Above All Shadows [Loki Timetravel fic - Completed]

47. God of Mischief

Coulson and his team had done extraordinary work to misdirect Fury for this long. As much as the stalling gave Ebony Maw more time to make his own plans and left time for Tyr's arm to heal, it had been inevitable. Loki had needed time to prepare, Stark - to build a new suit, SHIELD -- to lick their wounds clean. Loki would have preferred one more day, but then, he seldom got what he wanted.

'Then let the back-up know, Jarvis,' he said sharply.

The AI offered no response, but Loki trusted Stark's skills enough to assume it would follow instructions without requiring direct supervision. He rested his hand on the staircase railing, then swung his feet over and launched himself into the air. He landed with a loud thud down on the ground floor. To his irritation the overhead lights flickered on, flooding the lodge with light. If there was anyone outside, they would have already spotted him. And the only thing Loki could see out the windows was his own reflection.

'Jarvis,' he muttered as he crouched down to make himself less conspicuous, 'cut out these lights.'

The lights dimmed in a coordinated sequence, but Loki stayed where he was. The AI would have alerted the others also; he had seconds to get everything right.

Loki's preparations hadn't included plans to spend the night crouching in fear between Stark's living room couches. He closed his eyes and reached for his magic. When he opened them again, he grinned. His vision had acquired two shadow visions that saw the world from different angles. It was disorientating to stare up at illusions of himself and see himself staring back at them through their eyes. But they did look good. Solid. Intelligent.

There was stomping upstairs. Thor and Rogers were on their way down.

Loki didn't dare to admire the products of his craft any longer. He left his two illusions standing in the middle of the living room while he continued to keep low and hurried towards a darker corner of the house.

'Nat's out there with SHIELD. She confirmed we have incoming,' Stark declared as he burst out of his workroom, already donning a new version of the Ironman suit. 'No sign of the unholy trinity yet, but I'm sure they won't miss the party.'

For once Loki was in total agreement with Stark. He reached inside the inner pocket of his coat and fished out the ear-piece Coulson had supplied (and Stark had tinkered with); there wouldn't be a repeat of the chaos in San Francisco here. Loki's illusions echoed his movements.

'The hell?' Stark spat out as he jerked to a stop at the sight of them. Loki bit down a laugh. They hadn't discussed the illusions in their plans -- a strategic decision on Loki's part. He preferred to make a bit of last-minute mischief to risking the chance that the Maw could tear out every detail of their preparations from Thor's or the Midgardians' minds.

'A simple magic trick, nothing more,' replied the illusion closest to Stark, which Loki decided to dub as Illusion One. Thor and Rogers had also converged on the dimly lit living room, so Illusion One shifted a couple of steps closer to Thor. 'I'll stay by you, brother.'

Thor looked pained at those words, but nodded.

How long will it take him to figure it out this time?

While the second illusion drew its knives and moved closer to Rogers, Loki cloaked himself in a facsimile of Romanoff's body and crept towards Stark's workroom. The room was unlocked, so he pushed it open and made himself comfortable on a lone stool behind a bench heaped with scraps of warped steel and shredded plastic.

What Thor never quite grasped was that there was a whole gamut of spells that produced illusions and their end results differed greatly. Some illusions were solid, some not. Some spoke, some remained mute. Some moved independently, some had to be guided like marionettes. The ones that were capable of movement sophisticated enough for prolonged combat, unfortunately, required close directions and it strained Loki's faculties to guide not one, but two illusions with the force of his mind.