Mischief on Midgard

The 'M' word

Loki was not entirely sure what to think when he watched the Guardians flee the caverns below the ship. He himself was trying to find a way to help them, though he doubted that they'd listen if he was able to find a path. Even if they heard his advice, they likely wouldn't follow it. The Guardians... were like a really sloppy, messed up version of the Avengers.

When he had worked with the Avengers, he found that they had worked near perfectly as a team. Sure, there were a few snafus here and there, but for the most part, each member played to their strengths and covered the weak spots in the defenses of their teammates. They freely and openly showed that they relied on the others to help when they were outmatched. Their ability to communicate had been nigh flawless. They picked up each other's silent signals and just worked as a unit.

Steve had been, unquestionably, the task delegator. He knew just how to target a foe to bring them down and gave instructions as needed. Tony was the tech genius and provided aerial support, sometimes joined by his friend Rhodey. Nat and Clint could usually be found on the ground team, acting as support or stealth units where needed. Hulk was their heavy hitter and best defender when it came to foes who could dish out large amounts of damage. Loki and Pepper had taken care of the team's analytical problems. They had been a cohesive, wonderful team to work with that fully trusted and depended on each other to carry out their jobs like clockwork.

The so-called Guardians of the Galaxy, however?

It really was pathetic watching them. They went about fumbling through this... this disaster of a mission and yet somehow managed to succeed in their efforts. And now they were arguing about tape? Just... what? Loki hit the private comms.

"Ah... Nebula, if I may? Are you sure that we shouldn't just leave these fools to die?" Loki asked a note of incredulity to his voice.

"No, I am not sure," Nebula said, a note of frustration in her voice. "Just... remain ready."

"Right..." Loki said and then shrugged. "As you wish."

"Shiiiit! Five minutes and this place is gonna blow!" Peter Quill's voice sounded over the joint comm line. "Go! Get to the surface!"

And that was Loki's cue. He angled the ship downwards, getting the spacecraft as close to the slowly morphing surface of the planet as he dared. His eyes flicked over the cave entrances that he could see, only hoping to guess which one the group would emerge from. He squinted, eyes catching sight of fasted movement. Was that...? Yes! There she was! Nebula was running and jumping from rock to rock as the ground rolled beneath her feet. His eyes widened when she suddenly slipped. The ground shifted, a chasm opening up beneath her. Her hands scrambled wildly at the shifting ground to find purchase, and his heart sank even as he piloted the ship toward her. There was no way to reach her in time.

Then, against all the odds, a green-skinned woman appeared and caught Nebula by the arm. Even from this distance, he could see Gamora's expression. The sheer desperation on her face as she shouted a single word that he could almost hear ringing through his head.

"NO!"

Loki blinked at the sight in front of him in surprise.

Gamora is Nebula's Thor, he thought.

It was strange how real that mental statement made things for him. He'd thought that Thor's reaction back on the Bifrost had been fake. An act. And yet, seeing Gamora desperately grab her sister, a sister that had been actively trying to kill her, made him realize something. Thor had pleaded for Loki to hold on. To not let go. He'd meant it. Loki knew, just knew, that if the same situation happened again that he... he would do it all over again. Thor would still reach for Loki. Still beg for him to hold on. To not give up.