Madness of the Serpent

Truth or Consequences?

It was not possible. There was no reason, understanding, or validity to what the spirit now saw. Its eyes widened in a refusal of acknowledgement at the twisted appendage that now represented its right hand.

A pattern of raised, dark scales slowly crawled down its forearm, shredding the fabric of the suit as it spread towards its elbow like a hungrily festering disease. Pointed, heavily-armored black scales were replacing pale skin. Wickedly curved claws were supplanting fingernails. Rough, dark leather was spreading over its soft, smooth palms.

Jerking away in abject horror, it released the golden apparatus to bounce against the black slated floor. The spreading abruptly stopped, but the deformity of its right hand remained – a jagged black gauntlet molded onto its flesh. It backed away from the sceptre, as if somehow putting distance between it and the weapon would make its flesh return to its previous state.

Loki chuckled softly as he began to move to his left, circling slowly as he fixed the spirit with an expression of triumph.

"What a delightful turn this is," he remarked smoothly, eyeing the mutated digits of its hand with bright interest. "Who knew such a shocking event like this could possibly occur?" Loki tapped his finger against his chin in a false show of deliberation. "Oh yes, I did."

The spirit did not respond to this assertion, widened eyes fastened to the horrific mutation of its still-unfamiliar flesh.

Loki continued to speak, apparently having little need of an attentive listener.

"I knew. As soon as the Other trapped you within the orb rather than disperse your energy, which would have been far simpler... I knew."

"What?" it asked in a strangled voice, trying to interpret Loki's words while simultaneously staring at its armored hand with incomprehension.

"A being who caused the Other so much concern that he would not, or could not, obliterate it? That was something of interest. That was something I needed for my own."

"This should not be..." it quietly rejected his words, unable to look away from the distorted features of its appendage. "This is wrong."

"On the contrary, this could not be more right. My gambit has finally given me what I have aspired for – you still retain some of the qualities of your former form."

It finally pulled its eyes from the armored skin of its hand, staring at Loki in disbelief.

"You are mistaken. I possessed no such trait in the time before."

The spirit's explanations were met with an amused sneer as the Jotun-Asgardian continued to circle around it.

"Did you always think you were a floating phantasm of disembodied thoughts? Do you know so little of the spirit realm that you are ignorant of the most significant truth of your existence?"

"Your words hold no sense,' it managed to reply, its voice wavering from the stress of their encounter. It knew it should not ask for any knowledge he possessed about the bodiless ones, should not feed into more of his deceits and twisted words. There was no truth the spirit should believe while his mind was clearly plagued with darkness.

Instead of addressing the spirit's confusion, Loki said, "The Chitauri have come... and they will win. The heroes of Earth will fall. And you..."

Loki picked the sceptre off the ground, pointing it directly at the spirit as it froze in alarm, only now realizing they had switched positions within the room.

"You will join me, willingly or not. You are, as they say on Earth, my "insurance policy" if the Other's master decides to come calling."

"The... the one with the deafening voice?" it asked incredulously, beginning to slowly pace backwards from the Jotun-Asgardian and his bladed weapon. What did Loki think it could possibly do against the owner of that terrible laughter?