Loki's lips twitched violently, the corner of his mouth trembling with barely restrained fury. For a god who prided himself on elegance and wit, it was an uncharacteristically raw expression—pure, unfiltered rage aid at Alex.
Heaven bear witness—Loki had walked the Nine Realms for more than fifteen hundred years, sched in golden palaces and shadowed alleys alike. He had faced kings, sorcerers, and monsters. But never—never—had he encountered soone so brazen, so shalessly insulting, so utterly without reverence.
And worse, there was nothing he could do about it.
"FINE," Loki spat, his voice dripping venom, though his posture betrayed his frustration. "Say whatever you like. But are you sure you truly wish to keep this little trinket that 'doesn't have Odin's na carved upon it'?" His smirk twisted, dark and sly. "Consider this a friendly warning: what you hold is far hotter to handle than you realize." His words ended in a disdainful snort, his green eyes gleaming with a malicious light.
"That's none of your concern," Alex replied coolly, his shrug casual, but his gaze sharpened like a blade. He pinned Loki with a stare that left little room for argunt. "Now, will you walk out of here on your own—or do I need to escort you?"
"Leave?" Loki echoed, arching an elegant eyebrow. His laugh was soft, incredulous. "And where, pray tell, would you be taking ?"
"To prison, of course." Alex's tone was maddeningly matter-of-fact. He didn't raise his voice, didn't bother to posture. He simply stated it, as though it were the most obvious consequence in the world. "A thief breaks into my house, tries to steal what belongs to —naturally, prison is where he ends up."
The words struck Loki harder than any fist. His whole body trembled with indignation. "You… you want to lock up?" His voice cracked between disbelief and fury.
The humiliation burned like acid. To be beaten bloody was one thing—pain faded, bruises healed. But to be threatened with imprisonnt, to be treated as if he were so common burglar? It was intolerable. Loki's pride howled. The great Loki—confined like a criminal dog?
"You dare mock so openly?" His laugh turned sharp, manic, dripping with nace. "You think yourself in control, mortal? Do you really believe you dictate everything here?"
Cold laughter spilled from him, rising in a crescendo as his form shimred with seidr. Illusion unfurled like ripples across a pond.
In a blink, one Loki beca two. Two beca four. Four beca a dozen. Within heartbeats, Alex found himself encircled by a crowd of Lokis, each identical in smirk and posture, every eye glittering with cruel amusent.
"Mortal," ca their chorus, each voice layered atop the next, "do you realize you have angered a god?"
"Do you know what a god's wrath looks like?"
Their laughter—cold, cruel, mocking—bounced through the chamber, filling it with a disorienting echo. The circle tightened, every Loki stepping forward in perfect unison.
But Alex only sighed.
Whoosh.
His figure blurred and vanished.
The next instant, he was in front of one of the Lokis. His leg shot out in a devastating kick.
Boom!
The chosen Loki went flying, crashing into the wall with bone-shaking force. In that mont, all the others winked out of existence, leaving only the true one groaning in pain.
"You… how did you see through my magic?!" Loki gasped, disbelief painting his features. He staggered, his mind whirling. He had honed his illusions over centuries, deceived gods and mortals alike, tricked armies into slaughtering one another. Never—never—had anyone seen through it so swiftly, so decisively.
"Fakes are fakes," Alex said lightly, his tone calm, almost bored. "No matter how realistic, they'll never be real."
For Alex, it was almost laughably easy. His enhanced hearing had already betrayed Loki—so images carried no heartbeat, no breath. His psychic sense swept the room, and the masquerade fell apart instantly.
It wasn't that Loki's magic was weak. It was that Alex's arsenal of abilities shredded the trickster's craft from every angle. Loki might as well have been performing a parlor trick before him.
Loki's lips parted, another retort on the edge—
Boom.
Before he could speak, Alex moved. His super-speed blurred him into a streak of motion. In the blink of an eye, he was before Loki once more, his fist slamming down. The blow landed squarely, brutally, dropping the god like a sack of stones. Darkness claid Loki before he could even register the pain.
"Alex…" Raven's voice was tentative as she approached, her eyes flicking between Alex's impassive expression and Loki's sprawled, unconscious body. She had fought gods and monsters by his side, yet still—this sight left her rattled. She lowered her voice, almost as if she feared Loki might wake. "What do you plan to do with him?" ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟
She couldn't help it. For all his arrogance, Loki was still a god—Odin's son, a prince of Asgard. Seeing him reduced to this state was… disorienting.
"Lock him up for now," Alex said without hesitation, as if the decision were already sealed.
"You really an to… treat him as a prisoner?" Raven's disbelief was plain. Even after all the chaos, the idea still sounded surreal.
"Isn't he a prisoner?" Alex raised an eyebrow, his expression flat, unconcerned. "He broke into my ho, tried to take what's mine. That's not soone you treat politely, no matter who they claim to be."
Still, seeing Raven's unease, Alex softened slightly. His voice lowered, steadier. "Don't worry. I know exactly what I'm doing."
And he did. Confidence radiated off him like heat, that sa unshakable certainty that had carried them through every battle so far. Raven felt the knot in her chest ease, reassured despite herself.
She nodded and gave the order. Soon, personnel arrived to haul Loki away. Shackled and unconscious, the god of mischief was dragged out of the hall like a common criminal.
When the doors closed again, silence settled.
It didn't last.
"Alex, what happened?" Erik's voice rang out as he strode in. He moved with urgency, eyes sharp. He took a seat opposite Alex, the weight of his presence filling the hall. "Raven said a god ca to steal sothing. And that you fought him—beat him down—and now he's your prisoner?" His tone was laced with incredulity.
Alex leaned back and gave a clipped recounting of the entire incident. His words were calm, but the story was anything but ordinary.
Erik listened in growing shock, each revelation more staggering than the last. Gods weren't just myths—they were real. And one had been subdued under this very roof.
But what seized Erik most was the ntion of the Infinity Stone. The scepter, Loki's weapon, carried one of those fabled gems of creation.
His chest swelled with exhilaration. "An Infinity Stone…" His voice trembled slightly, betraying his excitent. He had known the Stones were out there, sowhere in the boundless cosmos, but to see one fall into their hands so easily—it was beyond belief.
For nearly two decades, Captain Marvel had scoured the stars at Alex's behest, chasing whispers and rumors of the Stones' whereabouts. In all that ti, she had found nothing. Nothing at all.
And yet here one was.
Within their grasp.
"Alex…" Erik's excitent tempered into caution as the implications sank in. His expression hardened, his voice low. "If Asgard is real, if Odin is real—they will not let this pass. What do you plan to do?"
It was rare for Erik to sound uncertain. Yet the question was too heavy to ignore.
Alex fell silent, his brow furrowing as thought consud him.
Yes, Loki had trespassed and deserved his punishnt. But the reality remained—he was Odin's son. To slay him or humiliate him too far risked earning the wrath of all Asgard.
No matter how confident Alex had beco, declaring war on Asgard over an attempted theft would be reckless. Dangerous.
His eyes narrowed.
In truth, Alex had no intention of keeping Loki forever. At the end of the day, he would return him—one way or another. The only question was how.
He recalled faint echoes of another universe, another tiline. In that branch of reality, he knew, Loki had ultimately been returned to Asgard. There had even been whispers of so private understanding between Alex and Odin, though the details were unclear.
And not long after, the Tesseract itself had made its way back to Odin's vault.
That choice, that thread of fate, had set the stage for Thanos's rise. With all six Stones reclaid, the Mad Titan's victory had beco inevitable.
But here and now, things were different.
This ti, Alex would not relinquish what he had claid.
This ti, the Tesseract would not return to Asgard's golden halls.
This ti, the Stones would belong to him.
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