Electricity

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Alright, so the trailer for Avengers Four was just released, and I am 12895% going to watch it the day it comes out. I need to see what happens-- and I need to see all of my babies come back. Loki died, Dr. Strange died, Bucky died, Spiderman died, Scarlet Witch died, Vision died, Black Panther died, all of the Guardians aside from Rocket died, and all of the others who died I am mourning equally as painfully. Can't wait to see the remaining Avengers beat the shit out of Thanos!

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Loki awoke to find himself lying on his side, his hands cuffed together and his head throbbing. He tried to sit up but found it was insanely difficult, not to mention painful, so he stayed on his side, breathing deeply and trying to remember what the hell had happened.

Let's see. He was in Wakanda. Thor was there. The other Avengers were, too. They fought together-- against aliens, all led by one huge, ugly alien named...

Fsanian. Meisal. He had a sister.

Loki tried to sit up again, this time managing to lift himself up, although not without some pain. He sat awkwardly, his hands cuffed, taking in his surroundings. He was in a large, circular cell, with bars of pure electricity separating him from a long, dark hallway that lead off into what appeared to be nothingness. Loki squinted, trying to make it out, but found that it was far too dark to see anything. The only source of light came from the crackling electric bars, which seemed very daunting, not to mention dangerous. Loki pursed his lips, reminded of his unpleasant stay on a planet called Sakaar, where he had been the unfortunate recipient of an electric shock caused by an obedience disk, which his own brother had attached to his back. Of course, Loki had sort of deserved it-- he had been planning on betraying his brother to the Grandmaster and collecting the prize money-- but that didn't erase the pain.

Or the guilt. The shame. The knowledge that he had ben evil.

Loki's self-hate was interrupted by the sound of metal scraping against metal, and he assumed that it was coming from a door. Sure enough, Loki saw a boy coming down the hallway, carrying with him a torch that illuminated to darkness, allowing Loki to see the dreary hallway and imperious metal door, all covered in slimy green mold and golden-brown rust.

"Awake, are you?" The boy remarked pointlessly, as if Loki could be sitting up with his eyes wide open and still be unconscious. "Fsanian will be pleased." He came up to the bars and peered at Loki warily. "He's been asking after you, you know."

"Should I consider myself special?" Loki asked dryly, feeling stupid as he sat helplessly on the floor with his hands in chains. Based on how drained and powerless he felt, they were magic-suppressing cuffs, and that meant if he was to break out, he was going to have to rely on his own strength.

Which, unfortunately, he wasn't very good at.

"You should consider yourself lucky," the boy replied, "Fsanian could hate you. In which case you'd really be screwed."

"Do tell," Loki said, decided that is he was unable to escape, he might as well gather as much information as he could about his enemy.

"He's a good ruler," the boy explained, "but he can be... harsh... at times."

"Harsh?" Loki raised an eyebrow. "He kidnaps children, forces them to slave away training there asses off to become weapons for him to use in his army, and calls them his children, claiming to have given them a home. He refuses to let them leave this hellhole under the claim that he owns them, and he tortures and kills the ones that try to escape and live freely. You would describe that as harsh?"

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