behind his eyes and watched the alligator become peaceful and content. He even growled happily. Like most Lokis, he appeared to be far more shuddersome than he actually was.