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The sky was dark with a furious storm. Lightning was everywhere, but the rain seemed to be holding out for something more, something worth pissing on.
Something was on its way, as wind and lightning built until, deep within a forest, it struck. The lightning seemed to be the catalyst the storm needed, and the skies opened. Rain fell in torrents, causing flash floods and dangerous mudslides. Enough to get things declared a state of emergency, to catch the attention of a certain assassin, convincing her to come out, lend a hand.
Loki was right in the midst of it, having landed where the lightning struck. He’d been given the small dignity of basic clothing, but his power had been sealed away by his father, and his mouth was still gagged, lest his silver tongue prove troublesome once more. His brother, cruel in his kindness, had convinced Odin to exile him, rather than killing him outright, and here he was. The bitter anger filled the powerless god as he pulled himself from the mud, staggered up a hill. He took a slow look around, but there was nothing to see with the rain beating down, no markers to indicate direction.
Another small humiliation, he supposed, and began walking. By some small miracle, he had chosen a direction that led rather quickly to civilization. Or what was left of it, where a mudslide had taken out a few homes, and people were still being rescued. He watched at the edge of the forest for a few moments, eyes narrowing as he contemplated this problem.
He could not remove the gag on his mouth, the hex saw to that. He was mortal now, for all intents and purposes. It was only a matter of time before he was identified and pursued by the so-called Avengers. There were two options left to him, and surrender was far more humiliation than he could bare. Especially after the torture he had endured in Asgard.
He approached the parked vehicles slowly. His clothing was dark, a small mercy, so he was unnoticed by the mortals as he moved, as swiftly as he could manage with his feet covered in burns. The trucks were empty of suitable weapons, so Loki turned his attention to the police that were digging a woman out of the mud.
They saw him, long before he reached them, they saw him. And they knew him. That was some small satisfaction, as he continued to approach, slow and steady. He frightened them, and it gave him a thrill to know that he still had that power, at least. Now, if he could just frighten them enough.