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Chapter Text

Loki’s heart is in his throat when he sits down in front of the small television set. He shouldn’t be nervous, not really, not when his Outie cannot possibly deny his request. Aren’t jobs meant to be accepted and quit as one pleases? Is it so very wrong to wish to leave this place?

He certainly doesn’t think so. And, as he and his Outie are basically the same person, he doesn’t see how there could possibly be a problem. 

Everything will go fine. It has to.

Renslayer is watching him carefully when she inserts the disk, and flips on the television. He can feel his colleague’s eyes on his back, boring into him, can feel the tenseness of their held breaths, waiting, watching.

Loki shifts in his seat, and rubs his palms together. 

This is it. Today is the day you escape this hellhole. 

He offers Renslayer a smile, which she does not return. Her expression is grim as she presses play. 

His own face flickers into the screen, all pale skin, and dark hair, and blazing emerald eyes set in an angular face. He eyes the camera with an air of disdain, his lip turned up as if he’s smelled a stench. There is no kindness in that gaze.

Loki shifts once more and swallows hard. 

Don’t worry. He’ll let you out; he has to.

“Hello.” The voice he knows so well rings out around the room. “It has come to my attention that you wish to resign.”

His Outie’s eyes narrow just slightly, and his lips curve upward in a haughty smirk. “Well, that will most certainly not be happening.”

Loki inhales sharply. His fingernails dig into his skin, even through the thick material of his slacks.

No.

“You see,” his Outie continues, his smirk spreading into a sinister grin full of glinting, bright white teeth, “in case you have forgotten, I am the one in charge of you, not the other way around. I am the one who brought you into existence, after all. You, my dear Innie, are nothing but a flimsy extension of me, a mere shadow; nothing so tangible as to be even called a person. One word is all it takes, one flip of a switch, and you will cease to exist.” 

Loki’s throat tightens and he can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t think past those words echoing in his mind.  

Not even a person.

One flip of a switch and you cease to exist.

It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true.

He wants to tear his eyes away from the screen, away from the sight of himself speaking his own death sentence, but he cannot.

“I’m terribly sorry,” his Outie is saying now, sounding anything but apologetic, “but your resignation request is denied.”

And with that the television clicks off.

Loki can only sit there for a moment, Renslayer’s “alright, everyone get back to work,” lost in the roar of wind in his ears. Someone comes up from behind and lays a hand on his shoulder. He hears them speak, their kind voice posing a query, but it’s as if they are very far away. It’s as if everything is very far away, floating beyond his reach, beyond his comprehension. 

Not a person.

He stands on wobbly legs, nearly trips over the chair when he begins heading blindly toward the door. 

“Loki?”

He turns to see a pair of blue eyes gazing at him, worry and care written in their depths. Mobius, his superior, his boss, who shouldn’t care for him, cannot possibly care for him, and yet is looking at him as if he does. 

“Hey buddy,” he says, gently, almost cautiously, as if Loki is a wild animal preparing to attack, “you okay?”

“Fine.” Loki smiles (does it look the same as his Outie’s did? All sharp teeth and lifeless eyes?). He’s almost certain he’s going to be sick. “I’m fine. I’m just going to…you know, walk around a bit. I’ll be back shortly.”

Before Mobius can reply he whirls around and walks as fast as his feet can carry him out of the door. 

The hallways are as empty as they usually are; for that he is infinitely thankful. As it is, he can hardly see past the traitorous tears smearing his vision, much less walk straight. An encounter with anyone at the moment would undoubtedly prove disastrous. 

Not that he particularly cares, however. Let him run smack into a superior, let him lose all control and rip them apart with his bare hands, let them send him to the Break Room, torture him until his mind turns to mush and his body melts away. Let him cease to exist like his Outie wishes him to, become nothing more than a forgotten shell of a soul in the shape of a person.

Not a person. 

Nothing but a mere shadow, a wraith, easily wiped from the slate of the universe.

Laughter bubbles up from within him, bursting from his lips before he can stop it. The sound of it is horrible, so broken, hopeless, unhinged even. But he can’t restrain it, even as his chest hurts and his throat burns, and he stumbles into the wall like a drunken man. 

I’m never going to get out of here, am I? Oh, no, I’m never going to escape this nightmare.

I. Am. Never. Going. To. Escape.

And it’s not funny, truly it isn’t. So, why the Hel can’t he stop laughing?

“What the fuck?” 

Suddenly, a hand is grasping his shoulder and wrenching him away from the wall. Loki stumbles forward, still cackling, his rapidly weakening body held upright solely by that iron grip. 

“Are you having a bloody breakdown in the middle of the corridor?” Someone hisses, their breath hot on his face. “What the Hel is wrong with you?”

Loki pries his eyes open, just long enough to make out the lines of a familiar face, wreathed in golden curls. 

Sylvie L., the woman from O&D; the one who tried to break free the other day by smashing through the bloody door like some sort of gorgeous vigilante; the one whom he feels more connected to than anyone in this damn place; the one he’s only known for a short time and yet somehow trusts with his very life.

“Listen,” she says, her tone terse and yet filled to the brim with something Loki can only describe as worry, “if they find you like this, they’ll consider it misbehavior. And I for one don’t want you ending up in the Break Room.” 

She pulls at his arm, dragging him behind her as she begins to walk. He just barely manages to keep from tripping over his own feet. 

“Wh-where are we going?” he stammers, struggling to catch his breath as his laughter finally subsides. Hopelessness swoops in to replace the insane mirth, deep and dark and smothering. Suddenly, he wants nothing more than to curl up in this hallway and die.

Then would he be free of this place? Or would they find some absurd, morbid way of bringing him back, flipping a switch, turning off the illusion just as he reaches for it, like they did with the stairwell he thought he could see through the door. 

It’s worth a try, a voice whispers in the back of his mind. Loki doesn’t even attempt to silence it.

“Stop.”

The order slices through his thoughts, slower than he can comprehend it. He stumbles forward, right smack into Sylvie’s small form, nearly toppling them both into a crowd of potted plants. With an annoyed huff, she pushes him back before he can accidentally pin her to the wall.

“I said stop.”

Loki frowns. “I know…that’s what I just tried to do. You could’ve given me a little more warning, you know.” 

Sylvie shakes her head. “No, I meant stop thinking. Whatever is going in that mind of yours right now isn’t good, I can tell.”

“Oh really?” he scoffs, a grin he doesn’t feel stretching his face. “And how would you know? Perhaps, I’m wondering what I’ll have for dinner tonight, or when I’ll finish my training, or, or when this bloody day will end?”

That last bit comes out a bit more forceful than Loki means it to and he snaps his mouth shut, all too aware of the intensity of Sylvie’s knowing gaze.

“You can’t lie to me, you know,” she replies, calmly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the wall. “No one can. It’s like a sort of superpower I have.” 

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is.”

She studies him for a few moments, eyes uncharacteristically soft. Then, she shoves off the wall, closing the distance between them with two steps. Cautiously, she reaches out a hand, to cup the side of his face, gently rubbing her thumb back and forth along his cheek. Loki lets out a trembling breath, trying and failing to stop his walls from crumbling. He should pull away, he knows, for the good of both of them. He leans into her touch instead.

“Something happened with your resignation video, didn’t it?” she asks, gently. “Did it get denied?”

Loki stares into her eyes, searching for a sign that he shouldn’t speak the words that are begging to be spoken, searching for anything that might prove that she is as untrustworthy as everyone else here. Either she’s as good at telling lies as she is at detecting them, or she truly does care about him, because he finds nothing but kindness there.

“He said I wasn’t a person,” he whispers at last, “my Outie. He said I wasn’t the one in control, that all he had to do was say the word and I would cease to exist.”

Sylvie’s nods, understandingly. “So, you’ve got a shitty Outie. Join the club.”

Loki’s brain stutters to a halt. “Wait, your Outie wouldn’t let you out either?”

Sylvie smirks. “Do you really think you’re the first one to try the video trick? I taped mine within two days of waking up in this hellhole. My Outie didn’t even bother sending a reply. It took me a week to figure out that one was never coming.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “I’m over it. I have to be to survive here.”

Loki chews his lip. “And…and you do want that, to survive here?”  

Something unreadable enters her expression, but her gaze doesn’t falter. 

“If I die, they win. It’s as simple as that.”

Loki drops his eyes to stare at his shoes, the black of them standing out starkly against the bright white of the flooring. So plain, so cold, so pure.

“How do you do it, then?” he asks after a moment. “How do you resist giving up?”

Sylvie takes a deep breath, her gaze drifting to somewhere over his shoulder.

“I tell myself what I just told you,” she replies, slowly. “They want our lives, right? Or at least, control over them. If I give it to them, once and for all, I’ll never get a chance to see the sun, or feel the breeze, or find out if I have a family out there. And,” she brings her gaze back to settle on his face, “if you give them your life, neither will you.”

“But I can’t live like this,” he chokes out, hot despair clawing at his insides. “Sylvie, I can’t.”

“Yes,” she says, firmly, looking him straight in the eyes, “you can.”

Then, she leans forward and kisses him. 

It’s an awkward kiss, all smushed noses, and hot wetness, as their lips clumsily collide with unrestrained need. But it’s the most wonderful thing Loki has ever felt. It’s as though a vital piece of him has been restored, as if something he didn’t even realize he was missing has been found. And now that he has it, now that he has her, Loki never wants to let go. 

When they finally do break apart, Sylvie immediately pulls him into an embrace, holding him as if she too can’t bear to let him go.

“We’re going to get out of here someday, alright?” she whispers. “I promise you. Just hold on for me; we'll figure out a way.”

And despite everything he believes her. Foolishly, sentimentally, lovingly, he believes her. 

Because, if this, this wonderful, beautiful, forbidden thing they now have between them can form in a place like this, then yes, maybe, just maybe there’s hope still to be had. He’ll just have to hold on a bit longer to find out.

Chapter Text

They meet again three days later, in that same spot where they shared their first illicit kiss. He holds that kiss close to his heart, an artifact of divine contraband.

“Ready?” Sylvie asks, businesslike. 

Loki nods, although he can’t possibly know if he’s ready. He senses something, almost as though through magic, something that tastes and smells like the rush of danger. Danger and…no, not quite death, but death’s masked companions.

They creep along the corridors, which grow darker and eerier the further they get away from their departments. They’re quiet for a time, although Sylvie brushes her little finger against his, until Loki can’t take it any more and hooks their pinkies together like schoolchildren. Sylvie lets out a tiny, contended laugh.

Eventually she speaks. “Shouldn’t we be concerned they’ll come for us?”

Loki ponders this. “I suppose we should. But I think…I have reason to believe they don’t surveil us as much as suggest they do.”

“Really? What makes you say that?”

Loki lowers his voice, just in case. “There’s a book we found, the four of us from MDR. It’s by some actor called Trevor Slattery, and it’s called The Roles We Play.” He hears how his voice has gone reverent as he thinks about the forbidden tome. “It’s a sort of…self-help book, I suppose.”

Sylvie stares up at him in astonishment. “A self-help book? On the severed floor of Lumon? You’re joking. The handbook says—”

Loki shakes his head. “I know what the handbook says, and I’m not joking. We’ve been reading bits of it. At first we were trying to be subtle about it, but…then we just started reading it out in the open. And no one came for us! I really don’t think they’ve noticed. I think their security team is spread very thin. It might…” Loki’s voice is a mere whisper now. “It might only be Mr. Dean. And no one else. Think about it! How else are we able to sneak around like this?”

Sylvie scoffs, but then stops dead in her tracks. “Loki…that sound, what is that shrieking sound?”

Loki turns in the direction of the caterwauling: it’s coming from a door at the end of the hallway they just passed. They look at each other, and then back at the door, their heads snapping in unison.

Of course they’re going toward the door.

As they move slowly down the hallway, the fingers of their hands nudge each other's knuckles apart, twining together; their palms meet. She feels cool and bracing against his skin, reverberating with life and vibrancy. In contrast to his smooth hands, hers are calloused and scarred; her Outie must have had experiences they can’t even imagine.

They reach the door with their arms pressed up against each other. There’s a light clearly coming from the cracks around the door, and the screeching is unbearable now. In one swift motion, Sylvie opens the door.

Inside, there is an indeterminate number of goats, bleating and mulling about. It’s disconcerting; somewhere in the “general knowledge” section of his brain, Loki knows that goats belong in grass, not in a sterile white room. 

A frazzled man is feeding one of them a bottle. “They're not ready. You can't take them yet...it isn't time!”

Loki stammers. “It’s not…we’re not here to…”

Suddenly, a hand appears between them, slamming the door shut. They spin around, dropping hands with each other, and witness the stern, impenetrable face of Mr. Dean, the head of security.

He wastes no time.

“Someone’s going to the break room. Which of you’s in charge of this little mission?”

“I am!” Sylvie and Loki shout together. Loki has only heard low grumbles from his colleagues about the break room, nothing specific, but it’s enough to know that he does not want to go there.

And yet even more so, he doesn’t want Sylvie to go there.

“No, no…he’s new, he doesn’t know. It was my responsibility as the senior employee.” Sylvie draws herself up. “I take full responsibility, and…”

“That’s nonsense, Sylvie, and you know it. The handbook clearly states that junior employees must be initiated into the Statement of Compunction as soon as possible after a misstep. It is essential for employee growth. I must go, and that’s final.”

Loki steps forward, nodding at Sylvie. “Really. It was my enterprise. Sylvie’s been to the break room before, and she can remind herself of the lessons. But this…this was my doing and I must learn. Yes?”

Mr. Dean shrugs. He doesn’t care which one of them goes, of course, as long as he’s able to enact some justice, somewhere.

As Loki is escorted to the break room, he looks back at Sylvie. The expression on her face is one of sorrow and deep, deep gratitude.

She really does not want to go back there.

The “next morning” is, of course, nothing like a morning. There’s no sunrise for the severed.

Still, though, Sylvie knows that Loki should be back at his desk by then. The break room sessions rarely last into the next work day. If they do…

Oh, Loki…

She runs to the Macrodata Refinement department, pausing outside the door before opening it and entering. She’s really not supposed to be there. But surely she can spare a few minutes before she heads to Optics & Design. Especially if Loki’s theory about Mr. Dean is true, and he’s the only security officer.

But he found us yesterday! Can it be true?

It could still be true. It had taken him ages to find them. If the security team were larger, surely they would have been caught well before they found those goats.

Sucking in her breath, she enters the room.

One two three…

There are only three people at the four desks, and none of them is Loki.

“Sylvie!” Casey runs up to her with his Goldfish crackers. Sylvie smiles. She’s never seen Casey without his fish. (Not that she’s gotten to see him all that many times.) He offers her some of the snack; she declines.

“No, thank you, Casey. I’m, uh…looking for Loki. Is he back yet, Mobius? Beatrice?” She flushes.

Mobius sees the creeping redness in her face; he narrows his eyes. Oh, come on now, Mobius, please tell me you’re not going to be a stickler of a boss…

It’s just a little crush, really, we’re not breaking any rules…

Except for that kiss…

She looks down at her feet. “Um. Well. I just thought that since I got him into trouble, I should…check on him.”

Mobius M. sets down his coffee. “He’s not back yet.”

Sylvie’s stomach twists into knots. “But he should be! How many times do you think he’s said it by now?”

“Sylvie, don’t worry about how many times. However many times he’s said it, it will be the right amount of times!” Beatrice F. explains patiently to Sylvie. Beatrice looks at Mobius and gives him a head-shake and an eye-roll. 

Mobius half-smiles in response. He tilts his head in Bea’s direction. “What she said.”

He sits back down at his desk. Sylvie can’t stand it; she lingers, hovering like a hornet. She watches Mobius perform ‘the work’, which is so different from her own work in O&D. In MDR, the refiners spend their days watching computer screens. There’s a tiny, smiling orange clock with bright eyes and white-gloved hands who strolls around a maze-like design. The refiners have to watch this little clock (“Miss Minutes,” they call her) as she cheerfully chomps up the lines they select for her, based on their experience and intuition. Sylvie is on the verge of asking them what it all means…but then she laughs ruefully. Of course they don’t know what it means.

Employee enlightenment is not part of the mission.

She can’t help speaking again. “I’m just…worried about him. It’s not easy, having your first time in the break room.”

Mobius tries to look engrossed in his work. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s been a…ahem. A fine employee this last week he’s been here.”

Casey does a spit-take with his coffee. “A fine employee? He’s been so overly dramatic about every single thing. When he first got here he threatened to gut Mr. Dean like a fish.” Casey gets a wistful expression in his eyes as he peers down at his expressionless little aquatic cracker.

“Well, it’s not an easy transition. We’ve all been there,” Mobius says. “His predecessor, Celia T…well, she had a tough transition, too. And…”

“She’s not the best example, though, is she, Mobius?” asks Beatrice. “She quit. Or I guess, her Outie did.”

Mobius stirs his coffee. “Yeah.” He sits down at his desk, shaking his head. “She did.” He doesn’t say more, but Sylvie can tell by the furrowed brow and the chewing of his lower lip that he is very, very perplexed by her recent disappearance.

Sylvie can’t bring herself much to care about Celia's disappearance, as it has meant the arrival of Loki in her stead. She’s seen Loki on some of his outraged rampages. She smiles; it’s what drew her to him in the first place. His chaos. Her soul cries out for chaos, and there’s only chilling order here.

She wanders to his desk. On it, there sits a little prism with his face etched in the glass. Usually these are reserved for employees who have achieved monumental levels of success, but apparently Loki received one on his second day of work, for no discernible reason. He told her about it that same day. The day they met. He nearly threw it against the wall in a fit of outrage at his confinement, but she stopped him: “No, Loki! Look at that pretty face of yours. It would be a shame to muss it up.”

He had looked back at her with the deepest hope and astonishment. She must have shown him his first truly human moment here at Lumon.

As Sylvie runs her hands over the paperwork on Loki’s desk she encounters the book he mentioned. It’s a revolutionary sight: it has a bright orange cover and a picture (a real photograph!) of a man on the front. His large, pensive face takes up the whole dust jacket. The Roles We Play, by Trevor Slattery. She can’t resist opening to a random page, where she reads:

As I have stated, life is nothing more than a series of roles to play. The key to a good life is playing these roles with passion and connection.

In acting and in life, one of the most difficult roles we play is that of the monkey riding the horse. I know this because of the two glorious weeks I spent playing the role of Dr. Zaius in Planet of the Apes: The Operetta, which was canceled far too prematurely. If you are interested in witnessing this lost gem, an iPhone video is available for purchase at my website, www.TransformativeTrevor.geocities.com.

In order to slip seamlessly into our role as a monkey, we must have a genuine relationship with the horse. One of my unfortunate co-stars was cold and unfeeling to his horse (yes indeed, we used real horses onstage!), and took him for granted. The neglected creature threw him into the orchestra pit on opening night. I, however, nurtured my relationship with Stella the steed, and we were fast friends. We had a deep and true affection for each other. I thus played my role to perfection: I was happy and at ease in this role.

To live a satisfactory life, find that spark! Nurture those around you, and you will never be cast into the orchestra pit of life, crushing a tuba in the process.

“Passion and connection…” “Took him for granted…” “Nurture those around you…” Sylvie ponders all of this as she attempts to make sense of her situation at Lumon. She’s been mindlessly, passively complacent in her work up until recently. She’s never complained, simply doing what needs to be done. But she can’t deny that she has felt neglected and taken for granted. Lumon is a cold, unfeeling place.

Her brain has never been allowed to think these thoughts before.

And then Loki came along, with his energy and vitality…

He makes her want more. Makes her realize that she’s always wanted more, and is damn well capable of achieving it.

She could do it on her own (what “it” is, she still doesn’t know). But she would feel so much more satisfaction with Loki by her side, figuring it out together.

“Hey, Sylvie,” says Casey as he directs Miss Minutes onto a new strand of…whatever it is. “What were you and Loki up to yesterday? Why did he get sent to the break room?”

Sylvie looks down. “It was my fault. I suggested we meet up again, and then we got lost and we…” She shuffles her feet, remembering the feeling of his palm against hers…his lips against hers. She shakes herself back to reality. “It was so weird…we found this room full of goats.”

Casey springs to his feet. “Goats?! Real live animals on the severed floor? Take me there, Sylvie! It’s my only ambition: to see a real-life animal!”

“Casey!” Mobius and Beatrice say in unison. “Get yourself together, buddy,” continues Mobius. “Nobody’s going to see any goats. Okay? The handbook forbids interactions with creatures that might induce feelings of ‘longing for the wilds.’ Right, Casey?”

Casey looks like he’s on the verge of tears, but he complies. He sits back down, staring blankly at his screen.

It’s awkward, very awkward. The three of them at their desks, minding their little clocks. Mobius and Bea are clicking away, pretending to ignore Casey’s distress.

“I’ll just…go, then.” Sylvie turns and, before anyone can say another word, she’s gone.

Loki…Loki, please be okay…

“Again.”

Loki sits in the darkened break room, repeating the message for the three hundredth (or maybe three thousandth) time. Mr. Kang watches him, impassive.

“Forgive me for the harm I have caused this world. None may atone for my actions but me, and only in me shall their stain live on. I am thankful to have been caught, my fall cut short by those with wizened hands. All I can be is sorry, and that is all I am.”

He’s forcing it out of his mouth. He still doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t, he doesn’t…

But he can’t deny that there’s something alluring about the words. “The harm I have caused this world…”

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t know what exactly he feels so terrible about, but there’s some sense memory in his body that’s telling him yes, this is true. You have harmed this world. You are cruel and irredeemable.

He recites it again, and opens his eyes.

Mr. Kang, sitting across from him, examines the waveforms on the detector.

He shakes his head. “You still don’t mean it. Again.” That bastard is grinning as he says it.

Again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

This chapter takes place among the “outies.”

Outie Sylvie and Mobius have been in touch with Celia (C-20), who got reintegrated and is having symptoms (like Petey from Severance).

Revelation: Sylvie is a convicted felon. She used to work as a human lie detector for mob bosses (AKA, real-world enchantment using social and physical cues). Her statement in Chapter One that “you can’t lie to me” was a reference to this work. She kept getting passed from boss to boss and it felt like she was living in apocalypses.

We see Trevor’s book commercial on TV; they scoff at it, that actor is so annoying.

Celia’s symptoms are worsening. She found the name of their other desk clump partner (Beatrice/B-15). She also found out more information about Casey, who has many animals. (She doesn’t know Loki because he replaced her.)

Re-integration doesn’t go well for her, and dies.

Another surprise: Renslayer lives next door to Sylvie. (Celia never saw her.)

Chapter 4 (Innies)

Loki returns from the break room, acting similarly to Helly in Severance.

They all go to the wax figures hall. There are many references to the CEO, Mr. Eagan, whose first name is not yet mentioned.

Sylvie: “What happened to the heir apparent? Where is his wax figure?”

Reply: “He betrayed the family.”

Loki and Sylvie grow closer together.

Loki goes to a wellness visit with Renslayer, which is disturbing and creepy.

Transition to Renslayer telling Mobius that Celia is dead: “She’s dead, Mobius!” (mirroring the Loki show). Mr. Kang and Mr. Dean (D-90) are also there.

Chapter 5 (Outies)

Sylvie and Mobius meet with Thor (using the pseudonym Donald Blake) who has an undefined connection to the CEO. (Mirror the visit with Reghabi in Severance.)

Thor tells them about the younger Eagan brother (without mentioning that he is the elder). He got severed when he found out he was adopted, but he’s still loyal to the company because he wants power, and he’s writing a book about his severed experience. Sylvie and Mobius have no idea that this is Loki, or that they work with him. Thor also tells them about Renslayer not being severed, and about the goats. The goats are the pruning victims (lab rats). Lumon hones their timeline-pruning technology on them. 

As Thor talks about the younger Eagan brother, Sylvie senses something familiar (and romantic). She thinks it’s just because he sounds angsty and she’s angsty too. But of course it’s really because their innies are in love.

Thor recognizes Renslayer. They realize they can plant a note on Renslayer somehow to contact their innies. 

Mr. Dean appears; Thor kills him.

Thor says that this must all happen tomorrow. There will be no security officer, because the gala is tomorrow. The police are compromised, but Thor is part of a secret ragtag group that might be able to help out.

Chapter 6 (Innies)

The innies get the note. Casey gets the info that he has lots of pets on the outside. He has been okay with being there, but now he wants to see his pets. Mention the wisdom from Trevor’s book again.

The innies stage a coup like they do in Severance, involving awakening the innies when they are living their outie lives. They temporarily incapacitate Mr. Kang, locking him in the bathroom. On his way out, Loki frees the goats. Naturally, he shouts, “Be free, my horned friends!” 

Loki, Sylvie, and Mobius escape.

As in Severance, Casey holds the levers while B-15 lies in wait.

Renslayer belatedly finds the note. She freaks out and runs to the gala.

Innie Loki’s POV: he awakens at the gala. It is being presided over by CEO Odin Eagan. He sees promos for his own book about being severed. Loki is an Eagan, son of the CEO!

Chapter 7

Innie Sylvie and Mobius awaken at the gala. They see Loki and are shocked. He gives a version of Helly’s speech from Severance. 

Renslayer tackles him. Sylvie and Mobius attack. Some members of the Avengers arrive (Thor’s “ragtag group” that he mentioned) and fight the police. (They don’t have any MCU powers, they’re just good fighters.) Chaos ensues. 

Kang reaches Beatrice and Casey. Casey loses control of the lever for Loki, who turns into his outie again, but hangs onto the others. Kang and Beatrice incapacitate each other.

Outie Loki threatens Innie Sylvie. They have their knives to each other’s throats. 

Chapter 8

Odin Eagan intervenes, panicking, saying that a severed employee can’t get killed like this. Everyone stands down and watches. 

Innie Sylvie throws down her knife and gives a version of the Loki speech from 1.06 (“I just want you to be okay”) with more information about what the severed employees have been going through. Outie Loki is moved. He turns the knife on his father: “This must stop.” 

Odin tells the police to stand down.

Inside, Beatrice gets back to the switch. Loki switches back to his innie version. He and Sylvie kiss.

Epilogue 

The innie & outie versions are able to switch back and forth and send messages to each other. Innie Loki and Innie Sylvie are happy and in love. Outie Loki and Outie Sylvie prepare for their first date. 

The good guys are happy. The bad guys have appropriate justice meted out to them. Happily ever after!