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An unexplainable feeling of guilt sunk deep into Loki’s heart as he passed through the time door into an all too familiar and all too recent sight. An eerily dark hall, with metal walls that groaned with engines and passing air, his slow footsteps against the high platform. The helicarrier.
Why did the tempad send them here? Out of all the places in time to glitch into, why did it send them someplace so specific?
Mobius and Loki glanced at each other with confusion and concern. Loki then looked back to check on Sylvie, who followed behind with her hand carefully resting on the sword in her holster.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“2012,” Mobius said. “This is where we picked him up.”
“Something’s off…” Loki said. “It’s familiar, but it doesn’t feel right.”
Perhaps the sight of the location brought back awful memories, gnawing guilt of who he used to be and the things he had done.
But maybe that wasn’t all there was. There was something unsettlingly different about the atmosphere.
Sylvie directed their attention to the floor below, which was in shambles. Cargo crates cluttered the floor, the walls and beams covered in dents and burns, and a loose wire sending shots of sparks.
“It looks like there was a fight,” Sylvie said. “But we can’t tell who won.”
Loki stopped in his tracks, his face turning pale and his eyes wide with horror.
“I think we can…”
In front of them, a body lay limp halfway on the platform, its arms stretching towards the floor below. With the blue, blood-covered armor, Loki recognized the body as that of Captain Rogers’. A crimson pool stained the platform and dripped to the lower floor, spilling from the stab wound in his torso.
“Keep your guard up.” Loki couldn’t say anything more than that.
The trio hesitantly stepped over the body as they made their way through the hall. Loki reached for the handle of his sword in the holster on his back, holding it steadily in front of him.
They came to a flight of stairs at the end of the platform. At the bottom, to their disgust, was another body. This time it was that of Natasha Romanoff. She laid face down, her hands gripping the steps as if she had tried to crawl up and escape. Blood spilled from the stabs in her torso and leg.
It was then Loki saw Banner lying beside her. He was half naked with tattered jeans, the trail of blood following him starting with a large spread of green and fading into a narrow path of crimson red. Though his wounds weren’t from a blade, but from bullets of the gun that rested under Romanoff’s hand.
Loki cringed at this gruesome sight, knowing that he must have been the one to trigger the slaughter. It made him fear what this ‘Loki’ could be capable of, or worse, how far gone he was. He remembered the time that he fell into that place. The pain but also the satisfaction that came from his malice. It was merely wool over his eyes, he knew that now. But it still made his blood run cold.
“Are you okay?” Sylvie’s voice broke him away from the painful memories.
Loki turned his head towards her, though his feet felt as if they had been welded to the floor.
“No...” he knew there was no point in lying to her. Why would he be okay?
The three of them cautiously crept down the stairs, avoiding the bodies at the bottom. Loki and Sylvie steadily held their weapons, convincing Mobius to activate his time-baton.
Loki led them through the opening to a hallway. A dark hallway that they could barely see through. He carefully stepped through the grainy darkness, praying his feet wouldn’t hit another body. That was when they heard a soft noise from the ceiling. A soft noise that sounded like vigilant footsteps from the floor above. Loki stopped and put his hand up, signaling Mobius and Sylvie to stop as well. They froze, waiting with bated breath as the footsteps passed. They reminded Loki of the steps of a wolf stalking for prey; Slow and keen yet in assertive strides. It was deafeningly silent after that, but Loki still waited for a moment. Finally, when he figured that there was no longer any sense in cowering like deer, he motioned them to move. The three of them were careful to keep their steps light on the metal floors.
After trudging through the pitch-black hall, Loki’s hand reached out to touch a door. He tentatively opened it, revealing a balcony with a cylinder glass prison in the center. The most familiar place on the helicarrier. He noticed the faint, bloody handprints on the glass. He hesitantly stepped closer to see what was inside. His heart sank, and he began to feel sick in the stomach. Inside the cell, laying on the floor in a pool of blood, was Thor. There were stab wounds on his side, shoulder, and finally his chest. Loki drew a hand to his mouth to silence his shaken breaths, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He remembered the disdain he had felt towards his brother, but even so, he couldn’t imagine killing him in such cold blood, putting him through so much agony. He couldn’t imagine that this past Loki was happy with what he had done.
Loki used all his emotional strength to keep the tears from spilling out, his breaths heavy behind his tightly shut lips. He took in a deep, slow breath to try and calm himself. He had to remain vigilant, so he had to keep his composure.
Sylvie slowly approached the scene. When she saw the inside of the cell, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. She opened her mouth to say something, but there were no words she could say.
Suddenly, another voice broke the silence.
“Snooping, are we?”
Loki, Sylvie, and Mobius whipped around toward the source of the voice, holding out their weapons in front of them. Slowly ambling around the cell, was a figure dressed in regal leather robes, gripping a golden-bladed staff with red stained hands. Loki’s own face stared back at him with curious, deranged eyes.
“What am I looking at?” the variant said.
“Long story,” Loki said as he kept a firm grip on his sword.
The other Loki tilted his head as he continued to slowly approach them.
“Interesting,” he purred. “Tell me, are you an illusion? A trick? Or are you from the past or the future?”
Loki had to put some thought into the question. “I come from your timeline,” he said. “But I’d say we’re different...”
“Clearly,” the other Loki scoffed, a scornful smirk twitching on his lips. He pointed his staff at Mobius and Sylvie. “Who are your little friends? Would you mind introducing me?”
“Run,” Loki spoke to Mobius and Sylvie without taking his eyes off the variant. The other Loki began to lunge toward them. This time, Loki turned his head to face them.
“Run! Now!” he exclaimed.
He turned back where the other Loki raised his staff, which he parried with the blade of his sword. Mobius and Sylvie backed away, seemingly unwilling to leave him alone with the variant.
The other Loki spun his staff to release it from the strain of the sword. He swung the blade of the staff at Loki’s head, which he dodged and blocked again with his sword, pushing the variant against the railing of the balcony.
He turned his head back at Mobius and Sylvie as he clashed with the variant.
“What are you doing!? I said run!!” he shouted.
This time, they listened and took the opportunity to escape.
As they ran, the variant shoved Loki off of him, causing him to stagger back. Before he could regain balance, the sting of the blade grazed his chest. He winced, grasping at the wound that was starting to bleed.
But he didn’t lose his composure. He lunged back at the variant as he blocked another blow from his staff. He backed away, brandishing his sword and grazing the other Loki on the cheek. In truth, he hadn’t meant to slash him, but he hoped it would be enough to grab his attention. The variant stumbled back in shock, touching the blood trickling down his face, as Loki took a moment to put pressure on his own wound.
The variant stepped forward, crazed rage present in his eyes. But Loki steadily held out his hand while he still clutched at the slash on his chest.
“I don’t want to do this,” he calmly said. “Really, I don’t. It won’t help anything.”
“So now we’re getting sentimental?” the other Loki scorned. “Is this what I become? A soft-hearted pacifist?”
Loki stared at him with pity. Getting through to himself would be harder than he thought. Although, he didn’t know what he expected. But he tried the best he could. He said things he wished someone had said to him.
“I remember what it’s like,” he carefully said. “It sounds cliche, I know, but I still feel it. You’ve been hurt, you think you’re alone, you think this is what you want.”
“This is what I want,” the other Loki’s voice was cold. “I am closer to finally having what I want, with no one left to take it from me. And I’m not going to let some weak mirror of myself take it from me either.”
He gripped the staff, its blade aimed at Loki’s abdomen. Loki leaped out of the way as he thrust forward.
As he got back on his feet, the variant struck his temple, sending a numbing pain through Loki’s head. He stumbled back as the other Loki ran towards him once again. Without thinking, Loki held out his hand, and a wave of green light sent both him and the variant flying backward. He fell on his back, the impact knocking the sword from his hand.
He managed to pull himself onto his knees once he gathered his bearings. He turned to reach for his sword, but not before he was yanked back by a choking pressure against his neck, stopping his breath short. The variant had spun to his feet as quickly as he had been knocked down and was pressing the shaft of his staff against Loki’s throat.
Loki gagged and gasped, grasping the staff in an ill attempt to pull it away. He reached for his sword with his foot, but he only kicked it farther away as the variant pulled him back. He tried to call out for Mobius or Sylvie, but his straining voice wouldn’t be loud enough for them to hear.
“Shh…” the variant cooed. “Now, I don’t know if I’ve gone insane. But since you’re most likely real, I have to give you my sincerest apologies. I just don’t think there’s room for two of me.”
“You’d be… surprised…” Loki croaked in between ragged gasps.
He struggled in futility to escape the deadly grasp, straining and laboring to breathe.
His eyes wide in fear, the terrifying memories from the screen of the time theater flashed before him.
The end of the reel…
The end of his timeline…
His death…
A death with the same torturous struggle…
At the hands of Thanos…
Thanos…
An idea sprung into Loki’s mind. Unlike him, this other Loki didn’t know of their future. But he did have the same memories of Thanos and the Black Order. It was a cruel trick, but it was where he was the most vulnerable, so it had to be done if he wanted to get through to him.
More importantly, if he wanted to survive.
As Loki still strained for breath he allowed himself to relive those harrowing moments of torture and torment. Those feelings of fright, hopelessness, and loneliness. He then reached up with his right arm, touching the variant’s temple and connecting with his mind. And with the strength he still had, he delivered the enchantment.
The variant cried out in shock and pain, collapsing to the floor and releasing his grip on the staff. Loki fell forward and drew in a long and painful gasp for air. He slowly stood, his hand around his sore and bruised neck, turning to see the variant on the ground, holding up his head as he recovered from the shock. He knelt down and grabbed the staff, pointing it at the other Loki, whose head turned to look up at him, wearing an expression of fear and dismay.
A scared little boy. Loki thought.
As he stared, his eyes quickly turned to the dark glare they once were.
“How did you do that?” he asked.
“I learned it from a friend,” Loki said. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m giving you a choice. Will you yield?”
Loki slowly lowered the staff, extending his hand to the one below him. The other Loki remained silent for a long time as he stared up at him. Finally, he took his hand, allowing him to help him onto his feet. Loki looked at him with sincerity as the other gazed at the floor. But his dismal look quickly morphed into a mocking smile.
“You’re so stupid.”
He grabbed the staff in Loki’s hand, but he had kept his guard enough to still have a firm grip on the shaft. The two of them tussled for the staff, shifting towards the balcony railing and putting each other in near danger of falling off the edge.
Loki glanced at the cell over the abyss below. He once again reached for the variant’s temple, sending the memories of their brother to flash before him. Images of their childhood, their love, their quarrels, the broken bond… and Thor begging him to come home.
The variant broke away from the enchantment, immediately turning to see the cell where the bloody body of his brother lay. He turned back to Loki, who could see his agony.
“Would you stop doing that!” the variant hissed.
He pushed against him with the staff, and so Loki pulled, causing him to lose grip of the shaft. Loki tossed the staff over the balcony. They both watched as it fell towards the open air and towards the earth far below.
It was then that they heard footsteps running into the room. Loki saw Sylvie rushing to his aid against his warnings.
“Sylvie…” He held his hand out to try and signal her to stop.
While his back was turned, the variant grabbed him by his back holster and threw him to the floor. While Loki groaned in pain, barely staggering upward, the variant faced Sylvie.
“What’s your name, miss?” he asked.
“Sylvie.”
The variant cocked his head towards Loki, who had barely managed to return to his feet and had snuck a grip back onto his sword.
“You know him?”
“I do,” Sylvie said. “And if you touch him again, you’ll be lying in a puddle of blood like everyone else here!”
The variant smirked, pulling a dagger from his coat and holding the blade to her neck.
“No!!” Loki stepped forward, sword in hand, as the variant turned to face him with a desperate and agitated Sylvie in his grasp.
“Don’t try anything,” the variant said. “Or I will kill her.”
“Don’t!” Loki calmly pleaded. “Please don’t. Let her go. Please.”
“Do you think I’m bluffing?” said the variant. “Now I’m giving you a choice. Either yield to me, leave me alone, or her blood will be on both our hands.”
Loki looked at Sylvie with despair. “I told you to run.”
Sylvie apologetically closed her eyes. She knew she had defied him, but she didn’t like the idea of leaving him to face the fight alone while she hid in the dark.
“Make your decision quickly,” the other Loki said. “You can’t perform your little magic tricks from here.”
“You wouldn’t…”
“Why not?” the variant jeered. “I’ve already killed my brother. Am I not heartless enough?”
"That's not true..."
"I will kill her!"
Loki sighed. He said something he never thought he would.
“I yield.”
”No…” Sylvie whispered.
The variant sneered. In a sense of authority, he pressed the blade closer to Sylvie’s neck.
“Kneel,” he commanded.
Loki scoffed.
Sylvie flinched as the variant lifted his wrist, ready to slit the blade across her throat.
“Do as I say!” he growled.
Though it hurt, and he didn’t want to give the other Loki what the satisfaction, the slight of the blade being inches away from piercing Sylvie’s flesh compelled him to obey the request.
He dropped his sword, sank to his knees, and lowered his head. The other Loki grinned.
“As I said,” he murmured. “There’s room for only one of us.”
Loki glanced up at Sylvie, subtly signaling her with a two-fingered gesture. She understood. She thought of what could bring this variant to his most vulnerable.
She remembered the story Loki had told her on the train. The memories of his mother, turning flowers into frogs and creating fireworks over the water. She figured she could take those stories and search for them in his mind.
Sylvie reached up and touched the variant’s temple. Knowing what she was about to do, he gritted his teeth. Before he could shake her off she had sent the enchantment into his head. Caught in the trance, he dropped both Sylvie and the dagger and fell to his knees.
Loki stood and ran towards Sylvie, who caught him in an embrace. He held her tight, nuzzling his cheek against her head.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No,” Sylvie mumbled. “I’m sorry. You told me to run, but I didn’t want you fighting him alone.”
“It’s alright,” Loki whispered. “It’s alright.”
He gratefully held his embrace of her close.
“Hey!” They heard Mobius’ voice from the doorway. “At least warn me before you abandon me in a creepy hallway like that!”
“Sorry…” Sylvie said again.
She and Loki parted away, revealing the minor wound on his chest.
“Are you okay?” Mobius asked.
Loki placed his hand over the bloody tear on his shirt. “I’m fine. It’s only a scratch.”
They then looked towards the variant, who was still knelt on the floor lost in a daze. His irises glowed an emerald green as his mind was engulfed in bittersweet memories.
Sylvie stepped to him, gently placing her fingers on his temple. He heaved an emotional sigh as she released him from the enchantment. He looked up at the three standing above him, giving them a confused and sorrowful look.
“Why have you come here?”
“We didn’t intend to,” Loki said.
“Then why attack me?” asked the variant.
“You attacked us.” Mobius delivered the truth back to him.
The variant stared down at his palms, which had been stained red by blood. Slowly, he stood, walking towards the glass cell, staring at Thor’s body from inside.
He stood in silence for a long time. Then, his body began to tremble, and he sank to the floor, grasping the railing, and breaking down in soft sobs.
Loki was the first to carefully approach him. He gently knelt beside him, looking at him with mercy. He didn’t touch him, he didn’t say a word. He only sat in silence next to him as he guiltily wept. Loki allowed a single tear to fall onto his own cheek.
The variant eventually spoke.
“What must I do?” he asked. “Where must I go? Is there no way this can be… undone? Is there a way I could stop myself from doing what I’ve done?”
Loki lightly shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
The variant hung his head, shutting his eyes tight and pursing his lips.
"There's nothing left for me here," his voice was soft and broken. "Please, can't you turn this back?"
Loki looked back at Mobius and Sylvie, who watched as he tried to console the variant whose mind and heart had been shattered.
“I'm sorry."
That was all he could say.