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The survivors of the USM Hydra - bounty-hunter Anthony Stark, genetically enhanced animal Rocket Raccoon, biomechanical android Nebula and human clone Loki Eight - have escaped aboard the Benatar, eventually heading for Earth in order to find a temporary refuge. When the question of the landing place is raised, Stark orders Rocket to find a lost corner, out of the reach of any radar... because he will make sure of it: the government must not detect the presence of the clone of Loki Liesmith for they will seek to regain possession of him now that he has found a path to freedom.
_ _ _
It had been five days now since the Benatar landed in a field of metal waste, clearly forgotten for decades, near the ruins of the former French capital. That one had been condemned to be nothing but rust and debris of buildings penetrating the soil contamined by centuries of intensive pollution. Earth was no longer the beating heart of all humanity, which extended today to the far ends of space thanks to technological advances and waves of colonization that had followed the explorations: the blue planet was dead. She, who had seen the birth of Man, was now watching him abandon her under layers of rubble and heavy clouds of polluted dust.
Only a few oases remained here and there across the world, but they were far too fragile. They were waiting in a slow death, and the few human lives - poor and destitute, pinned to the ground - wandered in the ruins of their world, waiting for its end... and theirs.
Ever since touching down, Rocket had been eager to make important repairs on the ship, as well as minor ones, to ensure they could take off again when needed, possibly in an emergency case. They didn't know much about the motherland of the human civilization, especially since it had descended into chaos, but it was obvious that the stations floating nearby would signal the entry into the atmosphere of the debris of the USM Hydra and the pronounced radius of its explosion when it crashed in the north of the North American continent. Patrols would be sent, research would be done, and secrets would be discovered.
Nebula had left with Stark to explore the surrounding area for equipment, weapons, food and anything that could be of use to them. Analyzing maps and electric fields from the control room of the Benatar, they had spotted an old science lab attached to a former military station, both derelict, a handful of miles to the west. The plan was to go there and get some spare parts and everything. Loki, meanwhile, had been tasked with going to the remains of Paris and roaming the streets of mercanti, teeming with illicit trafficking carried out by those who could not leave the Earth, to bring back food and medicine.
"The only med I advise you bring back is booze," Stark had ordered dryly with his face covered in dark scars.
Loki had smiled, hiding his face under a large hood, amused by the pirate's harsh character. And he had hit the road then, blowing a simple "Stay alive" that had haunted Stark's days and nights until he and Nebula returned to Rocket, forty-eight hours later. Stark had strangely been waiting for this moment; to return. He felt the silent urge to find his way back to Loki and watch him move around him, with that predatory look that marked his face and his hard jaw, both inherited from his genetic cross with alien blood. But two more days had passed since they'd returned, and still no sign of Loki. What would once have annoyed and then driven Stark to leave, leaving a straggler to his fate, now became genuine worry that kept him awake at night.
"He should have come back a long time ago now," he confessed, sitting in the dust, playing with his knife under the scorching sun hidden by thick red clouds, traces of the apocalypse in which was gradually drowning Earth.
"Don't worry, genius," Rocket told him, cleaning his gun next to him. "Must be comin' back. It ain't four poor junkies that are gonna stop him."
"He doesn't know a damn thing about that goddamn planet," Stark scolded, cursing the ruins of the city that lay before him with a look. "And he's hot-blooded…”
He remembered the burns left by the thick scarlet liquid that ran through Loki's veins on the metal floor of the USM Hydra. This man was even more peculiar in Tony's eyes than the fucking alien monsters they had faced up there. Certainly because Loki was one of them... but his body and his heart were human.
Further behind them, leaning against the Benatar, Nebula looked at the pirate, worry biting her nerves.
"I should have gone with him," she hissed. "Not with you, asshole! The military may have caught him, he may already be on a moon station in this moment! And we are sitting there like morons!"
"You shut the fuck up, Blue!" Stark yelled as he jumped to his feet, threatening her with the blade of his knife. "We saw no one descend from the sky, and no one got up. So quit whining and let me do the thinking."
"Wha'd'ya want us to do, chief?" Rocket asked, scratching his ear. "We can't stay on that pile of shit forever, it stinks of death here. Even the ships give it back."
"I know," Stark blurted out, putting his hands on his hips, his eyes then looking up at the ghost town.
"So what?"
"So I'm going."
Nebula frowned in surprise. Rocket's reaction was way louder.
"Freakin' hell, Stark, you gotta be kidding me! Nah, man! No!"
"I'm telling you," the man growled, putting his knife back in his shoe. "I'm going. There is no way I'm leaving without him."
"The fuck did he do to you to make you even more stupid?"
Stark leaned over him, threatening.
"He saved our asses, Rocket."
"I know but -"
"There's no but. Give me another gun. I'll go get a coat. And you," he spat, grabbing the android by the wrist, "you keep an eye on the ship and keep Loki's place warm. I'll bring him back as soon as I find him."
His strong hand abruptly released the thin hand of the android woman. He still didn't like robots, not even this one, even after what she had done for them. But Loki liked her, always took care of her, so Stark tried to be nice. Tried is a key word there.
With his eternal angry gait, he returned to the deck of the Benatar and rushed aboard to reach the gangway to find the long black synthetic leather overcoat that had once belonged to Rhodey, his friend who had sacrificed himself for save Rocket when they were attacked by alien creatures. He'd always looked classy wearing it, so it was time for someone to put it on again, to honor the memory of the guy. As he crossed the gangway, glancing at the control panels, Stark was struck by his loneliness. There, the seats were empty. No bottle, no pile of money lying on the floor. Rhodey wasn't in the shadows, polishing his guns. Gamora wasn't sitting in her chair like a goddess, and their captain, Quill, wasn't wearing in his dusty clothes, a cigarette in his mouth, eyeing her as he imagined what he was going to do to her between the sheets. They had all died. Because of these fucking beasts.
Ha. Beasts Stark didn't hate as much as he'd like to. He was frustrated, for he saw them through Loki. Their predatory look, their structured jaws, the specter of their pointed teeth, their claws, the liquid that oozed from their bodies. Loki was all that, but damn more fuckable. His body moved in a fascinating way, punctuated by gestures from another time; his lips were remarkably drawn and the features of his face were painfully human while possessing the dark side of the animal; his skillful hands ended in dark fingernails sculpted like claws; and his long dark curls were constantly wet with an unknown liquid. Loki was half animal, but Stark saw with perfect discernment all that he had from the human. Like the inconstant balance between the two parts of his being, his inner struggle to convince himself that he was worthy to live as a true man, like any other man. And Tony was fascinated. He had never been so fucking fascinated.
"Shit," he groaned, hardly banging his fist against a wall.
He was dying of fascination for him. It was absolutely out of the question to let Loki rot on Earth to be nabbed by mad scientists who would lock him up in a cell, tie him to a bed, his body dissected and analyzed. No. No, they won't have Loki, no one will. Tony's gonna look after him. You're hooked, Stark, you're getting soft. He could hear Rhodey talking to him, his damn smile plastered to his face, his eyes riveted on one of his new guns. You found it, the weapon you wanted. The beautiful. The only one. He pulled up the collar of his large coat. Fuck Tones, he smashed your balls with a basket ball on that first day! Making sure his guns were securely fastened to his belt, Tony stepped out of the ship into the red atmosphere, blackening towards night. Find him, Tones. Rhodey was looking at him, he felt it. I like him.
Rocket and Nebula were waiting for him in silence.
"I'm taking a radio," Stark said. "Only for emergencies. Got it? If it gets too risky down here..."
He put his hand on his furry pal's head.
"...You take off. You both take off. Understood?"
"Stark -"
"We've been here for too long already, it won't take long before they locate us, Rocket. So if it happens when we still haven't come back, you run."
"I'll wait till the end, asshole! You better bring him back. We'll kick his ass afterwards!"
Stark then started walking in the direction of the dilapidated city, even offering Nebula a wink. After all, this might be the last time he saw her. Robot or not, she deserved something for having saved his life.
"Where have you gone, Loki?" He whispered, watching what would be his hunting ground for days to come.
_ _ _
Scraps of humanity roamed the shattered neighborhoods of what had once been a great city, glittering glass and metal towers and endless skyscrapers. A spectacular, glorious view, now collapsed to the ground and abused by winds and storms. The populations were sick, poor, but gathered in the same places and swarming like ants in the ruined streets, in search of food, false identity papers, rare exit tickets to leave the atmosphere. The atmosphere; this world above, rotten and poisoned, threatening to fall in their faces at any moment.
In the black and stinking avenues of what had borne the name of Light City, this was where Loki had chosen to stop. To stop everything. For several days he had been hanging out there, his heavy boots hitting the dust of an almost indistinguishable ground, his perfect body concealed under a long, ragged coat. His strange hair covered with a very large hood and his animal nails in the shadow of his long sleeves, he explored the diseased Earth, the miserable life, the bestial men. His beautiful eyes, wide open and shining with curiosity, stared at the human misfortune that was holding onto a semblance of life around him.
Loki felt good there, near the abandoned, the repudiated of the universe. They stood, aimlessly, prisoners of their cursed life. Yes, he was fine. He was… vaguely similar. Almost the same; left behind, doomed to die without having the opportunity to live. Until this day, he had only been surviving, barely fighting, to both be free and slave to what he really was: a living being but not human; a humanoid alien; an experience, a result, an envelope to help produce monsters. Did he have the right to be there at all, and to walk among the Last Men? Or were they in worse shape than he thought they were?
Because it was his choice to be there. He had chosen, and he had decided to be there, to stay there. Stark and the others must have taken off long ago. They may even be on the other side of the galaxy. In his chest, he felt something. A wince dawned on his face as he massaged where his heart was pounding. The thought of never seeing them again made him want to throw up. But he pictured Stark, two guns in his hands, aiming at the skull of a poor man in the service of a potential client who was blackmailing him over a few bundles of dollars. He saw with marvelous clarity the gleam of excitement in the pirate's dark eyes, the smirk on his lips that underscored how much he loved having the power of life and death at his fingertips.
Loki was going to miss him. He was already missing him. But he had not had the guts to bring himself to join Stark and the others aboard the Benatar. He had to continue to protect them, especially from what he was: government property, which would likely deploy all kinds of missions to find him. If he was with the Benatar crew, they would all end up killed. All of them. Nebula would be disintegrated, her memory erased from all servors. Rocket would be interrogated and tortured before being reduced to a puddle of blood. And Stark? Stark would be witness to it all, and if he was smart enough to save his own skin, he would reveal absolutely all the information about the Loki Eight clone. Loki smirked as he realized that the man was an idiot, dumb enough not to open his mouth and even try to escape.
He liked the fact that Stark was a jerk. A real asshole. A real human. He loved that he was so human; that his flesh could bleed from a scratch, that he could die of being ill, that he needed oxygen to make his heart beat. That his skin was thinner and his muscles weaker than his. Loki loved his smell of alcohol and sweat and blood. His warmth. He was so human.
And so far away now.
Cheers echoed among the small crowd gathered in the street. In the distance above the houses, Loki noticed a drone fleeing towards the dark clouds. Around him, people were running, pushing, rushing to where it must have landed moments before. He then followed them. It was as if death no longer existed, everyone was awakening, coming to life, stirred by new energy, a temporary will. Which he quickly guessed to be paramount.
There, a huge crate had been deposited. Hands were tearing off what it contained: strange fruits, cloudy liquids, dirty clothes, and other boxes Loki couldn't make out. Carried away by the crownd's movement, he found himself in front of it all, so his hands grabbed a white fruit before getting out of the way. A gunshot rang. A dead person. Loki didn't even turn around, preferring to watch his little discovery carefully. Then his eyes met those of a small creature. Under the filth that covered her, he recognized a child. A child who watched with longing what he was holding. He leaned down to her height.
"You want it?"
The child looked at him, gulping. Loki smiled at her.
"Here, take it. Go ahead, I won't bite you."
Seconds later, the fruit and the child were gone. But Loki remained crouching there, vividly assaulted by images and sensations that soon sent salty water running down his cheeks. A child… Protect her. It was so brief that he couldn't understand if these memories were true, if they were ancient traces of his original being: Lieutenant Loki Liesmith. Maybe it was just simple genetic failures? Or dreams. Nightmares. He got up, determined to get away from here and find shelter for the night, but as soon as he took about ten steps, he suddenly found himself being pulled back into the shadows of a dark building.
A figure hidden under a long coat drew him towards them, slamming him against a wall. The smell of whiskey and burnt sweat filled his nostrils, instantly relaxing every muscle in his body. Anthony. Loki closed his eyes with a sigh, enjoying the security he felt as the other man slowly softened his grip. Loki breathed in the scent of alcohol that now enveloped him, and his mind almost broke. His alien senses often drowned him. So he staggered slightly and came to rest his head against the one of the man who was holding him. He was getting drunk on these sensations.
"I'll never let you go again," a deep voice swore in his ear.
Loki smiled weakly. The strong, hard hands that were holding him dropped down his arms and then slid over his hips, under his coat, to squeeze them, and hold on to them even harder. There, in the darkness, they both felt capable of being emotional. And delicate. He felt Anthony's lips ghost over his jaw, then his mouth. Unable to bear it any longer, Loki kissed him. And smiled as the man moaned against him, his tongue tasting like humanity. Loki viciously rolled his hips against Anthony's and the other man forced them to still against the wall. Opening his eyes again, Loki saw Stark's smile. "I never want you to let go of me, Anthony..."
Because it was absolutely out of the question to leave without him. The beautiful, only one.